Ranh

by Ian J Miller

  The receptionist looked confused, then worried. "You can't have them," she said.

  "Why not?"

  "They relate to a Tenzat, and we cannot have anybody dredging through that for . . ."

  "I am not anybody!" Kazyn almost roared. "Tenzat Tallyn was my father."

  "Yes, but you can't –"

  "You'd better get them and give him copies," another Ranhyn said to the receptionist, "because if you don't, all that will happen is that his mother will come down here, mad as hell that she had to come. You cannot deny her, and she might do some serious clawing while she sorts you out."

  This had an effect. The receptionist gave a growl, but disappeared off back to a small room. Eventually she emerged and handed over paper copies. Kazyn thanked her, then left through the door he had entered the room, rather than the door to the main exit.

  Kazyn had originally requested these documents solely to give him an excuse to be in the building, in case he had failed to avoid some of the surveillance near the door he had used to gain entrance. To be seen going back out with documents would cancel out any suspicion. Unfortunately, now through the altercation he had drawn attention to himself. That raised the question, why? What was so special about them?

  * * *

  When he sat down to read the documents, after having a most satisfying meal with meat from a small feathered animal that, he reflected, was not too much different from the chicken he had eaten on Earth, together with a drink that he fondly compared with Terran red wine, but which, he had to admit, lacked some of the taste, he was completely puzzled. These documents told a story, but what was so important about it.

  A message had come from the fleet that had finally arrived at Plotk. It outlined the 'offer' made to Ulse, namely that Ulse and its enemy should settle their differences for once and for all, and the Ranhyn fleet would back the winner. It outlined the strategy that the M'starn would take, and it outlined the treachery expected from the commander of the Ulsian fleet. The outcome was forgone: Ulse could not win, under any circumstances whatsoever.

  No further messages were received, and so Ranh had never learned of the outcome from its own ships.

  Therein lay one reason why the officials may have been unhappy with his seeing this. Gaius had ordered the Ranhyn fleet at Plotk to contact Ranh and order them to prevent the M'starn from reaching Earth. The fleet, apparently, had not sent the message. Either that, or it had been lost in transmission, or, perhaps, it had not been entered into the records, or if it had, it would have been deleted. But that seemed to be a strange reason to worry about his seeing it. Suppose he told Gaius, and suppose Gaius got angry? So what? By the time any response got to Plotk, over one and a third millennia would have passed by. The original perpetrator of the refusal to send the message would be long dead, and unless something odd happened, would have been long forgotten. Yes, there was the possibility that he had gone off on an equally long journey, and accidentally returned at the wrong time, but the odds on that were very remote, and in any case, all witnesses would have been dead, so no action could follow.

  Perhaps the problem lay with the remaining documents. Perhaps, he thought after several hours of reading, but it was not obvious where. Many of the documents referred to strategy discussions prior to the appearance of the M'starn, and most referred to possible outcomes with regard to the Krothians.

  Kroth had been allied to Ulse, and only reluctantly with Ranh. One school of thought had been that had the Ranhyn fleet assisted in the demise of Ulse, Kroth might assume they were next, and take pre-emptive action on Ranh. It had been decided that fleet construction and modernization was called for. That, of course, meant that the statement that Ranh had no suitable ships to assist the defence of Earth was nonsense, but Gaius was fully aware of that already.

  Then the M'starn had passed by, and the call for assistance had been received. Tallyn had argued that Ranh was honour-bound to send ships. They would keep sufficient to defend against Kroth, but this was not considered to be too great a problem. The Krothians had been sending ships to assist Ulse regularly, although it was questionable how effective these were. The fact was, allies had surrounded Kroth for millions of years, and its warrior class was of uncertain effectiveness.

  It was then that Kazyn paused. Ranh, for all its talk, had not fought for millions of years either. It was one thing to posture, but if there had been one thing Kazyn had learned from his time on Earth, there was a great difference between the peace-time force commanded by officers who had been promoted through their ability to be friendly with superiors and a force that had been in battle, and commanded by someone who had a very brutal intention to win and who knew how to win.

  But, back to the documents. Tallyn was supposed to have prepared a document outlining the Space Curia's reasoning on whether to send ships to Earth for discussion within the Military Curia. It was not quite clear whether this had been done or not, but there were no further documents from Tallyn, and the only two remaining documents were issued under the authority of Tergyn. One had little or no apparent relationship to the issue at hand, and involved collection rights on the outer rocky planet, and the other was a recommendation to the Military Curia to send only the three reconnaissance craft to Earth. Yes, that had irritated Gaius, but again, both he and Kazyn knew about this, so there was no particular issue about keeping the document secret from him. That it was Tergyn who may have initiated the policy was news, but it was still relatively unimportant news.

  Kazyn frowned in frustration. Had he not had the difficulty getting these documents, he would never have thought twice about them. Could it be a double bluff, something to send him down the wrong path? No! Nobody even knew he was going down any particular path, including himself. So why?

  * * *

  Time to re-enter the Curia database. The problem was frustrating him, but he was going to get to the bottom of it. He sat comfortably before the terminal, and keyed in his code. Then came an unexpected response: a question. Of course he was a Thapet. What a stupid question! Would he be keying this in if he were not? Entry was permitted to one of the key databases. At that point, Kazyn had to pause and think. What was so important about this terminal? Maybe he should be quick and be careful when he decided to exit the Curia.

  There was no point in requesting exact details of the Ranhyn fleet, but he could check on how many ships there were here, and how many had departed when for Ulse. This ratio was a political issue, showing how Ranh was honouring its obligations.

  The result was clear. Ranh had maintained a fleet of twenty-two ships, mostly of cruiser status, at Ranh. The most powerful ships of the battle fleet had been sent to Ulse some time previously. There was no known civilization in any other direction other than the Terrans, and they were too primitive to be a problem.

  He could not directly check construction, but he could check consumption of certain rare elements. There would be a routine use of these, but by plotting production over the past ten years, he could make an estimate as to whether there had been an increase in production of space ship motors, or of certain weapons.

  The result at first sight was reassuring. There was no sudden increase. He was about to close down, but for want of something better to do, and also to ease suspicion if anybody monitored this search, he tried for the consumption figures over the past hundred years. The result took his breath away. There had been a very large increase in production that had commenced approximately the same time that Tallyn had been replaced. That meant almost twenty years of extra production. He had not seen it at first because a new norm had been set.

  He quickly closed down the terminal, and ran out the back of the building. It was then that he wondered whether anyone had been monitoring his search. While he was reasonably comfortable that nobody would dare monitor the use of a terminal by a Thapet, it was quite possible there was a general search imposed on the data he had targeted. He entered a transport node, but came back up a different exit, then he crossed the road, entere
d another building, and took an elevator to the top floor, followed by the stairs to the roof. He crept over to the edge of the roof, and peered over.

  Two officious Ranhynn were interrogating anyone coming out of the building from where he had made his enquiries. Judging by their antics, they were getting frustrated, but those emerging knew nothing. That was because Kazyn had found an empty room, and had booked it under the name of a Thapet. The Thapet was not well known, but his rank meant that no record of his being there would be made.

  Kazyn crept back from the edge of the roof. Time to make a disciplined exit from that area, he realised.

  The question, he mused later, was what had caused that? Had they begun their interrogations because the terminal alerted them of a search into sensitive information? Or because a Thapet had made such a search? Or because someone had used a Thapet's number? Or because they knew Kazyn had used the terminal? It never occurred to Kazyn that they might have arrived for some reason totally unrelated to what he had done.

  For the next few days Kazyn was continually checking to see whether he was followed. This was more difficult than might be imagined, because it had to be done without drawing unnecessary attention to himself to those using surveillance equipment. Continually turning around, or following erratic paths, would merely lead to surveillance, even if there had been none before, and there were no obvious grounds for it. However, after a few days, Kazyn decided there was no such surveillance, and he decided that it was most important to continue to act normally.

  Chapter 6

  "Would you stop pacing up and down? You're annoying me!" Hadell growled.

  "I'm sorry," Kazyn grouched, then sat down, and began the equally irritating act of thumping a rhythm with his tail on the floor.

  "Look! What exactly is wrong with you?"

  "Two matches!" Kazyn growled.

  "Well? Your team won didn't it?"

  "Yes, but I didn't make the team."

  "Perhaps all those that have been with the team longer deserve it more."

  "Or perhaps the coach doesn't like me," Kazyn replied, "or perhaps the coach is being told not to play me." He stood up and started pacing again. "It's obviously a weakness with this plan that if I can't get on the field today, and all I've managed is the bench, the grieving period will be over, the formal wake will have passed, and I'll be no further ahead."

  "That was always a risk with this plan," Hadell pointed out.

  "And what exactly was I supposed to do?" Kazyn snorted irritably. "My only chance is to have support from the masses, and how do you get that unless the masses know about you?"

  "Most others aren't sporting heroes," Hadell pointed out. "Amongst others, I became Tenzat and I wouldn't go near tailball. And don't you dare mention I'm a female!"

  "As it happens, you are," Kazyn smirked, then darted away from a flashing tail that whizzed past his face. "But that's not the point," he added quickly.

  "And what is this point?"

  "You became Tenzat by approval. If I were to want that, it would have to be by challenge."

  "If I were to want that . . ." Hadell chided.

  "I haven't decided yet," Kazyn snorted.

  "Then stop pacing around!"

  "OK. The reason I haven't decided is that I don't know whether it's realistic," Kazyn admitted, and continued pacing.

  "There is one other option," Hadell pointed out.

  "Natasha?" Kazyn nodded.

  "Yes. You must file a statement to the effect that you have promised to introduce her to Ranhyn society, and introduce her to the Tenzat of the relevant Curia. This will be recorded, as will your introductory speech, and shown across Ranh. The formal introduction of a leader from our nearest planet can't help but draw attention."

  "Yes, but the attention will be on the Tenzat."

  "Not if your introductory speech outlines the policy the Curia should take towards Earth," Hadell pointed out.

  "Yes!" Kazyn said, his eyes lifting. "First speech counts the most, because it sets the precedent." He paused, then added doubtfully, "The trouble is, there's a conflict of interest."

  "How?" Hadell asked, in a puzzled tone.

  "I would be putting myself before the interests of both Earth and Ranh," Kazyn shook his head. "If it forced the Tenzat to go against me, the move just might lead to the extinction of life on two planets. That can't be right."

  "It isn't," Hadell shook her head, "and I mean 'right' in the sense of being logically correct. What can happen?"

  "Tergyn either accepts peace or he does not," Kazyn said. "If he does not, he must launch war, and . . ."

  "And nothing will happen that quickly!" Hadell snorted. "That gives you a perfect excuse for a challenge: you want peace, he wants war. The planet will decide the issue, and the threat of extinction should sharpen the mind. You will certainly get your attention, and my guess is that the Great Conclave would solve your problems by removing Tergyn."

  "He could launch first," Kazyn growled, "or when word got to Earth . . ."

  "You know as well as I do," Hadell shook her head, "Earth can't do anything in the near future. You also should know that Tergyn does not have the power to launch into a war. If the Military Curia laughed at him, what next? So when you reach a position where the head of a Curia cannot do what he wants, and there is a challenge, the rules are clear. Procedure would force the challenge to be heard first. Also, you know as well as I do that Natasha would be prepared to wait and see what eventuated, so as long as the challenge succeeds, Earth need never hear about this for centuries."

  "I suppose so," Kazyn nodded. "I suppose also that Tergyn could accept our pleas and sign a peace treaty." He paused, then shook his head and added, "I suppose that would be the end of my challenge."

  "It should be," Hadell said. "Since you would be the prime advocate, Tergyn would most likely offer you a high position to implement this new policy. Your failure to accept that would be the end of your career under most circumstances."

  "And by accepting it?"

  "Wait ten to fifteen years and if you keep your copybook clean, the position of Tenzat will probably fall into your lap."

  "Yes, I suppose it would," Kazyn nodded.

  "So, what are you going to do?"

  "Go to the match," Kazyn replied. "After all, I am on the bench, and someone might get sick, or the coach might even make a substitution."

  "And if you can't be bothered to turn up, that's the end of that career too," Hadell smirked.

  "Too true!" Kazyn nodded.

  * * *

  While it was frustrating to be sitting on the bench, Kazyn was only too well aware that occasionally the cameras covered that area, to show the supporters what the team emotion was. Accordingly he had to look upbeat. This was more than a little difficult because not only was he feeling quite frustrated but also his team was losing, and losing in two ways. The obvious way was on the scoreboard, where they were two goals down, but the other was in field control. The fact was, his team looked intimidated, and, he realized with even more frustration, they were feeling intimidated because they were being pushed around by slightly older and definitely rougher opponents. In principle, a number of the opponents' moves were fouls, but the Ranhynn spirit did not permit appealing to the referee for this. If the opponents were foul, the planetary audience expected the players to deal with it.

  Already two players had been injured and replaced, and two particular rough players were in turn dealing with the replacements. The referee refused to move, and one was being raked by an opponent's leg. The claw was supposed to be covered by the boot, but this player seemed to have a design that permitted a substantial claw effect. Finally the player got up, and began visibly limping. The home audience roared with disapproval, but the disapproval was mainly with this particular player allowing this to happen. Their team had a problem. The next substitution would be the last permitted.

  Kazyn glowered at the coach. This probably had little effect, but the crowd's roaring to the coa
ch demanding that he stop putting out wimps probably did. In despair, he had to note that apart from Kazyn, his other options were the smallest and youngest players he had. If he sent out another undersized player to get raked, in this mood the crowd might rake him later, and without claw coverings. Meanwhile, the longer he did nothing, the more abuse came from the crowd.

  The coach glowered back at Kazyn as if to say, if someone's going to be raked, it might as well be you, and said, "Get out there! You reckon you've got what it takes? Then now's the time to show it!"

  Kazyn bounced up, then, realizing the cameras were likely to be on him, walked in a carefree way towards the gate. He tapped the teammate being assisted from the field on the shoulder, noticed the bleeding from the side, and gave an involuntary shudder.

  "Your turn next," one of the opponents gave a low grunt as he passed by.

  Kazyn took his position, the game resumed, and for several minutes not very much happened. Then one of the rakers moved beside him, and the ball looped towards their position. Instead of going for the ball, Kazyn waited until he knew when the opponent would move, then he leaped back, away from the ball. His opponent's technique was simple: he would leap off one foot and turn, then use his other foot and claw to gain extra height by bouncing off the other player. This time, when the foot went out there was nothing to grasp, and he tumbled to the ground. As the crowd roared, Kazyn took the ball on the half volley, flicked it forward and upwards, took a step forward, and gave the ball a mighty thump towards the goal. As intended, the follow-through neatly caught the opponent on the back of the head as he was trying to get back on his feet and he went sprawling, which earned Kazyn another cheer. The shot clearly missed, but the yell of pain from the opponent was a distraction to the defenders, and they missed seeing another attacker approach the rebound. The crowd roared again as the goal was scored.