Trial by Fire - eARC (21 page)

“So they did not understand how dangerous it was to isolate you?”

“How could they? As a species, they often
seek
solitude, and much prefer to shun enemies rather than have their company.”

“And they did not understand that it was their attempt to communicate—to associate—with you that enabled you to hear the music of life once again?”

“No, they did not see this, for they are not gregarious creatures. They would perceive our need for association as excessive, even crippling. They would never conceive of needing company so profoundly that one must seek out an adversary, rather than die into the silence of oneself alone.”

“They are strange creatures.”

“They are unlike us in this way.”

“As more of our rock-siblings are finding out, even now.”

“Sing me this new melody. Have we discovered more humans in this system?”

“No. Our advance flotilla is even now in the home-system of the humans, securing their largest gas giant for our refueling purposes. We shall follow presently.”

They had arrived at the narrow entry into the meeting module that had been crafted especially for roof-sharings with the Hkh’Rkh. The great predators could barely fit through the corridors of the Arat Kur vessels, and the Hkh’Rkh vessels were so crude and uncomfortable that the Arat Kur had found that they could not concentrate properly when aboard them. So this was the point of contact between their worlds of radically different physical—and cultural—shape.

“It is a vast and unpleasant place.” Urzueth ground his dental plates together as he tilted upward to glance at the ceiling that was too distant for his comfort, and too close for the Hkh’Rkhs’.

Darzhee rubbed his plates together for sake of harmonizing, but felt little of the other’s distress. After his hours in the human ship, he had grown accustomed to the wide spaces. “Let us take our places; the others will be here soon.”

As they slid into their belly-cupping couches, Urzueth stared at the tall and monstrous Hkh’Rkh chairs. “I would just as soon be elsewhere, rock-sibling.”

“I understand.”

“Then why am I here?”

“If it should come to pass that my voice is stilled by events, then as the First Delegate’s chief administrator, you must be ready to finish my song for me.”

Urzueth fretted his claws against each other with a series of rapid clicks. “These are random notes you emit, Darzhee. Now that you are back in the rocknest, what could happen to you?”

“Anything, rock-sibling. War is a sun-time that blinds whole races. Nothing is beyond possibility. And I think the humans will surprise us.”

“Why? Our technological advantage is not merely profound, but overwhelmingly decisive. And they were clearly not expecting an attack. They suffered a great defeat, in this system.”

“Yes, but they are better warriors.”

“When they are at very close ranges, perhaps—”

“No. It goes beyond that simple refrain with which we have reassured ourselves. We think the Hkh’Rkh great fighters because they are large and fierce, but the humans have a more dangerous trait.”

“Which is?”

“They are innovative. They can change their ideas very rapidly when pursuing a goal, if they must.”

“They are irresolute.”

“No. That is how you of the Hur caste see them, and possibly why you feel so confident embarking upon this war. But what you see in the humans as a lack of resolve is in fact the presence of immense flexibility. They may not be as daunting as the Hkh’Rkh, but they can adapt better to sudden changes—and war, my rock-sibling, is nothing but one sudden change after another.”

“Your melody grows strange and atonal, Darzhee Kut. Do not make me anxious.”

“I apologize, rock-sibling. But I learned much from my time with them. Including my long roof-sharing with their Spokesperson, earlier today.”

Urzueth whistled. “This is the one named Caine Riordan, yes? He is the one from the Convocation, the one with whom you had hoped to speak?”

“Yes. His arrival is a great good fortune for us.”

“True. Now we have an emissary to bear our demands to the human leaders.”

“He is far more than that.” Darzhee paused, decided to trust Urzueth. “He is also one who might understand why we broke the Accords. Understand and not judge.”

“This does not harmonize. We cannot reveal this. To humans least of all.”

“My thoughts are a counterpoint in major. We
must
reveal this truth to those with whom we would negotiate, and eventually, to all humans. The song I have been forbidden to sing is not known to them. They have forgotten those deeds, I tell you. They do not know who they were, those many millennia ago. And they are those creatures no longer.”

“Do not believe that last hopeful coda, rock-sibling,” Urzueth demurred. “Their perfidies were not the product of sophisticated misthinkings, but arose from their very nature, were built into their genetics by their particular journey of evolution. They cannot help but ever and again become what they truly are.”

“So we are nothing but our genetics? We are the puppets of our past, encoded as the chemicals within us?”

“Darzhee Kut, you are my rock-sibling and in almost all things, our harmonies make the highest roof stones ring. But in this we cannot find the same key.”

“But the safety of these two humans—”

“Fear not. As the First Delegate’s immediate assistant, I may assure you, that, even over the objections of the Hkh’Rkh, he has resolved that the two humans will be well and carefully treated.”

Darzhee kept his voice low. “He may find the Hkh’Rkh insistent that they be executed.”

“It will not happen. Hu’urs Khraam has committed to this.”

First Delegate Hu’urs Khraam, coming through the hatch from the Hkh’Rkh shuttle that had mated to the meeting module, stopped, ran his eyes across the two much younger Arat Kur, who dipped their chins low. “I hear ghost-songs—or I heard my name,” he fluted.

“Invoked in the speculation that it was you who approached, esteemed High First Delegate.”

Hu’urs Khraam ignored Urzueth and his rhetorical flourish, stared steadily at Darzhee Kut before turning to his rear and motioning for those behind him to enter the module.

The thumping treads of Hkh’Rkh became audible, drew closer. Two full seconds before his impressive bulk actually arrived in the module, the shadow of First Voice of the First Family stretched into it like a dark herald. He nodded—barely—to First Delegate Khraam, who, like him, had overall authority for the gathered forces of his species.

Hu’urs Khraam spread his claws wide and toward the ceiling. “Our operations in this system are at an end. The surviving human ships, those that kept their distance during the engagement of the fleets, are still fleeing out toward the Kuiper belt. Several highly autonomous drones remain in pursuit, but I am informed that they are unlikely to catch the human craft.”

“The humans are cowards.” The phlegm bubbled in First Fist Graagkhruud’s long slothlike snout as he said it, stimulating a low rumble of concurrence from the rest of First Voice’s hulking retinue.

“With respect, First Fist, the humans were prudent.” Hu’urs Khraam lowered his claws. “They attempted to draw us into pursuit, which would have deterred us from shifting to Earth as swiftly as we might. They understood the importance of buying more time for their shift-hull, the
Prometheus
, in the hope it might finish its preacceleration and reach Earth before we do. Only because we resolutely declined to take their bait, is that hope now groundless.”

Graagkhruud’s small round eyes protruded slightly from either side of his long, smooth, neck-tapering head. “Several of the masters of my ships once again request to remain behind, to give chase and harry them. And afterward, to keep a presence in this system.”

“And again, I applaud their eagerness, but must deny their request.” The First Delegate gestured to the holographic displays lining the walls. “All available warcraft and ground assets will be needed upon arrival in the Sol system. The humans have developed their home planets extensively, whereas we may carry only limited forces with us. Consequently, we must expect that there will be far more missions to perform than ships to perform them. Drones and several observation craft will be sufficient to leave behind here.”

“And what of their shift-hull, the
Prometheus
?” First Voice’s tone was far less bellicose than that of his general, First Fist, Darzhee Kut noted.

Hu’urs Khraam’s dental plates clacked once. “Even the drones cannot catch
Prometheus
. But she needs to achieve twice our preacceleration velocity before she can shift. Therefore, though she started her run before we arrived, we will still be able to shift before her. However, our fleet must immediately accelerate to two point five gee constant to achieve this.”

“We are prepared.”

“Very good. We must do so within the hour. And by that time, all deployed ships and small craft will have returned to their respective carriers, so it will be imprudent to meet again as we do now. So this shall be the last roof-sharing between us before we arrive in the Sol system. Consequently, it is also our last opportunity to share any last thoughts on our plans for that campaign.”

First Voice hunched over the table as well as the immensity of his barrel-shaped ribcage would allow. “I am satisfied with the plans—for now. What I will think once we arrive and assess the human response, I cannot say. But what of the intelligence gleaned from their wreckage and from their base named The Pearl? Does it impel us to change our strategy?”

“We see no reason to think so. And our projection holds that the
Prometheus
plans to run to Earth or Ross 154.”

“And do we have new intelligence that indicates which warships might be at Ross 154?”

Hu’urs Khraam waved his claws loosely. “Nothing specific, but their signal logs indicate that we have correctly anticipated that their naval dispersal is to our advantage. Most of their other fleet assets are spread throughout the systems that they call the Green Mains, and have only lately been summoned to gather in the systems Ross 154 and Junction. But those assets cannot reach Earth if we hold Ross 154. So it is as we foresaw. By dividing our fleet here, we can send one half to attack the humans’ home system, and the other to take and hold Ross 154. In this way, any of the human warships that are in the Green Mains are cut off and cannot help the home cluster.”

“There is another naval base at Ross 154, is there not?” Graagkhruud sounded eager; the equilateral triangle of his three-nostrilled snout-end widened.

Hu’urs Khraam looked to Urzueth and bobbed. Urzueth explained. “There is a human naval station at Ross 154, and if major fleet elements are present, our forces shall launch a full assault upon them and the base. However, if the human assets have not yet gathered in strength, the fleet we dispatch to that system shall lie quiet and observe, monitoring communications and traffic.”

“We have come on this campaign to fight, not to watch.” Graagkhruud was ready to rise from his seat.

“And so we shall—at the most propitious time,” Hu’urs Khraam replied. “If additional human vessels arrive in Ross 154 and are unaware of our presence, our analysis of their standard operating procedures suggests they will approach their base to replenish their consumables, particularly their antimatter stocks. They are likely to anticipate fighting extended engagements in systems where we have eliminated or commandeered their antimatter production facilities. Consequently, we can intercept such ships
after
they collect near the base, and perhaps compel their surrender. At least, we could so obstruct their efforts to preaccelerate and shift, that word of Earth’s capitulation will arrive before they can leave.”

Graagkhruud’s reply was so loud that the room’s translator was almost drowned out. “This is cowardice.”

The smallest Hkh’Rkh in First Voice’s retinue leaned forward slowly. “It would allow us to minimize the damage to the humans.”

“You not only speak as the humans’ Advocate, Yaargraukh. You take their side.”

Darzhee Kut noticed the disdain with which First Fist uttered the title “Advocate,” which signified that Yaargraukh was the Hkh’Rkh who had been given the thankless job of not only providing expert assessment of the humans, but of representing their interests to First Voice. A necessity, since creatures which had no place in the Hkh’Rkh honor system had no official standing before any of its authority figures.

In response to First Fist’s almost sneering accusation, Yaargraukh inclined his head slightly. “By showing restraint now, First Fist, we may be made less unhappy should the Dornaani prevail and punish us for invading the human homeworld. Which is a flagrant violation of the Twenty-first Accord.”

“How readily you whine about defeat, Advocate. Our allies the Ktor will dine on the entrails of the increasingly irresolute Dornaani, and we shall rewrite their Accords to our own liking.”

“However,” interjected First Voice, “until that time, there is no harm in Urzueth’s observation that it may be more prudent to immobilize our enemy without loss to ourselves in Ross 154, than it is to destroy him. But”—he turned back to Hu’urs Khraam—“I nurse a concern that our post-battle intelligence has not been able to conclusively dismiss. What if, as we began our attack here, the humans already had ships at full preacceleration, waiting to carry warnings to Earth and its colonies?”

“First Voice of the First Family,” soothed Hu’urs Khraam, “this possibility is profoundly unlikely. What intelligence we were able to gather from the wreckage of the base they called The Pearl, and from those few very wrecks which still had intact mainframes, shows no evidence that there was a preaccelerated ship waiting in this system. And, from the moment our advance shift-cruiser arrived in-system, it was constantly watching for the terawatt-level spike of a shift-drive, which would be plainly detectable even out to the edges of the Kuiper belt.

“So, be calmed. This attack was a complete surprise. Our fleet had completed half its preacceleration before the Convocation concluded. Consequently, the humans had no time, let alone clear provocations, to task any of their shift carriers to be preaccelerated in watchful readiness to alert other systems. And, after having destroyed the majority of their best carriers here, we know just how few of their shift vessels remain unaccounted for.”