Raising Caine - eARC

by Charles E Gannon

  “I did not suspect the Aboriginals would be so materially rapacious.” Ulsor Tval Vasarkas’ comment was slow, measured.

  “Most of them are not, but they are divided both between and within their blocs. There are still strong and insistent voices calling for xenocide. To balance against this, moderate factions support the aggressive dismantling of the Arat Kur’s military capabilities, thereby reducing the popular fears upon which the xenocidalists prey.”

  “And weakening the Arat Kur so profoundly that they will probably be of no use to our enemies in the next war. Excellent.”

  “Yes, but the Aboriginals may make better use of these arrogated ships and resources than the Arat Kur would have. It is difficult to foresee which would have been the better alternative, in light of our future plans. However, a more immediate threat to those plans has arisen: the Slaasriithi invited an Aboriginal envoy to their homeworld mere hours after my last Contact with you.”

  “And did the Aboriginals accept?”

  “Immediately. They departed that same day.”

  Beren Tval Jerapthere’s response was unpleasantly barbed. “This is unacceptable, Srin Shethkador. How did you allow this to occur?”

  “Esteemed Autarch, had my advice been followed, it would never have occurred at all. Instead, heavy-handed initiatives have characterized our operations in this entire region of space. This is why the provocative arrival of Ferocious Monolith was ill-conceived. Without the alarm it caused, the Slaasriithi might have maintained their typically glacial pace of cultural contact and exchange. But instead, they pressed for and obtained an immediate diplomatic mission from the Aboriginals.”

  “You must contrive a way to stop them from realizing their objectives.”

  “What method do you propose?”

  “The most reliable: follow their ship and destroy it.”

  “I reply with as much deference as I may muster, and more respect than such a plan is due: nothing could be more injurious to our plans. Our willingness to destroy such a mission will signal to both powers that we fear nothing so much as the possibility of a swift alliance between them. And so, they will be quick to conclude one.”

  Tlerek could almost hear Beren’s teeth grinding across the many parsecs. “I do not propose the elimination of the envoy be done openly.”

  “I do not suppose you did, but we cannot ensure secrecy if we undertake the ambush you so blithely suggest. We are not familiar with Slaasriithi space. They have been the most reticent of all the races and have been most effective patrolling their borders against our covert surveys, despite their lower technological level.”

  Ruurun’s confirmation was patient, studied. “The Srin is correct. We would be proceeding blindly and without any plausible pretext.”

  “Precisely,” Shethkador agreed, grateful that House Tharexere did not have as much vigor as it had wisdom. “And if such a trespass is detected, the probable loss of the ship conducting would be a paltry matter compared to the diplomatic damage it will do. We will have pushed two races together into an alliance against us, whereas, unprompted, they might require years of diplomatic exchange before concluding such a pact.”

  Davros’ contact was cautious. “Agreed, but is detection so likely? The Slaasriithi are most decidedly our technological inferiors.”

  “The Slaasriithi are well behind us in military and space technology, but their sensors are subtle, small, predominantly nonmetallic. And the Slaasriithi are patient. Their seeming lethargy conceals an extraordinary unity of action and fixity of purpose. Unlike the Aboriginals, who will bicker over plans incessantly and change them midcourse, the Slaasriithi are doubtless responding to the late war by increasing the sophistication, precision, and quantities of their remote sensor platforms.”

  “Not active, crewed defenses?”

  “Not at first, and not primarily. The Slaasriithi will, rightly, be more concerned about furnishing the Custodians with incontrovertible evidence of any violations of their space.”

  Ulsor’s contact was grim. “And so, they would have the Custodians do their fighting for them.”

  “Yes, which is also the path of action stipulated by the Accords. So, in reporting our intrusion, they would both have the legal right of the matter, and also awaken the one foe that might still defeat us if sufficiently aroused and committed: the Dornaani. That is an eventuality we must avoid at all costs.”

  “Your contact grows weak, Tlerek Srin Shethkador,” Davros sent with extra strength.

  “My gratitude for your counsel and attention, Autarchs.” Shethkador let the link slip away—and suddenly he was back in the Sensorium, fixed in one time and one place, perceiving no greater connections to the universe around him than those which could be established by the reach of his eyes, ears, nose. His nose might be particularly useful, now, he reflected: he wondered if he could smell the stink of Olsirkos’ fear, who was no doubt waiting just beyond the well-guarded iris valve.

  Shethkador was not disappointed in half of his prediction; his executive officer was waiting there, but without any discernible odor of fear. “I have news, Fearsome Srin.”

  I’m sure you do. “Inform me.”

  “There is, as you suspected, a deeper plot that connects the murder of the cargo worker aboard the Ladoga, and the outcome of the duel fought aboard Ferocious Monolith. The communications trainee had no quarrel with the second communications officer. He was paid to instigate the duel, and then send one of several prearranged signals to the lighter’s mother ship. What is most interesting is that the person who secured his services in exchange for this assistance—”

  “—was the first alternate communications officer, the one who ultimately replaced the dead officer aboard Red Lurker.”

  Olsirkos dropped behind; he had stopped walking. “You knew.”

  Shethkador managed to repress a smile. Mostly. “The interrogation of the duelist was simply a matter of confirming the obvious. Is he still alive, by the way?”

  “Yes, Fearsome Srin. Shall I vacc him?”

  “Imbecile! This is not deep space, back home. We must protect our genelines from Aboriginal analysis for as long as possible.”

  “Then how do you wish me to dispose of him?”

  Shethkador considered: there was no value to retaining the traitor. His employers would doubtless have understood—far, far better than he—just how likely this outcome was. He would not possess any evidentiary or informational value whatsoever. “Send a summons to all autarchons and lictors who came into Aegis service because their Houses or Families were Extirpated. Have them gather in the observation gallery of the after docking bay. Place the traitor in the bay and evacuate the atmosphere slowly, without opening the doors. Let them watch his death and be reminded that this is what befalls those who would help to restore genelines upon which Extirpation has been decreed.”

  Olsirkos frowned. “As you order, it shall be, Fearsome Srin, but…”

  “Yes?”

  “Why such emphasis upon Extirpated Houses and Families?”

  “Because that was the root of all these crimes. Have you examined the background of the communications officer you ultimately assigned to Red Lurker?”

  “I am ashamed to say that I completed the interrogation mere minutes before arriving at the Sensorium.”

  Probably true. “Here is what you will find: her name is Nezdeh, a former Srina of House Perekmeres. She was behind much, if not all, of the planning and collusion and bribery that we have now uncovered. You will also find, if you research deeply enough, that many of the Undreaming who were awakened to round out the crew of the Lurker were not who they were purported to be. They were more renegades from House Perekmeres.”

  Olsirkos shook his head. “But to what end would they fashion such a strange plot? If they seize Red Lurker, where may they go? Without us, they will remain stranded in system V 1581.”

  “Will they? They are too adept at overcoming obstacles for me to rely upon that assumption. They have suborne
d human agents among the civilian auxiliaries of the Aboriginal fleet. They were able to infiltrate cryocelled Terran collaborators into a diplomatic mission with only twenty-four hours notice. So I am unwilling to make any presumptions regarding what capabilities they do and do not have. We may only be sure of this: as renegades, they will take every possible precaution to remain undetected. And also, having no House left to support them, they must have sponsors among either the Autarchs, the Hegemons of the Great Houses, or both.”

  “Yes, Fearsome Srin”—and Olsirkos did genuinely seem to be awestruck at Shethkador’s calm, confident unfolding of the conspiracy—“but I still do not understand how the architect of this plot could be located in V 1581 and yet be influencing events that were taking place here.”

  “That mystery is not solved by a single answer, but rather two. The first part is that the Slaasriithi invitation to the Aboriginals was not wholly unforeseeable. Therefore, it is possible, if unlikely, that the duelist you just interrogated was left with a complex flowchart of contingency orders to execute, as dictated by subsequent occurrences. This alone could have produced the chain of events we have uncovered. But I suspect there is a second, more likely, answer to how these renegades managed to influence events in another star system.

  “Only hours after Monolith left V1581, another preaccelerated Arat Kur prize hull—Mimic—shifted into that system from Sigma Draconis, probably carrying a warning of our sudden appearance there. It seem likely that the ex-Srina Perekmeres—or her sponsors—had agents aboard Mimic, who reported the Slaasriithi’s diplomatic overtures to the Aboriginals. The ex-Srina then contacted the new second communications officer.”

  “So she is Awakened?”

  “Almost certainly.”

  “But what are these traitors hoping to accomplish?”

  “That we cannot know until we track them down. But they clearly intend to compromise the Aboriginal legation to the Slaasriithi homeworld.”

  “So our travel to V 1581, to retrieve Red Lurker, is a stalking horse to conceal our investigation into the connections between this plot and rogue elements of the former House Perekmeres.”

  “Exactly.”

  They had returned to Shethkador’s spin quarters. “Dominant Srin,” Olsirkos breathed, “you have been inconceivably kind to show me the workings of your mind, that I may be inspired and educated by them.”

  Shethkador resisted the urge to rub his eyes. “Yes, of course. Now, Commence preacceleration for shift to V 1581. I had expected to depart this wretched region of space as soon as I was repatriated. Now I must investigate a pack of meddlesome renegades who should have been culled with the rest of their scrofulous breed.”

  “At least, being renegades, they are desperate and possess little real power. After all, how much damage could they do?”

  Shethkador fixed Olsirkos with a brutal stare, compelling his irises to contract into pinpricks of contempt and dismissal. “Since they have nothing to lose, what won’t they do?”

  PART THREE

  September 2120

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  In various orbits; BD +02 4076 Two (“Disparity”)

  “They call the planet ‘Disparity’?” Tygg stared at Riordan, who had conveyed the information. “What the hell kind of name is that? What’s it mean?”

  “Wish I knew,” Riordan confessed, “but I don’t. Got the name from Yiithrii’ah’aash just a few minutes before we started shuffling gear around for tomorrow’s landing.”

  Keith Macmillan, hearing the exchange as he went to get another load from the cargomod, grunted. “I guess we’re going to be staying here a little longer than on Adumbratus.”

  “Why do you say?” Melissa Sleeman asked over her shoulder. She was helping—well, more like directing—Tygg as he relocated her test gear to the corvette.

  “Because they’re having us pack for a bloody camping trip, and landing us in two boats,” Macmillan answered as he disappeared around the bend.

  Which Caine knew to be only part of the reason for tomorrow’s two-vehicle planetfall. After Adumbratus, the Slaasriithi had sheepishly admitted to overestimating the avionics automation of the TOCIO shuttle and had been alarmed when neither their shift carrier nor Adumbratus’ ground station had been able to achieve a solid lascom lock to relay telemetry and meteorological data to it during the unexpectedly rough descent. This time, the Slaasriithi had urged a “buddy-system” landing. The concept was to let the far more robust and cutting-edge Wolfe-class corvette, the UCS Puller, lead the way down, relaying both its own sensor readings and any transmitted data to the shuttle following on its heels.

  Few of the legation noticed the change: they were eager to begin this visit, particularly since getting their first look at Disparity yesterday. Easing into near orbit, they had watched as, due to the rotation of their habitation module, the green and blue planet slid swiftly in from the top of their view ports and drop just as swiftly out again every forty-eight seconds. Unlike the outré appearance of Adumbratus, the second planet of BD +02 4076 conformed to the image invoked by the term “green world.”

  It was indeed the greenest planet Riordan had ever seen. Only fifty-four percent water-covered, Disparity’s seas followed the equatorial belt, dividing the planet into pole-centered landmasses. There were a few land bridges joining the two ragged collections of top and bottom continents and one seasonally-migrating ice cap. But those land bridges were apparently eroding: coastal archipelagos flanked the remaining spines of once-wide isthmuses.

  Disparity’s other unusual feature was the bright blue of its seas, which were much shallower than Earth’s oceans and were reportedly well-populated by analogs of cyan-colored algae and plankton.

  But even those colors were faint when compared to the vast verdant swathes extending away from the water on both the north and south continents. Whether light grasslands or dark forests, the rich, saturated hues indicated that the vegetation was not interspersed with many badlands or scrub-plains. With the exception of a few dramatic mountain ranges and small wind-shadow deserts that clung to their upland skirts here and there, the green of Disparity’s landmasses did not suffer interruption or preemption until it grudgingly mixed in with the tans and browns that rimmed the seasonal icecap.

  Caine reached the corvette’s portside hatchway and passed his load to Peter Wu, who glanced at the other people approaching with similar burdens. “Captain, don’t the Slaasriithi have robots?”

  “Some.” Riordan considered reminding Wu that there was no reason to revert to addressing him by rank again, but thought the better of it. The career military personnel had their own very practical instincts about such matters. In this case, while exchanges remained informal within their own circle, they stuck with the basic formalities of ranks and titles when mixing in with the civilians. Caine had spent as much time as a grass-roots insurgent as he had in true military formations—which was to say, not much of either—but accepted the wisdom of their unspoken but unanimous choice in the matter.

  Peter was still looking grimly at the approaching bucket-brigade of packages to be passed through the hatchway. “So where are the robots, sir?”

  Caine shrugged. “Far away from us. After the debacle with Buckley, they Slaasriithi have become extremely cautious about bringing any systems into contact with us. However, I am told that stops tomorrow.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “We get hit with another dose of markers.”

  Trent Howarth stooped through the airlock to take the load from Peter. “Yeah, magic dust with mucho mojo, according to Major Rulaine.”

  Riordan smiled. “According to Yiithrii’ah’aash, he’ll shower us with a super-strength mix just before we start planetside. The markers will provide us with up to a week of affinity and even influence over the local wildlife. Well, the Slaasriithi biota, that is; not all of Disparity’s flora and fauna have ‘harmonized’ just yet.”

  “So why not put the magic dust on us now?” Peter
passed the package to Howarth, eyed the next, larger one being carried jointly by Phil Friel and Tina Melah.

  Riordan stepped back out of their way. “Gaspard and I wanted it checked out, first. So Ben Hwang has been looking at it from the bio side, Rena Mizrahi from the medical angle, and Oleg Danysh has been pulling apart its atomic structure.” He turned to head back for another load.

  Wu sagged under the crate that Tina and Phil passed to him. “How unfortunate for them, having to work so hard.”

  Caine smiled, waved, turned the corner around which Macmillan had disappeared and which led to the shuttle and the other modules that comprised their restricted domain aboard the Slaasriithi shift-carrier.

  As he went further along the gently curving stretch of corridor, he encountered more of the legation’s sweaty geniuses-become-stevedores, mostly carrying survival packs toward the shuttle. Riordan was considering lending a hand there, as well, when his collarcom emitted a flute-and-wind-chime tone: an incoming signal from Yiithrii’ah’aash. Caine tapped the collarcom. “Hello, Ambassador. How may I help you?”

  “Caine Riordan, I trust the relocation of your supplies is proceeding well?”

  “Yes. Not without a few mishaps, of course.” But you’re not contacting me to check on our box-juggling follies. “Are our activities causing you any concern, Ambassador?”

  “No, but we are experiencing an unexplained malfunction at the berth where your shuttle is docked.”

  Caine hardly realized that his pace had slowed. “What kind of malfunction, Ambassador?”

  “Power loss. However, it is only affecting the securing clamps and the hatch seals, which have released.”