Trial by Fire

by Charles E Gannon

  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 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.”

  Darzhee Kut watched as Yaargraukh looked to First Voice for permission to speak, watched him lay his immense “hands” flat and calm upon the table when First Voice nodded. This one is prudent—even by our standards.

  “Hu’urs Khraam, with respect for the excellence of your warships and the valor of ours, did you not find it unusual how quickly and easily the humans were overcome? And how many of them seemed to suffer catastrophic destruction as a result of their fusion reactors losing containment? I suspected, from the advance intelligence, that their ships would be more robust and would give us a sharper fight.”

  “I agree,” Hu’urs Khraam answered, “but we cannot pause to question our good fortune overmuch. I am told that it would be most instructive if we had had time to conduct post-action analysis of the wreckage. But, as you say, the destruction was so complete, that it would be a lengthy task to locate and retrieve all the significant pieces, and even so, we might not learn anything of use. But most importantly, your suzerain First Voice and I harmonize fully on this one strategic principle: we must retain the initiative that we have seized with this victory. We will shift to the Sol system before the Prometheus has completed its preacceleration, and will thus arrive before Earth can be warned of our approach. That is the advantage we must not sacrifice. And once there, I predict we will have ample opportunity to survey all the human wreckage we might wish.”

  Graagkhruud’s tongue flicked twice; he had noted and enjoyed Hu’urs’ concluding witticism.

  Darzhee Kut bobbed for recognition, received it from Hu’urs Khraam. “Could a human fleet be waiting at Ross 154, preaccelerated and ready to shift here—to Barnard’s Star—as soon as our flotilla arrives there? If so, they would ‘get behind’ the force we are sending to wall up those warships that we think are out along their Green Mains.”

  Hu’urs Khraam bobbed a slow, profound approval. “This is well-worried, Darzhee Kut. However, if they try such a trick, they will be in dire circumstances. If our flotilla arrives at Ross 154 and finds that a human fleet has just shifted out, our fleet will be able to preaccelerate and give chase in twenty days. However, once arriving here in Barnard’s Star, human ships from Ross 154, constrained to use frontier refueling, would probably require at least forty days—five of fueling and thirty-five of preacceleration—before they can get out-system. In that time, we would assault and seize Ross 154, refuel, preaccelerate and arrive back here almost three weeks before they could leave. Our high-speed drones would be able to pursue, maybe disable, some of them, and delay the rest. And even so, we would be ready to shift again just as soon—or before—they are.”

  Darzhee Kut bobbed his appreciation for the answer—and turned when First Voice called his name. “Speaker Kut, has your interrogation of the human prisoners furnished any new perspectives that bear upon our current invasion plans?”

  Darzhee was considering how best to emphasize—again—that the humans were not prisoners, when Hu’urs Khraam intervened. “First Voice, I have screened the recordings made of Speaker Kut’s conversations with the two humans. Neither of them are familiar with our projected area of groundside operations and have not been on Earth for over half a year. They seem to have little information relevant to that aspect of our invasion. And while they were not stunned at our attack, nor that the Hkh’Rkh were our allies in it, they were surprised that we were able to mount it so quickly after the conclusion of the Convocation.”

  “And their knowledge of broader military deployment?”

  “Neither human is privy to recent information of this kind. However, their inability to confirm or contradict our assessments is not worrisome. We consider our present sources most reliable.”

  “Who are these sources?” First Voice asked.

  The First Delegate himself answered. “They are several.” Darzhee Kut noted the curious evasiveness of Hu’urs Khraam’s response; if First Voice had also, he did not press the point. “Indeed, their own broadcasts are not the least among these.”

  “That intelligence must be at least ten years old.”

  “Slightly more, actually, but we believe it to be serviceable. The most pertinent facts have not changed significantly since then. Indonesia is still a nation plagued by overpopulation, poverty, pollution, poor resource management, and inadequate public utilities. Several political separatist factions still operate within its borders, as well as the Pan-Islamic religious insurgency that has been globally active for more than a century now. The population harbors resentments against both its own government and the Earth’s dominant nations for its condition.”

  “And this is where the humans elected to build their orbital-launch mass driver?” Graagkhruud scoffed. “Were they mad?”

  Urzueth picked up the tale. “Our sources indicate that the mass driver was an attempt to economically strengthen the nation, to foster foreign trade and investment, and to thereby assuage the general dissatisfaction that fueled the various insurgencies. Besides, the island of Java was a logical location. It sits astride or near several major shipping routes, including the singularly important Strait of Malacca. It is close to the equator and its mountainous spine was a natural support for the mass driver’s long, high-angle, electromagnetic launch tube. Labor costs were cheap and local environmental restrictions—what few there were—were easily waived.”

  First Voice waggled his body where his neck spread out into extremely sloped shoulders. “All reasons for us to seize the island. I understand. But I am concerned that the population is too large to control without resorting to—
extreme measures.”

  “We predict otherwise. Firstly, as I have mentioned, some of our sources are based within the general region and others represent globally-pervasive megacorporations that have expressed sympathy for our plans.”

  “They would take allegiance against their own world?” Graagkhruud’s voice was a choking roll of phlegm.

  “They would, in order to be its leaders when we depart.”

  Yaargraukh shifted in his seat. “Allies bought with money and promises are only allies until they find a higher bidder.” For the first time that he could remember, Darzhee Kut saw First Fist Graagkhruud pony-nod in agreement with something that Advocate Yaargraukh had said.

  “We are very cognizant of this,” replied Hu’urs Khraam. “However, our human allies stand much to gain immediately upon our arrival, and yet, have little influence over the outcome of our campaign, which enjoys the advantage of being conducted on an isolated land mass. As an island nation, Indonesia affords us a geographically finite periphery, the borders of which are easily scanned and interdicted, given our absolute air superiority and orbital fire support. This allows us to annihilate counterattacks mounted by air or sea, and to bring decisive and accurate fire to bear upon any indigenous insurgents. We have elected to restrict operations to the islands of Java, as per your suggestions. There is no reason to overstretch our already limited forces.”

  “All quite prudent, but what of their submarines?” First Voice almost sounded fretful. “I am familiar with the problems of detecting these craft from the few wars in which we used them. Even our sensors cannot detect them at depths greater than five hundred meters, if they are following stealth protocols.”

  Darzhee Kut hid the amused quivering of his taste-polyps. You also don’t want to admit that you’re upset because the human nautical technology is vastly superior to your own.

  Hu’urs Khraam spread his claws. “Controlling the submarines is a concern, but we have complete confidence in our maritime sensors, undersea drones, and especially the purpose-built airphibian vehicles we have with us. But we must also remember that the human submarines are dated craft. Most are over forty years old and are scheduled to be decommissioned. Besides, how large a counterinvasion force can they mount from such vessels?”