The Keulfyd had twenty-five planets and needed all of them. Unlike other prolific Races, they had no breeding restrictions. Cukudeopul had lost count of his descendents but by his ninetieth birthday he had forty-seven. His descendants were now in the thousands, too many to try to keep track of. Torroxell would make the count twenty-six planets: their allies the Oriwikk had nineteen so between them they owned fourteen percent of the liveable planets of the known universe. Pretty good. They weren’t interested in the they couldn’t live on or didn’t want to, so they would leave their inhabitants alive and unhindered. It made sense. They should not be a threat to each other if their real estate was unattractive or unliveable for the other. But Torroxell was a lovely planet.
He sat, thinking and remembering, his memory always so bright following these Treatments. The next Race that had been targeted for extinction was the Yikriodsyll, targeted because they were already physically compromised and declining in numbers. It also helped that their four planets were high-tech, large, had full climate control and were exactly suitable for the Keulfyd being at an acceptable temperature and fully developed. Most of their planets were covered in buildings. Cukudeopul had his planning well organized and they openly bought huge amounts of the Yikriodsyll real estate, though at bargain basement prices. No one had contested their acquisition of two of the Yikriodsyll’s planets. The Oriwikk had used the same tactics to get the other two. Possession was nine tenths of the law. Since then, their combined takeover strategy had improved.
The Niseyen were to be the third victims. Cukudeopul calculated they had about two hundred years at most before they became virtually extinct. As their genetic problems were combining, the situation was nearing critical. And the Cleaners were set to deliver one more punch in another fifty years or so. That would be the final straw. It would be the death knell of a Race already struggling to survive. It would link up with existing weaknesses, turn one more vital gene off, and the Niseyen would, in two generations, be unable to reproduce at all. Not even with high-tech medical science and incubators. Not once that flaw combined with the others.
The genius was attacking the reproductive system in this way. Preventing just the ability to conceive and carry the next generation in the correct ratio meant that each new generation was healthy, or it wouldn’t exist. So they would keep their society going and keep the planet’s systems functioning well, giving the Keulfyd much less work to do on taking over.
For the Keulfyd, this was significant. They had had a lot of their medical workers tied up assisting the Yikriodsyll who, for the last few generations, had had a very unhealthy population needing a huge and expensive input. This sometimes lasted the individual’s whole lifetime: a vast and expensive commitment. Many of the last generations of Yikriodsyll were unable to function at all. The Keulfyd had learnt their lesson well and planned this next takeover with much greater care. In contrast to the Yikriodsyll, for the Niseyen who managed to get born that was the worst of their problem over. For the rest of their lives they would be healthy apart from being infertile. To administer the last generation of the Niseyen would be very cheap, since they would do almost all the work themselves. Sadly, he would not now live to see it but then he hadn’t really expected to. Already, following his careful planning, Keulfyd, very carefully chosen and financed, were buying up land, industries and leases on the Niseyen worlds. Some openly, and some using fronts of other Races. In all worlds, to maintain a civilized society one needs to control as a minimum finance, communications, water and oxygen production, and power, either generation or distribution or both. By seizing just these four systems, one can paralyze everything. The society can’t function and starts to fall apart. This process was well under way. Ownership and then increasing the price of these services was a favourite method and the resulting generous profit helped finance the eventual takeover.
Cukudeopul had chosen his agents carefully and shrewdly: people like those in small businesses, medical workers, or teachers; altruistic people or good business types. They had to be helpful, non-threatening, not too arrogant and acceptable to the Niseyen. To make it believable, they needed to have a good reason to go there and stick to it. Most of them did not have a clue what process they were a part of and Cukudeopul’s plan was that most of them would never know. The Niseyen would just die out and the Keulfyd would be there to help them breathe their last and then take over their worlds.
The Defense Systems of Medala Prime and Jaynar would then protect them from attack from without and their control of the key systems would help them achieve takeover from within. If done correctly, as he intended, the Niseyen would not even know. He still could not decide what to do about Petislay. He was considering letting the Oriwikk have it and assisting them with buying a Defense System and climate control. Hmm, he would have to do that or they might want Medala or Jaynar. The Oriwikk were less fussy about the cold.
Cukudeopul thought back over his long life and the decisions he had made. He had found three ways to wage war: piracy on an individual level, open war on a planetary level and genetics on a racial level. Only the open war was known. The other two were secret but both very profitable — and both were secret from each other. Better still, the piracy helped finance the other two and the genetics war was extremely cheap and paid for by the delivery system: the Cleaners.
Back in his quarters, Kumenoprix was also deep in thought. Only a few Keulfyd and one Okme had known the full story until he had managed to get the secret out. Cukudeopul never knew that anyone had been listening. He hadn’t known Kumenoprix was in the room. He was paranoid about electronic and other surveillance and the room had been swept that morning, but Kumenoprix had had access to none of these mediums. He was just in the right place at the right time looking for a piece of paper with an uncompleted code on it that he had lost. Hearing Cukudeopul, and being where he shouldn’t be without an escort, he had hidden. Being so small, it wasn’t difficult. The alarms didn’t sound at his presence because he was authorized to be there when summoned. It was as simple as that and as low-tech. They had been discussing the extinction of the Niseyen and comparing their takeover methods with the lessons learnt on taking over the Yikriodsyll. And they laughed about how the Niseyen had gotten the blame for the Kaldalei. Kumenoprix had hit the jackpot. But it took him weeks to get the information out, tiny piece by tiny piece hidden in other data.
Kumenoprix had then decided that it was imperative to keep Cukudeopul alive as long as possible, because his successors were far worse. They were ambitious, impatient and impulsive, and would be much worse rulers than Cukudeopul. Kumenoprix was disgusted at their attitudes and their xenophobia. They hated every Race except their own. They would be worse for the whole galaxy. He must ensure none of them took over until the Okme had proof and could act to stop this madness. Kumenoprix knew that eventually, if they were not stopped, the Okme would be the Race in their sights. Their Healing Machines slowed down the tactics of the Keulfyd, but they didn’t stop the damage occurring. And he still didn’t know how it was done. That was the conversation he needed to overhear.
While Kumenoprix worked at trying to save the targeted Races, principally the Niseyen, others were also trying to find out how this was being done. But the Keulfyd protected the technology of their Cleaners as closely as the Okme protected their Healing Machines.
Within his own limits, Cukudeopul did have redeeming points. He was ruthless but not generally cruel. He let some get away. He had good judgment. He knew that the Keulfyd could be threatened if they appeared too threatening to others. He operated on a very unusual policy: he allowed Keulfyd defeats to be known and concealed what successes he could. Most of his successes, especially piracy, were secret by their very nature in that they left no survivors and no proof of the perpetrators. And when piracy was proved, which was rare, he would apologize, occasionally, for the unsanctioned, unofficial actions of a wayward few which shamed the remainder of the appalled, embarrassed, much more moral Keulfyd Race. Though it
was nonsense, sometimes he got away with that type of apology. But he only apologized if it could be proved that Keulfyd had been in charge. Which was why the pirates used so many other Races. Plausible deniability. “All Races have bad people.” “You can’t blame it on official policy.” “We would never sanction this.” Cukudeopul often smiled at the memory of some of his speeches on the subject. He reread them when he wanted a good laugh. Cukudeopul had a good sense of humour. That was another thing he and Kumenoprix shared. Cukudeopul genuinely liked Kumenoprix. But he was completely wrong about what Kumenoprix’s motivation was.
He knew that Kumenoprix was a dedicated researcher. He just didn’t realize that when it was reported that his old friend was working on some aspect of Keulfyd physiology, the cells Kumenoprix was looking at and the code he was studying was more likely to be Niseyen. Mislabeled. This was how the gene codes were transmitted. Hidden in plain sight and not checked by anyone, as it would take an expert to tell the difference. The life forms were similar, both carbon-based, and a chromosome looked much the same for either Race. Kumenoprix was careful to conceal or alter the numbers since Keulfyd had fifty-four chromosomes, not forty-six like the Niseyen. But why would anyone bother to check? And every incoming file came from one of two places, both Okme cities, rerouted from their real planet of origin to protect and hide the sender.
Kumenoprix worked on everything openly, using equipment paid for by the Keulfyd, in their building, using their power, using their technology, right under the noses of their top espionage hierarchy. The superficial similarity of Keulfyd physiology to Niseyen would help if anyone had ever asked, but only Cukudeopul and his Keulfyd physicians ever had — and since this was not within their expertise, they had not recognized the difference. They could not understand much of Kumenoprix’s work. And sometimes he was working on Keulfyd genetics or on Cukudeopul’s cells. He had even published some of his work on Keulfyd physiology. But he needed more time.
Kumenoprix didn’t want any of Cukudeopul’s successors getting control until something could be done, but so far the Okme could prove nothing and fix nothing. Kumenoprix, with the money Cukudeopul paid him, had his state-of-the-art laboratory. His equipment was superior to any lab he knew of. His life’s work was to try to prolong, and hope others could save, all the Races targeted for extinction. His priority was the Niseyen, the Race most in danger. He was trying to save them. He needed more time.
The Machines did their best for the Niseyen but with the same genes being targeted, they had been unable to find healthy genes to fix them. A feature of genes is that they often still work even when damaged or incomplete. They found some genes that were in better condition but the rate of decay remained hugely enhanced. They were fighting a losing war. They were patching with frayed patches that didn’t last because they didn’t know the function of the missing bits or how they carried this function out. He sighed in frustration. It just wasn’t possible even to gene-map every Race they treated, let alone determine the function of every individual gene in every Race.
He wondered what was in the file that Helkmid was sending. He would look at it tomorrow. He and Helkmid were two of the five main research facilities studying the Niseyen gene problems, although Helkmid was studying other things as well. Helkmid thrived on variety where Kumenoprix was single-minded. It was a huge file and he couldn’t be bothered looking at it today. It was labeled “Keulfyd Immune System” although it could be anything. Whenever he opened a file, he first had to work out what it was. It didn’t take him long to decipher. He enjoyed the challenge. For him, it was fun.
Kumenoprix sighed. Okme were often in an impossible situation as he was now. Despite what a lot of People believed, the Okme could not create life and they could only fix a problem if they had the correct instructions. They had to know what “normal” was. The instructions were obtained from healthy cells. They could not make them, they could only copy what instructions they were given from copying the healthy cells.
Crucially, they had to know the function — the what and the how. The Healing Machines were not magic: they were like a vastly complicated photocopier combined with an automatic laboratory. They analyzed the problem and fixed what they could. Within limits. How they fixed things was unknown by all other Races. How the genes were given their instructions, how the genes were told what to fix and how to fix it. How the genes were told to fix just the damaged genes and alter none other.
And that, for the Okme, was their reason for not letting other Races learn this technology. If they had this technology, the Keulfyd could set genetic traps to go off in future generations and wipe out a Race so much easier. Those working with the Healing Machines had to be moral, above reproach, above temptation, and not able to be bought. When they succeeded in prolonging life, everyone was happy. When they couldn’t, people felt cheated, betrayed and angry. Some became dangerous. The Okme developed a policy of waiving the charge if they had thought they could fix it and they couldn’t. Another tactic was to frankly inform people that this may not, or probably would not work, depending on the case. For some they declared there was little chance but they would try. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. Kumenoprix thought it was a pity he couldn’t apply that here. The cost of failure would be more than a refund for him! He wouldn’t be able to keep Cukudeopul alive much longer.
Kumenoprix knew what would happen to him the minute Cukudeopul died. It was useless to explain that he was, honestly, doing his best, even if his motives were somewhat different from what others thought. Once Cukudeopul died, he would suicide. Anger from relatives and friends was an occupational hazard. The Okme had long developed ways to cope with this. They advertised, they explained, and they learnt to deal with grief by fast and complete analysis. And, when necessary, a quick refund.
If only other races would believe them and help! But the fear of challenging the powerful Keulfyd/Oriwikk combination and the success of the Keulfyd advertising that added to the denigration of the Okme didn’t help. A huge percentage of People had now been duped into believed that the Okme had stolen their technology and didn’t really understand it and that was why it didn’t always work. Or got paid to make mistakes. No suggestion that sometimes the problem was not solvable. No plausible explanation as to who had invented the Healing Machines. Grief-stricken people are seldom logical and understanding.
Kumenoprix tried to stop ruminating over what he couldn’t fix and look at what he could do. They were having a little better success with the other Races who were being targeted for extinction as they now knew what they were facing and knew to find the targeted genes and blueprint the whole ones — if they could find any. That was the problem. Finding intact, working genes in a population where some genes could all be damaged, like the Niseyen. But the worst problem was being unable to stop people using the Cleaners and thereby worsening the problem. If only he had known sooner. He had found out just under twenty years ago, in that overheard conversation. But it had only confirmed what they suspected anyway. And the Okme did not use Cleaners. Neither for themselves nor for their Machines. The Cleaners damaged the Machines, so they were cleaned by hand.
Chapter Six
Kasjeindid was somewhat relieved when its Ridianit employee reported there were four defense systems covering buildings and one covering a small island. Mindful of Sarah’s savvy, Kasjeindid reported this to her. “I have found some Defense Systems on Torroxell that can be added on to the main one. They do not have much in the way of weaponry but their power plants can be added on to the main system to increase its capacity.”
“What were they defending?”
“The planet’s financial center, two secure residential centers, a munitions factory and storage area, a factory, and a repository of records. I have contacted our records to determine if there are any more systems that may not have been listed on Torroxell’s records.”
“Do you mean illegal ones?”
It was startled. This Sarah caught on way too fast. “No
t necessarily. They could be legitimate but secret. With your permission I will order the power plants to be disengaged and clipped on to the main system.”
“Yes please. Are any of them in areas where there are survivors? The Cats are reporting some vandalism and looting. Do I understand that these smaller systems are now the property of the Priskya?”
“No. Of the Terrestrials.” This Sarah needed to study up on the law! “And there are no survivors anywhere near them. We checked before we entered them.” Silly Terran. Of course they checked first! Loridsyl were very careful of their personal safety. Some of their best customers were not very nice. In fact, some could be rather delinquent with the lives of others.
“Then certainly, deploy them.” Sarah paused. “I will send someone with you to check out what the Defense Systems are guarding.”
The next morning, Kasjeindid was joined by Mahmoud. Because it did not realize Mahmoud was a child, if adult size, it did not think anything of it when fifteen-year-old Mahmoud, assisted by a recovering Akira, cheerfully flew them all to the locations. As Kasjeindid and his colleagues pulled the power plants out, Akira and Mahmoud went into the various facilities to discover what they were. To their vast amusement, one appeared to be a mint, although the currency on Torroxell was electronic. And there was money stored there, or at least what looked like money as it was the same as what was in the shops and banks. It was all in plastic form, the size of credit cards, with what looked like embedded chips on them. Mahmoud wondered if they were like preloaded debit cards. Start-up capital. But were they blank or loaded? Bit of a problem if they were credit cards or unloaded debit cards. But a card that was loaded or attached to an account, now this would be useful.
Akira said, “Before Kaz left, he told me we collectively now own all of the money in all the accounts of all the people who lived here at the time of the attack. Apart from the Priskya’s accounts. That now belongs to them again. The finance includes everything the Ridianit owned, all industries and services, the whole shebang. I hope the balance sheets were in the black. He also said that all debts are canceled following a war. We don’t owe anyone anything.”
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