Raising Caine - eARC

by Charles E Gannon

Caine pointed into the holotank. “You’re not the only one making changes. Look.”

  The red mote that signified the Ktoran intruder had now begun to spawn a small swarm of ruby pin-pricks.

  “Drones.” Sukhinin drew in a long breath, then: “Perhaps they have come to fight, after all.”

  “I don’t know,” murmured Downing as he rubbed a finger meditatively across his lower lip. “I still think the odds are so heavily stacked against them that—”

  The alert-status lights flashed anew and the klaxons emitted a rapid, three-pulse warning.

  Sukhinin, who was not intimately familiar with Commonwealth shipboard procedures during general quarters, started. “Shto? What is this? We are not already at battle-stations?”

  Downing frowned. “We are. This is a special alert, reserved to call attention to an additional, unexpected development or crisis.”

  Caine saw two of the flatscreens over the holotank brighten. He stared, then pointed. “You mean something like that?” The two older men glanced up.

  A dim, fragmentary shape—one part flattened ellipse, one part droop-winged delta—stood out, ghostlike, against the darkened half of the larger of Sigma Draconis’ two moons.

  “Yes,” Downing said quietly, “I mean something like that.”

  A fleet-wide sitrep erupted from the room’s speakers: “Unidentified bogey at one-hundred-twelve kiloklicks, bearing 175 by 13, relative ecliptic. Assumed to be hostile. All helms: commence defensive evolution Echo Whiskey Seven Niner in sixty seconds measured from my mark. And…mark. All remote CIC’s are to activate InPic telepresence systems and prepare for—”

  Asked over the torrent of orders, Sukhinin’s questions came out as a dry-throated croak: “What ship is that, and where did it come from?”

  But as more of the mystery ship came into view, its outline now picked out by a ladar scan, Caine realized that he’d seen that shape before. In fact, it was identical to that of the first exosapient spacecraft that human eyes had ever beheld—

  “That’s a Dornaani ship, not Ktoran,” Caine shouted. “Tell our people to stand down. It’s here to aid us, not attack us.”

  Downing squinted at the image. “Yes, it’s quite similar to the one that carried us to meet our exosapient neighbors at Convocation. But still, it could be a trap. The Ktor are no doubt aware we are familiar with that Dornaani design, would logically use it to fool us, if only briefly, into thinking—”

  “Then don’t trust your eyes,” Caine interrupted. “Get Admiral Silverstein or Admiral Halifax—or whoever you can reach—to run a spectroscopic check on that ship’s hull materials. And to analyze the drive emissions, while they’re at it. Lemuel Wasserman ran those same scans the first time we saw that ship, said that both yielded distinctive results. So if the comparison produces a match—”

  Caine fell silent: Downing, convinced, had turned away, was already busy trying to get in touch with the fleet’s commanders.

  Sukhinin looked over. He smiled faintly. “You are starting to sound like a genuine naval officer. So perhaps you were not sleeping during the classes they rushed you through at Barnard’s Star Two-C.”

  Caine tried to smile, but couldn’t. He remembered the classrooms he had occupied for as many as twelve hours a day at the joint Commonwealth and Federation naval base—The Pearl—located beneath the uninhabitable surface of Barney Deucy. “I had great instructors,” was all he could say. Because the classrooms and instructors and the Pearl itself were just so much floating detritus now, the residual spoor of the surprise attack with which the Arat Kur had commenced their war upon humanity.

  Downing looked up. “Analysis of the new ship’s hull is ongoing. There’s no thrust signature, so no help there. The vessel is now emitting the transponder code reserved for the Accord’s Custodian vessels, although that proves nothing.”

  “Well,” temporized Caine, “it does prove one of three things.”

  Sukhinin’s eyebrows raised. “Oh? And what would those be?”

  Caine shrugged. “One, that it’s a Custodian ship. Or two, that the Ktor are emulating a Custodial vessel, which is so severe a violation of the Accords that they must be planning to renounce their membership, anyway. Or third, that someone else is trying to run a false-flag operation.”

  Sukhinin glanced at Downing and added a shrug of his own. “Caine has a point. Well, three of them.”

  “Probably so,” conceded Downing. “But new sensor data is pointing to the first alternative. Hull results match those from the Dornaani ship. The geniuses up at Fleet sensor ops are still trying to puzzle out how it was lurking out there the whole time and we didn’t see it.”

  Caine remembered some of what Lemuel Wasserman had remarked about the initial readings he got from the Dornaani hull materials. “Wasserman speculated that their hull was made out of some kind of material that had variable physical properties, controllable by the operator. At first, our radar couldn’t register it. Attempts to get an active scan outline came back like a froth of random noise. But then all of a sudden, our readings cleared up. As if the Dornaani had hit the ‘off’ switch on a variable stealth device.”

  Downing was nodding. “Yes, and that’s what Fleet is reporting now: the same ‘fade in’ effect, only much, much quicker. So, unless the Ktor have the same capabilities and have built a Q-ship that matches the Dornaani design, meter for meter and curve for curve, I rather suspect that our newcomers are—”

  The room’s speakers reactivated, filled the room with a carrier tone. “Mr. Downing?” The accent could have belonged to a BBC newsreader.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Commander Mark Lucas, Royal Naval Intelligence aboard HMS Trafalgar, contacting you at the instruction of Admiral Lord Halifax, who sends his compliments. We are receiving signals from the Dornaani Custodial ship Olsloov. The Dornaani indicate that they are about to initiate a communiqué in which we may not participate, but in which we might have a keen interest.”

  “Thank you, Commander. If I understand your subtext correctly, our Custodian friends are inviting us to eavesdrop on a conversation they are about to have with the Ktoran intruders.”

  “That’s the gist of it, sir. But I repeat: access is not being offered for our command staff, not even Admiral Lord Halifax. Just you. And Commander Riordan.”

  “And Consul Sukhinin?”

  An extended pause. “Yes, sir: the Custodians are pleased to approve Consul Sukhinin, as well.”

  “Excellent. By the way, did the Custodian communicating with you identify him- or her-self?”

  “Yes, sir. The Dornaani’s name is Alnduul, Senior Mentor of the Custodians’ Terran Oversight Group.” A pause. “Is that significant, Mr. Downing?”

  Chapter Three

  Far orbit; Sigma Draconis Two

  Downing turned toward Caine with a broad smile. Riordan reflected that it was probably a match for the one he felt growing on his own face. So, Alnduul is still in the vicinity. Thank God.

  The British naval intelligence officer cleared his throat. “Mr. Downing? Did you read me? Am I to infer that this ‘Alnduul’ is a friend?”

  “Sorry, Commander. Yes, I did read you. And yes, Alnduul is most assuredly a friend.”

  About the best damned one we have among the exosapients, Caine added silently. Maybe the only one we have.

  “Very well, sir. I’m adding you to Alnduul’s comm channel.” Rather than shutting off, the speakers remained active, a white-noise hum filling the compartment.

  Sukhinin was frowning. “These Dornaani: they make me uneasy.”

  Downing shrugged. “Well, Vassily, they are exosapients.”

  “Bah. I am referring to their actions. Alnduul was with us only a few days ago, yes? He was present when we discovered that the Ktor are not only murderers and liars, but a breed of displaced humans.” He literally spat. “So, once all was well, and the Arat Kur had agreed to negotiate with us, Alnduul takes his leave, waving his long fingers like streamers in the wind and
wishing us enlightenment. A small ship collects him, swings behind the larger moon and disappears. So we presume that the ship must have contained a miraculously small shift drive and that he is gone.

  “But today, our Mr. Alnduul shows up in the vicinity of the same moon, commanding a ship that has probably been floating there the whole time. In what should be plain sight. So I must wonder: how many days has it been watching everything we do, eavesdropping on every message we send? No.” Sukhinin shook his head. His meaty jowls amplified the motion. “I do not like it.”

  “Well, he doesn’t lie to us,” Caine pointed out.

  “Perhaps not, parnishka, but he doesn’t tell us all the truth, either. It would have been nice to know he was perched near the larger moon like a great, invisible vulture, watching us.”

  “Or watching over us, as seems to be the case here.”

  “Or maybe both.” Downing raised his hands to stop the debate. “I think it unwise to either be too wary, or too trusting, of the Dornaani at this point. But Alnduul, at least, has demonstrated his willingness to help us, even at the expense of his reputation among the rest of the Dornaani Collective.”

  Sukhinin huffed. “So he says!”

  Richard sighed. “Vassily, while I am quite a fan of Russian caution, not to say cynicism, I must—”

  The carrier tone from the speakers acquired a fine thread of static: an open channel. “This is Senior Mentor Alnduul of the Accord Custodians, sending to Ktoran vessel. You are currently in violation of the Thirteenth Accord, which requires that you run a transponder at all times.”

  “With all due respect,” a human voice answered, its tone suggesting that the amount of respect due was very miniscule, “this vessel is running with an active transponder.”

  “Incorrect. You are running a locator beacon only. The Thirteenth Accord stipulates that your transponder must also relay your ship’s polity of origin, its name or code, its master, and any special conditions under which it might be operating.”

  The human voice was bored and dismissive. “We openly identified our origins and our purpose shortly after shifting into this system.”

  “You have violated the Accord, even so. All required data must be included in the transponder signal at all times.”

  “Senior Mentor Alnduul, it would be most agreeable if you do not belabor this matter. It is a quibble.”

  “It is the law. You will adjust your transponder signal immediately.”

  Caine wondered if the human voice was going to respond, Or you’ll do what?

  But instead, Downing, who was listening closely to his earbud, pointed to one of the flatscreens. A new wave of transponder data scrolled past, indicating that the vessel was indeed from the Ktoran Sphere, was named Ferocious Monolith, listed Olsirkos Shethkador-vah as the acting captain, and had been sent under the auspices of an authority labeled “Autarchal Aegis” to retrieve ambassador Tlerek Srin Shethkador, presumed to be in Arat Kur space.

  Alnduul’s voice was more crisp than Caine had ever heard it. “Your compliance is appreciated, Ferocious Monolith. It is difficult to conceive why the Ktoran Sphere, currently under numerous Custodial sanctions, would fail to instruct its ships to observe the Accords more carefully. Today’s violations would be significant at the best of times. Given your polity’s suspended membership privileges, it is extremely severe.”

  “Perhaps we do not attach the same measure of importance to rules-stickling. Our attention is focused upon our mission to retrieve Tlerek Srin Shethkador, a mission which your own superiors approved some weeks ago. Consequently, our arrival here should not cause consternation. Or a violent repulse by the so-called ‘Terrans.’”

  “I possess a copy of the Custodial travel warrant that confers permission for you to enter this system to retrieve your ambassador. However, that warrant stipulates that you are to arrive no earlier than eight days from now.”

  “We hope it is understandable that we are eager to reclaim Srin Shethkador. That is the cause of our haste and early arrival.”

  “Yeah,” drawled Caine, “sure it is.”

  Alnduul wasn’t having any of it, either: “Given the Ktoran Sphere’s recent violations of various accords and Custodial mandates, these additional infractions do not bode well for reinstatement of your membership.”

  The reply was unruffled. “I believe the correct terminology is alleged violations.”

  Alnduul’s voice was as flat and cold as a skating rink. “Sophistry. Characterizing your violations as ‘alleged’ is akin to characterizing the laws of gravity as ‘tentative.’”

  “Yet, until a judgment is made, the term ‘alleged’ is consonant with the juridical protocols of the Accord and Custodians. Is it not?”

  “You are correct.” Alnduul sounded as though he would have rather eaten his own leg than agree. “For now, you will immediately cease all offensive operations and terminate your acceleration. Once you have complied, we will communicate the purpose, and legitimacy, of your mission here to the representatives of the Consolidated Terran Republic. We will encourage them to return your ambassador as soon as they may, at which point you are ordered—under Custodial authority—to commence preacceleration and depart the system as quickly as practicable. An approved list of systems whereby you may return to the Ktoran Sphere will be relayed to you at the end of this communiqué. To deviate from that route will lead to swift repercussions.”

  “We shall be duly attentive to your instructions.” The Ktoran carrier wave faded out, followed shortly by an increase in light static: two-way communication was now possible.

  Alnduul’s voice returned to its customary, milder tone. “Gentlemen, the Ktoran interlopers are no longer on the channel.”

  Sukhinin didn’t waste a second. “Many thanks, gospodin Alnduul, for providing us with timely information regarding the Ktor’s expected arrival.”

  Alnduul sounded puzzled. “But…I did not.”

  “Of course not. Nor did you share other relevant information.” Sukhinin was flushed now. “You did not let us know you were still in the system, did not let us know that the Ktor were coming, did not immediately intervene when they arrived. Let me see: am I missing anything?”

  Sukhinin’s sarcasm was no longer lost on Alnduul. “I assure you, it was our intent to apprise you of the Ktor’s imminent arrival once the negotiations with the Arat Kur were well under way.”

  “Why? So that we might enjoy a few more days of blissful ignorance?”

  “No. To ensure that the Arat Kur negotiators could not be emboldened by rumors of the pending arrival of their strongest allies. And also to ensure that we remained undetected for as long as possible. That way, the exchanges between yourselves and the Arat Kur could not be accused of taking place under Custodial auspices.”

  Downing managed to ask a question before Sukhinin could find another argumentative brickbat to sling at Alnduul. “But wouldn’t it be best for the negotiations to have the implicit benefit of Custodial oversight?”

  “Although the Arat Kur have violated the most crucial of all the Accord’s rules, they are still members, which means that they may still expect equal access to information. On the other hand, humanity is still a protected species, since the Convocation at which you were to have received your membership was derailed by the disputes which led to the late war.”

  Sukhinin became even more red. “And so you would support these attackers of our homeworld—these chudovishniy Roaches—against us in the negotiations, if they asked?”

  Alnduul sounded weary. “It is not so simple a matter as that, Consul Sukhinin. No Custodian—indeed, I believe no one in the entirety of the Dornaani Collective—would wish to take the side of the Arat Kur against your interests and claims for reparation. But this scenario is without precedent in the annals of the Accord. Therefore, we felt it best to let the disputatious parties come to their own agreements. Specifically, if you wished to aggressively seek reparations for war damages, we did not wish the Arat Kur to know w
e were present, and thus, to exercise their right to call upon us for mediation. As they might, if word now reaches them that we are still present in this system.”

  Downing rubbed his chin. “So perhaps the Ktor’s early arrival is not simply a consequence of their excessive enthusiasm for retrieving Tlerek Srin Shethkador.”

  “I’m sure that the timing of Ferocious Monolith’s appearance serves many Ktoran agendas, not the least of which would be to remove the ambassador before his identity as a human was revealed. Of course, they had no way to know that they were already too late to prevent that.”

  Sukhinin placed a fist on the commo console. “And you still insist that it is wise for us to help these viridoki hide their true nature?”

  Caine leaned toward the Russian. “Vassily, if we don’t, we lose the only leverage we have over them. I don’t know how long the Ktor expect to be able to conceal their speciate identity and their genocidal campaign against the Arat Kur over ten thousand years ago, but evidently they consider it important to suppress that information for now.”

  Alnduul’s eyelids nictated once, quickly. “Caine Riordan is correct. At this moment in time, you are well-advised to protect the secret of the Ktor. Sometimes, a long-term benefit is derived from maintaining a short-term silence. Accordingly, I encourage you to return the Ktoran ambassador to his ship. But I may not instruct you to do so, since you are not members of the Accord.”

  Sukhinin cocked a wicked eyebrow at Downing. “It might be useful, as well as amusing, to keep this zjulik Shethkador around for a bit longer, hey? Extract some repayment for what he wanted to extort from humanity? And let his comrades shake their fists.”

  “Vassily—” Downing began carefully.

  “Bah, Richard, you take me too seriously.” Sukhinin gestured into the holotank: the red blip and its small cloud of attendant ruby mayflies were still chasing the actinic blue points aggressively. “I know the Ktor have not come just to shake their fists: they will use them, if they become too aggravated. I speak of what I wish to do, not what I recommend we do.”