6
Dire Progress
Is it progress if a cannibal uses knife and fork?
—Lec
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me
—Shakespeare
Headquarters, Confederation Fleet Command, Luzarix, Hyx’Tangri System
The characteristic flat plains of the Tangri homeworld, with their carpet of tough gray-green khunillatis vegetation, stretched away, seemingly into infinity.
Ultraz, gazing out across those plains from the terrace, felt within himself the emotion the sight always awoke in his race—a feeling for which the human word “wanderlust” was a pale and inadequate approximation. He was the Dominant One, the speaker of the arnharanaks or “high rulers,” the assemblage of the anaks of all the hordes. But he was no more immune to the feeling than the lowliest Tangri.
Nevertheless, his position required him to see with longer vision than others. To him, the stars were a vaster plain, on which grazed herds of prey beyond the dreams of his ancestors—prey like the humans.
He leaned on the balustrade, resting the arms of his upright torso on it while stretching out his horizontal four-legged barrel. He had read, in one of the in-depth intelligence reports, that the humans described his race as centauroid, a word derived from a legendary creature with the upper parts of a human and the body of their favorite riding animal. He regarded it as a compliment, reflecting the humans’ unconscious awareness of their own inadequacy. Their ancestors had needed that riding animal to give them the kind of mobility the Tangri possessed as part of their evolutionary birthright. It had made possible the nomadic cultures of early human history—but it hadn’t been enough to prevent the settled agriculturalists and town-builders (zemlixi, came the automatic, contemptuous thought) from eventually imposing their mud-bound pattern on all their race.
Which, Ultraz reflected, had probably been inevitable anyway. The humans, after all, were not Tangri, and therefore not truly sentient. Oh, they clearly had some neurological process that served them in place of intelligence, like the Orions and all the others. But nothing could alter the fact that, at bottom, they were merely prey animals.
Very dangerous ones, it had to be admitted.
“It is time, Dominant One,” came a diffident but subtly mischievous voice from behind him.
“Thank you, Scyryx,” he said, turning. The male who had spoken was slightly smaller than Ultraz, and his short, dense fur had a less pronounced reddish undertone. But a human would have discerned little difference between them, beneath the common alienness of flat, bone-armored head and blunt snout. But to Tangri eyes, attuned to ethnic minutiae, Scyryx was a classic physical specimen of the widely disliked Korvak Horde. (“Greasy, effeminate corrupters with low cunning” came closest to expressing, in human terms, the popular image.) Their association therefore had to be publicly downplayed as a political alliance of convenience. Privately, Ultraz—who was, for a Tangri of the dominant culture, almost uniquely free of Horde stereotypes—valued Scyryx’s advice and found his irreverence toward traditional rigidities more refreshing than he dared admit.
They proceeded down one of the shallow ramps that served the Tangri in place of stairways and entered the massive building—even more brutally functional than most Tangri structures, for it housed the headquarters of the Confederation Fleet Command. They passed through multiply redundant layers of security, where guards raised their chins, exposing their throats to Ultraz in the submission gesture of greeting. Those guards all wore harnesses of a uniform pattern—an innovation among the fiercely individualistic Tangri. But then, the Confederation Fleet Command was an innovation in itself, born of the demonstrated inability of the separate Horde fleets to cope with prey-animals as formidable as those that grazed among the star-fields. It was ironic that Heruvycx, its arnhahorrax or commander, was by birth a member of the Hragha Horde, whose spectacularly disastrous attempt at independent action had made that inability clear to all but the most reactionary or stupid.
On reflection, though, Ultraz decided it wasn’t so ironic after all. Horde origins mattered less and less among CFC officers. That was one reason he spent as much time here among them as he could justify. Their attitude was something else he surreptitiously found refreshing, after days spent wading through the morass of inter-Horde politics.
He and Scyryx entered the vast hexagonal chamber that was the CFC’s nerve center. There, surrounded by viewscreens and ranks of control panels, was a large circular table encompassing a holographic display.
Heruvycx and his staffers were reclining on the frameworks that served the Tangri for chairs. Their aides and assistants—zemlixi for the most part, descended from the conquered agricultural populations, outside and beneath the Horde society—stood far back in the shadows. Scyryx almost but not quite joined them, taking his place behind Ultraz as the latter reclined, receiving the submission gestures of the officers who rose at his approach.
“Greetings, Dominant One,” said Heruvycx. “We have analyzed the latest reconnaissance probe findings and are ready with a report and recommendations.”
“Excellent, arnhahorrax.” Ultraz studied the holo display, recognizing the warp chain its human discoverers had named the Bellerophon Arm.
His attention was particularly focused on the Tisiphone system, nine warp transits up the chain from Bellerophon, and the starless warp nexus BR-07, eight warp transits up and then one transit off into a spur.
It was at those points that the Tangri possessed warp connections with the Bellerophon Arm and the human polity called the Rim Federation that claimed it. Those connections had long since been known, and attempts had been made to exploit them, through the New Hordes (a fiction invented for the purpose of assigning blame for raids that failed—a ploy that would not have fooled anyone but a mental defective or a human politician). But unfortunately, the human admirals had not proven susceptible to such subterfuges. They and their considerable fleets had been a troublesome impediment. Now, however…
“Ever since receiving your policy guidance,” said Heruvycx, as if reading Ultraz’s thoughts, “we have continued probing those warp points as instructed, to determine whether the Rim humans in the Bellerophon Arm have withdrawn their strength to deal with the new prey animals that have occupied the Bellerophon system.”
Ultraz gave a gesture of approval. The appearance of the new arrivals at Bellerophon—through normal space, of all the unheard-of things—had burst open the entire strategic picture and spawned a whole new range of possibilities. After much debate, the options of allying with one or the other of the factions in the new war—for example, allowing the humans access to the Arm through the two warp points—had been rejected. The advantages had not been commensurate with the risks, not to mention with the sheer revulsion aroused by the unprecedented thought of allying (however insincerely) with prey animals. Instead, it had been decided that the Tangri would take advantage of the Rim humans’ sudden inability to learn what was transpiring in the Arm beyond the Bellerophon system itself. In fact, the Tangri would reinforce that ignorance by declaring neutrality (a typically gutless human concept) and closing their borders. And then they would begin to implement their long-standing ambition by seizing the Rim’s Treadway system and everything beyond it, thus securing all the open warp points of the Arm. Afterward, they could begin to work their way down the Arm toward Bellerophon itself.
Heruvycx indicated a display screen. “These, Dominant One, are the vessels the Rim humans had deployed in the two systems in question at the time our policy was first put into effect. Since then, as instructed, we have sent reconnaissance drones through the warp points at regular intervals.”
Ultraz gestured his understanding. One of the fundamental facts of interstellar travel was that only a fairly substantial physical vessel could transit a warp point. There could be no nonmaterial transmittal of information through one. For centuries, this had meant that anyone passing through an unexplored warp point (or one with enemies waiting on the other side) had been going in blind.
New columns of figures appeared on the screen. “These are the corresponding figures from the later drones, keyed by date,” Heruvycx explained. “You will note that there has been little if any rotation among the picket vessels. Instead, they have become steadily less numerous as the larger ship types have begun to depart. Since these systems were never protected by any hull heavier than a light cruiser, the current patrol forces are composed almost entirely of very light units.”
“Yes, I see all this.”
“Dominant One, these data indicate that the Rim humans are coming under increasing pressure from their enemies, so that they must call on all the forces they can scrape together, even at the cost of inadequate picketing. In the opinion of the Confederation Fleet Command staff, this suggests that the time is growing ripe for us to make our move.”
“Furthermore,” Scyryx put in, “if the new prey animals are, indeed, advancing up the Arm from Bellerophon, we will be well advised to act without unnecessary delay. The more systems they conquer, the fewer easy conquests will be left for us.”
“That is so, Dominant One.” Agreeing with Scyryx obviously caused Heruvycx physical pain.
Ultraz considered for a moment. “Very well. I concur, and I do not believe there will be any serious dissent among the arnharanaks. Indeed, many of them have been chaffing at what they consider our overcaution. If there is any disagreement, it will be dealt with.” Ultraz left it at that, without going into what substances some of the anaks or Horde leaders used in place of brains. He had long since identified all possible sources of opposition and had arranged in advance for those sources to be humbled in personal combat on the arnharanaks floor, in the fine old tradition of Tangri parliamentary procedure.
“Thank you, Dominant One,” said Heruvycx. “In anticipation of your decision, we have prepared orders for the redeployment of our fleets.”
“Good. I leave matters in your hands, arnhahorrax.” Ultraz got up off his framework. The staffers rose and then quickly dipped into the departing submission gesture while tucking their kyeexes—short-handled ceremonial glaives—well behind them.
Of course, Ultraz reflected, the real challenges to his talents lay ahead. The long-term policy could not be plotted out in advance, for it would depend on whether the humans or their new enemies won their war, and on how badly the winners had been weakened by their victory. Flexibility and adaptability would bear cultivating.
But Ultraz was not worried. A predator who blindly pursued a rigid course of action was a predator who did not live long enough to pass his stupidity on into the gene pool. So there were no such among Ultraz’s ancestors.