by Steve White
Ankaht sent a slow ripple of accord through her tendrils. “I do not dispute the genuineness of their efforts. But should some of my people prove to be oathbreakers, and incite war where we promised to live in peace, I am not convinced your men can resist the pull of their old reflexes, or of vengeful anger against all Arduans.” Ankaht struggled with the decision to reveal the source of her deepest misgivings, regretfully concluded that the urgency of the matter trumped even the confidentiality she and Jennifer Pietchkov observed between themselves. “Ossian, you are aware that Jennifer cannot keep her feelings concealed during our exchanges; her pseudoselnarm is not as precise or controllable as mine.”
Wethermere frowned. “You’ve said something to that effect. But why do you mention it now?”
“Because my fears are also the consequence of detecting the lingering reservations Jennifer has regarding even her own husband’s equanimity, should tensions arise between our peoples once again. I have not revealed this before because it is properly a private matter. But now, circumstances necessitate that I share it. And that she feels even more profound reservations concerning the behavior of Lieutenant Li.”
Ossian remained silent for several seconds. “I wonder if Jennifer also shared this: that during that final attack, your security chief Temret killed the woman Harry loved.”
Ankaht closed her central eye. “I sensed something like this, but, as in all these personal matters, I did not mention that I perceived it. Either way, I have never argued that Lieutenant Li has insufficient reasons for continuing to distrust and even dislike Arduans. I simply note that he has these lingering reservations—and that is a variable we must now consider more carefully. And not just in Lieutenant Li but in almost all the humans working with us on this investigation, because it is they who shall learn first if there is treachery amongst the Destoshaz whom you have permitted to live on your worlds.”
Ossian nodded. “As always, Ankaht, your prudence is beyond reproach. But let’s also remember that, at least in the case of ’Sandro and Harry, it is explicitly because of their restraint that we’re all here today. Alive and working together.”
Ankaht hoped the selnarmic translation capabilities of the vocoder would signal her wry smile. “One of Ardu’s earliest and wisest holodah’kri, or high priests, observed that ‘all paths are strange ones, if you follow them long enough.’ So it is with our journey together, Arduans and humans.”
Ossian smiled back. “Again, no argument from me, Ankaht.”
“So. You will soon be returning to the systems where our opposition is intercepting the couriers?”
“Not right away. I’m overdue to put in my time to keep this.” Wethermere tapped the captain’s insignia on his shoulder. “I’ve missed the last two mandatory training deployments, and Admiral Yoshikuni has run out of patience. Word is she’s a hard taskmaster and doesn’t like taking ‘next time’ for an answer.”
Ankaht was perplexed. “You speak of her as if you did not know her. I thought you served with her in the war.”
“Well, yes, but that was six years ago. And we didn’t have much contact. First time I saw her I was just a glorified letter-carrier. Then—well, let’s just say that there were lots of emptied saddles higher up the chain of command, so I got pulled upward by that vacuum.”
Ankaht did not mention that her own researches had confirmed what others said of Wethermere: that he had played a major, if often unadvertised and unrecognized, role in the outcome of the war against the Arduans. It had been at his prompting that one of the major naval innovations of the past decade, the improved energy torpedo battery, was deployed in a key assault flotilla that won several decisive engagements in the latter part of the conflict. “And so you are now directly under Admiral Yoshikuni’s command?”
“Well, I’m going to rotate in as captain of one of the reserve ships participating in the wargames she’s running in the Polo system.” He grew quiet.
Ankaht sat. “Memories?” she asked.
Wethermere shrugged. “I lost a lot of friends thereabouts. Seems like a long time ago. Longer than six years, at any rate.” He looked up again. His smile seemed strained. “It will be, er, interesting, to go back there and ‘play’ at war. And see if Admiral Yoshikuni is as tough a CO as they say. The wargames should be over in about a month, maybe six weeks. Then I return to the systems out beyond Zephrain. By that time, maybe the bad guys will be poking their heads up, again.”
Ankaht reflected on the chain of worlds where the conspirators had been operating, and the other, nearby systems where so many others had gone missing or been found murdered. “So your consultations with other human intelligence services corroborated what Ishmael reported about the activities out there?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I’ve shared our analysis with intelligence liaisons from the Rim Federation, the Terran Republic, and even the Orion Khanate, and they all agree that we’ve got a pretty good model of what was occurring. They didn’t see the big picture because they were all looking only at the pieces of the puzzle that happened to be within their own borders.
“We all agree that the opposition probably targeted that particular part of the selnarm courier route for two reasons. Firstly, it was close to Zarzuela and the Arduan enclaves here in the Rim, so it wouldn’t look too unusual if a few Destoshaz were seen nearby. Conversely, on Earth itself, or in the Heart or Corporate Worlds, an Arduan would be both a unique and startling sight in any crowd. They’d attract way too much attention. And they probably chose Metifilli as the exchange point because it was only one warp point away from Sulzan.”
Ankaht lower eyelids tremored upwards in unison: an Arduan frown. “Sulzan is hardly an important system.”
“No, it isn’t, but that’s one half of why it was perfect. It’s an uninteresting system with low population and nothing of value except that it sits on the warp chain that links the capitol of the Rim—, Zephrain—, with Khanate space and ultimately, Zarzuela. The other half of Sulzan’s value to our opposition is that, among the system’s minor industries, there is a courier maintenance depot. Both the Navy and diplomatic services of the Rim, and then more recently, the general commercial carriers, set up a quality control and routine assessment station there. So after a set number of automated transits, when a courier pops into Sulzan, it sends a signal indicating it’s reached its maintenance interval. The folks at Sulzan take it over by remote control, guide it to their repair facility, check out all its subsystems, fix or upgrade anything that doesn’t hit spec, and send it on its way again.”
“So that is how they got access to the couriers without arousing suspicion.”
Wethermere nodded. “The opposition found someone at the depot to ensure that once the real couriers were put in storage awaiting their turn in the QC rota, they were replaced by a dud: a matching unit that took place of the actual courier, both in the holding yard and in the logistical database. At that point, another group picked up the real courier and carted it off to Metifilli. Then another group—the one we’re really interested in—came along and tapped the courier’s data core.”
Ankaht’s tendrils braided in frustration. “And then yet another group finished the process by picking up the genuine core and taking it back to Sulzan. Where it was swapped back into the QC rota and the false courier was removed.” Ankaht suppressed annoyance. “And then, after a reasonable period of service, the leadership dismisses their old crop of hirelings, and—over time and at leisurely intervals—kills them.”
“With probably one exception,” added Ossian. “The group who actually taps the data cores probably doesn’t get wiped out—or at least, rarely and not entirely. There are either some Arduans in that bunch, or humans who possess rare skills at tapping data cores. That’s why getting a line on them is the next important step in our investigation; that’s what I’ll be doing when I get back to the field.”
Ankaht reclined in her seat. “So what kind of data do your various intelligence experts think is being trans
mitted or tapped?”
Ossian shrugged. “They’ve pretty much come to the same dead end we have. If our opposition is tapping the standard digital data banks, the conventional intelligence target would be defense information, particularly regarding the forces blockading Zarzuela and their logistical support assets. But if that’s the case, why grab only selnarmic couriers? I suppose it could be a ruse, an attempt to make us expect that the selnarmic cores are the real targets, but—”
“But,” Ankaht continued for him, “our opponents will not presume us to be so stupid as to ignore the digital data banks, and we would thus still find whatever they have hidden there. Besides, why intercept the data once it has traveled so far down the warp line from Zarzuela, just to take it back up the line again? Unless, as Captain Magee speculated, the data itself is all what you call a stalking horse: that the real messages being exchanged are encrypted within the programming and files of the core, which can be sifted out later. But once again, your code-breakers—or ours, if the secret messages are in the selnarmic core—will eventually discover and decode them. No matter which logical pathway we pursue, the outcome does not explain the enemy’s method of operation: it is cumbersome, unnecessary, or both.” Ankaht discovered she was looking at Ishmael. “It is most frustrating to be, fundamentally, as ignorant of what is going on as he is.”
Ossian’s grin was rueful. “You must find it pretty boring, listening to each day’s incrementally more boring report about how much more Ishmael doesn’t know.”
Ankaht flexed her tendrils. “No, it has been quite a useful exercise for me. I have not encountered this kind of human much in my prior work with your species. Having Jennifer here to add her impressions to the data gathered by your interrogators was singularly helpful.” And it underscores that I cannot yet deal with most humans without the selnarmic perspectives she brings. It is only by working with—even through—her that I come to understand the nuances of their motivations, their foibles, their half-truths. “Have any of your other intelligence experts given any credence to the possibility that this plot is somehow originating with the Orions of the Khanate?”
Ossian shook his head. “That was flat out dismissed. All the races of the Pan Sentient Union have multilateral intel transparency. And, as the nominally majority members of the PSU, the Orions have unrestricted official access to every bit of coded data in the digital cores. So, while Zarzuela and Amunsit’s fleet are within their boundaries, they have no strategic motivation to tap data that they either already have, or can’t translate because they don’t have the technical competence with selnarmic cores. The only conceivable connection between the operation we’re investigating and the Orion Khanate is that some of the felons involved in the scheme may have some contacts among the Orion smugglers who ply their trade in and around the Zarzuela system.”
Ankaht was surprised that she had not heard of these smugglers before. “These Orions operate in the Zarzuela system? Beneath the gaze of the blockade forces themselves?”
Ossian shrugged. “Orions have a different view of—well, highly independent traders. Reports indicate that the ones in Zarzuela are more of the grey-market variety, procuring unusual ‘items of interest’ for the diplomatic missions—theirs and ours—which move back and forth across the blockade lines.”
Ankaht shook her head. “You should not be permitting those exchanges. Amunsit is Destoshaz-as-sulhaji. She will only interact with other races in order to ensure her destruction of them.”
“I agree with you, Ankaht, but when I send those memos up the intel chain of command I get nothing but silence. I copied a few to Admiral Trevayne: like us, he believes that Zarzuela should be completely quarantined. But the final decision rests with the politicians. And after all, if the diplomats and politicos aren’t talking to someone on the other side of the fence, then they start to appear redundant.”
Ankaht sent wry amusement through the vocoder. “If I remember his statements correctly, Admiral Trevayne is of the opinion that when it comes to the redundancy of politicians, appearances are not deceiving.”
“Your memory is flawless. And I’m not always sure I disagree with him. But however you slice it, the diplomats want to look like essential players, so they meddle. Furthermore, a lot of the higher echelon intel folks are fond of pointing out that if we don’t let Amunsit’s envoys out for some controlled contact, we won’t have the opportunity to send our embassies into Zarzuela. And so we’ll lose the one peephole with which we can assess conditions and force concentrations in Amunsit’s system.”
Ankaht pulsed dismissive and slightly annoyed tendrils. “Useless. Amunsit is a bloodthirsty zealot by all reports, but she is also quite intelligent. She will only let visitors see what she wants them to see.”
“Which I keep pointing out to the folks higher up the chain of command. And which they keep ignoring. Or, more likely, which keep getting ignored by the politicians to whom they must answer.”
Ankaht realized that her eyes had drifted back to Ishmael once again, who was now slouched dejectedly in his chair. “It is a shame that he had to be brought in, at all.”
Ossian, surprised, glanced at the criminal. “Why?”
“Because if there had been a way to leave him in his position, to secure his cooperation through leverage, we could have watched for the other groups who came to him in Metifilli. He was, as you say, their ‘center person.’”
Ossian frowned, then smiled when he understood. “Yes, Ishmael was their ‘middleman.’ But we had no way of being certain of that before we took him down. And once we had him, and he was wounded, he was damaged goods. We couldn’t leave him in the field. The best we could do was to make sure that our altercation with him and his disappearance appear to be the result of a routine black market transaction gone bad.”
Ankaht smiled. “So that the opposition remains unsure whether he was discovered by counterintelligence forces—us—or that he fell afoul of one of his occupation’s many hazards.”
“Exactly. Which is why this is actually a good point for us to lie low and watch for a while. That’s almost certainly what the opposition is doing, and if they find no evidence that his disappearance was a result of the work he was doing for them, then they will almost certainly resume tapping data cores. Probably not at Metifilli, but it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. Either way, we have to keep our eyes open in all those systems.”
Ankaht nodded. “Yes. And in this system, too.”
Ossian stared. “I don’t understand.”
Ankaht made sure her tone was apologetic. “Ossian, in order to ensure that their operation has not been detected, our opponents may do more—much more—than simply wait and watch for the signs of a counterintelligence operation out in the systems where they have been active. They may attempt to insinuate feelers here into our headquarters.”
“Here? A mole?” Ossian frowned, rubbed his chin, shook his head. “Damn it, you’re right. And damn me for not thinking of it already.”
“It is understandable. Until recently, it was possible we were dealing with common criminals engaging in data theft. But now that it seems certain that my people are involved, we are probably dealing with professional opponents. And of course, I am sure it is not pleasant to accept that you must now commence a precautionary security investigation of your own personnel.”
Ossian stared at her. “Well, yes. Although I doubt my security checks will elicit the greatest discomfort—or complaints.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ankaht, if the enemy’s focus on selnarmic couriers is neither chance nor a stalking horse, that points to Arduans as the highest tier of opposition leadership, does it not?”
Ankaht could hardly believe she had missed the reflexive implications of her warning to Ossian. “You mean—”
“Yes, I mean that you’re going to have to conduct the same internal security check among your Arduan investigators, as well. And unless I’m much mistaken, some of those persons are n
ot going to like having their loyalty questioned. Not one bit.”
Ankaht closed all three eyes slowly. “You are quite right about that.” Quite right indeed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mretlak, Ankaht’s chief of intelligence, sent his summarizing statement like a slow, calm ocean swell. “And so, Lentsul, it is necessary that the entirety of our CounterIntelligence Cluster be subjected to a surreptitious security check. (Acceptance, ineluctability.) It shall be conducted by new members drawn from other Clusters, and overseen personally by me.”
Lentsul’s selnarmic reply was clipped, sharp. “All derived from typical human illogic and ingratitude.” It was unlike Lentsul to ignore formal deference to his superior, but his selnarm roiled with resentment and anger. “I am baffled that you are not equally dismayed, Senior Cluster Commander Mretlak. As a Destoshaz, your caste is the one most subject to scrutiny and, therefore, most insulted. I would have expected you to refuse to carry out such a demeaning order.”
Mretlak managed to suppress a quick pulse of exasperation. Lentsul, while extremely clever, fancied himself a more accomplished manipulator of selnarmic subtleties than he was. This attempt to insinuate, and thereby inculcate, a thread of pride-bruised rebelliousness in his superior was as amateurish as it was ineffective. “Lentsul, I am not insulted—because the order is not demeaning. It simply commands us to undertake an act that is as unpleasant as it is prudent. After all, the data theft we have been investigating cannot, in light of the most recent evidence, be an exclusively human conspiracy. The humans have no way to interface with selnarmic data cores or recorders, both of which are involved in the crimes. And logically, if our fellow Arduans are involved, we must presume them to be carrying out this operation with all the shrewdness and innovation that you invariably ascribe to our people. And such canny opponents might certainly attempt to infiltrate our CounterIntelligence Cluster as a means of watching for signs that we have detected their activities. Indeed, a double-agent in our office might have been present from the start, since they would be an invaluable asset to help the conspirators acquire the selnarmic data cores and recorders that they need for their activities.”
