Wolf Among the Stars-ARC

by Steve White

  “The discrepancy is actually a matter of divergent paths of development, which reflect differences between our race’s psychology and both of yours. Technology, after all, is merely the servant of deep-seated predispositions. In order for you to understand, I must give you some background.”

  Please do. Andrew found himself wondering why Valdes was telling them all this. Maybe, after decades of unrelieved subterfuge, he had a pent-up need for frankness. That wouldn’t have been a plausible reason if Valdes had been human . . . but he had, after all, alluded to fundamental psychological differences. Maybe this was one of them.

  “Our race, as you are aware, is a physically feeble one, and we arose on a planet with great numbers of very formidable predators. Before we became toolmakers, our only advantage was our protean physical nature. It was our tool for species survival. This shaped our evolution. We are biologically programmed to seek concealment—hence the path our technology has taken—and work through others rather than directly.

  “Some time ago we achieved space flight. We were horrified to discover that we had emerged into a galaxy dominated by the Lokaron. Our home system is not far, as interstellar distances go, from a frontier of Lokaron space. Fortunately, the main currents of Lokaron expansion have been on other frontiers. But it is only a matter of time before they discover us. This danger must be eliminated.”

  Beside him, Andrew sensed Reislon stiffening at the off-hand tone of Valdes’s last sentence.

  “But,” Andrew surmised, “you found that your good old time-honored techniques didn’t work. You can’t masquerade as Lokaron, due to their size.”

  “Actually, there’s more to it than that—certain fundamental differences of biochemistry. But you’re quite correct, as far as you go. We cannot infiltrate the Lokaron. We can, however, infiltrate humanity, which has now become a player in the Lokaron interstellar order. So our strategy is obvious: we will use the human race as our instrument.” Valdes flashed his most charming politician’s smile. “We intend to make humanity the galaxy’s dominant race!”

  For a space Valdes visibly relished the stunned silence he had created.

  “And how will you accomplish this?” Andrew finally managed to ask.

  “We’ve been at it for a while. Our operations in the Sol system began not long after the Lokaron discovered you.”

  “So you were somehow behind the Eaglemen, with their anti-Lokaron agenda?”

  “Oh, no, we had nothing to do with them. At that time, we were still observing and infiltrating with great caution, without taking any overt action. You see, we are extremely thorough—”

  “And cowardly.”

  “If you insist on putting it that way,” said Valdes evenly. “We were involved in the Jihadist insurgency of 2039. Our original plan had been to use radical Islam as our instrument for unifying Earth and expelling the Lokaron. We still think it has real possibilities—and it‘s so perfectly controllable! We’ll continue our efforts to cultivate it and make it the dominant force in human culture. But we acted prematurely. The insurgency failed, and for now we’ve resigned ourselves to working within the Confederated Nations of Earth. It at least can be influenced—”

  “For which purpose you infiltrated and now control the Black Wolf Society?” queried Reislon.

  Valdes laughed heartily. “You couldn’t be more wrong. We created the Black Wolf Society in 2043 to serve as our human front. Our in-depth studies of human history had shown us how useful a criminal organization with a nationalist or racist agenda can be. The early Sicilian Mafia, the Chinese White Lotus Lodge, the Japanese Black Dragon Society . . . yes, we followed our historical models very closely. By now, the Black Wolf controls more of Earth’s vice and illegal activities than anyone realizes—and is wealthier than you imagine.”

  “I think I might be able to imagine,” said Andrew, recalling City of Osaka and her modifications.

  “This, however, is merely incidental. It is how we fund the Black Wolf’s real purpose: to promote human expansionism and militarism. It was through the Black Wolf that we instigated the war with Gev-Rogov.”

  “By assassinating the implementer of the Kogurche system,” Reislon stated rather than asked, with an air of vindication.

  “That, coupled with a long-term campaign of subtly molding CNE attitudes through influence on the media. This was not too difficult—the human hatred of Gev-Rogov was already there. We’ve merely intensified it, making it even more useful.”

  “You,” breathed Rachel, “are madder than the March Hare.”

  “In addition to being an essential element of our plan in itself,” Valdes continued, ignoring her, “the war opened up additional advantages. We had certain valuable intelligence sources inside Gev-Rogov. We offered our services to Admiral Arnstein on a clandestine basis. He refused at first, but gradually came around. There were, after all, historical precedents. In World War II, for example, the Allies accepted help from the Mafia during the Italian campaign, and from its Corsican equivalent during the landings in the south of France.”

  Andrew heard Rachel draw in her breath with a hiss. He dared not look at her.

  “After the war, this enabled us, through the Black Wolf Society, to blackmail him into advancing my career—getting me into the Strategic College, for example. Eventually, though, we slightly overplayed our hand. We upped the ante on the blackmail, pressuring him to declare his support for my candidacy. This, apparently, was his sticking point.”

  Reislon spoke up. “Was this, by any chance, around the same time, earlier this year, when I used circuitous routes to convey my suspicions about the Black Wolf Society to him?”

  “Yes. The timing was unfortunate. The strain of his guilt had gradually worn him down. After hearing from you, he contacted Persath and then, seeing no way out, committed suicide.”

  “No,” Rachel whispered, shaking her head frantically. “No, you lying piece of filth! He was murdered under mysterious circumstances. You told us that yourself.”

  “Oh, that was a lie to persuade you to lead us to Reislon, through Persath. Captain Roark here is in a better position to verify your father’s suicide than anyone else. He was the one who discovered the body. He thought I didn’t know that he knew I was lying, and he pretended to believe me for reasons of his own. But he’s known the truth all along.”

  “What?” Rachel turned and stared at him.

  “Rachel,” Andrew began—and then stopped short, halted by what he saw in her changeable light eyes. They had turned to pure ice, so cold that the chill entered into his own soul. He had never known a human face could contain so much contempt.

  “But the Human-Rogovon war was only the first step,” Valdes resumed, dismissing the digression concerning Admiral Arnstein. “We can now proceed with the next step, without the distraction of trying to recover the lost access key. I will be elected president-general of the CNE. Admiral Arnstein‘s endorsement would have been helpful, but it is not essential. For one thing, the Black Wolf Society can provide clandestine campaign funding as well as performing such tasks as voter intimidation and occasional ‘accidents’ to inconvenient individuals. Shortly after my election, I will announce, to general amazement, that I’ve concluded humanity has bitten off more than it can chew in the Lupus/Sagittarius frontier.”

  An incredulous laugh escaped Andrew. “How do you suppose your adoring followers will react to such a reversal of all the jingoist rhetoric they’ve been lapping up for years?”

  “It won’t matter. Before anyone can recover from the shock, I’ll offer to turn various exclusive concessions we got under the treaty over to Hov-Korth and the other hovahon of Gev-Harath. They, of course, won’t be able to resist such a bait.

  “Gev-Rogov will go out of its mind with rage. It regarded that frontier as its sphere of influence until the war with the CNE forced it to reluctantly accept the human presence there. But humanity, which neither the Rogovon nor any other Lokaron can even now bring themselves to take altogether ser
iously, is one thing: Gev-Harath is another. It’s already the richest and most powerful gevah of them all. Gev-Rogov will go to war with Gev-Harath to prevent the transfer. And the lesser Lokaron powers will join them for balance-of-power reasons, not wanting Gev-Harath’s preeminence to turn into outright domination.”

  “But the Lokaron don’t fight wars,” Rachel said, shaking her head as though to clear it of the horror of the truth of her father’s death. “Not real ones,” she amended. “Sure, they’ve fought lots of small, limited conflicts on the frontiers, but never a general all-out war among the gevahon.”

  “True. They’ve always avoided that, with their limited, decentralized governments and their constantly expanding frontier where there was room for everyone. For that very reason, they’ve come to regard a suicidal total war as unthinkable. As your own history shows, people who think that way are all the more likely to blunder into such a war.”

  Without realizing what it will mean, thought Andrew with a mental nod, recalling Europe before World War I. He was certain that the Lokaron had no real conception of a high-intensity war fought with today’s military technology. He wasn’t sure he did.

  “We will keep the CNE neutral in the war,” Valdes continued, “while working behind the scenes to encourage it to take some adroit pickings from the Lokaron wreckage. At the same time, we’ll manipulate things—through loans and other assistance to the weaker side at any given moment, for example—to keep the war as long-lasting and wasting as possible before the coalition led by Gev-Rogov finally wins a Pyrrhic victory. The victory will grow even more Pyrrhic afterward, as Gev-Rogov cements its hegemony over its erstwhile allies in a series of aftershock wars of the sort that always follow such a conflict. The end result will be an exhausted Gev-Rogov exercising a characteristically ham-handed imperium over the ruins of the Lokaron civilization.

  “In contrast, the CNE will remain internally strong—and, in fact, enriched by war profiteering and enlarged by its acquisitions. And at every point its interests will clash with those of the moribund Rogovon empire. Instigating a conflict probably won’t even require much manipulation by us. Given the heritage of hate, war will be inevitable. Its outcome will be equally inevitable: a universal human empire.”

  “Controlled from behind the scenes by you Kappainu,” Andrew added.

  “Of course. But does it really matter? Humans won’t know it. They can enjoy the fruits of imperialism in blissful ignorance.”

  “But we don’t want an empire!” blurted Rachel. “We’ve gotten that kind of thing out of our systems. The Earth First Party was the last hurrah of the Totalitarian Era. We’ve learned that what governs best really is what governs least. This diabolical scheme of yours can’t possibly succeed.”

  “I assure you that it can. Every phase of the plan has been subjected to a rigorous mathematical analysis. All contingencies and variables have been considered.”

  “Except one,” Reislon pointed out. “Your projections are based on the assumption that Gev-Rogov will continue to be ruled by its present centralized, brain-dead regime, whose actions are of course perfectly predictable.”

  “Yes, that is a necessary precondition. Therefore the elements seeking to overthrow it must be thwarted. That is why learning that you have been working with them, and now capturing you, have been highly desirable fringe benefits of this operation.”

  Da Silva spoke up in tones of self-congratulation. “I didn’t dare be too obvious and insist on your presence in Trovyr’s gig. Besides, I knew it was unnecessary, because you’d want to come.”

  Reislon regarded the two Kappainu. “You evidently know quite a lot about me. But there is one thing you don’t know. It concerns that same gig, which is now under guard on one of your hangar decks.”

  “Yes?” inquired Valdes impatiently.

  “I booby-trapped it.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  There was no question but that Reislon had everyone’s undivided attention. Andrew and Rachel simply stared, while Valdes turned a look of angry inquiry on Da Silva.

  “He’s bluffing!” the latter protested with the indignation of the wronged underling. “The gig was scanned as it entered the hangar deck, in accordance with standard procedure.”

  “The device is inert and effectively undetectable by a routine scan,” said Reislon easily. “It can, with difficulty, be detected after it is activated—which I did as we were leaving the gig. But I doubt if you can do so before it reaches the end of the countdown it has already commenced. And even if you do, any tampering will cause it to detonate immediately and do your station considerable damage.”

  “Have the gig launched on autopilot and sent outside the station’s deflection shield,” Valdes ordered Da Silva.

  “I would advise against it,” Reislon cautioned, “as any such attempt will also result in immediate detonation.”

  Valdes turned to Andrew. His earlier emotionless smugness was in abeyance. “Do you know of this?”

  “He doesn’t” Resilon answered for him. And, in an aside to Andrew: “I saw no reason to bother you with things you didn’t need to know.” Andrew could only gawk.

  “I still say this is a bluff,” Da Silva insisted.

  “Are you willing to gamble on that?” Reislon asked Valdes. “Especially when you don’t need to. You see, I’m perfectly willing to deactivate it . . . on one condition.”

  Valdes’ eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

  “When you destroy Broadsword, you must not destroy City of Osaka. Instead, capture it—which shouldn’t be difficult, given the damage it has sustained and the inadequacy of the prize crew—and use it to transport me to the rebel Rogovon base in the Kogurche system.”

  As though from a great distance, across an abyss of shock and rage, Andrew heard himself begin to speak. “You miserable—”

  “Name-calling serves no purpose. And you have no grounds for accusing me of dishonesty, nor any right to feel betrayed. I have never made any attempt to conceal the fact that my primary loyalty is to Gev-Rogov. I want to see it revolutionized so it can attain its potential instead of continuing to stagnate. This must be my primary concern.”

  “But,” said Andrew, thinking frantically and speaking to Valdes as much as to Reislon, “you’ve just heard that they want to keep Gev-Rogov just the way it is, to avoid upsetting their master plan.”

  “True.” Reislon turned back to Valdes. “If you agree to my conditions, I in turn will undertake to influence a new regime in Gev-Rogov in the direction you want.”

  Valdes looked as stunned as Andrew felt. “You mean . . . influence it to go to war with Gev-Harath on schedule?

  “Precisely.”

  “But . . . why would you, a self-proclaimed Rogovon loyalist, be willing to do that? You’ve heard me describe what we intend for the ultimate fate of Gev-Rogov to be.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard your plan—and, on reflection, I believe I want to further it. Because, you see, I think you’re wrong in one important particular: Gev-Rogov, not the CNE, will emerge as the ultimate victor.”

  Rachel looked like she had passed beyond shock into a kind of emotional dead zone. Andrew could only stare at Reislon, and all he could see was the greenish coloring, and all he could feel was what that shade had caused humans to feel since before his birth. Only the laser weapons trained on him kept him motionless.

  “Congratulations,” he said with a calmness that surprised him. “You’ve now become a quadruple agent.”

  Valdes shook his head in perplexity. “If you turn out to be right, then our plan will have failed. So why should I agree to this?”

  Reislon gave a Lokaron smile. “Because you think I’m wrong. If you really believe in your own plan, you should welcome this chance to have me unwittingly working for you. In any event, I suggest you not wait too long to make your decision.” He brushed a finger over an area of skin on the underside of his right wrist, and the imprinted circuits of what Andrew guessed was a timepiece glowed to life. He gave V
aldes a significant look. Da Silva began to look jittery.

  Valdes appeared to consider. In fact, he seemed to put on a great show of it before finally nodding. “Very well. I agree to your terms.”

  Rachel suddenly swung on Reislon and spoke wildly. “Damn you, if you’re supposed to be so smart, can’t you see he’s just pretending to agree? The moment you’ve deactivated your bomb, he’ll—” Her voice ended in a gasp of pain as one of the guards reversed his laser weapon and used its butt to strike her on the back of the head, sending her staggering forward onto her hands and knees, moaning.

  Before Andrew could act, he saw—through the reddish mist that filmed the world in his eyes—the guard bring the weapon back around and point it at his midriff. He held himself in check with a shivering effort.

  “Enough of this.” Valdes touched a communicator button on his desk and began to speak in his native language as well as his human form permitted. Reporting to his superior, Andrew guessed. An individual who spent almost all his time on Earth, among humans, wouldn’t be able to function as the ultimate Kappainu boss in the solar system. That individual must reside here, at their secret base. The short conversation ended, and Valdes turned back to Reislon. “Very well. Let us proceed to the hangar bay, where you can do whatever is needful.”

  “One additional point. I will require Captain Roark’s assistance. As commander of the gig, he alone has access to certain code-locked instruments I will need.”

  What in God’s name is he talking about? thought Andrew blankly. He started to open his mouth. Then Reislon’s eyes met his.

  That eye-contact lasted for only a fraction of a second, before Reislon hastily looked away. But all at once, Andrew knew that he must play along.

  “Why should I cooperate with you, you half-Rogovon mongrel bastard?” he spat, hoping he wasn’t overdoing truculence.

  “You will cooperate with him,” Valdes stated firmly and gave a peremptory jerk of his head. Da Silva and one of the guards hauled Rachel to her feet, one grasping each arm, while the other guard kept Reislon and Andrew covered with his weapon. Valdes led the way, reversing the route they had come before, until they reached the cavernous hangar bay where the gig rested with its hatch still open, dwarfed by the ships that rested on the extensive deck. Beyond the atmosphere curtain lay starless blackness, with the universe of stars as invisible to them as they were to it.