Raising Caine - eARC (23 page)
Read Raising Caine - eARC Online
Authors: Charles E. Gannon
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Space Opera, #Alien Contact, #General
Yiithrii’ah’aash seemed pleased. “You are an exceptionally quick study, Doctor Hwang. Your surmise is correct. The rest is, I trust, is obvious.”
Hirano Mizuki nodded. “The indigenous creatures which have tolerated greater proximity with your own species, being better fed and hydrated, now have better survival and breeding odds. In that way, you are increasing the prevalence of whatever combination of predisposition and learned behaviors made them more tolerant. Conversely, by ensuring that the aggressive ones cannot hijack the fruit, you reduce their breeding odds and, consequently, their ability to impart the unwanted traits to subsequent generations. Over time, you will provide the changed species with additional training opportunities and consequent survival and breeding advantages. And the final step will be to increase their toleration for your own fauna until they are comfortable mingling, and even sharing the fruit.”
Dora Veriden was watching the flapped nutria-squirrels. “Must be handy to have those trained muskrats ready to work for you. How long does it take to bribe them into submission?”
Yiithrii’ah’aash turned, as did several of the legation, at the facetiousness of Dora’s tone. “The species you refer to, Ms. Veriden, has several of our own traits, which we find not only useful but crucial. Specifically, Slaasriithi intelligence arose not so much from tool use, but from our reflex to establish relationships with other species and thereby, increase our social sophistication, specialization, and survival strategies.”
The ambassador gestured back toward the squirrel-nutrias. “We did not
train
these creatures to apply a crude version of operant conditioning upon these indigenous species. It is a reflex, coded into their genetic matrix. This is how they, and we, survive and ultimately thrive in new environments.”
Ben Hwang nodded thoughtfully. “It sounds like a very gradual process, however.”
“‘Gradual’ is an extremely subjective concept, Doctor.” Yiithrii’ah’aash began leading them into rougher terrain that was centered around a drumlin in the lee of the terminal moraine. “Time cost is strongly influenced by how one perceives time itself. And that perception, in turn, is strongly influenced by one’s concept of self and mortality.”
Gaspard eagerly snapped at the discursive bait Yiithrii’ah’aash had left trailing in the wake of his last statement. “And how would you say Slaasriithi perception of self, and mortality, differs from human?”
Yiithrii’ah’aash purred low and long. “Our individualism and self-worth derive from the role we play in the polytaxic matrix that is our community. Conversely, in human cultures, community is the outgrowth of a consensus between individuals. Which is to say, the individual is the foundation of your society, not the community.
“And so, when you label our bioforming a ‘gradual’ process, I believe you are measuring it according to the life-costs
you
would associate such an enterprise: lost experiences, socialization, resources, additional accomplishments. It is, according to your species’ natural scales of value, a ‘bad deal.’ However, for my species, one’s role is innate to one’s taxon, so our instincts and aptitudes lead inexorably to the tasks that are our sources of fulfillment.”
Gaspard cleared his throat. “And which, er, taxae, are working here on Adumbratus?”
“My assistants are hortatorae. The trainers you saw are gerulorae. Only one other taxon is present, and very few of those: the novitorae. They are responsible for researching innovations in biota.”
Caine, on Yiithrii’ah’aash’s other side, asked quietly. “And what of you, Yiithrii’ah’aash? To what taxon do you belong?
The ambassador swung his sensor cluster slowly toward Caine. “I belong to a taxon that is much, much less populous than the others. In your language, the closest approximation would be ratiocinatorae.”
Caine smiled to himself:
And why am I not surprised?
They made their way down into the rougher terrain.
* * *
Gaspard was gasping as the legation, now strung out, paused to regather in a wide, rocky wadi. “I must confess, I am astounded at what you have achieved in the modification of this planet. I admit enough envy to wonder if these are skills you might teach us?”
And so begins the pre-negotiation process.
Riordan hopped up on a rock, waved for the stragglers to catch up. Macmillan and Wu, now at the rear of the group, waved their acknowledgement. Collarcoms had very limited range on Adumbratus.
Yiithrii’ah’aash responded to Gaspard with a lazy roll of his fingers. “Our bioforming processes are not difficult if one does not proceed in haste.”
Caine wondered if that caveat would remain audible over the cascade of imaginary gold ringing in CEOs’ ears. With Slaasriithi methods, marginal planetary environments could be made shirt-sleeve, and brown worlds could be made at least marginally green.
If those long-term prospects were not a sufficient hook with which to snag the attention of human avarice, Yiithrii’ah’aash’s next offer was sure to irresistably harpoon it. “A selective application of the processes you have seen here, and on board our ship, might also help you in other ways. For instance, what if your spacecraft were able to reduce their environmental resupply needs by ninety percent?”
Morgan Lymbery broke his long silence abruptly. “That would mean achieving a ninety-eight percent efficient bioloop compared to the eighty percent that is our current best.”
“Yes,” Yiithrii’ah’aash answered simply.
“You could do that?” It was no longer shortness of breath which made Gaspard sound like he was on the verge of panting.
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s neck oscillated diffidently. “Your ships, being mechanical, have intrinsic efficiency limits. But they could be dramatically improved, with the right biota and symbiots.”
“The right biota and symbiots”?
Caine hopped down from his perch.
And what pheromones or spores might they start releasing, either on our ships or our new shirtsleeve worlds, to make sure that
we
don’t hiss or growl when grabbing the next piece of fruit you offer to us? I just wonder if—
“Caine, come in.” Bannor’s collarcom-distorted voice was sharp, no-nonsense. “We’ve got trouble.”
Riordan saw a plume of dust at the mid point of their slowly re-collapsing column.
Damn it—
He started sprinting in that direction. “Sitrep, Major.”
“Something charged out from the shadows of the shield moraine. Didn’t seem affected by the scent markers; went straight at its target.”
“Which was?”
“Dora Veriden. And she’s running like hell in your general direction.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bioband’s valland and In orbit; GJ 1248 One (“Adumbratus”)
Caine started shouting instructions into his collarcom. “Tygg, did you hear Bannor’s report?”
“Most of it. I think. Commo’s scratchy.”
“Stay close to the ambassadors. You and O’Garran set up a defensive perimeter with the others. If Yiithrii’ah’aash can do something about the situation, have him do it quickly. Without weapons, all we can do is throw sticks and shout. Doubt that’s going to do very much.”
“I’m on it.”
Riordan changed the com channel. “Bannor, is Wu with you?”
“No, back with Macmillan.”
Damn it.
“So who’s closest to Veriden?”
“Me and you. But I’m just topping the rise that she got chased off of. Karam took off after the critter that rushed her. More guts than brains, that guy. But he’s dropping behind pretty quickly.”
Caine swerved off the path they’d followed, headed out into the alien undergrowth. “Can you still see Veriden and the—the creature?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Then stay right where you are. You’re the only one with eyes on both objectives. Can you see me yet? I’m coming around the northern spur of the drumlin.”
“No, I—yes: you just came into sight.”
“Good. I can’t see Dora or the creature, so talk me into an intercept. And talk Veriden toward me.”
“Yeah, but what the hell are you going to do?”
“Find a handy rock and hope to hell it doesn’t want to tackle two of us. Talk Karam toward us also, and Howarth. Have Wu and Macmillan watch our backs for more critters. They might not hunt alone.”
“I’m on it. For now, angle a little to your left. You’ve got about a minute of running ahead of you. Well, maybe more.” The carrier wave snicked off.
Riordan heard yelling behind him, then multiple pages to his collarcom from random team-members. He ignored it all. Bannor would either intervene and play switchboard or delegate it to Tygg, but either way, combat experience had taught Caine that when you are at the tip of the spear, you cannot see and coordinate the big picture. His only job was to keep closing, stay alert, and listen for updates.
Which came in fast enough. “Caine,” Bannor shouted, “swerve into that gulch you’re approaching on the right. I got Dora to duck in there. She’ll be coming straight toward you. With company right behind.”
“Roger that. Where’s Karam?”
“Bringing up the rear. Probably wishing he’d spent a few more hours in the gym.”
“You get a look at the thing chasing Dora?”
“Nope. Just saw its dust.”
“Veriden tell you anything?”
“She’s too busy sprinting, breathing, and cursing.”
Can’t say I blame her
. “Any sign of other predators?”
“Nope. Yiithrii’ah’aash’s signal is bad, but he made it clear that this creature is not a pack predator.”
Well, some good news at last.
“Send Macmillan and Wu after me once the rest of the legation has regrouped under Tygg’s protection. And send out the ex-military EMT from Peking, Xue.”
“You’ve got it—and you should have a visual any moment now.”
“Maybe, but I’ve got a big boulder in my way. I’m going to have to go arou—”
Riordan dodged a blur that shot out from the blind side of the boulder: Dora Veriden. She detected Caine just before colliding with him: her side-stepping dodge morphed effortlessly into the karate move known as a back-stepping shuto, or knife-hand block.
Damn. Bodyguard, indeed.
“Shit, Riordan: are you trying to kill me with a body block?”
“Hello yourself. Find a weapon. How far behind you is it?”
“We have three seconds. Fan out.”
Which seemed the only thing to do. Caine spotted and scooped up a hand-sized stone the same moment he saw a new blur come around the boulder. He went into a sideways ready stance, stone cocked back—
And stared. The creature halted abruptly, might have been staring back. But Riordan couldn’t tell because he could not discern any obvious eyes. Hell, nothing was obvious about this critter.
Clearly one of Adumbratus’ indigenous species, it was a chitinous triped standing—crouching?—over two meters tall. Its smooth legs swept upward into curved, articulated joints. Its ovate thorax was topped by a tapering, swaying neck sheathed in reticulated plates. The head resembled a hyper-streamlined balpeen hammer, black specks chasing down either side of it like a dotted line. The underside of the hammer’s head snapped up and down once; not a typical predator’s jaws—no fangs or decisively sharp teeth—but the force of that surprised bite at empty air would have put a grizzly bear to shame.
The creature—a blend of dark cerulean and cyan with black-violet racing stripes—started toward Caine but then flinched toward Dora again.
Wait: did it feint at me before attacking her? Or was it jumping
away
from me? One way to find out
—
Riordan leapt into the space between the creature and Dora.
The blue tripod-nightmare drew up short, rattled ominously from someplace in the rear of its balpeen head, but finally jerked back. It swayed from side to side.
Caine swayed with it.
More annoyed rattling. It feinted as though it might try to slip through the gap between Riordan and the boulder, and thereby get to Dora, but Caine had the measure of the creature: its aversion to him precluded its use of that excessively narrow space. Anticipating its ploy, Caine jumped to the other side.
The tripod, leaping to exploit what it clearly hoped would be a widened hole in Caine’s other flank, thrashed in midair, screeching like china plates in a woodchipper as it collapsed into an abortive tangle of limbs.
Veriden moved to stand just behind Caine. “
Coño
,” she muttered.
“Yeah,” Riordan agreed. He took a step forward.
The blue and black monster, having just regained its tripedal footing, skittered backward. It quivered, as if at the end of an invisible leash. Caine had no knowledge of the fauna of GJ 1248, and damn little of any other planet besides Earth’s, but the creature’s intents were unmistakable. It desperately wanted to leap forward, to trample and gut Riordan. But a countervailing impulse was holding it back: not mere uncertainty, or fear, but a shuddering aversion akin to a human resisting immersion in bleach.
From the direction of the trail and from beyond the boulder, distant cries were growing rapidly louder.
With a swiftness that Riordan had never seen in a quadruped—possibly because this creature’s body didn’t turn; its thorax simply rotated—the tripedal attacker skittered off, raising up a considerable cloud of dust.
Caine, duty suit sticking to his sweat-covered body, shouted into the collarcom, “Bannor, call off Karam. Make sure that thing’s got an unobstructed route of retreat.”
“Already done. And Jesus, is that monster fast. So much for ‘no predators worth worrying about.’ I’m really interested to hear how Yiithrii’ah’aash is going to explain
that
one.”
“Yeah,” Caine agreed.
And I’m going to be even more interested to learn why it avoided me like the plague—and hunted Veriden like she was dinner.
* * *
Caine’s hair was still damp from showering when his stateroom’s privacy chime rang. “Computer: permit entry.” Then, louder: “Come in.”
Ben Hwang and Bannor Rulaine stepped through the opening hatchway. “Got a minute?” asked the major.
“Probably just about that. We haven’t heard from Yiithrii’ah’aash since getting back to the ship, but he’ll want to chat with us pretty soon.”
Hwang nodded. “Undoubtedly. Gaspard is concerned that today’s events could derail what he calls the ‘relationship fundament of initial diplomatic overtures.’”
“Do you think Gaspard spoke that way before he attended the Sorbonne?”
Hwang sighed. “Bannor, I suspect he came out of the womb speaking that way. But he may be right. Yiithrii’ah’aash cut the tour a lot shorter than he intended and has been very reticent since.”
Caine shrugged. “Yes, but I’m not sure that’s indicative of disappointment or anger with us.”
Ben folded his arms. “No? Why not?”
“Look, we don’t know why that creature didn’t avoid Veriden’s scent marker, but the bottom line is that our visit to Yiithrii’ah’aash’s ‘safe’ planet went to hell in a hand-basket. It was like going to a new friend’s house who tells you that his dog doesn’t bite, and then looking down to find its jaws locked on your leg. So Yiithrii’ah’aash may be as embarrassed as he is upset.”
“Yes, but Gaspard is still worried that Yiithrii’ah’aash will reassess whether the Slaasriithi should ally with us.”
Which might be a blessing in disguise.
But what Riordan said was: “That’s a reasonable trepidation.” He sat, looked at Bannor. “So, you were going to speak with Dora.”
Bannor nodded. “I did.”
“She didn’t know why that thing might have attacked her?”
“We didn’t get that far. She pulled rank and clammed up.”
Hwang stared. “She pulled
rank
? How? She’s part of our security detachment, right?”
Riordan shook his head. “Technically, she is Gaspard’s personal security asset. She doesn’t have to coordinate with, or report to, me at all. Unless she wants to. Or Gaspard instructs her to do so.”
Bannor nodded. “Which was the line she took with me.”
Hwang’s stare had grown wider. “So we can’t get her to answer questions about the incident until he, or she, says so?”
Bannor’s nod seemed to trigger the privacy chime. Caine raised his voice. “Come in.”
Dora Veriden entered, looking more sullen than usual. Caine stood, resisted the urge to comment on her extraordinary timing. “Hello, Ms. Veriden. How are you feeling?”
Her incongruously elfin features went from dour to vinegary. “You keep asking me that: why?”
“I only asked you one other time: right after the creature ran away. I’m checking that you’re doing okay.”
“Listen: when it was chasing me, I wasn’t so okay. That’s over. So now I’m okay. Is that so hard to understand?”
Riordan suppressed a sigh. “I understand that, Ms. Veriden. But I don’t understand your attitude. You’re part of the legation, and I’m concerned with your welfare, both professional and personal. That’s all.” He gestured toward a seat as he resumed his own.
Dora ignored the gesture. “Look, I don’t need your personal concern. And professionally, the only person who has any reason, or right, to inquire after my status is my employer: Ambassador Gaspard.”
Riordan shook his head. “That’s not quite accurate, Ms. Veriden. He is certainly the only person who can give you security-related directives.”
Which is a bad arrangement, but that’s a different topic.
“However, as a member of this legation, your moment-to-moment personal safety is my responsibility. Whether you like it or not.”
“Not,” Dora answered. And finally took a seat.
Well, I’ve got to give her points for bluntness.
“Ms. Veriden, while I’d have been glad for you to stop by on your own initiative, I doubt that’s what brought you here.”
Veriden nodded. “Yeah. Gaspard sent me.”
Caine waited. He didn’t want to make Dora any more uncomfortable than she had to be, but on the other hand, she tended to nip and snarl when others initiated conversation. Better to let her proceed in whatever manner she chose.
She looked Riordan in the eye. “That animal came at me because I didn’t put on the biomarkers.”
Bannor leaned forward sharply. “
What
?”
She leaned right back at him. “Are you deaf? I said I didn’t put on the markers.”
Bannor’s posture did not change, but his color did; flushing, Rulaine’s jaw muscles clenched as he struggled to suppress a presumably blistering reply—
“Ms. Veriden.” Riordan kept his voice professional, but sharp. “I assure you, Major Rulaine’s hearing is unimpaired. You may not be a part of my security team, but I will insist upon a modicum of respect when you interact with its members. Now: why didn’t you apply the protective biomarkers?”
“I—I thought it would be best if one of us didn’t.”
Caine leaned back, considered. The tone of her voice suggested that the explanation wasn’t a complete fabrication, but he could tell it wasn’t the whole truth, either. But right now, he had a concrete explanation, and that was enough to start with. “Why did you think it prudent that one of the legation remain unmarked?”
She looked at Caine quizzically. “You really want to know?”
“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t ask.”
She stared at him sidelong for a moment before replying. “Okay. So, these Slaasriithi seem to have reversed the importance of machinery and biology. That makes me wonder: shouldn’t we be as careful of their sprays and markers and gifts as they should be of accepting our bugged ID badges and presents? How would we know if they’re marking us for their own purposes? And how can we be sure that they won’t include biochemicals that can be used to influence or control
us
?”
Hwang was shaking his head, but Caine jumped in before he could start enumerating the many ways in which this was unlikely or impossible. “Ms. Veriden, I admire your attention to our more subtle security challenges. Be assured, the same thoughts have occurred to us.”
She was surprised by that response but rallied rapidly and went on the offensive: “Yeah? Then why didn’t you spray
your
container on the ground when no one was looking?”
Caine smiled. “Firstly, I was in the front rank. It’s not as though I had the opportunity to do so surreptitiously. But the real reason is this: have you also considered that part of our legation’s role is to function like a canary in a coal mine?”
Dora Veriden’s mouth closed and then opened; she spent a moment waiting for a retort that never materialized. “No,” she said flatly. “I’m not even sure what you mean.” Hwang and Bannor looked equally flummoxed.
Riordan steepled his fingers. “Ms. Veriden, it seems you’ve spent most of your life on the sharp end, so this won’t be news to you: any probe into a new area is somewhat like a recon mission. The main objective is to get in, look around, then return to report. But even if the mission is lost, even if it disappears without a trace, that’s still valuable intel. It warns the people who sent the recon team that the region is not completely safe and that any further entry should be handled with caution. And if even a few survivors make it back? More valuable still: not only can you debrief them, but scan them for pathogens, nanytes, any other contaminants or suspicious substances.”