Trial by Fire

by Charles E Gannon

  The translator rendered Apt-Counsel’s voice as a soothing baritone. “With respect, Mr. Riordan, I seem to recall learning that you were involved in combat yourself that day. Even though you were an ambassador.”

  “Yes, I was involved in combat—after my Hkh’Rkh ‘guards’ tried to filet me and I had to flee the command center. What was your excuse?”

  “From what I heard of your conversation with Darzhee Kut, you were attempting to secure further capitulations and seizures of Arat Kur shift-hulls. The more of those which fell into human hands, the greater the peril to our allies and ultimately ourselves. I acted to disrupt, and hopefully defeat, that process.”

  “So you took on a combat role without being forced into it or physically provoked or endangered.”

  “At that one instant, yes.”

  “Sorry, Apt-Counsel. Diplomatic immunity and status is like virginity: once you give it up, you can’t get it back.”

  Sukhinin had flushed a very dark shade of red. “Da, Caine. This is how it has ever been, as it should ever be. But . . .”

  “But you’ve made an exception this time, haven’t you?”

  Visser straightened her five foot, five inches to ramrod attention. “The World Confederation’s Council did not wish to, but ultimately, we had no choice. Ambassador Apt-Counsel-of-Lenses is the only representative of his species anywhere near Earth—”

  —so far as you know or he admits—

  “—and his diplomatic credentials were among the dozen or so presented to us at Convocation as possible future liaisons. He is authorized to speak for his people, and may thus be instrumental in ending this war, particularly if he can help persuade the Arat Kur that they must concede. We had no choice but to reextend his diplomatic privileges. He has given his word that he will not abuse them again.”

  So now he’s promised he’ll behave. I feel safer already. Aloud: “So, now he’s going to help us?”

  “I will do what I can to bring an end to these hostilities,” Apt-Counsel supplied.

  “Oh, good—because I was afraid you might be here to stab us in the back. Just a figure of speech, you understand.”

  Caine had the impression that Visser was going to stamp her foot. “Mr. Riordan, please!”

  “It is quite all right, Consul Visser. I can hardly expect Mr. Riordan to feel otherwise. Although, for my part, Mr. Riordan, I am glad to see that you are on your feet and almost recovered.”

  “Why? Looking to get in a little more target practice with your trick arm?”

  “Mr. Riordan, you may find it improbable, but, since my side lost, I am glad that you survived my attack. I am sorry to have made it at all.”

  “Sure. None of us likes failure.”

  “No, Mr. Riordan. That is not my reason. I accept that in war there must be loss of life and, often, duplicity. But that makes it no less regrettable. In your case, had you been killed in Jakarta, it would have made no difference to the current outcome. And so, your death would have been pointless. I am glad, therefore, in retrospect, that you survived.”

  “How very rational of you, Apt-Counsel.”

  “Despite your clearly sarcastic intent, I thank you.”

  Always the unflappable smooth talker, aren’t you, Apt-Counsel? If I remember my Bible stories a-right, some other indefatigable plotter of humanity’s downfall evinced that very same attribute, along with being the Prince of Lies. Caine turned to Sukhinin. “So, has Apt-Counsel managed to thaw the current state of affairs with the Arat Kur?”

  The Russian, his hair streaked with far more white and gray than when Caine had last seen him, shook his head; his jowls waggled to emphasize the negative. “No, nothing yet. He has tried to contact the leadership of the Wholenest. They will not respond.”

  “Not even to ask for proof of his identity?”

  “No response whatsoever.”

  “That is hardly surprising, Mr. Riordan,” explained Apt-Counsel. “Since the Arat Kur have not seen Ktorans any more than your race has, you yourselves could manufacture a device such as my suit to dupe them. And how would they know the difference until it was too late? The Arat Kur seem to be quite suspicious of such attempts at deception.”

  Caine kept his focus on Sukhinin. “And that’s it? No other insights from our esteemed and trustworthy Ktoran ambassador?”

  “Nothing, except he too agrees that the situation is hopeless.”

  “He what?”

  Apt-Counsel rolled about a foot closer to the platform. Caine watched for the angle of the manipulator arm, saw that it had not been replaced. And saw that the other arm was missing as well: a prudent precaution. “We Ktor have dealt with the Arat Kur far longer than you have. We know their speciate tendencies and characteristics. They do not act or decide rashly, but once they have, they are slow to change.”

  Sukhinin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Caine, you know how this standoff must end. Even if we wished to do otherwise—and I do not intend to leave this system until the Arat Kur are no longer a threat—we are under orders from the Confederation Council. The final contingency, which was approved unanimously, is quite clear.”

  “Wholesale murder of an entire species.”

  Visser closed her eyes. “Mr. Riordan, none of us like this alternative, but we have already exceeded the maximum time allowed for negotiation and capitulation. We must act in accordance with our orders. And as Apt-Counsel has pointed out, we may have less time than our analysts originally conjectured.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  Apt-Counsel’s voice was smooth and unperturbed. “Your command staff’s assessment on the disposition of the Arat Kur fleet in AC+54 1646-56 presumed that it would either be completely preaccelerated, or completely in defensive station-keeping. We have observed that Arat Kur defense postures are not always so uniform. For instance, the majority of their fleet might remain in a ready posture, but a small number of hulls might be preaccelerated, to function either individually as couriers, or collectively as a small strike squadron.”

  “And do we think that a small strike squadron could destroy us so easily?” Caine looked from Visser to Sukhinin.

  The Russian frowned and shrugged. “Who can say? And what if the Arat Kur have not used all their drones here? What if some are still hidden, such as we had on Luna?”

  “But I thought that the number of drones we destroyed here met, and even slightly exceeded, the numbers we expected to find, based on captured Arat Kur force-deployment rosters.”

  “Da, that is true. But what if their line commanders were not provided with full accountings of the reserve forces? If that is the case, a small strike squadron could arrive, activate a second wave of hidden defense drones, and damage us so badly that we cannot finish our job here.”

  Caine nodded, but thought, Something’s not right here. Apt-Counsel has got Visser and Sukhinin panicked. Me too, almost. And that means we’re probably not thinking clearly. He turned to the Ktor. “I find this all a bit strange, Mr. Ambassador.”

  “Admittedly, it would be unusual for the Arat Kur to have a strike force preaccelerated—”

  “That’s not what I mean, Apt-Counsel. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be the Arat Kurs’ ally?”

  There was a long silence. “Yes.”

  “Then I’m a little puzzled. I understand why you are trying to help us contact the Wholenest leadership, but I don’t see how sharing your knowledge of Arat Kur military protocols is consistent with your role as their ‘ally.’”

  “My earlier misdeeds made it incumbent upon me to make an extraordinary show of good faith. Strategically significant revelations were the only way I could readily earn your trust. Also, by presenting all the dangerous and uncertain military variables, it underscored the volatility of the situation. That, in turn, would logically make both parties see the urgency of reaching a peaceful settlement as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, I did not foresee that I would be ignored or rebuffed by the Arat Kur leadership.”

  Every explanatio
n seems plausible, but still—

  The door opened. Ben Hwang entered, Darzhee Kut after him. Alnduul brought up the rear. Sukhinin, seeing Darzhee Kut, straightened, suddenly a redoubtable general of the Motherland. Caine could almost see the absent uniform and the litter of medals jostling for position on the left side of his chest. “Dr. Hwang, Ambassador Alnduul, at best, you failed to request permission to enter. At worst, you have brought a sworn enemy into a highly classified briefing and discussion.”

  Darzhee Kut’s claws scissored and waved fitfully, far more animated than they had seemed to Caine only half an hour earlier. It was as if the Arat Kur had awakened out of a haze or a drugged state, just as he had when he recovered from his extended isolation on board the auxiliary command module. “Please. Do not dismiss me. I wish to talk to the Elders of the Wholenest.”

  Sukhinin shook his head. “Talk is over. Now we finish what you started.”

  “But I have rested enough and emerged from fugue. I am able to speak once again. I cannot be sure Homenest will listen to me, but I must try.”

  Before anyone else could respond, Apt-Counsel spoke. “Delegate Kut, it pains me to observe that the only thing which has changed between now and the weeks prior is that Mr. Riordan has visited you. And from that visit, you may have inferred or learned what the humans can now do to your planet, and how close they are to carrying it out.”

  “What if that is true? Is that not a reasonable motivation to speak?”

  “It is also a reasonable motivation to advise your leaders to do what they have not tried yet: to engage the humans in negotiations for the purpose of stalling long enough for a strike force to arrive.”

  Yeah, Apt-Counsel, but if you’re his ally, then why aren’t you helping him achieve that deception? Is this another attempt to prove your good faith by helping us—or are you jumping ship, maybe with an eye to eventually courting us as allies, the way you did at the Convocation?

  Caine instinctively flinched away from that explanation. If anything, it was too simple, too obvious. But Apt-Counsel’s “observations” had galvanized human anxiety, had focused their attention upon the horrible necessity of ending the war with an act of genocide.

  So, behind the first smokescreen of fear, Apt-Counsel might be indirectly trying to once again curry favor with humanity. But that, too, was too easy to foresee. So what was Apt-Counsel trying to achieve, behind both smokescreens, that would benefit the Ktor?

  Darzhee Kut was rotating to face Caine, claws raised in appeal. “Riordan, please. I must speak to the Elders.”

  I’ve got to intervene, but I’ve got to make sure that I’m not stepping into a trap. With the Ktor, there was always the unseen dagger, the half-lie that wasn’t clear enough to call attention to itself when first uttered. Such as Apt-Counsel’s earlier claim that he only back-shot Caine to prevent the humans from capturing the Arat Kur ships. In retrospect, that was rubbish: when the Ktor had attacked, the radio was already being made available to Darzhee Kut. So eliminating Caine was no longer a military objective when the Ktor attempted it.

  Caine’s thoughts snagged on another troubling detail. Apt-Counsel’s attack also removed me before I could intercede in regard to their ground force suicides. So, another way to look at his actions would be this: after the Arat Kur ships were already lost, he was still willing to kill me to make sure that even the planetside Arat Kur died. But why?

  One tentative answer offered itself. The Arat Kur suicides and ship scuttlings do have one thing in common. They ensured that human and Arat Kur would share an intense mutual hatred, that they would no longer wish to communicate their thoughts or intents to each other except through weapons of mass destruction.

  A reasonable hypothesis, insofar as it explained why Apt-Counsel attacked Caine five months ago. But it did not explain why he would help humans now. Indeed, if the Ktor objective was to keep enmity absolute and war perpetual between the two races, Apt-Counsel was defeating his own purpose. If the Arat Kur were exterminated, there would be no further interspeciate conflict to exploit.

  It doesn’t add up. I’m missing something. And Caine felt that as each sliver of a second slipped past, the undeterred momentum was building toward atrocity. I’ve got to do, to say, something, if only to buy some time. He turned toward Sukhinin, unsure what he was going to say, but sure that he had to intervene before—

  Ben Hwang’s voice was quiet, just above a whisper, in his left ear. “Caine, do you have a moment?”

  Damn. “Not really, Ben. What’s it about?”

  “The Ktor.”

  “Oh?” “Know thy enemy”—so always take the time to learn about them. Even now. No, particularly now. “Sure.”

  Ben gestured toward the reading lounge with a bend of his head, moved in that direction. Caine followed, making an apologetic gesture toward Sukhinin.

  Hwang turned to face him as soon as they were in the small lounge. “I’m sorry I didn’t have this sooner. With the push to reverse-engineer and then manufacture the Arat Kur virus—”

  “I know. Not much time for the other projects you had going. But we don’t have much time now, either. What do you have on the Ktor, Ben?”

  “More mysteries, I’m afraid. I’ve had our three top xenophysiologists and macromolecular chemists working on simulations and biochemical models which would show how the exhausts from the Ktor environmental unit could be produced as the waste products, the ‘exhalations,’ of an ultra-cold-temperature organism.”

  “And they’re still stumped.”

  “Worse than that. They’ve concluded that, according to the laws of biological heat and energy exchange as we understand them, these gases simply do not fit with any foreseeable model of life based on methane, ammonia, or hydrogen fluorine. And so far as we know, those are the only three low-temperature compounds which are flexible and volatile enough to serve as the building blocks of a subzero, non-carbon-based biochemistry.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means that either my team is not up to the task, or that these gases aren’t what the Ktor ‘exhale.’ And we know for sure they can’t be the gases they actually ‘inhale.’”

  “How?”

  “Because that gas mix can’t do the job of transmitting the necessary reactants to a cold-climate organism. The per molecule potential energy of cold weather gases is a great deal lower than those which are predominant in higher temperature regimes. So, according to our models, low-temperature creatures would logically need a very reactant-rich atmosphere, comparatively speaking. Unfortunately, the mix coming out of those oversized hot-water heaters couldn’t sustain a mouse-sized organism.”

  Caine nodded, thought. “How confident are you of the team’s abilities?”

  “Two were Nobel nominees. The third is a laureate.”

  “I see. So, if we assume that your tragically underskilled team isn’t at fault, then all your findings add up to—what?”

  “The first mystery.”

  “There’s another?”

  “Yes.” Hwang’s tone became a little more formal, a little more measured. “We have noted some oddities in Ktoran artifacture.”

  “Their artifacture? Where did you find any of their artifacture lying around?”

  “It was not lying around. It was embedded in your back.”

  Of course. The manipulator arm would be a piece of invaluable forensic data. “Go on. What’s the mystery?”

  “Its manner of production. We have subjected all of its components—the metal, plastic, and carbon-composite fittings—to extensive analysis. Everything from gross physical measurement to subatomic scans.”

  “And?”

  “And the lab studies return normative results on the probable fabrication processes involved in its construction. It’s just lightweight steel, with all the expected amounts of carbon, trace elements, surface annealing and ion-bonding. And atomic analysis shows that the polymers in the plastics are not synthetics. They were clearly derived from natural
petroleum products. In other words, fossil fuel deposits.”

  Caine frowned. “Wait a minute. If the Ktor come from a world where the life-forms are not carbon-based, then how the hell is it possible for them to have access to fossilized hydrocarbons?”

  “That’s just the problem. It shouldn’t be possible, not unless the Ktor decided to go to our kind of environment to mine the components used in the creation of this object. And furthermore, they must have also decided to manufacture the arm there, too.”

  “What leads you to that conclusion?”

  “Because given the building blocks of life in a cold-climate biochemistry, and the indigenous atmosphere, ores, and temperatures which they imply, we should be observing different trace elements. We should also be detecting telltale signs of the different kinds of manufacturing processes which would be developed by, and used in, environments where the mean temperature is someplace south of minus-eighty Celsius. And to reemphasize your point, there shouldn’t be any fossil fuel deposits on their planets, at least not the carbon-based variety that are used to make plastics.”

  “Well, as you said, Ben, they might have simply gone to a world like ours to harvest those resources.”

  “Yes, but why would they? In order to travel to other worlds, the Ktor had to leave their own first. That makes it a certainty that, long before being able to mine other worlds, they had to evolve the equivalent of plastics using their own methods and resources. Meaning, by the time they had access to fossil fuels, they would no longer need them.”

  Caine nodded. “And we would certainly expect to see some use of their own plastic equivalents in their artifacts.”

  Hwang shrugged. “It’s what one would expect. But almost every piece of their machinery scans—and looks—like something we ourselves would have manufactured.”

  “Like something we ourselves—?” And Caine felt his mind stop, spin, access a piece of data that he knew was significant even before he could reason out why. He found himself seeing the wisps of vapor curling away from Apt-Counsel’s life-support unit, found himself hearing his words again: “Since the Arat Kur have not seen Ktorans any more than your race has, you yourselves could manufacture a device such as my suit to dupe them.”