by J. F. Holmes
Grimar shook his head. “I disagree completely. We must not exterminate an entire sentient race. They could be allies in our mission to keep peace in the sector. We can learn from them.” He looked at the governor-general. “Governor, I do not, no, cannot recommend this course of action. We have many other options. We don’t have to use the Beast. I do not believe in an afterlife, but if I did…this is an action that wouldn’t bring honor to one’s ancestors. This is what gets you in the history books with people like Genghis Khan, Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, Saddam, Abington, and Henry Thompson. We must not do this.”
Governor-General Navarro slowly nodded his head, then realizing he still held the unlit cigar in his hand, laid it on the desk. He folded his hands before him and calmly regarded the two men. After a moment, he said, “Thank you, gentlemen. I’m going to think on this, and I may call on you for counsel. You’re dismissed.”
The two men stood and left the room. Juan stared at the cigar for a moment, then with a slight tremble in his hand, he lit the cigar and turned again to stare out the window.
TWO – A CALL FOR AID
Herd Leader Ki-Taran left the Governor’s Mansion, meeting his aide, Quishn’a, in the lobby. They didn’t speak a word as they left the luxurious, Earth-style mansion. His bodyguards fell in to either side of him silently and trailed him to the waiting car. His aide held the door open while Ki’Taran entered, then climbed in and shut the door. The bodyguards mounted nearby human-styled quad-cycles and took up positions in front of and behind the car. The small group of vehicles pulled out of the drive, were waved through the security checkpoint by a bored human guard, and descended the winding, steep driveway toward the city.
After a twelve count of silence, the younger man said, “Herd Leader, did you…”
The herd leader motioned him to silence and gestured around him. The younger Karan nodded, abashed.
They rode in silence, looking out the windows at the empty streets of the city. Shops were shuttered, and there was little traffic. What traffic there was consisted mostly of white UN administration vehicles and police cars. There were very few civilian vehicles. After a while the city thinned out, and they approached the shore. The space elevator loomed over them, stretching into the sky, with the cars ceaselessly moving cargo up, and people, supplies, human scientists, and workers down. The motorcade pulled up to a beach park that stretched from the coast road, with its shops and restaurants quiet and dark. The park stretched down to the stony shores, and the surf crashed in the distance.
Ki’Taran and Quish’na exited the car and walked in silence toward the shore. Ahead of them, three other Karan were waiting. The three wore plain clothing, and were standing near the water’s edge. As they approached, two of the Karan moved toward and past him, nodding respectfully. Ki’Taran nodded at Quish’na to stay with them and continued alone.
Moving up toward the other figure on the shore, he stood beside the being he now recognized as Misha’a, special emissary to the Queen’s Technology and Security Council.
After a few moments of only the ocean crashing, he said, “It’s been too long since we were here for anything but work.”
She nodded, not speaking. He waited patiently. Presently, she said, “Herd Leader, she’s worried. She thinks they’re planning something. Their history is full of such events.”
“I agree. They want our resources, and I fear this new governor-general does not care for the welfare of the Karan as did his predecessor.”
Misha’a glanced at him briefly and frowned. “Yes. Our sources say he has passed away from ‘ill health’ on Mars, in one of the UN facilities there. Who knew dear old Koffi was so sickly?” The cynicism in her voice was clear.
Ki’Taran grimaced and nodded. “We suspected he would. The UN leadership does not like failure, and by all accounts, the dissidents and their disruptions have caused significant delays to the copper flow, amongst other raw materials.” He paused, idly watching a floating bit of wood dancing in the waves, then continued, “There are no additional troops coming in. There are still only the four standard corvettes on picket duty in orbit, and aside from UN provincial police, no real additional military presence in the colony or in system.” He turned to face Misha’a.
“You can convey to the queen’s advisors that we are continuing to monitor the situation, and will reach out to our human contacts to see if we can discern what this new administration’s goals are. As soon as we find out more, we will meet again.”
Misha’a turned to him and smiled slightly. “Here again, on the beach?”
He smiled back. “It’s the only place inside the colony we can be sure they cannot listen.”
“It has nothing to do with our past on this beach?” She had an impish twinkle in her eyes.
Ki’Taran smiled gently. “Dearest daughter, I would relive those days in an instant. Life was simpler then. Before.” His eyes slid to the space elevator and a troubled expression crossed his face. Misha’a followed his eyes, and after a moment, she nodded.
He reached into his pocket and handed her a sealed message sphere. At her raised eyebrow, he nodded and explained, “I realize a letter is unusual, but the council must hear my exact words. Counselor Ma’Karon can open it. ” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “I hate to ask, but we may need the Imperial Army to be prepared to intervene. The queen’s forces must stand by to assist these colonists if they ask us. We have a treaty and are bound to assist if they call.”
She looked out to sea again as she nodded and said, “Secret treaties. Again. Didn’t we learn our lesson the last time? Didn’t the humans? Didn’t enough of our people die because of those treaties? Didn’t enough humans die because of theirs in their own civil wars?” Her tone made it more a statement than question.
His voice was soft. “Yes. Our job is to minimize the deaths of our people, but if they must die to ensure our species survives, then die they will.”
She nodded once and turned to go, then paused. “Do be careful, Father. You’re playing a dangerous game with this human, this Navarro. He’s a dangerous man, and he is from an organization filled with dangerous people. The UN is not to be trusted.” She regarded him steadily.
The old Karan nodded. “I know, child. I’ve dealt with dangerous men before. That’s why I’m here. Now go, and get that sphere to Counselor Ma’Karon. She will need to read it as soon as you’re in the capitol. Make haste and stay safe.” He gently touched her cheek, then turned and strode away, summoning his guards and Quish’na as he strode toward the car.
THREE – COUNCIL
Back at the herd leader’s home outside the city, Ki’Taran and Quish’na entered the study. The large room was dimly lit by a slow-burning quo’ra branch in a holder in the middle of the room. The firelight illuminated the two Karan waiting there. One was a massive older male, his face and shell scarred and pitted, with the hardpoints for armor plate attachments clearly visible on his shell. The other was smaller, with black fur, and a shell with a deep shine. Her eyes were dark and piercing. They lapsed into respectful silence as the two entered. Ki’Taran moved to his favorite chair and eased into it. He motioned to Quish’na, who moved to the sideboard and quietly began to pour drinks.
The other two Karan waited quietly. As tradition dictated, Ki’Taran was to speak first. After a moment, he began.
“Listener Antol’a, Defense Master Ki’Abon, welcome and thank you for meeting me this evening. You may speak freely. We have this office swept for listening devices regularly.” He accepted the small glass of potent brandy the local distilleries were famous for and nodded his thanks to his assistant, who offered drinks to the two others, then faded back into the shadows. Ki’Taran leaned back and regarded the woman for a moment, then addressed her. “Listener, you are the eyes and ears of the Herd. Speak; we listen.”
Listener Antol’a leaned slightly forward and said, her voice firm and clear, “Herd Leader, I have information on this ‘Navarro’. I apologize for not having it
before you went to meet him, but as you know, access to the UN research network is heavily monitored, and my contacts had to be very careful.” She paused, pulled a notebook from her pouch, and opened it. She glanced at Ki’Abon, who simply nodded at her to continue.
“As the defense master is a man of few words, I will present the findings.” She glanced at her notebook, then cleared her throat.
“Governor-General Juan Petron-Navarro is fifty-two Earth years old—that’s about forty-five of our cycles. He is one point seven two UN meters tall, and weighs seventy-two kilograms. He is widowed, his wife lost in a spacecraft accident some fourteen years ago between the Earth and Mars, and has four children, all estranged. One brother, who is apparently a well-respected leader in a religious sect originating on Earth. His life was reportedly devastated by the accident, and he has since thrown himself into his work as a career UN bureaucrat, rapidly rising through the ranks.” She paused, then said with an amused tone, “He has dual educational certificates in economics and classic Earth literature, as well. Apparently, he also considers himself an aficionado of ‘Karan literature and art’.” The herd leader grunted sourly, motioning for her to continue.
“There is little else in his personal life of advantage to us, Herd Leader, but allow me to continue.” She looked back down and continued reading from her notes.
“This is his second governorship, with the first being on Ceti IV for a period of two years, in which his primary task was to suppress the miners’ revolt in Landfall City and restore the flow of minerals. He achieved this with food and seed grain sanctions, and aggressive use of UN ground troops. This resulted in the deaths of thousands of rioters from needlers, vomit-gas in confined areas, and slam-sticks. There were also reports of brutality, torture, and assassination by the UN police, but most of this is rumor. Much of this event is still kept secret by the human government, and details are unreliable. We do know he was commended highly for his handling of the situation by the UN leadership and was promoted to Sector Prefect afterward.”
She paused and made a small note in her book, and then resumed. “As for his cultural background, he is from a place on Earth called ‘Spain’, which is an area in the southern region of an area known as ‘Europe’. His tribe, the ‘Spaniards’, have quite a reputation.” She turned a page, and after a quick glance at the other two in the room, continued speaking. “In their early days, they fought a protracted insurgency against another tribe, called the Moors. The Moors were eventually driven into the sea or exterminated. These Spaniards then dominated Earth’s oceans, and rapidly established a religious-economic empire. They subjugated other, lesser-developed tribes with overwhelming technological advantages, and then let non-native diseases devastate them. They destroyed several very large, well-developed regional empires this way.” She paused and looked at the defense master.
He frowned deeply, the age lines creasing his face, then spoke in a deep, firm voice. “A pattern that is disturbingly possible again. Continue, Listener Antol’a.”
She nodded and went back to her notes. “These Spaniards also pursued their religious inquests with a fury seldom replicated in Earth’s history. Apparently the bulk of them are from a sect called ‘Catholic’, and they spent a great deal of time and energy forcibly converting several smaller, breakaway sects. They called it ‘The Inquisition’. A great many of the subjects of this Inquisition suffered horrible deaths, and it lasted for many decades. Governor-General Navarro is apparently a rather devout member of this sect.”
The herd leader and the defense master exchanged an amused look. Ki’Taran said dryly, “Well, in that respect, they aren’t that different from us. Wars of a religious nature are not unknown in our history, nor are wars of conquest.” Ki’Abon grunted agreement and motioned for the younger woman to continue.
“Later in their history their empire crumbled, due to overexpansion and financial strain, but not before engaging their neighboring tribes in a series of disastrous wars. This led to their decline from a superpower to a regional power. This continued until the mid-twentieth century, when they engaged in a savage civil war that resulted in the deaths of several million of their own people…” She paused, turned a page, and frowned, then flipped a few more forward.
“For the remainder of Earth’s history, this tribe plays a minor part, avoiding major damage in the global conflicts until the rise of the UN’s space expansion. It seems the UN expansion coincided with a resurgent trend for national pride in many countries, and the waves of explorers fancied themselves modern-day versions of their ancestors. This led to the distinct cultural variations observed amongst the humans and their various colonies.” She set the book on the table and sipped her previously untouched brandy.
After a moment, she continued, “Herd Leader, Defense Master, as your Listener for this province, I am obligated to give you my analysis. This man is not here to make peace. Nothing in his personal history, nor the history of his tribe, indicates this. We should plan accordingly.”
Ki’Taran nodded gravely. “Thank you, Listener. Defense Master, your thoughts?”
The old Karan sat for a moment before slowly speaking, “Herd Leader, I fear I must agree with your listener. Her ears are sharp and have heard much. Her analysis is apt and, absent any evidence to the contrary, we must consider this new governor-general a threat. What his ends are, I cannot say. I will speak to my militia leaders; they will stay alert. Should you need them, they await outside the city, under the pretext of protecting the mineral transport systems. We currently have several thousand in the area, in various guises. Enough to seize and hold the colony until the regulars arrive, if need be.”
The battle-scarred old warrior paused, then turned to the listener. “Listener, I strongly suggest you have your human listeners stay vigilant.” Antol’a silently nodded.
The old herd leader leaned forward and spoke, his tone low and urgent. “We need more information. Both of you use every source you have. Everything. The Queen’s Council shares our concerns, but we cannot act without information. If this man means us harm, we MUST find out what he is planning. We cannot, we must not, end up like those empires on Earth.”
He regarded them for a moment, then said, “Secrecy is paramount. These humans will likely as not strike without hesitation if they believe we know what they’re planning, so they must not find out. Not until we’re ready. This governor of theirs must know nothing until our blow falls, and when it falls, we must not miss. We have but one chance at this.” The old defense master and the young listener nodded. Ki’Taran stood, signaling an end to the meeting.
As the two other Karan turned to go, he said, “Not to be theatrical, but the fate of our species may rest on this. Act accordingly, act swiftly. The time to remove the yoke of this ‘United Nations’ may be near.”
Antol’a nodded silently and slipped into the dark hallway.
The old defense master paused and winked at Ki’Taran. “Ah, Ki’Taran, my old friend. You know I’m an old battlewagon. The listener’s job is almost complete. Soon, it will be time for me. You know I like a good fight.”
Ki’Taran smiled grimly. “You may yet get your chance, old man. Go, review your plans, and wait for the listener’s information.” The defense master nodded and vanished out the door into the gloom.
Unnoticed in the corner of the room stood Ki’Taran’s young aide, Quish’na, with a distant, troubled look in his eyes.
FOUR – REVELATIONS
Quish’na stood outside the bar, watching the street. He waited three twelves of minutes, watching. The people moving in the street looked weary, and were dressed in work clothes, mostly support staff from the research facilities and rockjacks from the mining and ore transport systems. Importantly, no white armored UN police were present. Finally satisfied no one had followed him, he entered the bar.
Once inside, he scanned the dim room, looking. The clientele was a mix of weary looking humans and Karan, engaged in a mixture of eating, drinking, and low
conversation. The holos over the bar were showing the latest from the planet-wide cricket championships. Quish’na grimaced at the sight of the Karan on the holo in their gleaming, white, human-style uniforms, playing an alien game, brought to his home by uninvited guests. He noted the lone human man with a beard sitting at a table, sipping at a cup of coffee, watching the game.
Moving over to the man, he sat, and after a moment, he motioned to the screen and spoke in English, “I don’t see what your people see in this game. No offense.”
The man shrugged. “None taken. My family’s from North America, so I don’t get it either. Baseball, now, that’s another story. You can learn everything you need to know about life from baseball.” He set the cup down and looked at Quish’na. “So, you have something for me?”
The young Karan shrugged. “Some. You?” He set an envelope on the table, and the man stuffed it in his jacket pocket without looking. Turning his attention back to the cricket game, he reached into one of his pockets, removed an envelope, and handed it to Quish’na without a word. He looked at it, but didn’t open it. After a moment, he said, “Do I want to know?”
The human shrugged. “I don’t. Can’t spill what you don’t know, and I’m just a courier at the moment, anyway.” He drained his coffee cup, dropped a few coins on the table, and stood to leave, then paused. “Listen. I’d be careful who you give that to. Like I said, I don’t know what’s in it, but the people who got it to me run in very dangerous circles.” He hesitated, then said, “You’ll be hearing from them.” The man turned and left the bar.
Quish’na looked at the envelope for a moment, then pocketed it, stood, and left the bar.
Down the street two human men stood in a doorway, smoking. They watched the young Karan leave. One laughed slightly. “You know, I don’t think he could be sneaky if he tried. Poor kid.” He paused. “Think he’ll do it?”