Marque of Caine

by Charles E Gannon

  “I’ll be fine,” Riordan assured him.

  “And if you are not?” Nlastanl asked in alarmed disbelief.

  “Then you’ll fix me. Again.” Riordan replied, suppressing a wince as he stood and discovered that, although he was wearing his own pants and boots, his shirt had been replaced by what looked like a silver dashiki. It shone a light blue wherever it bent or bunched.

  Suvtrush’s two index fingers were stabbing toward the floor. “Your intransigence is unacceptable, human. You must comply with—”

  “With what?” Riordan stepped quickly toward Suvtrush, who stepped back with even greater alacrity. “Your ridiculous games?”

  “Our…games?”

  “Well, what would you call it? You choose when and where we meet. You choose what you’ll tell me and how long we’ll talk. You send creatures that almost kill me, even though you’ve ordered that I’m to be protected. Tell me, how is all that not a ridiculous game?”

  “But,” objected Nlastanl, stepping between Riordan and Suvtrush, “you did not have to fight. You only had to flee.”

  Riordan shook his head. “I guess that, living in a sanitized world, you’ve forgotten this basic lesson: if you want to stay free or stay alive, never play by your opponent’s rules. Particularly when your opponent is more powerful than you are. Do the unexpected. Turn on the pursuer. Attack the attacker.”

  “But your survival was never at risk.”

  “Really? Then who failed to control the smaller yoomdai before it could do this?” Riordan patted his abdomen.

  “We were surprised—”

  “Which almost got me gutted. What will it be next time? A broken control module? A momentary glitch in the lascom? You’re kidding yourself if you think you can guarantee my safety. But it doesn’t matter one way or the other, because as long as you treat me like a lab rat, I’ll turn and bite. And I will keep doing that until you stop or I’m dead. Your choice.”

  The four Senior Arbiters exchanged long glances. Nlastanl turned back to Riordan, hands folded. “Given that your resolve in this matter could cause you further harm, we shall discontinue our attempts to induce compensatory cognitive stimulation. Now remain here quietly until we have summoned a conveyance for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  MAY 2124

  GLAMQOOZHT, BD+80 238

  Upon exiting the medical facility, Riordan and Alnduul were ushered into a waiting vehicle that rose on vertijets and sped toward a new tower. Riordan glanced at his friend. “Change of venue?” Riordan asked.

  “Evidently.”

  During the forty-second trip, Riordan got a bird’s-eye view of the vast, circular bay, spotted a strange structure rising up out of the water two-thirds of the way to the horizon. It appeared to be a split tower of natural rock, a broad hole bored through the narrow gap separating the two halves.

  “What is that?”

  Alnduul’s mouth retracted slightly. “A relic.”

  “Yes, but from when? And what does it symbolize?”

  “I do not know. I doubt anyone does.”

  “You mean it dates back to before you established the Accord?”

  “It might.”

  The pilot advised them that they would soon disembark upon the tower’s roof and to take the elevator down one floor to the observation level.

  Riordan smiled at Alnduul. “Sounds like we’re out of the basement, at least.”

  Alnduul did not seem enthusiastic. “That is not necessarily a promising sign.”

  * * *

  And Alnduul might be right, Riordan thought when he entered the wedge-shaped room that looked out over the bay. Almost all the Dornaani were now physically present. They stared at him as he entered and sat.

  Nlastanl raised his small chin. “We have met your preconditions, Caine Riordan. Now, where are the Lost Soldiers?”

  Caine shook his head. “I made my cooperation contingent upon two conditions. You’ve answered as much as you can about Elena; I’ll take that on faith. But I told you I need to know why you want this information.”

  Nlastanl waved a loose-fingered hand. “If the Ktor can be assured that the Collective knows the location of the Lost Soldiers, can verify they have no freedom of movement, and that their true identity has not been made public, the Sphere’s impetus toward a war footing is eliminated.”

  Riordan shook his head. “Maybe. Or maybe the Ktor won’t settle for anything less than your revealing every detail. And given the contempt with which so many of you view humans, why should I believe that you’d keep our secrets?”

  Nlastanl folded his fingers together stiffly. “You have no grounds for fearing such a betrayal.”

  “In fact,” Riordan interrupted, “I do.” He leaned forward. “You had thousands of years and dozens of Convocations to figure out that the Ktor ‘cold environment tanks’ were a sham. You had advanced sensors which could show that their occupants were human. But you never bothered to investigate. Which beggars belief. Unless, that is, you decided not to investigate. So if you don’t keep faith with your own Accords, why the hell would you keep your word to me? Or anyone?”

  The room had been fairly quiet before; it was suddenly as soundless as a tomb.

  “The matter you raise,” Suvtrush murmured eventually, “is a unique exception that is best explained by a Custodial expert.”

  Eyes shifted toward Glayaazh. She spread her fingers wide upon the table before her. Her voice was soft, almost entreating. “Caine Riordan, just because the Custodians possess an investigatory capability, it does not invariably follow that it is always wise, or practical, for them to employ it.”

  Riordan frowned. “Are you suggesting that the Custodians chose not to investigate the Ktor, despite suspecting them of misrepresenting themselves?” The patient look on Glayaazh’s face told him he’d missed something. “Or is it that the Custodians were prevented from conducting that investigation?”

  Glayaazh’s mouth twisted slightly as she answered his question with one of her own. “Have you not wondered, Caine Riordan, what might occur if the Custodians took a position, or conducted an investigation, to which the Collective objects?”

  Riordan nodded. “Reductions in funding, staffing, maintenance. The political equivalent of a preemptive strike.”

  Glayaazh spoke slowly, carefully. “And if the Ktoran duplicity had been officially confirmed, their flagrant violation of a crucial Accord would have become a matter of record, not suspicion. And so, corrective action would have to be taken.”

  Riordan nodded. “And most Dornaani will do anything to avoid war.” Okay, time to toss a little chum into the water. “So in effect, the Dornaani Collective aided and abetted the Ktoran violations by ensuring they went uninvestigated.”

  Laynshooz’s eyes were wide. “That is absurd.”

  “Is it? Once you became complicit, the Ktor had leverage on you. And I’ve got to wonder: did they use that leverage to get appointed as Assistant Custodians? With primary oversight of Earth? Because if that’s true, and humanity ever learned the truth about the Ktor, it’s a short step to blaming you for enabling them to kidnap thousands of our soldiers and then almost bash us back to the Bronze Age with the Doomsday Rock.”

  Nlastanl unfolded his fingers. “An interesting but erroneous analysis, since two of your presumptions are incorrect.”

  Good. Please educate me. “What two facts do I have wrong?”

  “Firstly, when the Ktor expressed interest in becoming Assistant Custodians, it was the Custodians themselves who petitioned the Collective to accept their offer.”

  Huh? Riordan turned toward Glayaazh. She stared back at him, gaze steady, unblinking, almost like a challenge.

  That’s when it hit him. “Of course. That gave the Custodians a mandate to observe the Ktor serving in that role. So you were able to gather intelligence and evidence without opening an official investigation.” Riordan watched her eyes cycle in slow affirmation, then turned toward Nlastanl. “You said I was i
n error on a second point?”

  Nlastanl waved two undulating fingers. “The event you call the Doomsday Rock was in direct opposition to the policies of the Ktoran Sphere. That is why its initiators, House Perekmeres, were not merely Exiled but Extirpated. They certainly hoped to undermine both the plans and preeminence of the Older Houses by dragging them into an ill-timed war. However, they also intended to drive up the price of the Lost Soldiers by using the Doomsday Rock to eliminate most of Earth’s other promising genelines.”

  Riordan suddenly felt disoriented. “What do you mean, ‘drive up the price of the Lost Soldiers’?”

  Suvtrush spoke slowly. “This is actually your third error, human. You assumed that the Lost Soldiers were left on Turkh’saar to be activated as a black flag operation. You are wrong. Their abduction was motivated by the economics of Ktoran eugenics. When the Assistant Custodians of House Perekmeres overreached and came under scrutiny, they were unable to bring their genetic prizes back into the Sphere. And so, they cached the Lost Soldiers on Turkh’saar, like buried treasure.”

  Riordan leaned forward. “And why do the Ktor need terrestrial genetics?”

  “Because without unaltered human genelines, the Houses of the Sphere teeter on the edge of eugenic disaster.”

  Riordan frowned. “No. That doesn’t make sense. After the invasion, they had access to almost unlimited cell samples, everything they’d need to prevent their problems with…what? Inbreeding?”

  Heethoo raised a finger on either hand. “The Ktor eugenics problem is not inbreeding. At least, not as you mean it.”

  Caine raised an eyebrow. “Just how many kinds of inbreeding can there be?”

  Glayaazh folded her hands. “Many of the alterations made to the Ktor genecode were inelegant and crude, ignored subtler implications and epigenetic connections. These omissions undermine the sustainability of the Ktor as a subspecies, both genetically and behaviorally. Infusions of unmodified, or ‘aboriginal’ genelines mitigate this trend.

  “However, they also dilute or even supplant the enhanced traits of the Ktor. So before their Breedmothers can make use of aboriginal genecodes, they must be ‘uplifted’ through several generations of carefully managed breeding.”

  Riordan nodded. “So a simple genetic sample isn’t enough. What the Ktor really need is breeding stock that brings the desired nature and nurture to the eugenics program.” And hearing himself say that, Caine was suddenly back on Turkh’saar, reliving the moment when one of his team, Peter Wu, turned away from scores of Lost Soldiers still in Ktoran cryocells and asked, “So, are you saying that the Ktor ultimately wanted to…to breed these troops?” The answer had been right there, but Caine had steered away from it. “I think we’d need to know a lot more about the Ktor before we can make a guess at that.”

  But there was a loose end in all of this. “So how is it that the Dornaani don’t officially know that the Ktor are human, yet do know that their ruling Houses are teetering at the edge of a eugenic crisis?”

  Suvtrush leaned away from the table. “That is a reasonable question, Caine Riordan, but one we may not answer. Like you, there is some data we are not allowed to share.”

  Caine nodded. “Fair enough. But clearly, you have a conduit that gives you access to the Ktoran Sphere. Unfortunately, that kind of conduit almost never runs one way. Which means that whatever information you get from me could wind up with them.” He saw Elena’s eyes fade away as he steeled himself to utter his only possible decision. “So I can’t share the information you need. Even if I had it.”

  Chapter Thirty

  MAY 2124

  GLAMQOOZHT, BD+80 238

  Hearing Riordan’s flat refusal to cooperate, several of the lower-ranking Dornaani rose or reached holographic hands to cut out of the link, but none of the Senior Arbiters showed any sign of moving. “Your decision is unfortunate, Caine Riordan—” Nlastanl began.

  “Unfortunate?” interrupted Laynshooz. “The human’s prevarication is as outrageous as his insults. I remind this group that we have methods of extracting—”

  Nlastanl spoke harshly. “I am this gathering’s moderator. If you are incapable of recognizing my authority, recuse yourself. Immediately.”

  Laynshooz’s voice was small, brittle. “I shall be less emphatic.”

  Nlastanl’s attention returned to Riordan. “I am disposed to believe your assertion that you are unaware of the locations we had hoped to learn from you. However, I wish to make a final and more limited appeal that you share peripherally related information that would be of no interest to the Ktor. Rather, these inquiries are solely concerned with your race’s ultimate safety. And fate.”

  Riordan, struck by the sudden gravity of Nlastanl’s tone, nodded.

  “Among what you called the Ktoran cryocells, some actually preserved their occupants using biodynamic principles, did they not?”

  Riordan nodded. “Yes. There were dozens of those units, mostly unopened. They almost looked organic.”

  “They are. But not in the way you mean.”

  Riordan frowned. “Organic is organic. How many ways could I mean that?”

  Nlastanl assayed a stiff human nod. “Allow me to rephrase. They do not follow the paradigms you associate with any fauna or flora you have ever observed. Those differences could prove very hazardous.”

  Riordan felt his heart quicken. “Are the occupants in danger?”

  Nlastanl waved a lazy finger in the air. “I do not speak of danger to the individuals still in them. I speak of danger to your entire species. It would be profoundly unwise for your researchers to experiment with the biological compounds of those units.”

  “Why?”

  “They may induce unpredictable mutations and other perils.”

  “You mean, they harbor contagious organisms? Pathogens?”

  Heethoo clasped her hands for emphasis. “No, Caine Riordan. It would appear the opposite, at first. The biological compounds would seem beneficial, readily applicable to various vaccines, therapies, even life prolongation. But over time, other effects would manifest.”

  Riordan felt a vague chill creep down his spine. “What kind of effects?”

  Nlastanl waved a hand. “That we cannot say. We know very little about these compounds, and I am not permitted to share more than I already have. But be assured, these symbiopods constitute a greater peril to your race than the Ktor.”

  Riordan leaned back. If Nlastanl was telling the truth—and the other three Senior Arbiters had become equally somber—then this warranted separate consideration. “How is it that you know what’s in a Ktoran cryo—er, symbiopod—and what it would do to us?”

  “Because,” Heethoo explained softly, “it is mentioned in our histories. If they are what we suspect, we must find the symbiopods and remove them.”

  Riordan leaned his forehead into his hand. “So these date from the same epoch as the ruins on Delta Pavonis Three?”

  Glayaazh nodded. “And earlier than that. From a distant region of space.”

  Caine’s chill intensified. “How distant?”

  “We do not know. Beyond our farthest probes.”

  “And how far have your probes gone?”

  “We have explored every system up to fifty light-years from the Accord’s borders. Other probes have been sent as far as three hundred and fifty light-years beyond that.”

  “And within that total radius of, eh, about five hundred light-years, has there ever been any sign of—?”

  Suvtrush straightened all his fingers with an irritated snap. “Nlastanl, be cautious. The human may be simple, but he is crafty. He makes observations. We offer corrections. Those furnish the human with glimpses of the confidential data behind them.”

  Nlastanl turned back toward Caine. “Are you attempting to manipulate us as Suvtrush suspects?”

  Riordan shrugged. “I never ignore an opportunity to learn something new. But frankly, other than getting Elena back, I’m only interested in one type of information.�
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  “And what is that?”

  “Finding out which of you might be willing to befriend humans, and which of you would never countenance it.”

  “So, in short,” summarized Laynshooz, “you are trying to discern which of us might be as pliable, as corruptible, as Alnduul. Come, do you deny it? Do you not wish to recruit more like him? Dornaani who will take matters into their own hands to help Earth?”

  Riordan shook his head. “I am not here trying to recruit anyone. But if Alnduul had not taken matters into his own hands, the invasion of Earth probably would have succeeded. Meaning you would have been faced with a sustained and direct violation of the Twenty-First Accord, which expressly forbids the invasion of a species’ homeworld. So you would have had to either fight a war to remove the occupiers or disband the Accord as a sham.

  “Of course, the only reason Alnduul had to make those hard calls was because the Custodians failed to provide the support they promised at Convocation. Or was that the doing of the Collective Assembly, pressuring them to stand down while we were dying by the millions?”

  Suvtrush waved Laynshooz to silence, took up the argument. “It is not incumbent upon the Collective to conform its sovereign will to serve the mandates of the Custodians. Indeed, the Custodians’ lack of autonomy invalidates any assumption that the Accords can be reliably enforced by them.”

  Riordan narrowed his eyes. “Are you aware that the Ktor representative at the most recent Convocation said the same thing?”

  “The Ktor are liars, murderers, and not to be trusted. But that does not diminish the truth when they see it and speak it. Many of us believe them to be correct when they assert that the rules of the Accord contain the seeds of its own inevitable collapse.”

  “Are you saying it would be better not to have an Accord at all?”

  “Many of us have come to think so. I remain undecided.”

  For Riordan, Suvtrush’s assertions weren’t half as horrifying as his tone of weary detachment. “And what would you say to those races that have committed themselves to actions and agreements based on the expectation that you shall be as good as your word, that the Custodians will stand as their protectors? What of us?”