Trial by Fire - eARC (23 page)

“Undoubtedly.”

“So then why conceal his realization, his reactions? What does he hope to achieve?”

“I do not know. Perhaps it is merely habit.”

“But you think not.”

“I think not.”

“Can we trust him?”

Yaargraukh opened his mouth—

But Graagkhruud spoke first. “Clearly not. At the Convocation, he was the one who attempted to lure Yaargraukh himself into a trap, into a module that ‘malfunctioned’ and exposed them both to vacuum.”

Yaargraukh raised a claw to interject, his black eyes retracting somewhat—

—and Darzhee Kut knew the clarification the Advocate was about to offer: that Riordan himself had almost been killed by the “malfunction.” Every account of the incident made it clear that Riordan had not been aware, let alone the architect, of that assassination attempt. More likely, he had been the actual target.

But First Fist had no interest in allowing Yaargraukh to make that distinction. He spoke too swiftly and loudly to be interrupted. “And now, most recently, while traveling under a diplomatic transponder, Riordan fired upon your ship. It was a cowardly and duplicitous ruse. He and Corcoran should have been executed the moment they came aboard.”

Darzhee Kut averted his eyes. “As I reported, their explanation of the particulars of the incident involving the diplomatic transponder signal has satisfied us all.” Hu’urs Khraam bobbed once.

First Voice’s crest rose slightly. “It does not satisfy me, nor do their convenient ‘retirements’ from being warriors.”

Yaargraukh’s neck swiveled deferentially. “It does sound odd. Yet, I know this Riordan. He is an honorable being.”

Graagkhruud’s retort was instantaneous. “He is a
being
only insofar as he makes noises like language.”

Darzhee Kut saw Yaargraukh’s earflaps shiver as though they were going to close. Among the Hkh’Rkh, this reflex meant that he had heard something which was embarrassing, uncouth, or disgusting, and had just barely managed to suppress a more dramatic display of that repugnance. It was probably in reaction to his superior’s blunt bigotry. A bigotry which, by extension, would also tend to categorize the Arat Kur and all other non-Hkh’Rkh races as beings. Fine allies, indeed.

But Graagkhruud was not finished. “And honorable? This Riordan creature lied when he hid behind the safety of a diplomatic flag and then attacked.” Graagkhruud reared up. “But a lie does always reveal one truth: that he who tells it is a liar.”

“If we know it to be a lie, yes,” countered Darzhee Kut. “But we do not know this. Besides, Riordan is not a warfighter; that is his companion’s skill.”

First Voice intervened. “You err, Speaker Kut. I have heard Riordan speak, have learned something of his deeds and how he thinks. He is more a warrior-human than most of those who wear the uniforms of that caste. And your own report indicated that it was him, not the true warrior, who carried a weapon when they boarded your disabled ship.”

Yaargraukh’s voice was quiet but so slow and measured that it attracted more attention than a shout. “Still, I find no fault in this person’s honor.” Darzhee Kut leaned back, as did the other Hkh’Rkh. In his own tongue, Yaargraukh had not used the word “being,” the Hkhi term for most exosapients, who, although intelligent, had no place in the honor code hierarchies which determined personhood. Rather, Yaargraukh had used the word “person,” which not only implied a sapient recognized as having a mind equal to their own, but as a creature capable of accruing honor.

“The Advocate blasphemes—or betrays us.” Graagkhruud breathed, his crest rising. “I cannot tell which.”

Darzhee Kut closed his eyes against the strain upon his patience. “This cannot, and need not, be settled here. Caine Riordan is a senior emissary of his people, and he is our guest, not our prisoner. We would, however, be pleased and grateful if you were to leave some of your warriors with us to provide security for the humans while they are on our ship.”

“I was not aware that those who are truly and genuinely guests need to be chaperoned and monitored by armed guards. Perhaps you, too, feel them to be something other than guests. Something more akin to prisoners.” First Fist let his breath out through his nose, the mucus therein warbling and fluttering grotesquely.

Darzhee Kut let his eye covers slide shut for a moment.
Harmonize with the greater purpose. Embrace the differences of the Old Family Hkh’Rkh—at least in this moment.
“Honorable Graagkhruud, perhaps our ways are different in this. Here is our way: we presume that the humans are, and will behave as, diplomats while with us. But since we could be wrong, we must take steps to minimize what damage they might do should their actions show them to be saboteurs. For this reason, and for their own protection, as well, we require that they have a security escort.”

First Voice stood. “You will have your ‘security escort,’ since you seem uncertain of being able to guard unarmed prisoners yourselves.” His crest flattened and he did not bother to look back down at Hu’urs Khraam before he turned and left. Graagkhruud’s exit was equally abrupt and without acknowledgment of his Arat Kur hosts. Yaargraukh stood, opened his hands and showed Hu’urs Khraam his palms in what was a military show of respect, and then strode quickly after his superior.

Darzhee Kut interlocked his claws, looked down for a moment, then up at Hu’urs Khraam—who was already looking at him. “What is your opinion of the Hkh’Rkh, Darzhee Kut?”

“I hesitate to reply, First Delegate, for I can only sing the notes I truly hear.”

“I asked you to come today so you could sing just such notes.”

Darzhee Kut spread his claws slowly. “Their reaction to our emissaries bears out our fears regarding the Hkh’Rkh as allies. They are intemperate, impatient, occasionally dismissive of crucial details. They are strong but inelegant in their thought and intolerant of difference. I do observe however, that the Advocate, who is also a member of a New Family—a lower class among the Hkh’Rkh—has few of these detriments.”

“Let us dig to the first stone of the foundation. Can we trust them?”

“To keep their word? Yes, absolutely.”

“And to perform the tasks as they must? For if upon landing, they are tried by a sharp insurgency, they must be firm but restrained in their response. Do you think they can achieve this?

“Esteemed Hu’urs Khraam, I do not know. Some, such as Yaargraukh, could. Some, such as Graagkhruud, cannot.”

“And First Voice?”

“He has wisdom, but its melodies are often lost amidst the old rhythms of his heritage and his legacy as the scion of the greatest of the Old Families. I feel his common sense is great enough to perceive the wisdom of what Yaargraukh says, but I fear that his pride is too great to hear it over the roar of Graagkhruud’s exhortations to pursue honor and total war.”

“I fear this as well. But, if the humans accede to our terms, we shall depart quickly, and our allies will not need to restrain themselves for long. Happily, our swift victory will give them little opportunity to err.”

Darzhee Kut wriggled slightly in his couch. “The humans might agree to negotiate, but they will not agree to the Hkh’Rkh terms. Indeed, I fear they will not even agree to ours.”

“But to surrender 70 Ophiuchi would only show reason, wisdom.”

“So might we see it. But the Hkh’Rkh would see it as proof of fear and lack of resolve—which is just how the humans themselves will see it.”

“This makes them akin to the Hkh’Rkh.”

“I wish to sing notes that ever harmonize with yours, esteemed Hu’urs Khraam, but I think you will find that particular estimate of the humans to be incorrect. They are very different from the Hkh’Rkh.” He paused, looked at the image of Caine Riordan’s focused and carefully unemotional face frozen on the screen behind him. “They are very different indeed.”

Part Two

December 2119

Chapter Fifteen

Washington, D.C, Earth

When Downing returned to the conference room from the fresher, he started. Opal Patrone was there waiting for him.

“You’re early, Major. To what do I owe the honor?”

“Closed museums.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The museums are closed. The public buildings are off-limits. Congress is in seclusion. DC has become one dull city.”

Downing grimaced. “As long as the Arat Kur continue to consider it more dull than Jakarta, I’ll consider it a blessing.”

Opal’s jaw came out in a truculent, fine-pointed wedge. “At least in Jakarta we’re fighting the bastards directly.”

“Except, Major, that too many of the bastards are our own people, taking the traitor’s coin from either the megacorporations or President-for-Life Ruap.”

The door to the conference room opened again. Trevor walked in a step ahead of Elena, who was carrying a mostly empty shopping bag.

Downing’s first impulse was to cross the room to Trev, but their parting on Barney Deucy had been anything but warm. And although all the reports indicated that Trevor had been turned over by the Arat Kur in “excellent condition,” one could never be sure if Nolan Corcoran’s son was simply playing the role he was expected to play: the bluff, impregnable ex-SEAL.

So, uncertain what to do, and once again awkward with the people he loved the most, Richard leaned both his hands on the conference table and said, “Welcome home, Trevor. It’s good to have you back, safe and sound.” Neither seeing nor hearing any contradictions to the happy assumptions of that greeting, Downing turned to Elena. “Christmas shopping for Connor?”

“Trying to,” muttered Elena, “The stores have almost nothing left in them for a thirteen-year-old boy, and even less staff to find it for you. And there’s still a lot of panic: most streets are empty and most offices are closed. But look who I met coming into this building.” She smiled at Trevor.

Who smiled back—somewhat wanly, Richard thought.
Is he tired, still infuriated at me for turning his father’s body over the Dornaani, or some combination of the two?
“No worse for wear after the debriefings with the intelligence chiefs and the POTUS, Trev?”

Trevor shrugged. “No. Although the Arat Kur treated me better than the intel folks. You’d have thought I was an enemy agent.”

“It’s the way they’re trained to think. You’ve been in the enemy camp and come as the messenger bearing their new terms for our capitulation. You’re damaged goods to them, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I didn’t enjoy being their chew-toy for my first day home.”

“So, the Arat Kur treated you more civilly?”

Trevor quirked a smile. “Actually, in some ways, they did. The one who found us—or rather, the Arat Kur that Caine and I found—wasn’t a bad little guy. For a scum-sucking alien invader, that is.” Trevor saw Opal smile, returned it. Perhaps a little too broadly and readily, Downing thought.

“You are referring to the Arat Kur named”—Downing checked his palmtop—“Darzhee Kut?”

“Yep. Most of the other Arat Kur were standoffish, but still polite and careful in their treatment of us.”

“You haven’t said anything about the Hkh’Rkh, though.”

Trevor looked sideways. “If Caine and I had been
their
guests, I think we’d have been lucky to get bread, water, and a shared head. Hell, I think we’d have been lucky not to be shown out the nearest airlock. Fortunately, Yaargraukh was there—our Advocate from the Convocation—and he talked them out of their initial blood frenzy. But most of them never really changed their opinion of us.”

Opal’s eyes were on his, unblinking. “Given Hkh’Rkh hospitality, I’m just glad that the Arat Kur made sure both of you survived that misunderstanding. But—no offense, Trevor—why did they send
you
back? You’re a soldier: Caine was our Speaker at Convocation, almost a third ambassador. Shouldn’t he have been the one the Arat Kur sent back with new terms?”

Trevor avoided her sustained gaze. “Actually, that’s kind of why Caine insisted on being the one to stay behind. And he managed to persuade Darzhee Kut to support it, too. I told them they were wrong, but—”

“But Caine convinced Darzhee Kut that your military career made you just that much more
annoying
to the Hkh’Rkh?” asked Opal. “Put you that much more at risk than him?”

Trevor nodded, his eyes still evasive and uncomfortable. Downing looked away, being the only person other than Trevor who possessed the prerequisite knowledge to understand his deeper levels of guilt.
And you fought—hard—to stay in Caine’s place, didn’t you, Trev? You had to, because if the worst happens, then Connor loses the opportunity of ever meeting his father, and Elena loses the possibility of marrying the man she still obviously loves. But Caine outflanked you, found a way to prevent you from taking the danger on yourself. And it’s eating you alive that he did.

Opal still looked vaguely worried. “Trevor, Caine is all right—isn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trevor said, feigning a dismissive wave. “He may be safer than any of us. After all, he’s sitting up in orbit with the Arat Kur, not down here in their cross-hairs. Not that the Hkh’Rkh wanted to keep him around, but they didn’t have any choice in the matter. Because they are so significantly technologically inferior to the Arat Kur, they’re clearly playing second fiddle. That’s probably annoyed the Hkh’Rkh from the moment they agreed to conduct joint operations, which is only possibly because they’re being carried piggyback.”

Downing started taking notes. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, the Hkh’Rkh lack the shift range to attack our space with their own shift-carriers. So their constant chest-thumping about how they are self-reliant, dominant warriors makes about as much sense as a six-year-old in a booster seat claiming that
he
’s driving the car.”

“Ouch,” said Opal with a grin. Which, once again, Trevor swiftly answered with one of his own.

Which, once again, worried Downing. “And how do the Arat Kur feel about the Hkh’Rkh?”

Trevor shrugged. “They didn’t say and we knew not to ask. But, from the interactions I saw, the Arat Kur aren’t completely comfortable with their allies. Darzhee Kut made it pretty clear that his species is highly conflict-aversive. Harmonizing with each others’ opinions and emotions seems to be one of their strongest social drives.”