“Explain, Doctor,” Khan said.
Human/Centaur misunderstandings dated back almost to the dawn of InterstellarNet, but basic math was a lot less esoteric than old trade disputes. “We're their nearest neighbor: From Alpha Cen to Sol system is four light-years. The Centaurs made their first interstellar journey to Barnard's Star. That's six light-years. Why—besides distrust—would they add years to their travel time?
“Put yourself in the Centaurs’ place. Their starship is stolen. The K'vithians bring it here and the UP very publicly agrees to refuel it in trade for the Centaurs' interstellar-drive technology. Everything since then just looks like a falling out among thieves."
* * * *
The Donald Rumsfeld was among the biggest ships in the UP fleet, and Adm. Khan's personal suite was spacious—but not at all what Art expected. The private office to which Art, Carlos, and Helmut had been summoned was sparsely furnished, with a sound-synched holo waterfall, delicate black-lacquered table and chairs, and a short bookcase of antique leather-bound volumes. Khan was studying a holo of the still-gathering forces, her back to the door, as Capt. Swoboda escorted them in. “This is, by far, the largest massing of UP military forces within my career. Do you know why?"
I requested a meeting, Art thought. She's talking to me. “Revenge, I assume."
“Nothing so simple, Doctor.” She turned toward them. “Try again."
“So you do hope to rescue the prisoners?"
“We will if we can, but hope is too optimistic a verb."
“Then why?"
“We'll attack, and pay a terrible price, to make a point. Revenge, gentlemen, is not strategic, but too many civilians"—and there was a derisive undertone to the label—"think in those terms. Someday, the UP will reconstruct the facilities destroyed at Himalia. Someday, human scientists will develop an interstellar drive. There is one course of action we can undertake now to head off true interstellar war then. We must cause the Snakes enough pain that the public feels avenged."
“But we may instead be provoking the Centaurs!"
“It may be, Doctor. Your realization of Centaur involvement has complicated our planning considerably. I've been pondering just that factor since your briefing.” Khan shrugged. “If Centaurs feel the need for revenge, their fight will presumably be with two species. That's another reason to even the score with the Snakes up front. I'd rather not have two enemies."
“Realpolitik,” netted Carlos. “I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified."
Art tended toward terrified. “Admiral, does it change the equation if the Snakes don't have antimatter technology?"
“They have it now, stolen fair and square. We must assume everything they've learned has been radioed home.” Art's expression was evidently more scrutable than he hoped, because she continued, “Okay, Dr. Walsh. What else haven't you shared?"
“I'm skeptical they relayed any technology,” Art answered. “We may be dealing with renegades."
“Again: How many tidbits have you kept to yourself?"
Just one, for now, besides this one. “Are you familiar with the Snake Subterfuge? The trapdoor hidden—"
“I did my homework,” Khan interrupted. “Know your enemy. Biocomps derive from Snake genetic material, which was incompletely understood when first adopted. The technology the ICU licensed over InterstellarNet contained an unrecognized trapdoor, which Interstellar Algorithms Consortium used to try extorting a fortune. The Snake agent was convinced it was against species interests to let one corporation act that way. The UP was given the genome decoding, after which a tailored biovirus fixed the problem. Old news."
“Pretty much,” agreed Art. “That said, the standard text, ‘Their agent was convinced,’ seriously downplays the crisis. It was in the ICU's interest to minimize a very close call. Pashwah threatened to disable biocomps across the solar system. As a demo, she crashed and restarted enough ICU computers to be credible.
“Before the pay-or-else deadline, one of my ICU predecessors transmitted the whole extortion scheme to ICU trade agents hosted by all other InterstellarNet species. Disclosure of the plot—hence the discrediting everywhere of Snakes as trading partners—was automatic absent recurring ‘wait’ messages from Earth. The UP suddenly disappearing from InterstellarNet would have been compelling corroboration. Pashwah sacrificed Interstellar Algorithms Consortium to avoid losing the Snakes every other market."
Khan nodded. “Interesting. How does this relate to our present happiness?"
“The diplomatic mission has a sequestered clone of Pashwah. We call her Pashwah Two. After the recent overt attack, she shared something. There's no way to prove it, but she claims the clan behind Interstellar Algorithms Consortium was Arblen Ems."
“Can we borrow a display, Admiral?” At a nod, Carlos linked in a vid. “The ‘Snake’ you see Art and me interrogating is Pashwah Two. These are highlights."
The Snake Subterfuge was more than a breathtakingly audacious attempt at extortion. There was a political dimension, some undisclosed plan to exploit what would have been an unprecedented fortune on K'vith. Pashwah Two speculated Arblen Ems, then one of the eight Great Clans, intended to buy enough allies to seize total power.
With the collapse of the extortion attempt, Arblen Ems was unmasked rather than enriched. All other Great Clans united to attack the schemers, and the survivors fled to the fringes of their solar system. The remnants were believed extinct, last seen retreating into deep space in a damaged experimental habitat.
“Victorious.” Khan drifted, eyes closed in thought. “Or so we are to believe. Carlos, what reason is there to buy into this fairy tale?"
“I've never interrogated an AI or a Snake. Obviously, we're dealing with an avatar; the mannerisms are all synthesized. They could be meaningful, or entirely for effect. Complicating things further, we're often discussing what Pashwah was supposedly told, not things from her direct experience. I can truthfully say her story is self-consistent and compatible with everything we know—which is a far cry from proof."
“And you, Doctor? Do you concur?"
Yes, but. “Here's another supporting factor: the pattern of resupply efforts. The Snakes ordered no supplies when they first arrived. They bought a few things after the media blitz, after they earned a little money. Whole convoys of supplies began coming only after the Centaur credits started flooding the market. So the indirect corroboration—not proof, I agree—is the absence of evidence Snake funds paid for resupply. It all fits with a crew of desperate and impoverished Snake exiles. Would you agree, Carlos?"
Carlos shifted uncomfortably. “Post-Himalia, I'm very shorthanded. Still, some local suppliers and banks have cooperated. For those who haven't, we're starting to get subpoenas. And data from outside Galileo is beginning to trickle in. The agency has yet to trace any shipments to Victorious to known Snake-controlled bank accounts. Again, Admiral, that's suggestive, not conclusive."
Khan had drifted away from them. With an adept nudge against the ceiling, she floated back to the table. “So, Doctor, let's see if I properly grasp this fable. Mashkith's clan is cast out when their domestic power play collapses. They are first to an incoming Centaur starship, perhaps because they're hiding deep in the cometary belt. The starship is good for only one more trip, because it can't make its own antimatter. So, knowing about our top-secret antimatter program—how is that again?—these exiles spend twenty years getting here in hopes of conning us out of our technology."
“That's the scenario.” When Khan made no response, Art answered her other question. “Pashwah found the secret project on Himalia long ago. We can believe her that the discovery resulted entirely from adept data mining, or we can keep looking for her anonymously engaged human spies—but either way, believe it. Why else would Victorious have headed for Jupiter? Arblen Ems was a Great Clan when the Himalia program got reported back to K'vith. It makes sense they would have gotten Pashwah's report.
“Absolutely, the whole scheme sounds ext
reme and desperate—if Arblen Ems had other options. If we accept Pashwah's story, an interstellar gamble might have been their best bet. Theoretical dangers twenty years out are pretty trivial compared to real immediate peril. They had those two decades to prepare. And a final thought ... just from having interacted with Mashkith, I wonder how much of this is personal. He'd be getting a second shot at the humans who foiled his clan's plans, and from that, a second shot to rule K'vith."
“That third eye creeps me out.” Khan blanked the holo. “Suppose these suppositions and inferences are, incredibly, all correct. There are Centaurs aboard. The antimatter genie can still be bottled in this solar system. That doesn't really change anything, if we don't have the forces—which realistically we don't—to defeat the Snakes before they're beyond our reach."
Carlos gave Helmut a gentle push forward. “That, Admiral, is why my uncommunicative new colleague came along on this trip."
* * * *
CHAPTER 35
Eva Gutierrez stumbled, one flailing arm meeting a wall of the tube connecting airlocks. Her head throbbed from whatever gas had incapacitated the human prisoners. Through the clear material of the tube, polished stone plains stretched overhead and underfoot. Scale alone suggested Victorious; the crowd of Snakes watching from a nearby control room settled all doubt. She guessed they were beneath the spin-decoupling docking platform on which the UP mission's ships had always landed. Docking “inside” made sense: Her space suit was heavy and down was aft, so they were under significant acceleration. Spin gravity would not be in use.
“Everyone, go inside now.” The voice was a translator's. She could not tell for which captor it spoke. It hardly mattered.
Two by two, the prisoners cycled through an airlock into Victorious. Finally, she and Corinne Elman had their turn. Sidearm-wearing K'vithians awaited them. Corinne peered up and down the gently curved corridor. “Did you ever have a sense of déjà vu?"
Ambassador Chung shot Corinne a keep-it-down look. His attention remained on the airlock until the lifeboat's K'vithian crew emerged. “Lothwer, I demand to see the Foremost."
They seemed in a weak position to demand anything. If something were to be demanded, O-two appeared to Eva to be the higher priority. No one had planned for hours drifting with the lifeboat airlock gaping open. Of course, no one had planned to be kidnapped at all.
“All right,” Lothwer agreed. ("Ironic smile,” Joe added. Why?) “Everyone will go see the Foremost."
Flanked by guards, they followed the Snake officer down wide corridors to a cargo elevator. It descended rapidly. No mission report Eva had seen covered this part of the ship. It enraged their captors when they used an encrypted radio channel, so she was reduced to tapping Corinne's shoulder. If Corinne correctly interpreted Eva's hand gestures, and Eva properly interpreted the answering shrug, the reporter had not been in this section of Victorious either.
“Everyone inside."
They had come to another airlock, this one able to accommodate four at a time. Why the interior airlock? When Eva's turn came and the far hatch opened, a bio-preserve stretched before her.
The spiky plants were a thousand shades of blue-green, the colors more suggestive of a mallard duck's head than chlorophyll. Bulbs and growths—were those fruits and flowers?—in a riot of colors festooned the trees(?), shrubs(?), and vines(?). Creatures from the scarcely visible to the size of her fist flitted and floated and glided everywhere. Ponds, streams, and even little waterfalls sparkled beneath blessedly normal lighting. The place was too orderly for a park and too disordered for a farm, but still it had some unifying wholeness she struggled to grasp. Was it more like a giant vegetable garden, or an English countryside maze too long unattended? Beneath the foliage was a hint of a Japanese rock garden, or perhaps of a coral reef on land.
An elbow interrupted her vain grappling with the scenery. She turned to see Corinne had removed her helmet! A second elbowing checked Eva's frantic scanning of her suit gauges. She looked up again, and saw four—Centaurs.
There was no mistaking the creatures emerging from the bushes, if only because furry green teddypods had been wildly popular toys at least since Eva's parents were toddlers. In person, humanity's closest neighbors were stately and dignified, their eight-limbed ambulation liquidly graceful.
“What is going on?” Chung asked in wonder.
Armed K'vithians in darkly tinted goggles had just cycled through behind them. Lothwer pointed at the leftmost of the approaching Centaurs. “Ambassador, here is the original Foremost of this vessel. I believe, ("hearty ironic laugh") you will find much of interest to discuss."
Eva barely noticed Lothwer and the guards cycle back through the airlock. The air in this chamber tested fine; she, and others around her, cautiously removed their helmets. There was a trace of sulfur, already dissipating, probably more emanating from the surfaces of their pressure suits than from anywhere else. The stronger scents vaguely reminded her of vanilla and dill weed—not unpleasant, but odd.
Her head still pounded. She was exhausted, and her eyes felt like marbles after a marathon game. She had been in the same clothes for days, mostly in her pressure suit, and knew she stank. With the possible exception of headaches, all the lifeboat refugees must feel the same. First physical contact with the Centaurs would happen nonetheless. Enough synapses still fired to wonder: Is Centaur politically correct? What do they call themselves? Nothing about Alpha Cen was presently downloaded to her implant, of course.
The humans stood in a cluster. Chung took two steps toward the Centaurs. “Do you understand English?” There was no response.
For whatever reason, Centaurs and Snakes shared this vessel. They must communicate. “Ambassador, have Joe try K'vithian,” Eva suggested.
“It's worth a try. Joe, tell the Centaurs we are prisoners, held unjustly and against our will.” Soft, high-pitched sounds emerged from the headphone speakers of Chung's discarded helmet. Deeper, trilled speech sounded a moment later from an unseen overhead loudspeaker.
English to K'vithian to Centaur, and back again. “As are we, aboard our own vessel. Welcome to Harmony."
The process was slow, subject to unknown translation error, and certainly subject to Snake eavesdropping, but what choice did they have?
* * * *
Half the humans lolled in the communal showers; the rest had had their turn and now gathered in another room dressing in their newly rinsed clothing. Why they had washed in shifts was unclear, because the showers would easily have accommodated the whole group. They had mostly sorted themselves by height. Gwu vaguely remembered human size roughly correlated with gender, and found it strange. Communal meant communal; members of the crew-kindred mingled in these facilities regardless of gender.
The humans’ leisurely showers gave Gwu a much-needed opportunity to reflect. With like thoughts, Swee edged closer and twined a tentacle through one of hers. “What do you think?"
What did she think? Communication with the humans was cumbersome and slow, and surely inexact. Her responsibility as ka had returned to her recast as an odd title: shaper of consensus. Hong-yee Chung, the newcomers’ primary presenter, likewise had a role that resisted translation: he with limited authority to represent others. If such basic concepts as duties could not survive intact the improvised translation process, how could they hope to exchange more meaningful concepts?
That the newcomers were prisoners was credible. But had there been partnership first with the K'vithians, or were the humans—as they would have her believe—as much victims as were the crew-kindred? There was a question for which reason told her nothing.
“Gwu?"
“Sorry. There is much to think about.” She had gotten a surreptitious update from T'bck Ra during the new arrivals’ long showers. Since Mashkith had attempted to re-suppress the AI, it no longer had access to the navigational sensors, but it had approximated a position by taking bearings to unmistakable IR sources: the Sun and Jupiter. Harmony was on its way back to
K'vithian space.
Which made now the ideal time to kidnap human antimatter experts.
The ship was no longer within range of routine media broadcasts, but the last news intercepted by T'bck Ra was stunning: obliteration of Himalia; flight; K'vithian battle with, and victory over, the UP forces. Nothing stated by the humans implied knowledge beyond that they had been abducted. Gwu could not ask about the other events without revealing her illicit source to their listening captors. Letting slip that secret would endanger T'bck Ra.
“Gwu?” Swee repeated. “What do you think."
Chung had denied that an alliance had ever existed between humans and K'vithians. Even if that were false, any past alliance was now surely shattered. Gwu gave Swee's tentacle a loving squeeze. “I think we have companions for another wearying journey."
* * * *
“No communication by you to the herd prisoners.” With one sentence, the Foremost had obliterated Pashwah-qith's core beliefs.
Her concepts of Victorious and its mission were revealed to be a web of lies too long sustained by her own wishful thinking. The truths she now accepted were shocking. Herd crew long imprisoned on a stolen herd vessel. Human experts kidnapped under cover of a Hunter-induced slaughter. Hunter systems grafted over herd automation, and a long-dormant herd AI now trying to reassert its control.
The stakes were as stark as the circumstances. Mashkith might be on the verge of dominating K'vith and forging an interstellar empire—or he might be about to unleash a devastating war on K'vith using antimatter weapons. Either way, his actions could ally two potent species—the originators of the very technologies upon which Arblen Ems aspirations relied—against all Hunters.
How would this turn out? How reckless were the risks, and how dire were the consequences of failure? She could not say.
Analog SFF, July-August 2006 Page 40
