by Yoon Ha Lee
“Not true,” Jedao said.
Ko saw Cheris frowning and stopped speaking.
“People have trouble thinking of the Liozh as anything but failures. But there was a time when they brought something valuable to the heptarchate. They were the idealists and philosophers. They were our leaders and our conscience. No wonder they developed a taste for heresy.”
Cheris repeated this to Ko, except the first and last bits. She couldn’t reconcile Jedao’s earlier callousness with the way he spoke of the Liozh now. What did he really think of them?
“For that to show up in the Fortress’s atmospherics,” Ko said, “someone would have had to do a lot of low-media groundwork over a period of time. I’d be worried if the foreigners are that deeply entrenched.
“But the third point is possible good news, sir.” Ko’s usual implacability was replaced by a certain restrained triumph. “Properly, this should be reported by Captain Damiod, but he, ah, felt he was close to a breakthrough and asked me to do so on his behalf.”
Cheris suppressed a smile. She could interpret Nirai for “I’m busy calculating, don’t waste my time with people” as well as anyone else. “Go on,” she said.
“Captain Damiod thinks there’s a potential exploit in the way they’re encrypting their messages.” Before Cheris could ask, Ko held up a hand. “The work is preliminary and may not bear fruit. But essentially, someone screwed up. 67 Snake’s seed parameters are driven by a combination of user input – the irregular time between keystrokes – and a synchronizer set to work with a high calendar clock. When the Fortress recalibrated its time servers to conform with the heretical calendar, they forgot to rewrite the synchronizer to work with the new setup.”
“I’m not a cryptosystems specialist,” Cheris said, “but I’m guessing this isn’t a fast crack.”
“No, sir.”
“As time permits,” Cheris said, “I would like you to continue work on a dummy cryptosystem with the parameters I sent you.” Something that looked formidable but could be cracked within a reasonable period of time by a diligent attacker. “We may need it in the near future.”
“Of course, sir.” That was all.
“Sir, do you have a response for Inaiga Zai?” It was Commander Hazan, who had been replaying the message with the sound off so he could scrutinize Zai’s expressions. Zai had good control of her face and hands.
“Unfortunately, there’s not a lot you can offer Zai,” Jedao said. “The heretics know the Vidona are coming for them, and even if you were authorized to make promises, they wouldn’t believe you. Their only choice is to fight.”
“Some indication from Kel Command would be useful right now,” Cheris said aloud. “Communications, top priority message to be relayed to Kel Command.”
“Are you certain, sir?” Hazan asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him, but it was a legitimate question. “We’ve heard nothing back from Kel Command,” she said, although she had reported regularly. “With this deadline, word might not reach them in time. If we send a relay message with the right tags, there’s a chance some local general will listen in and respond. Do you wish to log an objection, Commander?”
Nerevor would have, but Nerevor was gone. Cheris suspected that Hazan would be satisfied with the offer.
She was right. “That’s not necessary, sir,” Hazan said. “I concede your logic.”
Cheris updated Kel Command on the situation, asked for further details on Inaiga Zai, and requested the status of the nearby borders. “Does that cover everything?” she asked Jedao subvocally.
“The data dump ought to take care of any lingering questions,” he said. “Might as well send it on its way.”
Communications looked at her anxiously, but did as told.
The Fortress quieted. Every so often a Shuos reported in, and even more rarely Colonel Ragath contacted the command moth, but the situation had settled into a toothy status quo. Every so often Cheris checked the plot showing Kel positions, where the heretics were standing out of the way, and the corrosion gradient’s extent.
After a while, Cheris excused herself from the command center. Three servitors escorted her, unbidden. Two were deltaforms, differentiated by yellow and purple lights, and one was a snakeform. They accompanied her into her quarters. The rooms that had seemed so oversized before scarcely registered as worthy of notice. She stopped before the ashhawk emblem, trying to find some trace of herself in the fierce raptor’s beak, the black wings, the outstretched talons. Sheathed Wings: that was all she was.
The snakeform asked if Cheris was hungry. She demurred. She could tell Jedao disapproved, even if he wasn’t saying anything. “It must be convenient to run on power cores,” she said.
The snakeform made an equivocal noise. Clearly it agreed with Jedao.
“They’re very solicitous of you,” Jedao said.
“They like company,” Cheris said subvocally. “I should think you’d understand that.”
“True.”
The response to her message came in the middle of a drama episode about, as far as she or the servitors could tell, five Kel, an Andan duelist’s telescoping hairpins, and a dinner party gone horribly wrong. The purple deltaform paused the episode for her.
“Communications, sir,” the lieutenant’s voice said from the terminal. “It’s not Kel Command –”
So much for that.
“– but there’s a signature match for Brigadier General Kel Marish, bannering the Higher Higher Highest. The transmission request has urgent priority, for your eyes only.”
The servitors were already clearing out.
Kel Marish of the Eyespike emblem. She had once shouted down a court-martial charging her with overly creative interpretation of orders against the Haussen heretics, and won. Cheris was remembering that her luck this entire campaign was bad.
“Send it through,” Cheris said. Of all the generals to reach.
Kel Marish wore her uniform with a casual air, even though no single crease was out of place. She had the kind of face you’d expect a card shark to develop among challenging opponents, all ascetic angles and unreadable eyes in a blunt dark face. “Brevet General Kel Cheris,” she said, not insultingly but formally. “If Kel Command hasn’t seen fit to share this information with you, I oughtn’t either, but I feel you can’t adequately discharge your duty otherwise.”
“General Marish,” Cheris said, “I’m listening. Is it true that we have an enemy swarm incoming?”
“Oh, it’s not just incoming,” Marish said. Her sneer wasn’t directed at Cheris. “We have a full-scale Hafn invasion with messy calendrical business headed toward the Fortress of Spinshot Coins. General Cherkad has been given charge of the campaign, and I’ve been pulled off sentry to assist near the Jeweled Systems.”
“The Hafn have been quiescent for decades,” Cheris said. “Wasn’t there an Andan cultural exchange just two years ago?”
“The fact that the Hafn got along with the Andan should have tipped us off. Everyone thinks of the Shuos as the sneaky snailfuckers, but the Andan are so damn affable and charming and fun to be around up to the point where they stab you in the kidneys.
“Anyway, General Cheris, you should have been informed ages ago. The fact that Kel Command chose to keep you in the dark says they’re afraid you’ll turn coat. Word is there’s a Shuos in one of the subcommand composites. I shouldn’t wonder if that’s fouling up their judgment.”
“Hexarch Mikodez,” Jedao said, very softly.
“What do you expect me to do with this information?” Cheris asked, swallowing a “sir.”
“Terrible, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to talk to you, and with your brevet you outrank me. If you ask my advice, I’d say take the Fortress of Scattered Needles as fast as you can. The calendrical fingerprints will affect us in the contested sector, and the Hafn will want the nexus for themselves. If we fail, General, blow the thing to atoms. Deny it to the Hafn. – Can I have a word with General Jedao? Is he in t
here somewhere?”
Of course. Marish couldn’t currently see Cheris’s shadow. The angle was wrong, and people outside her swarm didn’t know how anchoring worked. Changing the lights only took a moment. Marish’s eyes flickered as she took the ninefox shadow in.
“I speak for General Shuos Jedao,” Cheris said, “and he can hear you fine.”
“General Jedao,” Marish said.
“I’m listening,” Jedao said with frank interest. Cheris repeated the words.
“I’m a Kel, sir, but I have a brain to think with,” Marish said. “The hexarchate has gone curdled. They should have decided whether to trust you and the brevet from the start, all in or all out, none of this insipid indecisive shit.
“I’m sworn to Kel Command and I’m due to fight soon and very likely die. I imagine your brevet is constrained by formation instinct. But you, sir – you’re out of the cradle so it’s too late not to trust you, and formation instinct is before your time even if you weren’t a Shuos. All in or all out. You won’t scruple over what needs doing. Fix what has to be fixed in the hexarchate, sir. You’re the weapon we have left. Brigadier General Marish out.”
“I knew things were bad,” Jedao said after that, “but I hadn’t realized just how bad. Cheris, Kel Command and I have a” – wry pause – “complicated relationship. However, in times past they have recognized that I need a certain minimum of information to be able to operate on their behalf. Now it seems that they’re hanging us out to dry. I can’t help but think that Shuos oversight has to do with it, given how much my hexarch considers me a mismanaged resource.
“Still, something’s changed since they sent us forth. It’s as if they think we’re going to take the Fortress and use it against them, although I can’t imagine how they think I’m going to escape an entire swarm of Kel. This entire siege has turned into a loyalty test.”
“Then why not recall us?” Cheris said.
“Because we’re here. They’ve already written us off. If we get the job done, then great. Otherwise, they undoubtedly have some backup plan already in motion. I would give a lot to be eavesdropping on the hivemind right now.” His voice quieted. “I don’t think our exchange with General Marish is going to help us. Or her, for that matter.”
“She wouldn’t care,” Cheris said, thinking about Kel Marish’s reputation. “She thinks she’s going to her death.”
“That’s the trouble with the best suicide hawks,” Jedao said softly, “you burn out so quickly.”
Cheris was already out the door and heading for the command center. She was shaken by Marish’s directness, but she couldn’t unknow what she’d been told. All that remained was to make the best use of the information that she could, and try not to think about how Kel Command might punish Marish if she survived.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Fortress of Scattered Needles, Analysis
Priority: High
From:: Vahenz afrir dai Noum
To: Heptarch Liozh Zai
Calendrical Minutiae: Year of the Fatted Cow, Month of the Peahen, Day of the Onager, Hour of the Greenback Beetle. Dare I ask what agricultural role the beetle fulfills? Farming isn’t my strong suit and the grid’s article on the topic was stultifyingly boring.
I realize you’ve seen three other reports from me in as many hours, but make time for this one, my dear Zai. It’s about our favorite general: Stoghan.
I can see you raising your eyebrows already. Truly, Zai, you must learn to concentrate on the long view. The benefits that Stoghan’s connections bring you won’t last. The Hafn, on the other hand, have the clout to make your vision a reality.
Anyway, Stoghan. Don’t yell when you read this, you know it upsets your assistant, but I’ve been having Stoghan followed. I was curious as to whether his Andan-certified courtesan was a loyalist spy, but the man is clean.
My agent wasn’t able to follow all the way in due to Stoghan’s guards, but it appears Stoghan’s been keeping a prisoner to himself. The agent believes the prisoner is a Kel.
We agreed that there would be no private prisoners, playthings, whatever. Torture to cement the remembrance days is an unfortunate necessity of the calendar, but it’s overseen by a legitimate government. If regular citizens are desperate to try their hand at Vidona-style frolics, that’s what simulators are for. Analysis One was to oversee all captives. I don’t want a repeat of the interference that scratched out Kel Nerevor just when the technicians were starting to ease her out of fledge-null.
You have more bad news, I’m afraid. Gerenag Abrana has decided that Ching Dze is a threat to her. You’d think keeping her factories safe from Shuos saboteurs would give her enough to do. Ordinarily I would be entertained, but she’s been opening holes in security to allow the Shuos to hit Ching Dze’s calibration populations, and the Shuos have noticed.
Remember: Stoghan is expendable. You can find some other popular soldier to promote to his position. But you can’t afford to have Abrana and your chief propagandist feuding. It would be one thing if you were weakening both parties on purpose, but right now the priority is simply to hold the Fortress.
I see that Jedao’s been probing the extent of the corrosion gradient, which has been holding the Kel fast. I wish our setup took less time – you could always nag Abrana about production quotas – but soon we’ll be able to punish our opponent’s unusual passivity. At times I honestly think he believes the Shuos will win this for him, when the Shuos despise him.
I need to catch up on sleep, but I made my assistant promise to wake me up when the shooting begins. You think I’m bloodthirsty, but I do adore a good one-sided slaughter. It would be tempting to get involved in some of the fieldwork if I weren’t too important to risk.
Yours in calendrical heresy,
Vh.
CHERIS ORDINARILY FORGOT her dreams, but this time she woke with a memory of a festival her parents had taken her to when she was eleven. A lot of adults had insisted on talking to her in Mwen-dal instead of the high language, and she had tried not to be too sullen in her answers. In the dream, however, each time she spoke to someone, they turned into a raven and flew away.
She ran after the ravens and into the woods. The ravens alighted on a carcass. One was pecking at its eye. It might have been a dog or a jackal.
She was certain it was a fox.
Afterward, she walked to the mirror and forced herself to look at Jedao’s reflection. For a panicky moment she couldn’t remember the shape of her eyes. Jedao looked the same as he had when she first saw him, except he was smiling quizzically. He had a very good smile. Perturbed, she brought up her hand and stared at the fingerless glove. The reflection did the same.
“Are you all right?” Jedao said.
“Can you see my dreams?” she demanded.
“No,” Jedao said. “For that matter, I can’t remember what it feels like to dream, or to sleep.”
Cheris had a sleep-muddled desire to ask him about foxes, and scavengers, and dark places in the woods, but just then the terminal informed her that Captain-magistrate Gara wanted to talk to her.
“I’ll take the call,” Cheris said. “Captain.”
“Sir,” Gara said, although she looked at Cheris oddly for a moment, “I’ve had Doctrine running figures on exotic weapons. The data we got from the corrosion gradient helped us pin down some key coefficients.” She sent over some equations. “Look at these three matrices in the chain, sir. Now, this is a preliminary result and we have to run some feasibility tests, but” – a cluster of coefficients turned red – “if we can hammer this diagonalization into place, there’s a chance we can modify our threshold winnowers to work.”
I know what those are, Cheris thought blankly. Everyone did, and everyone knew the old chant: From every mouth a maw; from every door a death.
People remembered the winnowers because of the use Jedao had made of them at Hellspin Fortress. Even today, Kel Command used them sparingly.
“What are the guidance parameters?” Cheris
said, because she had to say something.
“Well, that’s the interesting part, sir,” Gara said, as though they were discussing a vacation spot and not a weapon. “Most winnower variants are full-spectrum death. We might, however, be able to get this one to target heretics selectively.”
“Weapons that attempt to target loyalty-states are better known for fratricide,” Cheris said. It was the subject of a whole category of Kel jokes.
Gara looked at her again, but was undeterred. “At least give us permission to pursue this. If it does pan out, it won’t be much work to modify the winnowers that Unspoken Law and Sincere Greeting carry.”
“Very well,” Cheris said. “Keep me apprised of your results, but set nothing in motion without my approval.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cheris shook her head. “Why did Gara keep looking at me strangely?” she asked.
“Cheris,” Jedao said, “can you hear yourself?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing,” she said in confusion.
“Not your hearing. Your accent.”
“Everyone has an accent,” Cheris said, even more confused. Her mother had told her that after she came home crying because some children had made fun of the way she talked. Of course, her mother hadn’t been able to hide the fact that some accents were better than others. By her second year as a cadet, Cheris had conformed her speech to Academy Prime standard.
“Yes,” Jedao said, “but yours has been slipping and it’s particularly bad today. Listen to my speech patterns and then listen to yourself.”
“Are we talking about bleed-through?” Cheris said. “Because if you have anything else to share on that front, I think I deserve to know.”
He was right. She was speaking with his drawl.
“Speech is a physical act,” Jedao said. “It’s probably related to the muscle memory issue. And no, I don’t think there are any more surprises in store for you.”