Raising Caine - eARC (57 page)
Read Raising Caine - eARC Online
Authors: Charles E. Gannon
Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Space Opera, #Alien Contact, #General
It was Phil Friel who broke the silence with a sigh. “And within twenty-four hours, you were meeting with Yiithrii’ah’aash. And within another four, we were being scraped together into this legation. So when was Downing supposed to tell you, Caine? Was there ever a reasonable moment, a moment when you didn’t need all your attention and faculties, both for yourself and for the mission?” He paused. “I don’t know Downing, but withholding this information doesn’t sound like something he
chose
to do: it sounds like something
he
had to do. And then the rush of events did the rest.”
Riordan did not remember returning to his seat, was not sure how long he’d been sitting there before he looked up and said, through a tight, parched throat, “I’d like to be alone.” And then he was lost again: lost in one image after another of Elena, occasionally interspersed with the one photo he’d ever seen of his son Connor.
Out of the silence, as if happening at the other end of a long tunnel, he vaguely heard a chair leg scrape on the floor, then Dora’s voice. “Hey, you.”
It was Karam who answered. “Me?”
“You see anyone else sitting where I’m looking? Let’s go get dinner. And don’t get any ideas; I’m just hungry, is all.”
Karam must have risen and left with her. At some point the others did as well.
Riordan didn’t see or hear them leave; all he could see was Elena.
* * *
Mriif’vaal accompanied Yiithrii’ah’aash to the flight operations section of the Third Silver Tower. They approached the waiting shuttle in silence. Yiithrii’ah’aash sent forth a thin wave-front of amity pheromones, and turned to board and begin his journey back to the
Tidal-Drift-Instaurator-to-Shore-of-Stars
and, ultimately, human space.
“Yiithrii’ah’aash, a question, if I may.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash turned back toward Mriif’vaal. “Of course. You have been most silent today, and I have not wanted to distract you from your thoughts.”
“They are not thoughts so much as they are concerns. Anxieties, even.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s interlaced his tendrils, made sure that his posture was relaxed. “Please share these with me; perhaps I may help.”
“My gratitude, Yiithrii’ah’aash. The events surrounding the humans, and particularly Caine Riordan—I am not sure I understand all the consequences of the choice we made to preserve his life by applying the ancient theriac.”
Ah: Mriif’vaal is both subtle and wise. He will be an excellent Prime Ratiocinator, when his day comes.
“What consequences do you fear or foresee?”
“My reservations are not specific, but general.”
“Please elucidate.”
“Gladly, Yiithrii’ah’aash. I have never before encountered so many safeguards against the use of any resource that is at our disposal, and so many limiting protocols for its application. Even our employment of nuclear weapons has fewer, or at least less narrow, constraints. And yet, the danger one would presume to necessitate such extreme precautions is nowhere evident in the action of the theriac itself.”
Clever. Excellent. But I may not fully satisfy your curiosity, and so apologize for the lie of omission that I must now employ.
“The consequences of the theriac are difficult to foresee; they may take different forms, it is said. However, we created these potential problems by acting hastily in bringing the humans to us.”
That we had no good alternative to that haste is a separate matter.
“What I commend to your further consideration is this: what problems we may have made for ourselves, and for Caine Riordan, by raising him from near-death with the theriac are in the future. Obversely, we had to act to solve urgent problems that beset us in the present. And Caine Riordan was, and remains, the key to their solution. In short, there was no choice. Besides, Mriif’vaal, beyond his utility to our purposes, Caine is also a great friend to our species and will prove even more so in the years to come, I foresee.”
Mriif’vaal buzzed faintly. “And you are fond of him.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s neck wiggled. “And I am fond of him. But beyond any personal feeling in the matter, there is the need for our two species to be Affined. A powerful need.” Yiithrii’ah’aash paused, let that pause alter the tenor of the conversation as he resumed with a casual, almost speculative tone. “I, and others, have been contemplating how the humans both problematize and adorn our macroscopic perspective of the universe, and how that points toward a long-term solution to our current problems. In contemplating the humans, I find myself unfurling tendrils of logic into the fibers of the cosmos as it is revealed to us through our challenges.”
“And what does this reflection show you?”
Yiithrii’ah’aash was silent for a second, elected to answer Mriif’vaal’s question with one of his own. “It is odd, is it not, how each of the sapient species in this region of space has a special talent?”
“I am not sure I perceive your meaning.”
“It is as though the way our own species has distributed our need for different skills over our taxae and subtaxae recalls and resonates with the cosmos’ own distribution of special talents and abilities among the other species we have encountered.” He sent a final wave of affinity pheromones at Mriif’vaal. “You might contemplate this, in quiet moments.”
Not daring to say more, Yiithrii’ah’aash dipped his neck in farewell, turned and boarded the waiting shuttle.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Deep space; BD +02 4076 and Sigma Draconis
Brenlor glanced at Ayana Tagawa, the only Aboriginal who was still on the bridge of the
Arbitrage
. “Your shift-plot is sufficient. Leave us.”
The small Asian female nodded her way into a reasonable bow that never did become fully submissive, Nezdeh noted.
She is the best of them and the most dangerous. And having lost one of our two Intendants and two near-Evolved, we need her even more than before. That does not bode well.
Arbitrage
’s preacceleration burn caused them all to lean slightly toward the aft bulkhead; in eight hours they would terminate thrust and engage the shift drive to the system designated as G-22-26. But after that…Brenlor had not announced their subsequent course, which made Nezdeh nervous. His decisions had improved recently, but he had closeted himself over the matter of their further destinations and ultimate objective. Thus shielded from counsel, Brenlor would decide their fate. Possibly disastrously.
Brenlor Srin Perekmeres crossed his arms, leaned over the star-plot, shrank its scale to show more stars in the same volume. “Our mission to disrupt the establishment of an alliance between the Aboriginals and the Slaasriithi has failed. While our loss of Terran equipment and clones is negligible, we shall continue to feel the loss of our own team-members. However, we still have a way to achieve our primary objective: to undermine any post-war stability between the various powers. We must ensure that the Aboriginals’ recovery from the war is problematic and that they are unable to fully capitalize upon both the spoils of their victory over the Arat Kur and the benefits of any alliance with the Slaasriithi. And in so doing, we shall implicate House Shethkador as providing woefully insufficient leadership in this area of space.”
So we will achieve the same ends with far fewer means—including the inestimable advantage of surprise? This,
thought Nezdeh,
should prove most interesting.
“Firstly, our defeat in this system provides our foes with no decisive forensic evidence, so it is unlikely to register with the Autarchs as more than a nuisance. Because Jesel and Suzruzh were not the product of optimized genelines, we left no definitive genetics. The Catalysites were expended and hence, deliquesced. We did not lose any of our own technology on their mission. In summary, any accusation against the Ktoran Sphere will be circumstantial and unsubstantiatable. The incident will become at most a cavil, not a decisive argument, against us, either within the Sphere or the Accord. Indeed, all the evidence we left behind is of Aboriginal origin.”
Idrem nodded, folded his own arms. “Yes, but the Aboriginals still lack the shift range, to say nothing of the astrographic charts, to make their way to this system. So the question will be asked: how did they get there?”
“To which every responsible party must presently answer: ‘Who knows?’ Every power of the Accord will deny responsibility, including our own Sphere, who will be the most eager to disavow any involvement. And so, discord is sewn: an act has been committed but no one takes responsibility. Let them concoct whatever plots they wish. It shall not point back to the Sphere or our patrons.”
Sehtrek rubbed his chin. “And yet, Srin Shethkador, the Autarchs and the Hegemons will all know—
know
—who did this.”
Brenlor smiled. “Yes, they will know. And part of what they will know is that Shethkador failed. We stole a ship of his in order to commandeer the
Arbitrage
, and although he was charged with calming the post-war waters, they instead roiled and frothed due to his inability to establish full dominion.”
Idrem nodded. Nezdeh could tell that he was impressed with Brenlor’s growth as a schemer. “That is so. But despite insufficient evidence, the other powers of the Accord will also know.”
“Of course they will…and what could be better for generating the suspicions and tensions that are the precursors to the reumption of war? The humans will point incessantly to the impossibility of their involvement. The Slaasriithi must already conjecture it was us, the Arat Kur will be cast into greater turmoil, and the Hkh’Rkh will not care. But the greatest impact will be among the Aboriginals themselves, who will be torn between concealing or revealing the implicating clones and landers and guns we left behind.”
“Yes, which could ultimately align the still disparate and factious nations of the Aboriginals strongly
against
us.”
“Perhaps, but only if they have the luxury of time, of clarity, in which to consider the relevant facts. However, we shall ensure that the reports of what occurred here will be thoroughly mixed with new, more perplexing and distressing reports.”
“And your plan can sow this profound confusion?”
Brenlor nodded, leaned away from the plot. For the first time his posture suggested hesitation. “I know of a project, a false flag operation left in sleeper mode, that was established by the next to last Hegemon of House Perekmeres. It was developed intermittently, opportunistically, starting approximately two centuries ago. It fell by the wayside a century later and was all but forgotten. Indeed, it was not referenced in any of the records that were arrogated during our Extirpation. When our House died, so did all the memories of this project. Except for mine.”
“And you know of it how?” Tegrese asked.
Brenlor stared at her. “My father was one of those few who had overseen the project And if all the pieces of this hidden ploy remain where they were deposited, it only requires my touch to set it in motion and thereby draw the Aboriginals into another disastrous war. In the bargain, we shall assure the Ktoran Sphere of the continued alliance of the Hkh’Rkh, and gain access to badly needed resources. In the meantime, as we make our journey, we may reanimate the many UnDreamers of the
Arbitrage
and train them properly.” He leaned back. “It will be risky, but it can be done. And it is so bold, that none will look for it.”
Sehtrek stared at the star plot. “So how do we get to the place where these assets were deposited?”
“With our tug, it is but four shifts before we stand on the threshold of our final destination. From G-22-26, we proceed to HU Delphini, thence to AC+17 534-105, further to EQ Pegasi, and on to our penultimate destination G 130-4 .”
Nezdeh almost rolled her eyes.
Enough drama, or caution, Brenlor:
“And what is the
ultimate
destination?”
“BD +56 2966, to use the designation given on the Aboriginal charts.”
Nezdeh started. “That is the location of the Hkh’Rhh colony world, Tulkh’saar. It is also the system directly adjacent to their homeworld.” She managed to suppress “
Are you mad
?”
Brenlor’s leonine smile did not put her at ease. “I told you it would be too bold to be predicted.”
“That is…one way of putting it.”
He leaned across the table; there was both a threat and an appeal in his voice, his eyes. “Think of it this way, Nezdeh: where else, in all of known space, may we go now? If we go to our patrons they will dispose of us themselves. We are too weak, we hold no leverage, and we are certain to become an embarrassment. We are otherwise friendless. But the Hkh’Rkh are the most rudimentary race technologically and eager for allies who prefer direct, vigorous action as they do. Allies like us. Specifically, like House Perekmeres.
“If we train our Aboriginals well enough to win one easy engagement, we can carry out this mission and then wait for the seeds of war to fall into the fertile field my father prepared for us on Tulkh’saar, seeds that will be brought by the Terrans themselves.”
Nezdeh crossed her arms. “And how can we be sure that the Terrans will sow these seeds?”
“When I activate the sleeper cell on Tulkh’saar, the Terrans will have to send an uninvited envoy to ensure that the diplomatic consequences do not spiral out of hand. And when they do, we shall be there to serendipitously catch them in the act: to repel invaders of Hkh’Rkh space.” He leaned back. “We shall have defended the property and the honor of the Hkh’Rkh, and they, by their codes, shall owe us an honor-debt for doing so in their absence—or for succeeding where their outclassed forces could not. Suddenly we, not the failed Shethkador and his Autarchal lackeys, will have the greatest influence over the Hkh’Rkhs’ loyalty, and with that, we will become a force to be reckoned with, even if neither the Autarchs nor the Hegemons wish us to be so.”
Idrem frowned. “The resulting war will be absolute, uncontainable.”
“Of course it shall. And that war will ultimately return us to power. The Ktoran Sphere will be forced to exert its dominion aggressively in order to preserve its hold on its Hkh’Rkh allies. And the Hegemons will not be able to touch us without triggering an honor-war with those same indispensable allies.” He turned to Nezdeh. “What is your opinion, Srina Perekmeres?”
“I think it just might succeed,” she admitted.
I also think it might get us all killed, but I can’t think of a better plan at the moment.
“Now, tell us more about this false-flag sleeper cell—”
* * *
Caine Riordan checked the medical cryocell’s readings. After three days, Bannor’s core temperature had been reduced to three-quarters of a degree centigrade, with blood substitute infusions at nominal levels. The glycol perfusion was deemed complete and internal sensors at full function. He nodded at his pale, unconscious friend and closed the long lid of the white oblong, adorned with blue and green status lights.
Behind Riordan, Yiithrii’ah’aash commented, “I hope it will not annoy you that I offer, one final time, the option of spending this journey in one of our cryogenic suspension units. It is fully adaptable to your species in every regard.”
Caine smiled.
I’m sure it is, which is precisely what worries me; you know our biology too damned well and could manipulate it too damned easily.
“I appreciate the offer, Yiithrii’ah’aash, but a good commander always watches over his troops. Particularly when they are especially vulnerable.” He smiled.
Yiithrii’ah’aash may have read Riordan’s expression. “I perceive. We intended nothing by offering you the use of our modified cold cells, But at least this way, there can be no questions.”
Riordan leaned back against Bannor’s high-tech sarcophagus. “And you and I will have plenty of time to converse, maybe to forge the kind of bonds that should exist between allied species.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s tendrils were a wave falling in slow motion. “Would that I could participate as you intend, but I follow the instructions of others even as you do. It is incumbent upon me to sleep through these many weeks as well. But I shall be awakened periodically to assess our situation and review our navigational choices, and then again in the preacceleration phase before our last shift to Delta Pavonis itself. Perhaps on those occasions, we may begin the exchange you envision.”
“I’d like that. So the Ktoran ship shifted-out system?”
“Over a day ago.” Seeing the surprised look on Riordan’s face, he explained. “I did not wish to bother you as you prepared your friends for their suspension. You were especially solicitous of them.”
“Yeah, well, they’re my responsibility.”
“You also have a responsibility to yourself, Caine Riordan. I have consulted with those of my crew who are monitoring your caloric intake. It is insufficient.”
Riordan grinned crookedly. “I mean no slight, Yiithrii’ah’aash, but your cuisine is not, er, the most appetizing.”
“It is as I warned you. We simply do not have enough of your accustomed viands, and it was reported to me that your group did not find our genetically-matched foodstuffs agreeable.”
Riordan rubbed his stomach. “You heard right.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash began walking toward the forward hatchway that would lead him back into his own ship. “What shall you do during this long journey, Caine Riordan?”
Caine glanced at
Puller
’s bridge stations as they passed that compartment. “I didn’t start out as a military officer or a diplomat, Yiithrii’ah’aash. I fell into it, pretty much by accident. But now that I am a captain—hell, a bloody commodore—and a diplomat, there are some skills I should acquire and hone. It’s only book and simulator knowledge, of course. But it’s the best—and the least—I can do. A good combat commander tries to prepare as much as possible.”
“You are a defense analyst. And have fought. Do you not know enough already?”
Riordan smiled: it was a question that only a near-pacifist with no speciate concept of a military could ask. “Yiithrii’ah’aash, I know just enough about being a naval officer to be aware that I know almost nothing. I have reasonable familiarity the various services, the various combat environments, but now I need depth, genuine expertise.” Riordan sighed, thought of all the reading and sims ahead of him. “It’s ridiculous that I’m going to try to teach myself. People with a lifetime of experience should be the ones imparting the knowledge. They’re the ones who knowwhere all the fine-sounding theory breaks down and the messy reality begins. But I can only work with what I’ve got. So I’ll learn what I can, keep my limitations in mind, and do my best when the time comes. Or die trying.”
“One may only train so much, Caine Riordan. All creatures require rest or reflection.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to rest. And as concerns reflection”—passing his ready room, he saw the photo of Connor’s young teenaged face, recognizably a fusion of his own and Elena’s—“I have a lot of letters to write. A lifetime’s worth, you might say.” Three more steps brought them to the forward hatch. Riordan raised his hand in farewell. “I look forward to talking when you awaken, Yiithrii’ah’aash.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash was evidently staring at Caine, then glanced back to the photo of Connor, flanked by one of Elena. “I look forward to our conversations as well, Caine Riordan. Until then, be well. And, if you can, be at peace.”
The hatch closed automatically, Caine staring at it, surprised by Yiithrii’ah’aash’s parting words. Or would that be his parting benediction? He glanced back at the photos the Slaasriithi had noticed, wondered how often the exosapient had glimpsed him staring at them. Being at peace was a whole lot easier when your loved ones were close, safe, healthy, cared for.
A common trait among all species, I’ll bet,
Caine reflected.
Maybe that will be our first topic of conversation
.