CHAPTER FOUR
Admiral Miharu Yoshikuni shook her head, seemed unwilling to glance down the table at him—or so Ossian thought. Probably afraid she’ll smile. Must be tough having your not-so-secret lover sitting at the same flag briefings. He tried to keep a mischievous grin off his own face.
Yoshikuni turned toward Least Fang Kiiraathra’ostakjo. “Least Fang, your reaction to the outcome of today’s mission surprises me.”
“In what way, Admiral?”
“You don’t seem surprised that Commodore Wethermere’s insane plan worked.”
“I am not,” the Orion remarked with a casual pass at his vaguely felinoid whiskers.
“But just yesterday, you were tireless pointing out the risks of the operation,” Admiral Narrok reminded him. The Arduan’s three eyes had opened a little wider; the vocoder that rendered his voice registered surprise.
“That is true. It is also true that the logic which applies to and governs my life does not seem to apply to nor govern Commodore Wethermere and his plans. But that is hardly surprising, since they seem to originate from amidst the grey crags that, in the myths of my people, separate the dark lands of madness from the shining plains of inspiration.”
Yoshikuni rested her chin on her hand—an unusual posture for her, but necessary, since she was evidently determined to hide the incipient grin there. “We have some axioms that evidently resonate with Orion myths,” she commented a moment later.
“So we Zheeerlikou’valkhannaieee have learned. But despite the improbable means whereby we gathered enemy data today, the Kaituni are aware that we have it. At least for now.”
Yoshikuni nodded. She glanced down at the Arduan contingent in her conference room aboard the RFNS Krishmahnta. As ever, they sat quite still, surveying the proceedings calmly with all three of their independently-focusing eyes, the larger central one ever open and unblinking. “Councilor Ankaht, is there any chance that the data in the Kaituni courier’s computer is disinformation, that the Kaituni fleet ahead of us suspects our presence due to our recent neutralization of the ships they left guarding this warp point?”
Ankaht leaned forward slightly. Her hairless body, humanoid but far more sinuous than a human’s, seemed to flow into the new position. “You are concerned that the Kaituni suspect they are being followed, and so, hope to mislead us?” Ankaht assayed the human gesture of shaking her head in negation—but the action recalled a person with a severe tic, verging toward a petite mal seizure. Arduans’ dependence upon selnarm meant they relied even less upon body language than vocalizations. Consequently, their attempts to mimic human gestures were often arresting.
Ankaht may have discerned that her motion generated more alarm than understanding; she ceased and raised both semi-sinuous arms, the tentacle clusters at their ends pulsing into wide, emphatic asterisks. “No, we may be absolutely certain that the data gathered today is genuine. The content and style of the communications—much of which was personal or minor reports from the enemy fleet’s campaign through the Star Union—are consistent with what we decoded from the data banks on the Kaituni destroyer we took partially intact several weeks ago.”
In response to Yoshikuni’s dubious frown, Ankaht’s three eyes narrowed slightly and her lesser clusters rose faintly: an appeal to listen to reason. “Admiral, it would require much time to explain how and why I may say that content of the armored courier’s databanks was entered without the anticipation of unwanted selnarmic inspection, but trust me when I say that it was. I offer a crude analogy: in the same way that you have reflexive body actions that are almost impossible to purposefully mimic,”—the vocoder’s rendering of her voice suggested a wry self-reference—“there are selnarmic gestures in the courier’s various logs that simply would not be present if they had anticipated that we Arduans might come to inspect their data. Similarly, there is a great wealth of personal messaging, bound for the other Dispersates. Much of its content is particular to my people.”
“Particular in what way?” asked Kiiraathra’s immense, one-eyed second-in-command, Rrurr’rao.
Ankaht’s intelligence chief, Mretlak, writhed the smaller tentacles at the tip of his left arm. “You are aware that we Arduans do not permanently die—zhet—but, instead, discarnate? And then are reincarnated to resume our lives?”
Rrurr’rao’s ears laid back slightly. “I have heard this.” His tone did not impart the impression that he had much confidence in this Arduan claim.
Apparently, Mretlak detected the same mixture of uncertainty and dubiety. “It was this difference between us and the many races of your Pan-Sentient Union, or PSU, which led many of the more reactionary Arduans of our First Dispersate to judge you as, collectively, nonintelligent. It was deemed that our shaxzhutok—remembrance of past lives—and the selnarm that links us are the defining characteristics of sentience, a prejudice that became ubiquitous in the later Dispersates with which we now contend. This is, of course, nonsense. But these telempathic phenomena are the defining characteristics of our species’ existence, both individually and collectively.”
“And how did this engender the especially characteristic communications you detected among the Kaituni data?” Yoshikuni’s frown was no longer one of doubt, merely intense concentration.
Two of Ankaht’s tentacles rolled over each other in a desultory gesture. “As these later Dispersates arrive, the Kaituni populating them attempt to contact loved ones in the other fleets.”
The brow-tuft above Rrurr’rao’s remaining eye contracted into a furry bush. “But these Dispersates departed your doomed homeworld over the course of many centuries, and their populations were not cryogenically suspended. How could any hope to be reunited with the kin they remembered?”
Mretlak’s tone was calm, patient. “As you suggest, my people have not merely been scattered across the vastness of space, but separated by deep rifts of time. However, for us, this does not signify that we mourn for those we knew and who discarnated during our separation. Rather, we look for their reincarnated return.
“But, with our race divided among so many Dispersates that have been out of communication with each other for so long, there has been no way to determine which of our loved ones are presently reincarnated, and if so, among which fleet they returned to life. A great deal of the personal message traffic that we discovered on the armored courier are attempts of past lovers and children and parents to locate each other, once again. It is—” Mretlak paused; the vocoder’s depiction of his voice trailed off in something that sounded very much like sorrow. “It is,” he resumed, “quite poignant. Particularly since many of these attempts to restore old bonds are tinged with tones of confusion and bewilderment.”
“Why?” Wethermere had not been aware he was going to ask the question until it emerged from his mouth.
“Because they cannot understand what has happened to our people,” Ankaht answered, turning her three eyes upon him, the central one widening as it did: a sign of affinity. “When last they were incarnate, all in our race cherished shaxzhutok, reveled in the lessons and recollections of past lives, sought the union in selnarm that we call narmata.” Her voice saddened. “They have awakened into an existence where this no longer defines the fleets into which they are born. The Destoshaz-controlled culture of the Kaituni eschews narmata and shaxzhutok, and has often euthanized those of my caste, the shaxzhu, whose gift it is to reclaim and reveal the more distant memories of both individuals and of our race. They are like lost children.”
“Whom we are set upon killing,” Mretlak finished darkly.
“And whom will return from that discarnation to be returned into our race as we Arduans rebuild and restore it,” Narrok reminded him.
Mretlak let his eyes close in slow acquiescence that, to Ossian’s limited understanding of Arduan kinesics, seemed grudging.
Rrurr’rao was nodding too. “Our lives may be different in many particulars, Senior Group Leader Mretlak, but be assured that I understand the longing and drive to find missing kin. The Kaituni have savaged most of the Khanate’s major worlds, and many of the others besides.” He drew up stiffly; it did not seem confrontational, but more the rigidity of careful self-control. “None of the Zheeerlikou’valkhannaieee in this fleet have any knowledge of whom amongst their kin survive. If any. And as you point out, we do not reincarnate.”
Kiiraathra glanced at his lieutenant, whose tone had gone from dark to borderline menacing in the last sentence. He, along with many others among the various PSU races, found it difficult, if not specious, to make distinctions between the Arduans and the Kaituni. Kiiraathra did not allow a pall to gather in the wake of Rrurr’rao’s conclusion: “We also lack selnarm, which has proven to be an unlooked-for advantage for this fleet.”
Commander Rudi Modelo-Vo, Admiral Yoshikuni’s Fleet Tactical Officer (in name, at least), frowned. “An advantage, Least Fang? I’d say our lack of selnarm puts us at a constant and severe disadvantage. Our enemies can communicate instantaneously, control remote assets from any distance without time-lag, and exchange information using a quantum-based medium that we can’t even detect with our best instruments.”
There was silence as, once again, the collected senior staff separately decided how best to react to Modelo-Vo’s tone deafness when it came to tactical nuances: a significant deficit in a fleet tactical officer. Kiiraathra folded his large, tabby-furred “hands.” “All of what you say is true, Commander, but we must consider one further variable: that the Kaituni do not know the Arduans are with us. Which means they do not suspect that we can intercept and understand their signals, can send target data to our stealthed ships before they reveal themselves to attack, and have devised means of subverting and compromising their selnarmic command and control links. Indeed, the latter phenomenon is the very basis of the weapon system upon which Captain Chong and Group Leader Lentsul have been working. About which: is the device ready?”
With Chong absent, Lentsul alone was left to reply. Still nervous in the presence of humans, he straightened in his chair, two small tentacles switching spasmodically. “It is ready. I believe. And as Admiral Kiiraathra’ostakjo points out, the Kaituni presumption that we cannot discern nor manipulate their selnarmic elements constitutes an immense tactical advantage. But, I warn you—as has Commodore Wethermere—it is fundamentally a one-time advantage.” With a glance at Ossian, he leaned forward into his explanation. “The commodore’s care in ensuring that our actions would remain unreported, both when we have tested the weapon and have used selnarm as a remote targeting guide for stealthed warships, has been resisted by some.” He may have glanced at Yoshikuni and Modelo-Vo. “But that resistance was not wise.”
Yoshikuni bristled at Lentsul’s characteristic lack of tact. The lids of the two smaller eyes flanking Ankaht’s larger, central one sagged in exasperation.
Oblivious, Lentul pressed on. “Once the Kaituni realize that this Relief Fleet has Arduan allies, they will change their operations accordingly. So the advantage we currently enjoy will end along with their ignorance.”
Narrok leaned forward, thereby silencing Lentsul, which may have been his intent. “In essence, we possess an enormous advantage, but one which we must protect each time we use it by ensuring that no enemy escapes to report its existence. And so, we cannot utilize it on an open battlefield until we are poised to enter a combat of decisive strategic importance.”
Surprisingly, Lentsul also seemed inured to the cue from his own Arduan commander. “Exactly so,” he affirmed. “However, before we leave the topic I must correct another of Commander Modelo-Vo’s misunderstandings.”
Regardless of species, every being in the room shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Yoshikuni glared at Ankaht. Wethermere had seen library patrons stare at the parents of boisterous children in just that same manner.
Unaware of the wake of annoyance his behavior was leaving behind, Lentsul continued. “Commander Modelo-Vo characterized selnarmic phenomenon as taking place in a quantum-based medium. This is erroneous.”
Modelo-Vo sounded as though he was gargling with lye. “That’s odd. I thought I’d heard you describe its properties as akin to quantum entanglement, occurring without regard for the normal laws constraining all physical phenomenon and information exchange to the speed of light.”
“You evidently were inattentive and did not discern that my reference to quantum phenomenon was couched as an analogy, not a physical property of selnarm itself.” If Lentsul understood that Modelo-Vo’s flushed face and widened eyes indicated a sudden upsurge of rage, he gave no sign of it. “In fact, the agency underlying the operation of selnarm remains a mystery even to us Arduans. We liken it to quantum entanglement because it shares the relativity-defying characteristics you have invoked, Commander. On the other hand, it demonstrates properties which are wholly distinct, as well. For instance, quantum entanglement seems to operate—as best we can tell—between particles or other quantal elements that are somehow paired, either due to shared origins or other more transient similarities in their present state. Selnarm evinces no such reliance upon pairing. Its effect is expansive and thoroughgoing: an accomplished shaxzhu such as Councilor Ankaht could establish mental contact among a great number of minds instantaneously throughout a solar system. She could send a more generalized empathic pulse—a mood or feeling, in your limited lexicon—to almost all Arduans in that same sphere. There is nothing in your or our understanding of quantum mechanics that can account for this pervasive effect. Nor is there any indication that particles of any type—even at the sub-quark level—are involved in actuating these phenomena. Our theories lean more toward what your physicists have labeled string or wave theories, which propose that what we deem matter and energy are all simply expressions of common components, distinguished only by waveform characteristics. However, we have never determined a means of testing these theories, and so, the mechanism underlying selnarmic activity remains hypothetical. At best.”
Yoshikuni brought her hand down flat on the table: the sound was noticeable, but not quite a slap. “Thank you, Lesser Group Leader Lentsul. Your explanations have been most illuminating. If we have need of more, we shall surely ask for them. Now, Councilor Ankaht, the floor is yours: tell us what you and your intelligence team have learned regarding the deployment and plans of our opponents.”
A ripple passed along Ankaht’s greater tentacles, which Ossian knew signified that she had mixed feelings about the data she was about to present. “Firstly, as we conjectured, the enemy fleet is still in the system immediately beyond this one: Bug 28. However, they are rapidly preparing to continue on to Bug 27 and ultimately Earth. Indeed, they sent the courier we intercepted because their departure for Earth was accelerated in just the last few days.”
If possible, Yoshikuni sat straighter. “They’ve accelerated their timetable? Your people assured us that prior intel indicated they were still just regrouping to herd the Bugs onward.”
Ankaht did not quite sound arch as she replied. “ ‘My people’ did indeed report that, because that was what we discovered when we deciphered the databanks on the wreck of the Degruz-pahr. But circumstances have changed. Dramatically.”
Yoshikuni leaned back, frowning. Whether from Ankaht’s effortless rebuff of her aggressive demeanor or at the promise of unwelcome news, Ossian could not tell. “Very well. How have the circumstances changed?”
“The Kaituni ahead of us—they call themselves the Fourteenth Dispersate—were expecting to split the Arachnids into two groups. One was, as we feared, to be pushed to arrive at system Bug 17 before Admiral Trevayne did, thereby cutting off his fleet from Earth and bottling it between two forces. The other half of the Omnivoracity force was to continue on to Bug 15 in front of the Fourteenth Dispersate, to achieve the same end, in the event the first half of the Arachnid fleet arrived in Bug 15 too late.”
“So they were pursuing both options,” Narrok observed with a calm sweep of one major tentacle. “Sensible.”
“Yes,” Kiiraathra agreed. “They certainly have the superiority of numbers that allows them to explore all strategic options.”
Ankaht signaled assent. “Yes. This was the premise upon which their orders were based, and which had been selnarmically issued to them years before their Dispersate arrived here. Again, as we conjectured, the Dispersates’ collective actions and intrusions were coordinated long before they arrived.”
“So what was the dramatic change?” Yoshikuni’s voice was not quite sharp, but it was not amicable. Although the admiral respected Ankaht, she did not seem to like her much. Which, Wethermere reflected, made little sense, unless the human admiral was jealous of the easy friendship the Arduan councilor had with Wethermere himself. Who, until this moment, had never considered it probable, let alone sane, that Miharu Yoshikuni could feel jealously possessive of her romantic relationship with him—and above all, jealous of an alien with whom there wasn’t even the possibility of emotional, let alone physical, intimacy. But, now, Ossian wondered if—
“Ironically,” Ankaht answered, “the change was in how profoundly cooperative the Arachnids became. Too cooperative, as it turned out. Once the Kaituni’s small leading flotilla had completed shepherding them into Bug 26, and was thereby separated from the rest of the Fourteenth Dispersate, the Arachnids raced ahead. Their entire fleet. Their drovers followed and, despite the marked Kaituni technological superiority, just managed to keep up as the lead elements of the Arachnids raced along the warp line leading from Bug 25 to Bug 17.”
“So . . . no more Bugs? They’re out of our way?” Modelo-Vo sounded as though he could hardly believe such a stroke of good luck.
“Correct.”
“But did the Arachnids emerge into Admiral Trevayne’s rear area?” Narrok’s voice was tense. An inherently strategic thinker, he, like Wethermere, did not see this as a tactical windfall. The Arduan admiral was entirely focused upon the strategic consequences of whether Trevayne had escaped to withdraw further toward Sol, or whether the enemy had now bottled him up along that route of advance. Because if the Bugs had trapped him there, the job of defending Earth would fall solely to the much, much smaller Relief Fleet: a hopeless task.
“No,” Ankaht answered to several audible exhalations of relief. “The Kaituni drovers who followed the Arachnids reported that Admiral Trevayne was in the process of conducting an orderly withdrawal from the Bug 17 system when they emerged from the warp point that joined it to Bug 21. Their arrival did not inflict significant additional losses to his fleet.”
“But now the full weight of the Arachnid fleet we have been following has joined with the larger one preceding the main Kaituni force. Which is, as we conjectured, comprised of approximately seven whole Dispersates.” Narrok’s three eyes were focused on something well beyond the bulkhead.
“That is correct. We have also determined that they are led by a Destoshaz’at by the name of Zum’ref. However, only two-thirds of the Arachnid ships that we were following actually reached Bug 17.”
Kiiraathra’s nose wrinkled slightly. “Then where is the other third?”
“Most of it remained behind in the system you designate as Home Hive Four. Two small Arachnid flotillas—picket elements, according to my military analysts—remained behind in the flanking systems of Bug 21 and Bug 22. And apparently, not all the Kaituni drovers made it back through these systems to deliver their reports.”
Jennifer Pietchkov, Alessandro Magee’s wife and the only human with a reasonable measure of pseudo-selnarmic ability, leaned forward from where she had pulled away from the lip of the conference table. “The Arachnids turned on them?”
“Yes, although that should not surprise us too greatly,” Ankaht said mildly to her colleague and friend. “They have resisted the herding attempts of the Kaituni before.”
Wethermere nodded. “Yes, and their reasons are probably the same this time, too.”
Mretlak’s central eye closed and reopened slowly: profound agreement. “They are reclaiming their old systems. The system they most heavily invested was one of their Hives.”
“Which we devastated over two hundred and sixty years ago,” Yoshikuni pointed out irritably.
“So you did,” Narrok agreed. “But what caches might they have there that you did not find, but of which they still have record? What data, archives, resources are there that, in their tireless industry, the Arachnids secreted in cometary orbits or amidst the litter of a belt, or on any one of thousands of nondescript planetoids? In the quest to reestablish themselves quickly, these assets could be crucial to them now.”
“And beyond logic, there is the reflex of tradition,” Rrurr’rao added with a nod. “It is their place. They will go to it. Perhaps out of instinct as much as reason.”
Yoshikuni leaned two, fine-fingered fists on the table. “So we are now aware how the circumstances have changed. And I am presuming that the Kaituni fleet ahead of us is now racing to do the job that they had originally envisioned for half of the Bugs that they lost: to cut off Trevayne by getting to Bug 15 before he does.”
Ankaht’s vocoder-voice was calm. “Yes. Or at least, to enter it and interdict the warp point to Alpha Centauri before he reaches it.”
“Wouldn’t Admiral Trevayne’s fleet just push one Dispersate out of the way?” asked Jennifer Pietchkov. Her voice sounded as though she already doubted whether such a task would be as easy as her phrasing made it sound.
“No, Ms. Pietchkov,” Narrok answered solemnly. “Certainly, Admiral Trevayne would prevail. He might not even lose that many ships. But he would lose many, many precious hours while a much larger foe was close at his heels. Battles are lost just as often due to running out of time as running out of resources.”
“Admiral Narrok, I could not agree more.” Yoshikuni sat very straight. “And that is why we will be changing our own strategy to match the Kaituni’s.”
“In what way, Admiral?” Ankaht asked.
“In the only way that will help Admiral Trevayne’s defense of Earth: we’re going on the attack.”