Trial by Fire - eARC (70 page)

“Indeed. Mr. Downing, forgive what may seem an impertinent question, but why am I not addressing Mr. Ching or another Confederation consul directly?”

“Because we only have this one, prearranged link between us, running through the transmitter you approved. And we are unwilling to route any commlinks through to our heads of state. Your human collaborators might have a way to track back the connection and thereby provide you with targeting coordinates. Unlike Mr. Ching, I am quite expendable—despite my plenipotentiary negotiating powers.”

“I see. Very well. You will note that we have elected to observe your directive not to attack your rising interceptors, Mr. Downing. For now. This is an act of good faith, which we hope will set the tone for the rest of these discussions.”

“With respect, First Delegate, it seems to us that you had little choice but to comply, if you wished to avoid nuclear incineration.”

“Admittedly, we find ourselves in a challenging situation at the moment. You are to be congratulated on your deceptions, Mr. Downing. They have proven relatively effective. At any rate, we are willing to return to our original terms—those we dictated upon our arrival—and reopen negotiations upon them.”

“We are not willing to reopen discussions on the original terms, First Delegate. They were unacceptable. Furthermore, it is the opinion of the Confederation leadership that they were intended to make this conflict inevitable, rather than avoidable.”

“That is an interesting hypothesis. If you have no interest in resuming negotiations, why did you even accept the reception of this communication?”

“To offer you the chance to surrender.”

“Mr. Downing, did I understand you correctly? You are offering
us
the chance to surrender?”

“That is correct.”

“Mr. Downing, while my staff concedes that we may take significant losses before the ongoing cislunar space engagement is resolved, we will still emerge victorious. And then you will have no fleet left.”

“Our analysis suggests a different outcome. A very different outcome.”

“We have utmost confidence in our own analysis.”

“I’m sure it is meticulous. But your analysts are not aware of all the variables.”

“Indeed?”

“Our fleet’s appearance was an unforeseen variable when you were calculating the odds of your success today. Consider how your current projections might be further problematized, not to say ruined, by the intrusion of further unforeseen variables.”

“Mr. Downing, your diction and calm marks your voice as a worthy one to sing for your species. However, you are nonetheless human and deception is as ineluctable a part of your nature as are the other primal survival traits of your species. In short, it is only logical that, having surprised us with your fleet’s appearance, you will use it to legitimate further ‘bluffs’ by suggesting that you have further ‘aces up your sleeve.’ Do I use these colloquialisms correctly?”

“You do. But I am not bluffing.”

“For sake of argument, let us presume that you are not. What terms would you offer us? May we withdraw?”

“Not immediately.”

“What do you propose?”

Caine leaned forward to hear Downing’s reply—and felt another spasm of pain in his left ulna.
What the hell?

Downing’s tone was almost mild. “First, your ships will be boarded and rigged for scuttling in the event of treachery. We will then escort your hulls, one by one, to Jupiter. There you will vent all but five percent of your fuel upon achieving a holding orbit, in which you will remain for whatever time is required for us to conclude a peace agreement with the senior leadership of the Wholenest on Sigma Draconis Two. If and when this is accomplished, your carriers will be allowed to refuel, discharge our boarding parties, and depart. However, we will retain one hundred members of your senior command staff, several STL vessels, and one shift-carrier for one year’s time.”

“For intelligence and technical purposes?”

“For insurance.”

Ah, Downing. What a liar.
The personnel and ships would be worthwhile as means of ensuring compliance, but Hu’urs Khraam was also right about the intelligence angle: Earth’s entire scientific community would be drooling over the prospect of getting their hands on the very best of Arat Kur engineering.

Hu’urs Khraam played Downing’s lie against him. “You require insurance? Ah. So these one hundred persons of our command staff are, in fact, hostages.”

Downing’s response was unrushed, calm. “We hope your personnel will simply see themselves as our guests.”

“And if the Wholenest will not come to terms?”

“Then, after debarking your crew to join your landing forces, Arat Kur and Hkh’Rkh will be split into separate groups, each of which will be housed in humane prison facilities.”

“And our fleet?”

“Becomes our prize.”

“And if, at this time, we choose to continue to fight?”

“Then you may not expect these terms again. Given signal disruption and both sides’ jamming, it may be impossible to establish a spaceside cease-fire after our second echelon and the remains of your fleet have become fully engaged.”

“Your offer is a—measured one, which we appreciate.”

First Voice stepped into the room, dust on his armor, his retinue somewhat reduced. He had obviously overheard the immediately preceding conversation; his crest was erect and quivering. “We will not be party to any such agreement.”

“Be calmed, First Voice of the First Family.” Hu’urs Khraam looked at him for several seconds, during which no one spoke or even moved in the command center. Then Hu’urs Khraam turned back toward the communications panels. “Mr. Downing, I am afraid this communication has been fruitless. Despite your assertions, and the advice of your Speaker, we must decline your—”

“Excuse me, First Delegate; you mentioned our Speaker. Do you mean Mr. Riordan? Is he there?”

“He is.”

“May I speak with him?”

“I am sorry, but my security staff recommends against allowing contact at this time.”

“Then how may I know that he is there and well?

“Because I have said it.”

“And I have told you that I am not bluffing, but you do not believe me. I am afraid that leaves me unable to believe
you
, First Delegate.”

“Very well. Speaker Riordan?”

“Yes?”

“You may report your personal condition to Mr. Downing. That and nothing else.”

Caine cleared his throat to project across the room. “Richard, it’s me. I’m safe, and being well treated.”

“Excellent. In that event, First Consul Ching and the Confederation Council have asked me to inquire if you will accept the ad hoc position of Ambassador-without-Portfolio to both the Arat Kur and the Hkh’Rkh for the duration of this crisis?”

Caine blinked. “Uh, yes—yes, I do.”

“First Delegate Hu’urs Khraam, Mr. Riordan is now our official ambassador, and we expect him to be treated accordingly. He does not have plenipotentiary powers and thus can only negotiate, not conclude agreements independently. That would require consultation with us.”

“Certainly, although you will appreciate that, although he is an esteemed guest, Mr. Riordan is also a potential enemy agent. You will not have contact with him again until such time as we deem it operationally prudent to permit it.”

“Naturally. I take it, then, that you reject our terms?”

“Yes, unless you can give us more time, so that we may—”

“First Delegate Khraam, I appreciate that you have not even had ten minutes to consult your staff or convince your allies. But you will appreciate that the advantages we enjoy at this moment may not last another half hour. As you point out, if our fleet is defeated, you would be far less inclined to consider our terms. So if we do not receive your immediate surrender, we must force a prompt and decisive military outcome while we still may.”

Hu’urs Khraam clasped and unclasped his claws. “Then I must—for now—decline.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, for there may be no second chance. Will you relay one final message to Mr. Riordan, a message of a personal nature?”

“You may do so yourself. He is still here.”

Mobile Command Center “Trojan Ghost One,” over the Indian Ocean, Earth

Downing muted the pickup, smiled at Alnduul. “How convenient. We didn’t even have to ask them to bring Caine to a communications console. You have a fix on him?”

Alnduul shrugged. “It has never wavered. And the system test is positive. The imbedded device is functioning and signals that it is proximal to appropriate equipment.”

“Then send the Trojan bug.”

Downing reactivated the audio pickup as Alnduul calmly depressed one, and then two more, of the buttons on his control vantbrass.

Presidential Palace, Jakarta, Earth

Hu’urs Khraam sounded impatient. “Mr. Downing, what is the message?”

“My apologies for the delay while we located it, First Delegate Khraam. Caine, the message is from Nolan Corcoran.”

Caine was even more stunned than the Arat Kur and Hkh’Rkh who surrounded him.
From the land of the dead, Tereisias speaks to Ulysses.

“It reads: ‘You were right about the Trojan horse, Odysseus. Thank you. And I’m sorry.’”

“Thanks?” And “Sorry?”
“That’s all he wrote?”

Downing’s response sounded sly, even ironic. “Yes. That’s all he wrote—”

* * *

Darzhee Kut watched Caine, who stared at the communications panel as if it would provide a more satisfactory explication of the cryptic message. But Downing’s voice—and evidently, signal—ended abruptly, almost as if he had been cut off.

And then, as if suddenly stabbed or stung, Riordan clutched his left arm—

* * *

—God!
The pain rose as if a volcano were erupting from inside Caine’s forearm. It was blinding, deafening, suffocating. It began hot, then became so searing that he looked at his arm, expecting to see it glowing white, incandescent, on fire, vaporizing.

But his arm was still there, unaltered, even as the searing cascade of agony seemed to rise past its own limit and burst through to—

Numbness. The arm—it didn’t really feel like
his
arm anymore—twitched once, a spasmodic flexure of his forearm muscles. Then a quick flip of the wrist. Then two more.

And then the whole arm was thrashing like a hooked fish dropped in the bottom of a boat. But still numb. Caine had the horrible sensation of having a alien animal attached to him at the shoulder, a creature with a mind and frantic will of its own.

The Hkh’Rkh were staring at him, their crests rising slowly. The Arat Kur were staring, too. Except the communications operator, who swung back toward his console with what looked like alarm. One of his screens had gone blank. And then in rapid succession, two more—right before the holotank image of the globe winked off.

And then Caine understood Nolan’s message—and his apology
. It’s
me
. My God,
I’m
the Trojan Horse, the Timber Pony. I’m the weapon. Nolan and Downing didn’t just accept my idea. They made me the instrument of it.

And then he knew:
Mars. Just before we left for the Convocation. They put something in my arm on Mars, after the Russians attacked me. But no, that wasn’t a real attack; it was staged, just so they could get me into an operating room—

The main map, and half of the remaining computer screens suddenly went dark.

At a gesture from First Voice, two of the Hkh’Rkh were in motion toward Caine, claws wide, metal-jacketed points glinting. They either didn’t want to waste time drawing their weapons, or perhaps they wanted the primal pleasure of eviscerating their treacherous foe. The Arat Kur were motionless, too surprised to stop their rash allies from sheathing their claws in Caine’s torso.

I’m the instrument of the destruction and duplicity that I myself suggested. And now I’m going to die for it, either from this thing in my arm, or their attempts to stop it.

He waited the half second it took for the two Hkh’Rkh to get very close, watched them rock back slightly into a doglegged crouch. The posture that presaged their most powerful leaps—

It’s so easy to suggest actions that “other people” will have to carry out—until you become one of the “other people.” So how does it feel, genius, to be the arms and legs and mouth doing the dirty work?

Caine saw the two Hkh’Rkhs’ legs stretch into a forward-boosting blur. He feinted left, snap-rolled right. With any luck, the Arat Kur might—

And then all the lights went out.

Within the Arat Kur data-links, the Solar System

When it activated, it did not know what it was. Being a virus, it had no consciousness. But it felt a vague possibility of attaining self-awareness, like an infant struggling to speak, or a creature poised on the evolutionary brink of intelligence, attempting to cross that terribly fine, yet infinitely momentous line.

It began as a tickling of mesons, arising out of the vacuum of quantum entanglement into which they had been sent by a Dornaani communicator. And because the mesons had not existed in normal space-time between the Dornaani communicator and the Arat Kur communicator in which they reemerged, they could not be intercepted, blocked or jammed.

Like most simple parasites, the virus began its life cycle ready to feed. As it entered the foreign data stream, it quickly detected wireless connections to many suitable hosts within striking proximity, all of which were using a code upon which the virus had been trained to feed. It selected the most promising of these hosts—a communications console with heavy outgoing traffic—and spent what little power the Dornaani communicator had left to also send itself directly into the targeted system as a tiny burst of subparticles which reassembled as electrons and quanta arrayed as a string of code.

Once inside the host, it blinked awake, free of the mechanical chrysalis that had held it dormant in a human arm for four months. Now afloat in a sea of consumable code, it traveled quickly, looking for computing, memory, and storage components. It followed along and over the cataracts of the primary data stream, disguised as native code, building itself as it went. A large, diaphanous membrane of subroutines—evolved to probe and penetrate the host’s systems—grew out from the initial, largely regulatory tier, which behaved akin to a defensive cytoplasm. It responded to the encounters of the membrane, noting each contact and patrolling for a counterintrusion while sending all its observations back to a new third tier: a nucleus of experience-based information that grew exponentially with each passing second.