Sehtrek stared at the star plot. “So how do we get to the place where these assets were deposited?”
“With our tug, it is but four shifts before we stand on the threshold of our final destination. From G-22-26, we proceed to HU Delphini, thence to AC+17 534-105, further to EQ Pegasi, and on to our penultimate destination G 130-4 .”
Nezdeh almost rolled her eyes. Enough drama, or caution, Brenlor: “And what is the ultimate destination?”
“BD +56 2966, to use the designation given on the Aboriginal charts.”
Nezdeh started. “That is the location of the Hkh’Rhh colony world, Tulkh’saar. It is also the system directly adjacent to their homeworld.” She managed to suppress “Are you mad?”
Brenlor’s leonine smile did not put her at ease. “I told you it would be too bold to be predicted.”
“That is…one way of putting it.”
He leaned across the table; there was both a threat and an appeal in his voice, his eyes. “Think of it this way, Nezdeh: where else, in all of known space, may we go now? If we go to our patrons they will dispose of us themselves. We are too weak, we hold no leverage, and we are certain to become an embarrassment. We are otherwise friendless. But the Hkh’Rkh are the most rudimentary race technologically and eager for allies who prefer direct, vigorous action as they do. Allies like us. Specifically, like House Perekmeres.
“If we train our Aboriginals well enough to win one easy engagement, we can carry out this mission and then wait for the seeds of war to fall into the fertile field my father prepared for us on Tulkh’saar, seeds that will be brought by the Terrans themselves.”
Nezdeh crossed her arms. “And how can we be sure that the Terrans will sow these seeds?”
“When I activate the sleeper cell on Tulkh’saar, the Terrans will have to send an uninvited envoy to ensure that the diplomatic consequences do not spiral out of hand. And when they do, we shall be there to serendipitously catch them in the act: to repel invaders of Hkh’Rkh space.” He leaned back. “We shall have defended the property and the honor of the Hkh’Rkh, and they, by their codes, shall owe us an honor-debt for doing so in their absence—or for succeeding where their outclassed forces could not. Suddenly we, not the failed Shethkador and his Autarchal lackeys, will have the greatest influence over the Hkh’Rkhs’ loyalty, and with that, we will become a force to be reckoned with, even if neither the Autarchs nor the Hegemons wish us to be so.”
Idrem frowned. “The resulting war will be absolute, uncontainable.”
“Of course it shall. And that war will ultimately return us to power. The Ktoran Sphere will be forced to exert its dominion aggressively in order to preserve its hold on its Hkh’Rkh allies. And the Hegemons will not be able to touch us without triggering an honor-war with those same indispensable allies.” He turned to Nezdeh. “What is your opinion, Srina Perekmeres?”
“I think it just might succeed,” she admitted. I also think it might get us all killed, but I can’t think of a better plan at the moment. “Now, tell us more about this false-flag sleeper cell—”
* * *
Caine Riordan checked the medical cryocell’s readings. After three days, Bannor’s core temperature had been reduced to three-quarters of a degree centigrade, with blood substitute infusions at nominal levels. The glycol perfusion was deemed complete and internal sensors at full function. He nodded at his pale, unconscious friend and closed the long lid of the white oblong, adorned with blue and green status lights.
Behind Riordan, Yiithrii’ah’aash commented, “I hope it will not annoy you that I offer, one final time, the option of spending this journey in one of our cryogenic suspension units. It is fully adaptable to your species in every regard.”
Caine smiled. I’m sure it is, which is precisely what worries me; you know our biology too damned well and could manipulate it too damned easily. “I appreciate the offer, Yiithrii’ah’aash, but a good commander always watches over his troops. Particularly when they are especially vulnerable.” He smiled.
Yiithrii’ah’aash may have read Riordan’s expression. “I perceive. We intended nothing by offering you the use of our modified cold cells, But at least this way, there can be no questions.”
Riordan leaned back against Bannor’s high-tech sarcophagus. “And you and I will have plenty of time to converse, maybe to forge the kind of bonds that should exist between allied species.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash’s tendrils were a wave falling in slow motion. “Would that I could participate as you intend, but I follow the instructions of others even as you do. It is incumbent upon me to sleep through these many weeks as well. But I shall be awakened periodically to assess our situation and review our navigational choices, and then again in the preacceleration phase before our last shift to Delta Pavonis itself. Perhaps on those occasions, we may begin the exchange you envision.”
“I’d like that. So the Ktoran ship shifted-out system?”
“Over a day ago.” Seeing the surprised look on Riordan’s face, he explained. “I did not wish to bother you as you prepared your friends for their suspension. You were especially solicitous of them.”
“Yeah, well, they’re my responsibility.”
“You also have a responsibility to yourself, Caine Riordan. I have consulted with those of my crew who are monitoring your caloric intake. It is insufficient.”
Riordan grinned crookedly. “I mean no slight, Yiithrii’ah’aash, but your cuisine is not, er, the most appetizing.”
“It is as I warned you. We simply do not have enough of your accustomed viands, and it was reported to me that your group did not find our genetically-matched foodstuffs agreeable.”
Riordan rubbed his stomach. “You heard right.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash began walking toward the forward hatchway that would lead him back into his own ship. “What shall you do during this long journey, Caine Riordan?”
Caine glanced at Puller’s bridge stations as they passed that compartment. “I didn’t start out as a military officer or a diplomat, Yiithrii’ah’aash. I fell into it, pretty much by accident. But now that I am a captain—hell, a bloody commodore—and a diplomat, there are some skills I should acquire and hone. It’s only book and simulator knowledge, of course. But it’s the best—and the least—I can do. A good combat commander tries to prepare as much as possible.”
“You are a defense analyst. And have fought. Do you not know enough already?”
Riordan smiled: it was a question that only a near-pacifist with no speciate concept of a military could ask. “Yiithrii’ah’aash, I know just enough about being a naval officer to be aware that I know almost nothing. I have reasonable familiarity the various services, the various combat environments, but now I need depth, genuine expertise.” Riordan sighed, thought of all the reading and sims ahead of him. “It’s ridiculous that I’m going to try to teach myself. People with a lifetime of experience should be the ones imparting the knowledge. They’re the ones who knowwhere all the fine-sounding theory breaks down and the messy reality begins. But I can only work with what I’ve got. So I’ll learn what I can, keep my limitations in mind, and do my best when the time comes. Or die trying.”
“One may only train so much, Caine Riordan. All creatures require rest or reflection.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to rest. And as concerns reflection”—passing his ready room, he saw the photo of Connor’s young teenaged face, recognizably a fusion of his own and Elena’s—“I have a lot of letters to write. A lifetime’s worth, you might say.” Three more steps brought them to the forward hatch. Riordan raised his hand in farewell. “I look forward to talking when you awaken, Yiithrii’ah’aash.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash was evidently staring at Caine, then glanced back to the photo of Connor, flanked by one of Elena. “I look forward to our conversations as well, Caine Riordan. Until then, be well. And, if you can, be at peace.”
The hatch closed automatically, Caine staring at it, surprised by Yiithrii�
�ah’aash’s parting words. Or would that be his parting benediction? He glanced back at the photos the Slaasriithi had noticed, wondered how often the exosapient had glimpsed him staring at them. Being at peace was a whole lot easier when your loved ones were close, safe, healthy, cared for. A common trait among all species, I’ll bet, Caine reflected. Maybe that will be our first topic of conversation.
Or maybe it will be about the limits of responsibility for others and their loved ones. Riordan reached inside his duty-suit, slid a photograph out of an inner pocket: Keith Macmillan’s little girl, Katie. Found on Macmillan’s person, it was much-seamed and marked by the slowly erosive oils of fingertips. And who shall save you now, little Katie, with a front tooth missing and a smile as wide as the Scottish highland skies? Riordan started to replace the photograph but stopped: no. You’re going to put it next to Connor’s. You’re going to look at those laughing eyes of hers every day. And you’re going to ask yourself: what must be done?
Caine felt his stomach sink; he’d come close to putting the picture with the rest of the forensic materials, the evidence, several times, but had always held back. Held back from conveniently filing away that smile and those eyes and letting the cruel events set in motion by the Ktor run their tragic course. No, he decided, no; you stay with me, Katie. And teach me about the limits of our responsibilities to others, to the innocent. If there are any limits.
Caine dogged the hatch, leaned into his stateroom, and affixed Katie’s photo between those of Elena and Connor. He touched their faces and then moved with a lengthening stride toward the bridge simulators. He had a lot of catching up to do.
And only four months in which to do it.
* * *
Tlerek Srin Shethkador wanted to ignore the privacy chimes, but could not afford to do so. It was the unpleasant duty of a captain to respond to the summons of any who had sufficient rank to consult with him directly. He suppressed a sigh. “Enter.”
Olsirkos entered in a rush, bowed his obeisance. “Word has arrived at the Convocation station located at EV Lacertae. The internecine friction among the Hkh’Rkh is reaching dangerous levels.”
“Is a cause attributed?”
“Reportedly, there is an incursion of Aboriginal raiders in their codominium system with the Arat Kur at BD +56 2966.”
Shethkador frowned. “That is absurd. The Aboriginals have no way to reach that system. And if they could, such an act would be folly. It is in the Aboriginals’ interests to encourage calm relations and secure an extended peace for both reconstruction and technological upgrades. They are not behind this madness.”
“Your wisdom guides my opinions, Potent Srin. But if it is not the Aboriginals, then who could it be?”
“That, Olsirkos, is a most interesting question. And one to which you shall find the answer.”
“Me, Fearsome Srin?”
“Yes, you. The shift-destroyer Will-Breaker is due within the week. You shall take command of her and surreptitiously investigate what is transpiring in that system, especially its main world, Turkh’saar.”
“Of course, Fearsome Srin. But what of maintaining a watch for the renegade Perekmeres who absconded with Red Lurker and the Aboriginal shift-carrier Arbitrage?”
“That is part of why I must remain here at Sigma Draconis. That, and to be on hand for the post-surrender talks that the Autarchs have instructed me to request. But I would not at all be surprised if, in the course of investigating the current insanity arising on Turkh’saar, you come across the spoor of these Perekmeres curs.”
“You think that they may be behind this disturbance, Honored Srin?”
“Possibly. There is a smell of desperation about this ‘raiding,’ and the renegades of an Extirpated House would certainly bear that reek, themselves. Besides, they might correctly perceive that a precipitous plunge into another war with the Aboriginals and their allies could be parlayed into a rise in their fortunes.”
“If I find evidence of the Perekmeres’ involvement, shall I seek them out and destroy them, Srin Shethkador?”
“Your primary task is to observe and report, Olsirkos.” The Progenitors only know that the subtleties of statecraft are not within the compass of your abilities. “Then I shall determine how we shall respond. But presently, I have a most unpleasant task to attend to.”
“Further analysis of the peace treaty between the Aboriginals and the Arat Kur?”
“Worse. I must update the Autarchs on the situation here. Give word to ready the Sensorium. I will Contact the Autarchs by Reification within the hour. Now leave me: there is much work to be done if these Aboriginals are not to get out of hand.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Approaching orbit, and Shangri La subcontinent; Delta Pavonis Three
Commodore Steven Cameron, skipper of the Commonwealth cruiser Valiant, acting C-in-C for the Delta Pavonis system—and therefore, its glorified traffic control supervisor—frowned when his comm officer, Lieutenant Stephanie Souders, turned to him with a deep frown. She handed him the transponder code, tail number, and supplementary Commonwealth identifiers relayed by the incoming Wolfe-class corvette. He stared at the unfamiliar data strings. “What the hell is this? Or more to the point, who the hell is this?”
“I wish I could tell you, Skipper,” Souders replied with crossed arms. “Not on the list of craft that have entered Delta Pavonis. Ever.”
“Bloody hell,” Cameron muttered. And right at the end of his duty shift. Almost as if someone had planned it that way. Which gave him pause: was it possible that someone had planned it that way? Bollocks, I’m starting at shadows now. “Raise this, eh, UCS Puller, Lieutenant. Let’s hear their story.”
“Better be a good one,” Souders grumbled. “Line is open, sir.”
“UCS Puller, this is Commodore Steven Cameron, acting CINCPAV and captain of the UCS Valiant. Please confirm identity, and report mission and status.”
The flat screen brightened and revealed a vaguely familiar face sitting at the center of a patched-up bridge; Puller had evidently seen some action in the late war. “This is Commodore Caine Riordan, temporarily in command of UCS Puller on detached duty. Special operations. Relaying ops codes and authorizations now.”
Souders turned towards Cameron, eyebrows raised, and tilted her head at the supplementary screen where the new data and codes were scrolling in. Cameron put on his best poker face. “Commodore Riordan—” and then he knew why he recognized the face. “Commodore, are you the same Caine Riordan who presented at the Parthenon Dialogs last year?”
Riordan’s expression was a fusion of a smile and a grimace. “Guilty as charged.”
“A pleasure to meet you, si—Commodore. But your OpOrds are, well, most irregular. And incomplete.”
Riordan’s smile was amiable. “They sure are, Commodore Cameron. Wish I could share it all with you, but I can’t. Here’s the classification level for the redacted components of the op, and my own, er, non-Naval clearance level.” He nodded to someone off screen.
Souders’ frown deepened. “Commodore,” she muttered, “I don’t even recognize his code.”
“I do,” Cameron replied.
“What is it?”
“I was told that if I ever see this code and this classification level, I have one relevant directive: not to ask a damn thing about it. Run it through the black box; if it checks out, he’s got all the authority he needs to do whatever he wants.”
Souders waited for the secure cypher check to finish. “Comes back green, sir.”
Cameron nodded, glanced up at Riordan. “Sorry about the delay, Commodore: protocols.”
Riordan’s smile was broad, easy. “I fully understand, Commodore. Do I have permission to initiate descent to the Shangri La on DeePeeThree?”
“You do, but before you dip your nose into the cloud-tops, I wonder if you could give me a broad picture of what to expect?”
Riordan raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
Cameron leaned back. “Commodore,
you’re about to head dirtside to the same place where you made first contact. You might say, to the source of all the troubles we’ve had since then. And from what I understand of your last visit, the Colonial Development Combine was not particularly enamored of you when you left.”
Riordan’s smile became rueful. “You have a talent for understatement, Commodore Cameron.”
“So I’ve been told. What I’m asking is: should I be prepared for a firestorm on Shangri La or elsewhere?”
Riordan steepled his fingers. “That is an excellent question. I wish I had an excellent answer. Part of why we’re going in unannounced is because we don’t really know what we’re going to find. Sure, we get groundside reports, but those are from civilian observers who could be very, very bribable. That’s why the cloak-and-dagger approach, Commodore.”
“Which raises another question: just how did you get here at all? I’ve no record of Puller, or any Wolfe-class corvette, deploying here.”
“That’s because we were containerized for security purposes before shift, then were cut loose in our container shortly after we were carried in-system.”
“Carried in-system by what carrier, Commodore?”
Riordan smiled. “Wish I could tell you.”
“Does that mean you can’t or you won’t tell me?”
“Both, actually. As you can see, various elements of our full orders are classified, including our assignment to this detached duty. Fleet didn’t want any CoDevCo stooges inside our ranks to be able to pass along a warning that we’re about to show up to run a compliance check here. So everything pertaining to our reassignment and transport to this system was kept under wraps. But frankly, I couldn’t tell you who gave us the ride even if I was allowed to. Naval ops boxed us up, let us sit, and then some shift-carrier came and picked us up. It never identified itself. We were handled by an intelligence cell, not the skipper of the ship, and those folks didn’t share out any info. Once we got here, we were told to lay doggo until our secure mission clock ran down. That happened three days ago. And here we are.”
Raising Caine - eARC Page 59
