Marque of Caine

by Charles E Gannon

  Yaonhoyz’s mouth tilted slightly. “What of you indeed?” He trailed an unconcerned finger in the air before him. “Your race and the others are merely products of blind evolution. It was foolish to have interfered with you in the first place. We should stop doing so immediately.”

  Riordan’s speciate fear began transforming into rage. “And if that means the deaths of multiple races?”

  Yaonhoyz burbled diffidently. “Races are not permanent features of the universe. Nothing is. If it is the fate of your race to be short-lived, we should never have attempted to circumvent that natural outcome.”

  Nlastanl raised both hands. “This topic is unproductive. Caine Riordan, I must frankly ask for your cooperation on the urgent matter of the symbiopods. Just as you rightly appeal to our sense of integrity and responsibility regarding the fate of your race and others, so, in this matter, do I appeal to the same in you.”

  Riordan didn’t question the Dornaani characterization of the symbiopods. Nlastanl’s description of them—organic but not like any other organism in known space—echoed Caine’s own uneasiness the moment he’d come within touching distance of them. “I’ll help you, but there’s not much I can do.”

  “Explain,” demanded Suvtrush.

  “I don’t know where the symbiopods are.”

  “We are told most still contain kidnapped troops from your twentieth century.”

  “As far as I know, that’s true. But to protect the Lost Soldiers, I was not given their location.”

  Nlastanl rested his fingertips against each other. “What became of the symbiopods you turned over to your government?”

  Riordan shook his head. “I never had access to that kind of information.”

  “Very well. How many symbiopods did you turn over?”

  Riordan nodded. “Fourteen. All empty.”

  Dornaani faces were rarely as expressive as humans. Now they went absolutely blank.

  Only Laynshooz’s face was animated, more so than ever. “It is as I said from the first. This human was not worth meeting. He has neither information about, nor access to, any of the symbiopods. Besides, with so many in the hands of human researchers, the fate of their race is sealed. Unless you can breed both greed and curiosity out of them in two generations.”

  Riordan flinched. “What do you mean by that?”

  Suvtrush put up two didactic fingers. “It is through those traits that the symbiopods are most likely to corrupt your race.”

  Riordan forced himself to exhale. “Do you also believe that our fate is sealed?”

  “No,” Suvtrush answered carefully, “but I do not consider the outlook hopeful.”

  Yaonhoyz looked up from his lazy slouch. “We would be remiss, human, if we failed to express our appreciation for the one matter in which you have been of inestimable help.”

  Riordan frowned. “And what matter is that?”

  “You furnished us with unsolicited testimony that Alnduul not only exceeded Custodial mandates and protocols in aiding your planet, but did so knowingly. Without your comments, our accusations would have mostly relied upon conjecture and hearsay. But, as you were a witness, we now have an unimpeachable account of his violations.” Yaonhoyz’s mouth rotated almost ninety degrees around the axis of its tapirlike extrusion: a broad grin.

  Riordan turned toward Alnduul. The Dornaani’s mouth was a skewed, broken crease: a faltering smile. “It was inevitable,” he murmured. “Your words have revealed nothing except what my own testimony will assert, once a board of inquiry is convened.” He looked away from Caine, glanced around the ring of Dornaani faces. A few—Glayaazh, Heethoo, a few regional arbiters, and now, even Nlastanl—seemed sympathetic or at least saddened. The rest were expressionless. Except Laynshooz—his animation was the Dornaani equivalent of gloating.

  Alnduul stood. “I presume these conversations are concluded.”

  “As is our interest in this human,” Yaonhoyz burbled.

  Riordan stood alongside Alnduul, copied his friend’s elbows-in, arms-out gesture of farewell.

  Nlastanl stood, flowing into the same posture. “Enlightenment unto you, Alnduul and Caine Riordan.”

  By the time Glayaazh and Heethoo had done the same, the remaining Dornaani were exiting the room or had terminated their holographic presence.

  When he and Alnduul were alone, Riordan asked, “What now?”

  Alnduul’s inner lids nictated twice. “Now, we are on our own.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  MAY 2124

  ORBITING GLAMQOOZHT, BD+80 238

  Irzhresht looked away from the six holographic readouts that were positioned around her head and reflected in her large eyes. “Third Arbiter Glayaazh is aboard.”

  “Thank you,” Alnduul rose from his cocoon couch. “Please instruct Ssaodralth to escort her to my briefing room. We shall join her presently.”

  “We?” echoed Riordan, who was studying a holograph that tracked the relationship between powerplant activity, drive settings, and fuel endurance. He had progressed far enough with his Dornaani to decipher occasional labels on simpler controls. This constantly transmogrifying display was far more challenging.

  “Glayaazh requested that you be present for her farewell.”

  Riordan rose, smiling. “I wasn’t aware she’d taken such a liking to me.”

  “She has, but I suspect her visit has a more specific reason.”

  “Which is?”

  The iris valve dilated in front of them. “Let us go find out together,” Alnduul said.

  * * *

  Although younger than Thlunroolt, Glayaazh seemed far more elderly. Probably because she eschewed the restorative patches that were de rigueur on almost all Dornaani who were middle-aged or older.

  However, the slowness of her silent gesture of greeting seemed more a matter of sadness than decrepitude. She stepped forward, one index finger raised. Alnduul mirrored her and their fingertips touched. In all the time Riordan had spent with Dornaani, he had never witnessed any unnecessary physical contact between them.

  Glayaazh trailed a finger to the side. “There are no happy meetings without sad partings. As you know.”

  “As I know.”

  To Riordan, it sounded like a farewell between a favorite aunt and a beloved nephew.

  Glayaazh straightened. “You will soon be summoned to appear before the Collective’s Custodial review board.”

  Alnduul’s outer lids cycled slowly.

  “The travesty of these meetings will be reprised there. However, you are in a position to make a good-faith demonstration that would influence them.”

  “You mean, bribe them to rule in my favor.”

  Glayaazh’s mouth twisted slightly. “When the stakes are high, review boards become more transactional.”

  “Surely you are not recommending I avail myself of such opportunities?”

  Glayaazh touched the tips of her two index fingers as if she were completing a circuit. “Remain alert to any opportunities that preserve your freedom of action. Which you shall surely lose if you cannot sway some of the board.”

  Alnduul’s expression changed from surprise to deep reflection. It seemed to Riordan that his friend had heard something more specific in Glayaazh’s last words than he had.

  She turned toward Caine. “I regret that the gathering was not conducive to making a closer acquaintance, to say nothing of my inability to be of more help to you and Elena Corcoran. Perhaps this shall, in some small measure, make up for that.” She placed a small, clear tetrahedron upon the table: a Dornaani data crystal.

  Riordan raised his left eyebrow. “May I ask what is on it?”

  “Many things. Most importantly, complete reports on the investigatory measures taken to locate Elena Corcoran. Beyond the trail left by her medical maintenance module’s transfer from one carrier to the next, there are also conjectures about its subsequent destinations.”

  “And no one has followed up on those?”

  “Not for hal
f a year.”

  Riordan shook his head. “Tell me, Glayaazh, does anything work the way it should in the Collective?”

  Caine had been expecting any of a number of responses—irritation, shared amusement, crestfallen agreement—but intense focus had not been among them. “It is interesting that you should ask that, Caine Riordan.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wonder what you will report of us when you return home.”

  “I doubt anyone is going to ask me.”

  “They shall. They have no choice. Since you will be their only source of intelligence, their objections will be overruled by necessity. But at this moment, indulge me. Let us presume that your leaders ask you to assess whether the Custodians can be relied upon to defend humanity as a protected species. What would you tell them?”

  “I’d tell them that the Collective will not prevent the Custodians from carrying out their duty.”

  Glayaazh’s eyes widened slightly. “A surprisingly optimistic response.”

  Riordan smiled. “Not really. The Collective can’t risk abandoning Earth. If the Ktor conquer us, they’d become much more dangerous to you. But secondly, you’d be breaking your own rules and showing the other races that the Dornaani can’t be trusted. That would destroy the Accord more certainly than anything else.”

  Glayaazh’s eyelid drooped in sad agreement. She gestured toward the data crystal. “Your search for Elena Corcoran may lead you down pathways you cannot foresee, require expertise on topics you do not yet know exist. If so, the crystal contains data and contacts that should prove useful. Among them are marginalized experts, scholars, even hobbyists, who will have insights into recondite yet crucial variables that are beyond the purview, or even grasp, of Collective officials.

  “And now, as you say in English, ‘fare well.’” She said it as two words, thereby emphasizing the original meaning.

  Turning to Alnduul, she executed the parting gesture, seemed to stretch her fingers out as wide as they could go. “Enlightenment unto you always, Alnduul.”

  “And may it radiate ever brighter from you, Glayaazh.”

  When the iris valve closed behind her, Alnduul picked up the data crystal, extended it toward Riordan. “It is yours to do with as you please, but be careful with the data. I suspect that some of it may prove…provocative.”

  Riordan shook his head. “I wonder if you could run that through a translator, first. Make me a copy?”

  Alnduul slipped the crystal into one of the small pockets on the abbreviated vest that most Dornaani wore while on duty. “Yesterday, my Custodial oath would have prevented me from doing so, just as I was restricted as to which of your questions I might answer, and to what degree.”

  It took Riordan a moment to overcome his surprise. “And that has changed? Why?”

  “Although you have been dismissed by the gathering, they did not instruct you to depart Collective space, nor did they place any limits upon your travel within it. Yet you remain my personal responsibility. Even my Custodial duties do not take precedence over that. Accordingly, while I may not volunteer information, any questions you ask must be answered if, in my judgment, failure to do so could endanger you. And after these meetings, my standards of judgment shall be quite liberal.”

  Caine cocked an eyebrow. “I suspect I’ll be asking you a lot of questions, then.”

  “So do I.” Alnduul moved briskly to the door; it scissored open before him. “We must move swiftly, now. Once I face the review board, I may no longer be a Custodian and so will no longer have a ship. Until then, I shall take you any place Olsloov can reach.”

  Riordan nodded. “Which is probably the only way I’m going to find Elena.”

  “Yes, but it also exposes you to potential dangers. The Dornaani you seek will also know that you are no longer an official visitor, so I doubt my ability to ensure that your interactions with them are both productive and safe.”

  “Why?”

  “As a Custodian, I can be called upon to bear witness to what other Dornaani do or say in my presence. Consequently, they will only speak freely in my absence. Which also makes it easier for them to exploit you.”

  “Exploit me how?”

  “There is no way to know that beforehand. However, much of the information you require is likely to be esoteric, illegal, or both. Purveyors of such knowledge often have unusual motivations. So be cautious.”

  “I will be. I’d also like to be armed.”

  Alnduul burbled. “Unfortunately, all materials aboard this ship are the property of the Custodians. You may only use them during an emergency and only under my supervision.”

  So now I have to start scrounging for my own equipment? “I’m becoming a more problematic passenger with every passing day.”

  “Perhaps, but with every day passing day, our paths also cleave closer.”

  Riordan grinned, quipped, “Not if they take your ship away.”

  Alnduul’s answering stare was grave. “Then more than ever.”

  * * *

  Yaonhoyz accepted the tight-beam message after ensuring that his thoroughly illegal scrambler was functioning. “I await your orders.”

  “That is well, since I must convey them swiftly. Have you secured the physical evidence for use against Alnduul?”

  “I have,” Yaonhoyz replied. “The recordings were difficult to obtain, but even Alnduul has made a few enemies within the Custodians.”

  “Fortunate. The board must be convened as quickly as possible, that we may put an end to the human’s intrusions. In the meantime, I trust our new operative is properly positioned to impede his and Alnduul’s further progress?”

  “Indeed. All the necessary passcodes and authorizations have been provided as per the operative’s requests and were secured without arousing suspicion or inquiry.”

  “That had best be the case. We cannot be implicated in the neutralization of either Alnduul or Glayaazh. In regard to the latter, has a suitable replacement pilot been secured for service on Glayaazh’s ship?”

  “Yes, but he lacks experience as a party to illicit actions.” An edge of irritability crept into Yaonhoyz’s voice. “Suborning him was an imprudent risk.”

  “Your tone offends even more than your impertinent words.”

  “My apologies.”

  “Accepted. I share your reservations regarding operatives whose cooperation must be extorted, but we required a crewperson whose record is beyond reproach. Do you have anything else to report?”

  “Just that I abhor dealing with lojis.”

  “Who does not? But they excel at subterfuge and assassination. More importantly, they are all expendable, especially the black market facilitator through whom you made our anonymous arrangements. She will be eliminated before our plot unfolds. And once it has, and investigators discover her involvement, where will they seek other perpetrators?”

  Yaonhoyz felt satisfaction, even pleasure. “Among her loji associates.”

  “Precisely. All that remains now is for you to give the orders that shall set our plans in motion. Which you will not achieve by reveling in your smug bigotry. This communication is ended.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  MAY 2124

  WASHINGTON, D.C., EARTH

  In the windowless bowels of a ubiquitous Arlington office complex, Richard Downing studied his image on a wall-sized video monitor. The footage was from three years ago. His face was pallid, flabby. His alcoholic self.

  He felt an urge for a drink, was suddenly very conscious of David Weber’s hulking presence. He pushed down the craving as if it might spring from him, fully fleshed and visible in all its pathetic desperation.

  His alcoholic self was surrounded by reporters, halfway down the front steps of the Capitol. “Director Downing,” one cried, “there are rumors that Riordan’s actions on Turkh’saar could spark a civil war among the Hkh’Rkh. Can you comment on that?”

  Downing watched himself turn toward the journalist. “The true state of af
fairs among the Hkh’Rkh is not known to us in any detail. However, their leader First Voice is still missing, and the Patrijuridicate is divided over whether to replace him. Tensions over when and how they should proceed could indeed prime the Hkh’Rkh for a civil war.”

  Weber froze the screen. “Your situation is becoming more precarious.”

  Downing stared at his own image, then at Weber. “Because of this? Captain, that is a three-year-old interview segment.”

  “Which is receiving widespread replay since word arrived that the civil war you predicted among the Hkh’Rkh may be starting.” He tapped a finger on the frozen phalanx of reporters. “The press is using this clip to claim that the government had reason to foresee what is occurring now. That is chum in the water for the sharks in the Procedural Compliance Directorate and their masters over at the Interbloc Working Group.” Weber considered the scene again. “They might have been willing to let you fade away, but then you became a person of interest regarding Riordan’s suspiciously swift departure last year. And now, new twists in that investigation have put you back in their crosshairs.”

  Downing heard Weber’s leading tone. “New twists?”

  “They discovered that Riordan’s clearances from the State Department were not actually issued by its employees, but by persons able to access and spoof its system.”

  “And I presume those persons report to you.”

  Weber sighed, nodded. “For their sake, and the sake of this office, they have to go out-system ASAP. As do you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Director,” said Weber heavily, tapping the screen again, “your days are numbered. One of the men involved in fabricating the State Department papers also handled the request that I meet you with secure transport outside your safe house. It’s safe to assume that they will notice that Riordan’s escape commenced within that same hour. If they, or your go-between Kyle Seaver, are interviewed, that leads the investigators to you. Further scrutiny into your actions that day could therefore lead them to me and this office. For instance, the ‘taxi’ in which I picked you up was untraceable, but a bystander could have taken a picture of it. Once they identify the correct vehicle, they are likely to discover what we really do here in ODINS and gut us. Just the way they did IRIS.”