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But only if Valdore’s plans were permitted to proceed in due course, as the admiral was still trying to explain.

“Praetor, ever since the war effort began in earnest, we have been carefully preparing our beachheads at places like Isneih Kre and Bereng’hhaei Lli and Denevaei—building and protecting our supply lines while systematically probing the enemy’s defenses even as we have continued to move the tip of the spear closer to the enemy’s soft, exposed vitals.

“But the fleet cannot afford to attempt to launch our endgame before all the pieces are in their proper places, so to speak. Such a move would lead not to glory and conquest, but might very well instead herald ignominy and defeat. I do not wish to risk allowing that to happen during your tenure as praetor.”

Well played, Admiral, T’Leikha thought as she suppressed a smile. Valdore’s gambit brought to mind one of the oldest maxims of the Senate: “The honor of the praetor is the honor of the Empire.”

The praetor started to reply, but succumbed instead to another lengthy fit of coughing. Once he had recovered his breath and most of his voice, he leaned slightly forward on his chair and said, “Whatever time remains in my tenure as praetor may not grant me the luxury of patiently awaiting outcomes, Admiral. You must do better.”

Valdore stood in silence, regarding the hagridden man on the throne for a lengthy interval before responding. “I understand, Praetor.”

T’Leikha noted that he had carefully avoided promising to do the impossible.

“Do you, Admiral?” replied the praetor, the blaze behind his aged eyes intensifying. “Throughout this audience, you have spoken as though Romulus is not beset by deadly adversaries on all sides.”

Valdore’s calm façade cracked slightly, allowing T’Leikha a fleeting glimpse of the confusion that roiled beneath. “Praetor?”

“Our foes are not all neatly arrayed between the Romulan Star Empire and its coreward Avrrhinul Outmarches,” the old man said. “A deadly enemy still threatens us on our rimward side—Haakona. Therefore you will launch your meticulously planned full assault against the Coalition coreworlds now, Admiral. Immediately, whether you believe our forces are ready or not. You will begin with the Andorsu. Once that invasion and occupation is under way, you can begin paying proper attention to the Haakonan threat.”

Valdore blinked several times before responding. “Proper attention, Praetor?”

D’deridex sighed heavily, then adopted a demeanor of exaggerated patience usually reserved for small children. “Yes, Admiral. Proper attention. And by that I mean no less than a full-scale invasion and occupation, just as with the Andorsu, and the rest of their Coalition allies.”

T’Leikha had heard rumors that D’deridex had been discussing with his intimates the urgent need to take decisive and preemptive action against Haakona, although he had yet to bring the matter before the Senate. This mixed bag of rumor, conjecture, and puzzling praetorian behavior only lent credence to T’Leikha’s tentative conclusion that D’deridex’s Tuvan syndrome had been accelerating lately, compromising his rationality while heightening his concerns about his mortality and his legacy.

Valdore, however, apparently had either never heard the Haakona rumors or had taken them less seriously than had T’Leikha. In fact, she had never seen Valdore look quite so dumbfounded as he did at this moment; he had seemed far less surprised more than a full fvheisen ago when she had had him dragged out of one of the Hall of State’s deepest dungeons to tell him not only that he was to be summarily freed, but also that he was to be put back in full command of the Romulan Star Empire’s fleets.

“I shall... revise our battle plans at once, Praetor.”

D’deridex nodded, then clapped his hands twice, his eyes aglow with the fires of madness. “Good. Off you go, then.”

Valdore wasn’t surprised when First Consul T’Leikha cornered