red to sacrifice our lives to earn respect for our world, and
to leave a tradition behind us. We must still be prepared to sacrifice
even our vanity."

The vice-admiral said, "But one sacrifices, Majesty, to achieve. Do you
believe that Mekin will honor any treaty one second after it ceases to
be profitable to Mekin?"

"That," said the king, "has to be thought about. But Bors is right on
one point. We should come to no final conclusion without information--"

"Majesty," Bors interrupted. His words came slowly, as if an idea were
forming as he spoke. "The enemy may have no news at all. They may know
they've been defeated, but they'd _never_ expect _our_ freedom from
loss. Why couldn't a single Kandarian ship turn up at some port where
its appearance would surely be reported to Mekin? It could pose as the
sole survivor of our fleet, which would indicate that the rest of us
were wiped out in the battle. If we _had_ all been wiped out, there'd be
no point in their fusion-bombing Kandar. Certainly they expected us to
be destroyed. One surviving ship can prove that we _have_ been!"

The king's expression brightened.

"Ah! And we can go and intern ourselves--"

There was a growl. The pompous voice said, "We would gain time, Majesty.
Our fear is that Mekin may feel it must avenge a defeat. But if one ship
claims to be the sole survivor of our fleet, it announces a Mekinese
victory. That is a highly desirable thing!"

The king nodded.

"Yes-s-s.... We were unwise to survive the battle. We can hide our
unwisdom. Captain Bors, I will give you orders presently. As of now, I
will accept reports on battle-damage given and received." As Bors
saluted and turned to the door, the king added, "I will be with the
Pretender presently."

It was an order and Bors obeyed it. He went to find his uncle. He found
the former monarch in the king's cabin of this, the largest ship of the
fleet. The Pretender greeted Bors unhappily.

"A very bad business," he observed.

"Bad," agreed Bors. "But for the two of us, a defeat for Mekin is not
bad news."

"For us and Tralee," the old man said reprovingly, "there is some
pleasure. But it is still bad. Every ship we destroyed must be replaced.
Like every other subject planet, Tralee will be required to build--how
many ships? Ten? Twenty? We have increased the burden Mekin lays on
Tralee. And worse--much worse--"

"There's such a thing," protested Bors, "as using a microscope on
troubles! We