Trial by Fire - eARC (83 page)

“Your tunes are discordant. If my people refuse to capitulate, it is because they are gambling—rightly—that you humans will not want to land and fight in our subterranean home. And it would take a long time—too long—to bomb us into submission, living as we do miles beneath the surface. Besides, I doubt the Dornaani will allow that.”

“Darzhee Kut, everything you say is true, but you must convince your leaders to surrender.”

Darzhee Kut remained silent, hoped the human had learned that this was a polite rejection of his exhortation.

Riordan hung his head a moment, and then looked up. His eyes seemed oddly lusterless. “Very well. You’ll need to see this.” He produced a palmtop, pushed a button on its screen.

Which winked awake, showing four humans holding down a limp Arat Kur, a fifth squirting a mist into its alimentary openings and eyes. It did not seem particularly painful, but the Arat Kur flinched away.

The scene changed, and a timecode at the bottom indicated that just under three hours had elapsed. The Arat Kur was now moving listlessly, unsteadily, ultimately staggering to a halt against a wall.

The next scene was arresting. The Arat Kur was writhing in the far corner, chittering in a puddle of its own filth. Its shell was peeling, its eye covers seemed dry and unable to close, and the soft tissue around its mouth had become a faint, crusty mauve.

Oh First Mother of us all, no—!

The last scene confirmed Darzhee Kut’s fear. The Arat Kur—now barely recognizable as such—spasmed, shuddered so hard that one of his back-plates sprang free, exposing his endodermis to air, fluid spraying. He shrilled, antennae jerking in and out of their sleeves asynchronously. Then a blast of circulatory and digestive fluids erupted from both his mouth and his alimentary endpoint and he was still. The image froze. According to the timecode on the bottom, eight hours and thirteen minutes had elapsed since he had been exposed to the mist.

By all Mothers—
He looked directly into Riordan’s eyes. “No. You would not do this.”

“I would not do any of this. But my people would.”

Judging from the disease-ravaged Arat Kur corpse frozen on the palmtop’s screen, evidently they would. “You recreated the plague.”

“Yes. Using cyst samples, we reverse-engineered it to its original state. Here’s how I believe the military will deliver it: our fleet would take up station-keeping for sustained bombardment of your homeworld. Ultimately, we will overwhelm your defensive systems. Fairly easy, now that we understand their particular vulnerabilities.

“In the midst of this barrage, we will seed in some plague rockets with penetrator warheads. Most will explode and deliver the pathogen via aerosol dispersion upon attaining subterranean chambers. Follow-up missiles will probably burrow right in behind them, carrying a payload of microbots which, once released, will carry packets of the disease at least fifty kilometers from the impact site and start disseminating it based on sensor contacts with primary vectors for infection: water supplies, foodstuffs, breeding crèches.”

Breeding crèches
: Darzhee Kut’s second stomach partially refluxed into his primary stomach. He looked at the disease-ravaged corpse frozen like death itself on the palmtop’s screen. “And was it necessary to use innocents as test subjects?”

The human shrugged. “I wonder if the word ‘innocent’ applies to anyone involved in this war. However, the three prisoners who were subjected to the test were among those who had capitulated on false pretenses, in order to ambush and kill our boarding teams when we overwhelmed your forces at V1581 Cygni2. At any rate, beyond the question of innocence, a live test was deemed necessary by our generals.”

“And you agree with them?”

Caine looked away. “I’ve stopped agreeing with any of this—what my people do, and what your people do—a long time ago. However, there is a certain grim logic behind their decision.”

“Which was to make sure that it worked in a ‘field trial’?”

Caine nodded. “And there was concern that if your leaders did not receive irrefutable evidence of the disease and its course—precisely how it works, right down to the smallest details of the changes in Arat Kur biochemistry—then they might question whether we had really reengineered it. They could have conjectured that we were bluffing: that we found the cysts, realized what they implied genetically, but were unable to actually produce the pathogen.”

Darzhee Kut’s claws sagged. The human was probably right. “But with precise clinical observations of the stages of the disease, a genetic map of the virus in all its various stages, and this—demonstration—of its weaponization, then they would know that you had created the organism and observed it through a full course of its life cycle in a host.”

“Yes.”

“As you say, I revile the decision, but I fear that your generals may have been right in their apprehension: just as they were ruthless enough to develop and test the virus, the leaders of the Wholenest might well have been willing to gamble the billions of Arat Kur on the homeworld by ‘calling your bluff,’ as you say. And they will discover that you shall do to us what we, in your system, repeatedly refused to do to you—despite the incessant urging of the Hkh’Rkh.”

“A just remonstration. But here’s a just question for you to consider in return. If your leaders regained an advantage, would they not return to Earth and now do exactly what the Hkh’Rkh urged them to do?”

“Yes, probably—but Caine Riordan, you must know that I would never agree to such an atrocity.”

“Unfortunately, you do not speak for the Wholenest, any more than I speak for the World Confederation. We must guess what those above us will do, based on the events and fears which have now accumulated. And I know this. If your fleet returns before you surrender control of your defenses and communities to us, then it is we who might well be destroyed. We cannot expect to gain the upper hand against your race a second time. So our victory must be won now, or become a disastrous defeat, ending in the reinvasion of Earth.”

Riordan leaned forward urgently. “Even the most moderate of my people are willing to take any steps necessary to ensure that you do not invade us again. Most will simply accept your surrender and sufficient concessions. But some—and their voices are growing louder and more convincing with every passing hour—counsel that there is only one way to be sure.” The human looked meaningfully at the image on the screen of his palmtop.

The dirt-cursed
Hur
and their caste-stubbornness! Do they really think that the humans would hover over Homenest with no better weapon than a bluff?
“After what happened to the fleet they sent to invade Earth, the Wholenest leaders still will not listen?”

Riordan shook his head. “They refuse to believe our story of what transpired on Earth. Their answer to the first communiqué—the only response we have ever received from them—was that it was ‘impossible’ that we had repulsed your invasion, and therefore, they suspected that our arrival in your home system was part of an elaborate ruse to get them to surrender when they did not actually need to. They told us they would not respond again unless it were to speak to Hu’urs Khraam.”

“I am not he.”

“No, but you are the one he designated Delegate Pro Tem at the minute of his death. You are senior among the Arat Kur who have survived; whom but you may speak?

“My caste is insufficient. I am but an Ee’ar. They will not listen to me. It was why the Shipmasters did not listen to me when I rescinded the—when I called for them to desist scuttling their vessels. It will be no different here.”

“You cannot know that if you do not try.”

“I am weary of trying and failing. But I will try…try…” Darzhee Kut felt his claws, and then his legs, begin to grow numb. It was the onset of fugue-torpor, induced by the emotional shock of what he had seen, had heard. How to explain that to a human? “Depression and mental shock” explained the sensation, but wholly missed the physical inescapability of the phenomenon, once its onset had commenced. “But later. I…am weary. For now. Find someone else. To speak to the leaders. Of the. Wholenest.”

He turned to the wall, and allowed the cycles of sound to build within his inner ears, taking comfort and refuge in the waves of smoothly repetitive tones he heard/felt/tasted there—since he was now capable of little else.

Through those sine-waves of solace, he thought he heard Caine Riordan speak again. “Darzhee Kut, if you do not speak, your planet—your race—may die. Please, consider again: speak to your world, to your people.”

Darzhee Kut tried to listen more closely to Caine, but fell into the rhythm of the soothing cycles, wandered lost among the rolling peaks and valleys of the gentle tones manufactured by self-created changes in the air pressure between his own multiple ear-drums.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Far Orbit, Sigma Draconis Two

The guard saluted as Caine left the room, then smartly resecured the hatch with the crisp, focused motions of a rating who was being observed during inspection.
How the hell do they even know I held a rank?
Caine returned the salute, turned the corner to return to his room—and came face to face with Alnduul.

“It is pleasant meeting you here, Caine Riordan.”

“It pleases me to see you also, Alnduul. What brings you to the secure section of the ship?”

“You do, Caine Riordan. It is where I was told I would find you.”

Ah.
“Will you walk with me as I return to my quarters?”

“I would be glad to walk with you, Caine Riordan, but I bring news that Confederation Consuls Sukhinin and Visser wish to meet with you in the forward conference suite. I hoped we might walk there together.”

And work a little of that subtle Dornaani discursive magic as we go, eh?
“Let us walk, then.”

As they walked, Caine waited, counting off the seconds. Had he been asked to guess, he would have predicted a prefatory fifteen-second silence.

Just as Caine mentally ticked off “seventeen,” Alnduul asked, “The Arat Kur persist in their refusal to return your communiqués?”

“So I am told.”

“And Delegate Kut cannot intercede?”

“He does not believe he can. And he seems to have become physically indisposed. I witnessed something similar when he was isolated prior to our rescue at Barnard’s Star. But this time, there was no apparent causal trauma.”

“I see. And you? Are you quite well?”

“Er…yes.” Caine wished Alnduul had asked one of his maddeningly oblique questions, instead. This jarringly sudden—and apparently dispassionate—shift to personal pleasantries made Riordan wonder if Dornaani calm also concealed an almost sociopathic detachment.
“You tried talking to the Arat Kur? No progress? Ho hum, I suppose their species has to die, then. Such a pity.”
But Caine simply added, “I’m okay.”

Alnduul nodded. “Clearly, the hepatic regrowth agents are proving efficacious. This is gratifying to me.”

“Well, that’s nothing compared to how gratified my people must be that you decided to come to Earth after all.”

“I regret having to deny my intent to travel to Earth after the Convocation, but Mr. Downing asserted that possible leaks in your intelligence structure made it imperative that my visit remain a secret. Had the Arat Kur learned of our presence, they might have become far more cautious. Consequently, the outcome of the conflict might have been far less decisive.”

“You must have brought a fair amount of equipment with you as well.”

“We did, but why do you so conjecture?”

“Well, it stands to reason, given how you were able to accede to our request to give our ships the ability to counterattack the Arat Kur. I imagine that it requires a number of fairly bulky subsystems to modify our carriers for shifts to and from deep space.”

Alnduul's eyelids nictated once. “Apologies, but I must correct your surmise, Caine Riordan. It was not your leaders who asked for the deep space shift modifications. We Custodians offered this assistance. Indeed, it was one of the primary reasons I was sent to your world.”

“So you didn’t come in the role of a diplomat, but as a techno-military adviser.”

“Let us say my mission was multifaceted.”

“With an emphasis on ensuring that we could adequately defend ourselves.”

“In truth, I was not overly concerned about the success of your defensive efforts. After considerable study, we were confident that, once the device in your arm came within a few meters of a suitable computer, the Arat Kur defeat was certain.”

“So what was your primary mission?”

Alnduul waved lazily about him. “To see to your arrival here. Dornaan wished to be certain of swift success against the Ktor, and this necessitated that we keep our strength massed near our borders with them. The Slaasriithi are not particularly experienced or adept at military endeavors, so it fell to us to provide Earth with the means of sending her most advanced shift-carriers on a strategic counteroffensive into Arat Kur space.”

“And here we are.”

“It is as you say. And our plans have largely unfolded as we envisioned. Your attack has caught the Arat Kur off-guard and they have lost the military initiative. I feel confident that they will never regain it and that you will use this moment to cripple their ability to make war for several decades to come. And it is a near-certainty that, upon learning of the capitulation of the Arat Kur homeworld, the Ktor will propose a truce and the process of rapprochement will begin.”

“Well, let’s hope the Arat Kur will surrender.” Riordan watched Alnduul’s face for any sign of a matching concern, any hint of alarm that the subtle charnel smell of genocide was seeping into the void left by the Arat Kur’s diplomatic silence.

But Alnduul merely responded, “Let us so hope. But regardless, your mastery of the situation is clear and the outcome is certain. And most gratifying.”

“Gratifying in what way?”

“Is it not obvious? Your foes thought to defeat you with surprise attacks and trickery, but found themselves overmatched by your own cunning use of the same tactics. You have indeed proven the wisdom of your race’s the axiom that, sometimes, one must fight fire with fire.”