Chapter Ten
OUTER SYSTEM, BD+56 2966
Duncan led Caine out of the module that had been reserved for the human passengers aboard the Shore-of-Stars. They made excellent time, since the Slaasriithi ship was still under acceleration and therefore, with the thrust providing gravity equivalent, the rotational habitats and interchange slideways were still.
They entered the shift-carrier’s heavy keel-boom and slid into one of the waiting transit capsules that travelled its length. Solsohn smiled like a kid at an amusement park. “These things are pretty fast.”
Riordan nodded. “So are we meeting with the whole security detachment?”
“Just the six officers and senior NCOs. They know the basic mission, but I expect they’ve still got questions, given all they’ve missed since they went into cryo.”
“And what exactly do we call this unit that isn’t a unit? ‘All you military folks’?”
“Well, in my logs, I’ve been referring to them as the Guard.”
“The Guard?”
Duncan grinned a bit sheepishly. “A shorthand label, sir. And a pun. Most of the way out here, they were still in cryosleep. So I started calling them the Cold Dream Guards.”
Caine tried to figure out the significance of the name, then shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t get the reference.”
Solsohn looked faintly disappointed. “The old British unit, The Coldstream Guards? The one that fought at Waterloo and the Somme?” When Caine just shook his head, Duncan sighed. “Well, that’s what I get for being a history buff who likes puns. I was partial to the name because of the Scottish connection; that’s where the unit was first formed, back during the English Civil War.”
Solsohn’s explanation trailed off diffidently, as if he was leaving the door open for a remark, for further conversation. Probably worried after I pinned him to the wall about being Downing’s proxy. So if that was the stick, this may be a good time to offer the congenial carrot. “So, Solsohn doesn’t exactly sound like a Scottish name.”
“Well, the family came over to the States pretty early. The original name was Solisson, or something like that.”
“But wouldn’t that be uh—Scandinavian? Maybe?”
“Well, if it was, I’m Scandinavian by way of Edinburgh.” Duncan shrugged. “Probably.”
Riordan dangled another carrot. “Well, either way, I don’t have a better name for the unit than the one you’ve come up with.”
Solsohn smiled. “That’s because you haven’t had any time to think of one or hear anybody else’s ideas.”
Riordan couldn’t keep from grinning in response. “Well, there might be some truth to that. But the name is unique, has some history to it, and it’s one less thing we need to think about.” The car stopped, opened, revealed a corridor that terminated in what looked like a fusion between a hatch and a sphincter.
Solsohn jutted his chin at it. “We’re here.” Seeing Riordan stare at the strange portal, he added, “Yeah, I know. I had the same reaction. It’s mostly mechanical, but according to the Slaasriithi, more reliable due to its biological elements.”
Riordan approached it cautiously. “How so?”
“Because it has reflexes of its own and the ability to operate even in the event of power or control interruption. It’s also got better security; even if you can hack the mechanical part, you’ve got to get past the biological part as well. Which would be more like trying to fake your way past a suspicious guard dog.”
Opening, the portal revealed the rest of Puller’s crew, sipping what smelled like honest-to-god coffee. All except Dora.
“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Karam said, raising his mug. “Want a cup of awake?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Riordan smiled at the faces surrounding the coffee dispenser, which looked like a cross between a storage tank and a centrifuge.
Tina Melah breathed in the vaporous wisps floating up from her mug. “Real beans. Nice.”
“Nauseating,” Dora countered defiantly, sipping at her cup of water.
“De gustibus non est disputandem,” muttered Bannor.
“Eh?” asked Miles O’Garran.
“Latin,” murmured Tygg to the surprise of the entire group. “‘In matters of taste, there can be no argument.’ Or words to that effect.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Latin,” Sleeman said, eyes wide, a smile growing as she brought her own cup to her lips.
“Well, I speak some.” Tygg’s qualification did not seem to diminish her admiration.
Riordan was tempted to take a swallow himself, but for now, found the warmth of the mug even more pleasant than the anticipated taste. “So, where are the Cold Guards?”
“The what? The who?” asked Miles.
“Mr. Solsohn’s nickname for our security detachment.” Seeing the curious looks, he waved his free hand as if shoving the label behind him. “The story can wait. I thought we were meeting them here.”
“You will,” said a new voice from the doorway. “But I wished to speak with—and thank—all of you first.” Yiithrii’ah’aash entered, a very faint purr riding underneath his words.
Riordan noticed a subtle change in the team’s reaction to the Slaasriithi Prime Ratiocinator. Yiithrii’ah’aash moved into their midst with greater ease, and they made room for him not the way they would for a dignitary, but a personal acquaintance. So, is this new, casual familiarity an outgrowth of our shared experiences or due to a slow-acting variety of their Amity spores? That was the kind of question which was going to plague every interaction with the Slaasriithi for the foreseeable future, maybe forever. Since they possessed biological agents that Earth couldn’t detect, there was no way to be sure if feeling positively toward them was natural or “induced,” to use their word.
“You wished to thank us? Why?” Melissa Sleeman asked.
“For clearing our path of dangers and obstacles.”
“Which I suspect you could have done more easily yourselves.” Dora set down her glass of water with a punctuating clack.
“As it turns out, that may be a correct assessment, Ms. Veriden. But I assure you, the process would have taken longer and involved far more destruction. We would have used drones, controlled from distant standoff. Locating the automated defense systems would have been a slow, painstaking process, which would have greatly increased the likelihood of our detection.”
“That doesn’t wash,” Veriden insisted, keeping her distance from Yiithrii’ah’aash. “You have your own small ships. Better than Puller, I’m sure. Maybe not built for war, but faster, stealthier, and able to control dozens more drones with more firepower. You just didn’t want to go right up to the threat and get your hands dirty.” She glanced at the Slaasriithi’s tendril clusters. “Uh—no offense.”
“I perceive that no insult was intended in your use of that common idiom. But I do perceive anger and resentment. Which must be addressed. You are right, Pandora Veriden: we did not wish to be proximal to the threat. And yes, we are fearful of such situations. But that is not why we asked you to act in our stead.”
Phil Friel crossed his long, thin arms. “You’re unaccustomed to close conflict. You feared you’d make mistakes.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash trailed two tendrils like streamers in the wind. “Yes, but our reason runs far deeper than that. It is a matter of instinct—and our instinct is to flee.”
“Well, so is ours,” Tina Melah commented. “But we resist it.”
The ambassador’s tendrils froze in mid flow. “You do not merely resist the impulse to flee, Ms. Melah; you replace it. Your species possesses what you call your ‘fight-or-flight’ reflex. You will do one, or the other, in crises. But let me ask you this: what if you had no ‘fight’ reflex at all?”
Riordan nodded. “We’d never attain a stable mindset for dealing with a crisis. We’d constantly be resisting the impulse to flight, because we’d have no alternative reflex that takes over when we decide to stand and fight.”
“Exactly. This is our limitation.” Yiithrii’ah’aash extended one tendril from either cluster. “We have measured our reflex times. Neurologically, ours are slightly better than yours: a consequence of our arboreal origins, I suspect. But our crisis reactions are far slower. And it was from you that I learned the axiom that is so pertinent to this metric; in war, there are two kinds of combatants: the quick and the dead.” He folded his tendrils into a tight—embarrassed? regretful?—knot. “In war, we are not quick. You are. And you invariably demonstrate the instincts that prove it. You doubtless recall the situation when Shore-of-Stars had begun preaccelerating to flee back to our homeworld and summon reinforcements to rescue you on Disparity.”
“Of course.”
“Then you will also recall that you instantly perceived that, in our absence, the Ktoran ship would commandeer our automated antimatter refinery and use its fuel stocks to gain the freedom of action to ensure your destruction, and then their escape, before we returned.”
“And you couldn’t reason that out for yourselves?” Karam’s voice veered toward a sneer. His eyes dropped when Caine shot a hard look at him.
Yiithrii’ah’aash turned toward the pilot. “It is not a matter of reason, Mr. Tsaami. It is a matter of how innate reflex exerts influence on all thought. In this case, we would certainly have arrived at such a strategy eventually, but we needed to make a rapid decision. And just as our natural instinct is toward flight, our thought processes habitually move away from destruction as a means of solving a problem. You have analogs in your own species. But they are outgrowths of cultural taboos rather than evolution, which make them less determinative of your behavior and thought.”
Miles crossed his short, thick arms. “Name one.”
“Cannibalism,” Yiithrii’ah’aash answered promptly. “There are many accounts of stranded humans who, faced with insufficient nourishment, have not even thought of acquiring the necessary sustenance from dead bodies. In many cases, the bodies denatured to the point of unuseability before the survivors realized that they must act to preserve their food value, let alone resolve to consume them.”
“That’s because only a monster would think about people as…as food,” Tina Melah blurted out, hugging herself.
“That’s his point,” Phil said, laying a hand on her arm. “We are so deeply trained, consciously and subconsciously, to resist seeing other humans as nourishment that, even in a life-and-death crisis, it may not occur to us until it is too late.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s sensor cluster dipped slightly; a Slaasriithi bow. “It is as Mr. Friel says. We suffer a similar blindness with regard to the reflexive thoughts and actions that make one successful when perpetrating violence, and, to a lesser extent, preemptive destruction.”
Caine could feel that his smile was brittle. “Whereas we excel at them.”
“You do, although your species has also tempered those reflexes more than others. The Hkh’Rkh, for example.”
“There’s an artful shift of topic,” Bannor murmured.
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s neck skin rippled slightly. A…chuckle? “We are entering the asteroid belt, which affords the best cover from any automated sensors which might still exist. So we must swiftly settle upon our collective course of action.”
Riordan crossed his arms. “Because this is where you intend to cut us loose.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s tendrils flexed once, sharply. “Yes. We will steer toward a cluster of larger asteroids along our path. Once concealed among them, we shall launch your expedition.”
“And I assume you have now received a message or other coded signal from our Hkh’Rkh contact, Yaargraukh?”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s tendrils became very still. “Unfortunately, we have not.”
“Then how do we know where to go, and how to assure the locals that we are not simply another bunch of marauding humans?”
“I regret that I have no counsel to offer on these matters.”
Karam took a step closer to Caine, his widening eyes upon the Slaasriithi. “We’ve heard the recordings of their tactical radio chatter, Yiithrii’ah’aash. Based on that, the Hkh’Rkh colonists aren’t going to be eager to welcome another bunch of humans. So I doubt it’s a good idea—or healthy—for us to go down to Turkh’saar without some kind of invitation, first. And besides, any humans who’d be crazy enough to attack the Hkh’Rkh in their own space might be insane enough to draw down on us, too.”
Bannor nodded. “The people we heard on those transmissions didn’t sound like they were hoping to be rescued. Unless singing along to classic rock and machine guns is some new form of distress signal.”
If Yiithrii’ah’aash had discerned the sarcasm behind Bannor’s deadpan delivery, he gave no sign of it. Rather, he seemed to resist a reflex to back away from the group. He put out his tendrils in a writhing flare, instead. “I understand your reluctance, but you accepted this mission knowing that Yaargraukh did not speak for the Old Families of the Hkh’Rkh Patrijuridicate. Indeed, if they become directly involved, it is likely that they will claim to have been actively invaded by the Consolidated Terran Republic and declare war. Yaargraukh’s request presents the only reasonable alternative: to extract the human raiders before that can occur. Unfortunately, because time is very short and the Old Familes are very reactionary, overtures through legal channels would be futile. It could take years—if ever—for both the Arat Kur Wholenest and the Hkh’Rkh Patrijuridicate to formally allow your military units to enter their space and remove the human interlopers from Turkh’saar. By that time, the ongoing violations would have given the Old Familes the pretext they need to break off the minimal diplomatic relations that exist and begin reequipping for war.”
Miles’s grin was not pleasant. “Fat lot of good that would do them. They got their asses kicked so bad, they’re not going to be able to return the favor for ten years. And by that time, we’ll have—”
“There’s a more pressing problem,” Caine interrupted. “The leader of the Patrijuridicate, First Fist, has still not been located. He went missing during the liberation of Jakarta. Hkh’Rkh conspiracy theorists and warmongers are milking that for all it’s worth. They claim that First Fist is dead, or that he’s our prisoner and we won’t admit it, or even that he’s leading some kind of ongoing guerilla resistance on Earth. All of which have the same effect: the remaining Hkh’Rkh leaders are on the brink of fighting to succeed him.”
“Civil war,” breathed Melissa Sleeman.
“Yes,” Yiithrii’ah’aash concluded. “Which, in all probability, would be blamed upon Earth.”
“You mean,” Tygg said, frowning, “that whichever rival won, they’d unify the survivors behind the idea that Turkh’saar was a human attempt to stir the pot and increase their need for a leader, and so plunge them into a succession war. To weaken them even more.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s sensor cluster bobbed slightly. “That is what your Mr. Downing and his superiors fear. I concur with their projections.”
Phil Friel smiled, stuck his hands in his pockets. “And yet, that doesn’t quite answer the original question now, does it, Yiithrii’ah’aash? Which, if memory serves, was: what makes it a good idea to land on Turkh’saar without an invitation, or even local contact?”
Riordan smiled at Friel. Leave it to Phil to never lose sight of the real issue.
Yiithrii’ah’aash exhaled forcefully through the slits that flanked the mouth in his “chest.” “I did not say it is a good idea. But it has become essential, even though there is no way to ascertain if Yaargraukh is in this system or still alive. During our voyage here, Mr. Downing arranged to have us updated by secure communications as we passed through systems under human control. The last message reported that the negotiations with the Arat Kur have still not been completed.”
“Damn conniving roaches,” Tina muttered.
“They were indeed duplicitous in both their attack upon your space and your homeworld,” Yiithrii’ah’aash agreed. “But your own communiqué indicates that it was your negotiators, not the Arat Kur, who were the source of the delays. They pressed for considerable wartime reparations and arrogations.”
“Arro-what?” asked Miles.
Peter Wu cleared his throat, then spoke with great precision. “Arrogations are enemy matériel or possessions that are seized either during the course of a conflict or afterward, which become the legal property of the victor.”
“D-damn,” sputtered Karam, “when did you swallow a law dictionary, Pete?”
“It was part of my training in Taipei. And remember to call me Peter, please.”
For once, Karam did not bait him by calling him “Pete” yet again. Instead, he turned to the Slaasriithi. “So our diplomats started getting greedy?”
Yiithrii’ah’aash did not reply immediately. “Let us say they realized, in the course of negotiations, that the Arat Kur were more desperate to comply than originally thought. Also, some national leaders back on your homeworld were under considerable pressure to cripple the Arat Kur economy and interstellar capability for at least twenty years. They ultimately took possession of almost half of the Wholenest’s shift-capable craft and were still pressing for occupation concessions in a number of systems.
“Just as the negotiations were concluding, however, word arrived of the Ktoran attempt to ambush this very ship and your diplomatic delegation at Disparity. Ktor ambassador Shethkador, who had insisted on remaining in the Sigma Draconis system until the negotiations were concluded, denied that the Ktoran Sphere had any hand in such an action. Of course, we know differently.”
Riordan shook his head. “We know that some of the attackers were Ktor. That’s not the same thing as knowing that they were operating at the behest of the Ktoran Sphere.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s sensor cluster jerked back slightly. Then: “That is true. However, we know this: it was not the Hkh’Rkh. They cannot reach our planets. It was not the Arat Kur; their ships have all been accounted for. It was not my own people attacking ourselves, since that is anathema to us. It is not the Dornaani or the Custodians. They would have destroyed us so completely and swiftly that there would have been no evidence of a battle. We would simply have disappeared.”
“So that leaves the Ktor and Earth itself,” finished Dora. “And if the report that reached Sigma Draconis includes the interesting little detail that the attackers’ planetary landings were carried out by shuttles registered to the missing SS Arbitrage, that gives the Ktor an opening to accuse us of sabotaging our own mission. Internal power struggle or some such bullshit, probably.”
Caine smiled. “Except that everyone, the Ktor included, knows that no human ship has the shift range to get to Disparity. The distance between the stars along the only possible path are well beyond our eight point three three light-year maximum range. Which means the Arbitrage got a lift from someone who has much greater range—which brings us back to the Ktor, a couple of whom left their bodies on Disparity.”
Karam snorted. “Yeah, along with a couple of CoDevCo’s black-market Optigene clones.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash passed a ripple of tendrils in the air. “It is not clear to me if all those details have been shared with the other parties at Sigma Draconis. However, the consequent accusations and aggravations have caused heated diplomatic exchanges, with the Ktor refusing to discuss the ambush at Disparity except to reiterate their denials of involvement.”
“Yeah, well—screw ’em.” Miles seemed inordinately pleased with his simple, and Caine felt completely understandable, proposal for resolving the situation.
Yiithrii’ah’aash replied in a measured tone. “I understand your idiom and impatience, Chief O’Garran. But the last communiqué intimates that your government believes the situation on Turkh’saar could be used to weaken accusations of Ktoran wrongdoing on Disparity.”
Riordan nodded. “By ostensibly implicating humans as the source of the sabotage in both places. So we have to complete the mission here before that can happen. Even though we have no contact or invitation to intervene.”
“Unfortunately, this is what is required of you. As I’m sure Mr. Solsohn will confirm.”
Riordan saw that his weren’t the only eyes that rotated toward Duncan.
Solsohn nodded. “He’s right. Mr. Downing made it quite clear: we might not hear from this Yaargraukh, or from anyone on Turkh’saar. But that didn’t change the objective: to clean up whatever mess our species is making down there and bring home the perpetrators.”
Riordan nodded back and smiled. “Sure. But that isn’t all Downing wants, is it?”
“Not sure I know what you mean.”
“Duncan, if you start lying to me now, we’re not going to have a pleasant relationship. Downing knows perfectly well that what these supposed raiders are doing isn’t one tenth as mysterious as how they managed to reach Turkh’saar to do it. Our ships can’t get here unless they take a two-year voyage through mostly unprospected systems. Which means they would have had to be on their way out here before we even knew the Arat Kur and Hkh’Rkh existed. The answer to that mystery is worth its weight in gold to the strategic analysts back home.”
Solsohn shrugged. “Probably, but that’s way above my pay grade and my clearance level. What I do know is what’s spelled out in the operations orders: that we proceed even in the absence of a contact from known or friendly Hkh’Rkh personnel. We are to remove the humans trespassing upon sovereign Hkh’Rkh space as quickly as possible and by any means necessary.”
Tygg started, then leaned toward Solsohn. “‘By any means necessary?’ So, if the raiders refuse to leave, we have to kill them—kill our own kind? That’s why we’re going to Turkh’saar?”
Duncan sighed. “If it comes to that, yeah; I guess so.”