Barsk

by Lawrence M. Schoen

  TWENTY-TWO

  EXPEDIENCY

  THE illusion of the Matriarch’s long-vanished home blinked out and Jorl found himself back in the yard of the internment camp, feeling as though he had just awakened from a dream.

  “Jorl, are you all right? Do you need help getting up?”

  The carver, Rüsul, stood in front of him, extending a hand.

  Jorl shook his head, but made no move to stand. “Just lost in my own thoughts. I’m fine, thanks.”

  The old Eleph nodded. “Well, if you like, you’re welcome to join us in our little corner. Doubtless Tarva has more tales of his gram he wants to fill our ears with.”

  Jorl smiled. “I’ll join you soon. I just need some time … to process my, um, thoughts.” Rüsul nodded again and wandered off, and Jorl let his head drop to stare blankly at the snowy ground of the yard as he tried to make sense of the enormity of his visit with the Matriarch.

  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he felt a shadow fall across him. He glanced up, expecting to find Rüsul again, but instead Krasnoi stared down at him.

  “Ensign-Retired, have you had the experience of searching for something only to find it in the very last place you look?”

  Jorl allowed his puzzlement to show on his face. “Why would you continue to look once you’d found it?”

  “Exactly. You understand me exactly. And having found you, I can now stop searching.”

  “Me? I thought you wanted knowledge of how to make koph? I only know about the finished product, not how the drug is made.”

  “No, you don’t,” said the Bear. “No more than the rest of these useless relics do.” He swept one arm in an expansive gesture that took in the entire yard. A squad of Pandas were ushering all of the Dying Fant into a large circle freshly etched into the packed snow.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Putting an end to a tactic that has done nothing but waste time and resources. They have nothing I want or need.”

  “You said I didn’t either.”

  “Not quite. None of them have what I seek, but you know someone who does. My Lutr Speaker will wring the knowledge from him soon enough. I’ll hold on to you until she does. This mission has been cursed with too many complications to let you slip away prematurely. But the others? They’re beyond useless and I will not suffer them any longer.”

  For a moment, Jorl saw Urs-Major Krasnoi in a new light, gracious even as he admitted failure. “You’re letting them go? You’ll take them to the last island and let them finally die?”

  “Don’t be absurd. Nonyx-Captain Selishta and her vessel are long gone. Easier to have them die here and now.”

  He lifted his head and caught the eye of one of the Pandas, who in turn shouted an order at the other members of the security squad. The two hundred some Dying Fant stood bunched together where they’d been gathered, swaying listlessly as the Ailuros formed a shallow arc in front of them. Then the Pandas drew the devices they’d worn strapped along one leg, two-handed stocks with cables running back to canisters mounted on their backs. They pointed these at the Dying Fant and a moment later began spraying them with streams of liquid, like children playing a game with squirt bottles on the hotter days of the mist season. Several focused on dousing the outer perimeter of Fant while others aimed their streams higher, soaking those in the middle and back as well. Their canisters didn’t contain water.

  Jorl jumped up, arms and trunk waving, dashing toward the guards. He tripped on Krasnoi’s suddenly outstretched foot and sprawled on his face, the packed snow scraping his skin.

  Sparks erupted in front of each Ailuros, and their streams turned to fire. The blaze sped to the Fant like a living thing, rushing to embrace each of them in brightly burning arms. A few screamed but most made no sound. The squad stood prepared to take down any that broke from their cluster but none of them fled. They stood there, numbed beyond life, and burned.

  The flames shone red but transformed gradually to a blinding white as the Ailuros continued to pour accelerant on their targets. The snow beneath the Fant transformed to steam, creating a grave like some macabre magic trick. Jorl managed to sit up, gagging in the acrid smell of burning flesh. His ears hung flat against his head; his mind simultaneously attempted to reject the horror and insisted he take action. He shouted and trumpeted and surged to his feet, desperate to do something, only to be knocked flat again by Krasnoi. A series of kicks kept him down, leaving him to gaze helplessly at the burning Fant. Waves of heat radiating from them made him flinch, but he could not bring himself to cover his face. The ink of his aleph burned on his forehead, and he had the odd thought that his privilege of passage must sometimes mean stumbling into places he’d have passed on in hindsight, and owning the obligation to stay there all the same. He bore witness, the silent slaughter of old men and women who had sought nothing more from life than its proper end. The nightmarish moment combined with the skills he’d honed as a Speaker as every individual face seared itself into his memory. There was no point to looking away now; the image of them would be with him forever.

  The Dying Fant stood packed together, holding one another up as they burned until they crumpled en masse, and still the guards maintained their position, weapons poised and active until every bit of flesh and bone and tusk and tooth had been reduced to ash. Krasnoi kicked him again, savagely, but Jorl’s own pain couldn’t matter now. He raised his head and stared into the flames and ash, still reeling from the slaughter. The wind shifted and mercifully blew the stench of death away. Rüsul, Phas, Kembü, Abso, Tarva, and all the others who had been interred short of reaching the final island were gone, finally dead though not in the manner their lives had promised. He dropped his face into his hands, sobbing, and the image of them standing there still, burning and dying, lay vivid in his mind. A light snow began to fall as if to mark the moment of pure despair. He whimpered, realizing that at last, Margda’s Silence had ended.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Jorl’s ears spread out at the question and he turned his head toward the unfamiliar voice. A large figure strode toward them from the far end of the yard where the Fant had never been allowed to congregate. The Pandas all lowered their devices but otherwise remained alert. The fire continued to burn.

  “Senator, I wasn’t expecting you for another few days.” Krasnoi’s brusque tone had changed, and Jorl heard worry in it.

  The new arrival’s hair hung so long in places that it had been braided, his fur gray with age. He projected power. His gait held purpose and strength. Metallic threads wove elaborate geometric patterns through the flowing robes he wore, and a chain of black glass links hung from around his neck. Jorl had never met a Bos before, taller than any Fant and easily as broad, but he knew from the horns emerging out of both sides of the fellow’s head that he could be nothing else. More, there was something familiar about him, but Jorl couldn’t place it. The Yak’s voice rang like a deep metal drum, clear and strong, the sound authoritative but not unkind.

  “I’m the chair of the Committee of Information. I didn’t get to that position by being predictable. No doubt you’d have this all cleaned up and sorted by this time tomorrow. A pity then that we’re having this conversation here today and you have to tell me what I’m looking at.”

  Jorl blinked and grasped his nervously twitching trunk with both hands, still staring at the spot where the Dying Fant had stood. It had to be some kind of trick, the stench an illusion, the flames a distraction. You couldn’t just kill people like that!

  He spread his ears as the words of the new arrival muscled their way past both horror and denial and entered his awareness. Every book, every treatise, every paper he’d ever written and submitted for inclusion in any professional journal or conference proceedings had first been vetted by the Committee of Information. From an academician’s perspective, it was the most powerful group within the governing body of the Alliance. Its twenty-five members maintained and regulated all formal education, passed
judgment on all research funding, and pretty much defined the sum total of expert knowledge in existence. He had made it his business to learn about each and every one of them. Only one Yak sat on the committee; Jorl had never met the man, but he had no doubt about his identity or the power he wielded.

  Judging by the subservient tone that had crept into Krasnoi’s voice, the Urs understood the Bos’s authority, too.

  “Senator Bish, I assure you, you have not walked in on anything untoward. Rather, I am simply tying up some loose ends of this project.”

  “Loose ends? I have read all of your mission briefings, Urs-Major, and I don’t recall seeing anything that might account for this. There should be no loose ends.”

  “With all due respect, sir—”

  “Spare me your excuses. This entire project is a violation of the Alliance’s treaty with its own member planet. You shouldn’t even be here, nor I for all that. The only sapient beings permitted on Barsk are Fant. On behalf of the Committee, I set aside that prohibition very reluctantly. So you will understand if I find the need to scrutinize something you choose to describe in such a manner.”

  The Yak had completed his approach as he spoke, skirting the smoldering pit where the Dying Fant had stood, slowing to study each of the Ailuros as he passed, before halting in front of Krasnoi. He stared down at Jorl.

  “Speaking of Fant, this one seems distressed. Also too young, if I understood your acquisition scheme. Why is he here?” Bish paused. He turned his shaggy head with slow deliberation, an acquired habit necessary given his horns. “Again speaking of Fant, where are they?”

  “I determined their usefulness had come to an end. In actual fact, as I’ll be detailing in my report, hindsight reveals that they never had any information of value.”

  “Hindsight? That’s just lovely. We trample over these people’s Compact, abduct and detain their citizens, and you’re telling me you failed to learn anything useful. I also note that you’ve failed to answer my question. I will ask you one more time. Where are they?”

  Jorl lurched up to his knees. “He killed them!”

  “They were already dead,” said Krasnoi. He looked as if he might kick the Lox, but stopped short at a tight-lipped shake of the Bos’s head.

  “Tell me, Major, how do you kill the dead?”

  “A … minor exaggeration, Senator. They were all on their way to die, would have been dead already had my people not interfered and brought them here, I—”

  Quicker than Jorl had expected an old man could move, the Yak brought a hand up and pressed two fingers to the Bear’s mouth.

  “Shh, hush, Major. Words are precious things. Don’t waste what might be the last ones you have. According to your reports, you acquired two hundred seventeen Fant. I see one remaining. Unless you correct my impression, I am to understand you have taken it upon yourself to murder the other two hundred sixteen. Do I have that right? Ah, hold a moment.” He paused and glanced back the way he’d come. “Druz, tell me you acquired all of that.”

  A second arrival caught Jorl’s attention. A slow-moving Brady had trailed after the Bos, catching up at last. She wore a shapeless kaftan that shifted with dark colors; lenses throughout the folds of her clothing glimmered with reflected light from the fire. “Yes, sir, it’s all been recorded, both audio and video.”

  The senator turned back to Krasnoi, lowering his hand from the Bear’s mouth. “You were about to say?”

  “With respect, sir, this is a sanctioned military action, I take offense at your use of the word murder.”

  “You’re quite right, I misspoke. I should have said mass murder.”

  “Senator!”

  “The Committee granted you broad discretionary authority to acquire the information we required, but that does not equate with a license for senseless slaughter.”

  “They would all have been dead by now anyway! They had all chosen to die.”

  The senator frowned and waved Druz closer. When the Sloth arrived at his side the Yak reached a hand down to help Jorl to his feet, and kept hold of his arm as he spoke to his aide.

  “You have the Fant medical data in your system?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the Brady. “Both Lox and Eleph. A moment.” She lifted her arms and passed the massive sleeves of her garment back and forth over Jorl in a languid gesture. Bits gleamed upon them. “He’s in shock, sir. I also note several bruised ribs, and an unusual reading that I suspect comes from the luminescent mark on his forehead.”

  Bish turned back to Jorl. “You said that the major killed your people. I need you to be clear and factual now, for the record. How do you know this thing? Did you see it yourself?”

  Jorl pointed past the arc of security guards to the still-smoldering pit behind them. He struggled to keep his voice from trembling as he answered. “Right there. He gathered them up and burned them where they stood. Melted the ground out from under them, it was so hot. Can’t you smell it? They’re just ash and sludge now.”

  “The major did it himself?”

  “No,” sobbed Jorl. “The Pandas did the actual burning. But he ordered it. I was right here next to him. If you’d arrived just a bit sooner … they were all here, all still alive…”

  “Take your time, Son. You’ve been through a lot. No one should have to see what you’ve witnessed.” A signal passed between the senator and his aid.

  She stepped close again, bringing her right arm up, then hesitated.

  “May I touch you?”

  Jorl nodded, and the Brady’s three-fingered hand pressed lightly against his neck. In the next instant, something shot from her sleeve, injecting him.

  “What did you give me?”

  “A cocktail common in traumatic situations. An analgesic for physical pain. A mnemonic marker, to make it easier for a physician to edit out your memory of this event, should you later choose to do so. And a tranquilizer to ease the experience in the here and now.” She stepped back, nodding first to him and then to the Bos as her long arm within its longer sleeve dropped back to her side.

  The senator returned the nod and then focused on Jorl once more. “What’s your name?”

  “Jorl ben Tral.”

  “Well, Jorl, although Barsk may have chosen isolation among the terms of your Compact, it is nonetheless a part of our Alliance. You’ve probably never given it a thought, lacking any formal representatives of your own, but I and my fellow senators were elected to serve all citizens and secure their best interests. There can be no just governance without responsibility and accountability. Isn’t that right, Druz?”

  The Sloth had edged closer to the Bear. She raised her hand, the left one this time, and let it rest it gingerly against Krasnoi’s chest, the folds of her sleeve hanging open below her wrist. Now she lifted her chin in the beginning of a nod to indicate the major should speak.

  “Senator, the situation underwent an extreme change today. There hasn’t even been time to begin formulating the reports.”

  Without taking his kindly eyes off Jorl, Bish responded to Krasnoi, “Summarize.”

  “Our telepathic asset reviewed all of the Fant. She did it in one afternoon—”

  “Impossible. Her test scores indicate she lacks the strength of will for such a thing. Lutr are too undisciplined and indolent.”

  “Nevertheless, she accomplished it. Perhaps her time on the station, working on the project, taught her some steel.”

  The senator seemed to consider this, the tips of his horns glinting in the snowfall. “Continue.”

  “She confirmed that none of the Fant had the information we seek, but that this one has a connection to one who does, a deceased expert. I’ve sent her back up to the station where she can use her koph to Speak and probe him. And then we’ll be done.”

  “Done with what?” asked Jorl. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”

  “Koph, Son,” said the senator. “The Alliance needs to control the drug Speakers use.”

  “But you already do. You choose h
ow much and where to distribute.”

  “In part that’s true, but we don’t control its manufacture. Alliance chemists have managed to reverse engineer many of the substances that you export, but not koph. To be honest, we’ve barely a clue what it’s made from, let alone how to do it. And it’s too important to leave entirely in your hands. That’s just not a position the senate can accept. But we couldn’t simply come out and ask, now could we?”

  “All of this, just so you could learn the refinement process to manufacture koph?”

  “A bit more, actually. As chair of the committee, I instituted a team of specialist advisors, precognitivists actually. They have had visions of something more, a new drug, which we would only discover by pursuing greater knowledge of koph. That’s why the major was authorized to trespass on your Compact, to stimulate the events that would allow us to acquire that knowledge. And I have to say, his initial proposal seemed solid: acquire and question Fant who would not be missed.”

  “But none of them had what you wanted. None of them knew anything.” Jorl’s voice cracked and he fanned his ears trying to keep the tears from his eyes, not caring if it offended or upset the senator.

  “But you do. I have that right, Major? Jorl here has that knowledge?”

  “Indirectly, sir. He knows the dead Fant who knows.”

  “That’s good. That’s very good. Now take a deep breath, Jorl. Have the medications calmed you enough? I need you to understand very clearly what I’m about to tell you.” Senator Bish gently wiped a finger under each of Jorl’s eyes, drying his face.

  “But he—”

  “I’ll deal with him in a moment; you have my word. But this must come first. You heard me say that the senate must be responsible to the entire Alliance. That’s why I’m here now, even though it’s against the law established by your Compact. This is just one planet, albeit it’s turned out to be an important one. And the Fant, both Eleph and Lox, combine to barely a million people. It’s wrong for you to hold thousands of other planets and hundreds of billions of other people hostage to your own desires. I hope you can appreciate that; you seem like a reasonable young man. So I want to be clear, Son. I will have that knowledge from you. It’s more important than you or me or even this entire planet. Pursuing the secret of koph will lead to the greatest good for the Alliance. No sacrifice is too great, no action too extreme. I would authorize the extermination of your entire race if it served this higher need.”