cation break down, soldiers
and officers panic. But none of this, so far as I can see, has been
the case here. For example, why accept the sacrifice of our carrier?"
He reddened, forced himself to continue. "Just because we brought it
forward, hardly forced him to attack. I wish I could believe that the
enemy is really that foolish. But I can't. They have spent years of
preparation, and nearly all their resources. . .for what? Only to let
some impatient general throw it all away? The only explanation I can
find is that they are trying to lull our sense of caution and weaken
our defense, for another fleet that is yet to come. I know that by all
current technology this is impossible. Yet I feel that it could
happen."

At the words 'current technology' Dubcek stirred uncomfortably. The
young man had sensed his darkest fear. He remained quiet for a moment,
mulling this over.

"You have done what I asked," he said finally, "and done it well. Now.
What do you have to say to me as a man?"

Now it was Brunner who could find no comfort in his chair.

"I wish to resign my commission," he said with an effort. "I do not
think I was made to give orders."

"Do you hate me so much?"

Brunner winced. "No, Colonel. It is true, I hated you at first---"
He looked up, horrified at his own words.

"Come on. Out with it. It won't matter much if you resign." Dubcek's
manner was unruffled, but the lieutenant thought he caught a gleam of
pain, or something, in his dark eyes.

"There was a moment when I hated you---when I first realized you had
sacrificed our carrier for theirs. But I don't feel that way now."

"Then why?"

"I just can't do it. I tried to put myself in your place. . .and I
can't. This way of life, of thinking..... I can't."

"You think I send men to their death without feeling." It was not a
question.

"No." But Brunner would say no more.

"No, but that was cruel of me. Young men are so much more, SENSITIVE.
You think you could never send men to theirs, that you are not the
right kind of man---cold, calculating. You think too much, feel too
much, is that it?"

"No..... I don't know."

"Save war for lonely old men?"

Brunner looked hard at him, defiant. This time he was sure. There was
something quietly desperate in his commander's eyes. It was fear. Not
the fear of age or death, but that of a far greater hurt: the pain of
life's final reckoning, of uselessness and barren se