"Sure," Llyre said. "It was fine."
Tony caught the edge to his voice. "It happened a hundred years ago. It's not my fault."
"Sure," B'prith said.
"This is my home. Isn't it? Haven't I got as much right here as anybody else? I was born here."
"Sure," Llyre said, tonelessly.
Tony appealed to them helplessly. "Do you have to act this way? You didn't act this way yesterday. I was here yesterday—all of us were here yesterday. What's happened since yesterday?"
"The battle," B'prith said.
"What difference does that make? Why does that change everything? There's always war. There've been battles all the time, as long as I can remember. What's different about this?"
B'prith broke apart a clump of dirt with his strong claws. After a moment he tossed it away and got slowly to his feet. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "according to our audio relay, it looks as if our fleet is going to win, this time."
"Yes," Tony agreed, not understanding. "My father says we didn't build up adequate supply bases. We'll probably have to fall back to...." And then the impact hit him. "You mean, for the first time in a hundred years—"