Raising Caine - eARC

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Raising Caine - eARC Page 61

by Charles E Gannon


  Karam’s voice was back. “Caine, group coming in from the west. Traveling tight, casual pace. Looks like Yiithrii’ah’aash, his party, maybe two others.”

  “Okay. Alert the rest of the watch; we don’t want any friendly fire foul-ups. And spin up the fans; we’ve got a date back at Site One.”

  * * *

  When Downing emerged from the dust kicked up by the vertifans of his shuttle, Caine and Yiithrii’ah’aash were waiting for him. Alone. Downing motioned for his security escort to stay back, resumed his approach.

  “Richard,” Caine called to him. “I’d like you to finally meet Prime Ratiocinator Yiithrii’ah’aash of the Slaasriithi Great Ring, with whom I believe you coordinated our legation’s journey to Beta Aquilae.”

  Downing started to put out his hand, was about to pull it back, hesitated again when Yiithrii’ah’aash extended his tendrils. “I have become accustomed to your ways, Mr. Downing, and am pleased to make your personal acquaintance. You obviously received our message.”

  “In fact, Ambassador Yiithrii’ah’aash, I was already in transit when it arrived, but was able to divert here to Delta Pavonis.” He glanced at the worn ramp leading up into Puller. “I take it you have found what you came for?”

  “Indeed. It is gratifying to find such swift rapport with our distant kin despite the passage of so much time. We feared that the estrangement would be greater, that perhaps their pheromones had become hopelessly recidivistic. But the markings upon Caine Riordan gave us countervailing hope. After all, if the mark impressed upon him here was still recognizable—and powerfully so—to us, we had reason to conjecture that ours might still be recognizable to them.”

  He waved at Puller. “Three of the locals you call Pavonians have consented to come with us. It is a brave thing they do; their people have not ventured beyond this valley for many generations. However, their myth tells them that we are all from the stars, and they wish to see the home of the biota that gave rise to them. They shall be honored among us and, if it is not objectionable to you, we shall return to repatriate any others that might wish it, once our respective governments have agreed to the conditions under which that might occur.”

  “I am sure that can be arranged swiftly, Ambassador,” Downing affirmed with a nod. “We have no desire to keep you and your distant relatives apart any longer than absolutely necessary.”

  The Slaasriithi’s neck dipped very low and remained so for several seconds before he raised it and spoke again. “Ultimately we have humanity’s curiosity to thank for our reunification. Naturally, all intelligence arises from curiosity, from exploring novel solutions to problems. But only humanity avidly, even restlessly, seeks so many of the challenges, the conundrums, and the mysteries you then solve. For you, nothing calls more strongly than the unknown, or so it seems.”

  “Thank you,” said Caine, unsure of what else to say. “But it’s a shame that your reunion must take place under the likely shadow of war.”

  Yiithrii’ah’aash’s neck wiggled slightly. “I suspect we would not have realized our need of the indagatorae until such a threat arose, so there may be an unavoidable connection between the approach of strife and our desire to re-embrace our lost taxon. Which we shall now undertake to restore.”

  “But it will require some time to breed sufficient numbers of indagatorae, won’t it?”

  Yiithrii’ah’aash’s sensor cluster focused on Caine. “‘Sufficient numbers?’ I am uncertain what you mean.”

  Downing stepped in. “Enough to field an army or expand your naval formations.”

  Yiithrii’ah’aash stared at them for a long time. “I am sorry; you misperceive. We do not need the indagatorae to breed an army. As you say, that would take too long, and we lack the requisite skills to train such forces in time, or at all.”

  Riordan felt adrift. “Then why do you need the indagator?”

  Yiithrii’ah’aash waved tendrils to take in everything around him. “To act as our liaisons to those members of the macrocommunity who are soldiers already. That is, the indagatorae will be our liaisons to humanity.”

  Caine had stepped backward before he realized he had done so. “You mean, you consider us part of your community? And that our role is to be your soldiers?”

  “All things are part of the community of life. And all have their roles.”

  And our role is to die for you? Wait just a god-damned minute—But Caine remembered that he was a diplomat, and that the Slaasriithi would be unlikely to see the situation in those terms. “Assuming we are even willing to take up that role, there is a further complication: you Slaasriithi shape your community without consulting all its members. Without anything like a referendum.”

  Yiithrii’ah’aash did not blink. “That is true,” he said.

  “And you presume we would be willing to be enter into that kind of relationship?”

  “Caine Riordan, I have clearly alarmed you. Be calmed: we presume nothing. But we have observed, with great clarity, just how deficient we are in warfare. The speed with which your species is willing to destroy assets in order to achieve objectives—such as the way you prevailed upon me to destroy Disparity’s anti-matter depot to hamper the efforts of the Ktor—is utterly alien to us. We acknowledge our limitations. But we also see areas where we may make fair and balanced contributions in exchange. We may assist you in accelerating the speed with which your green and brown worlds become self-sufficient. We have technological capabilities which may be selectively shared. We may construct various defensive and sensor systems and ROVs that shall aid your forces, or allow you to secure vast areas without wasting precious personnel to do so. These contributions are merely the tree tops of a deep forest of possibilities, and we shall explore all of them together.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable starting point,” Downing answered, sending a warning glance at Caine.

  Who could only think: my god, with friends like these, who needs enemies? Unless we can trust them…but how would we ever know for sure? And no matter what Yiithrii’ah’aash says, we’d be doing all the fighting, even while wondering: who’s really driving the bus? What if our “allies” are subtly changing our genomes to make us more tractable, more willing to blend ourselves into a pan-speciate polytaxic order?

  Of course, that was the human perspective. Caine could readily imagine an identical Slaasriithi perspective that was not intentionally malign or insidious, but was simply an outgrowth of their evolutionary successes. Just as humans evolved toward political unity to accrue collective power, the Slaasriithi were simply following the well-established groove of their own paradigm: that polytaxism is the natural means of expanding safety and stability for all species. For them, it deductively followed that all species should be linked in a figurative or even literal polytaxon.

  But, as true as that might be for the Slaasriithi, Riordan doubted that it would ever be a good fit for humanity. And more so, he could not foresee any benefit so great that the mothers and fathers of Terra should be asked to accept that only their offspring would pay for the collective good in blood.

  But these thoughts were not suitable for what was still a careful, diplomatic exchange, so Riordan replied with a harmlessly oblique truth: “I think the perspective you articulate will be the starting place for many enlightening discussions.”

  Yiithrii’ah’aash’s sensor cluster remained fixed upon him. “I understand you are troubled, Caine Riordan. You have my assurance of this: we Slaasriithi understand the limits of cooperative relationships. Biota which are not both happy with a symbiosis are not symbiots for long. As we move forward together, we will always seek, and endeavor to productively address, the reservations of your species. Nothing else would be stable. Nothing else would be wise or prudent.” He shifted his attention toward Downing. “It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mr. Downing. I perceive you have separate matters to discuss with the Commodore. I shall take my leave.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Site O
ne; Delta Pavonis Three

  Downing motioned toward a folding table that Commodore Cameron’s teams had set up to process the CoDevCo employees into detention groups. “Mind if we sit?”

  Caine shook his head, pulled out a chair, let Downing settle into his own before he declared, “Let’s not play charades, Richard. Just tell me why you’re out here. You told Yiithrii’ah’aash that you were already on the move, but were able to ‘divert’ to Delta Pavonis. But every time you’re on the move, you seem to be coming to find me. So, let’s get that out in the open and dealt with: what do you need from me, Richard?” Because after we finish our business, we’ve got some personal matters to settle.

  Richard looked down at his folded hands. “Well, it just so happens we have a situation—”

  Caine threw his head back and laughed. “Downing, you are too much. I haven’t even finished this mission, and you’ve come out here to send me on another?”

  “This isn’t my doing, Caine. You were asked for by name.”

  “Oh? By whom?”

  “By the New Families of the Hkh’Rkh. Specifically, by Yaargraukh.”

  Caine straightened. “Yaargraukh survived Jakarta?” The two-and-a-half meter Hkh’Rkh, a pipsqueak for his species, had been a confidante, a being of great honor, a friend.

  Downing nodded. “He survived and was repatriated. His circumstances are difficult, since the Hkh’Rkh leadership that brought him on the campaign was decimated. Their First Fist was killed in Indonesia and First Voice remains missing. With no one to vouch for Yaargraukh, or his version of the events in Jakarta, he was returned—ignominiously, I believe—to his home on a colony world in a system they share with the Arat Kur. Turkh’saar, they call it.”

  “I appreciate the news, but I don’t see what—”

  “Caine, the situation developing on Turkh’saar could have extremely serious repercussions for the Consolidated Terran Republic, and possibly the peace, and Yaargraukh has asked for you to go and help with the matter.” Downing leaned forward. “You two always understood each other, had a bond from the first time you met. I don’t think he fully trusts any other human to be impartial, given what’s happening in his home system.”

  “And what is happening there?”

  “According to him, off-world raiders have been striking at various targets on Turkh’saar, and they’re leaving scorched earth behind.”

  Riordan frowned. “Well, that’s definitely a bad situation, but why do they want to get humans involved in their own internal affairs?”

  “Because,” replied Richard, producing his palmtop, “the affair in question is not purely internal. This is part of what the Hkh’Rkh defenders recorded from the raiders’ own tactical channels—just before they swooped in and destroyed another town.” Downing activated the playback function, put the palmtop on the table between them. Sinuous music began rising, uncoiling from it: primitive drums savagely split apart the chords, leaving a rift through which a seductively menacing voice flowed. Its words were dark, enigmatic.

  Riordan started, stared at Downing. “That’s—that’s twentieth century Rock. Early in the movement. I think it’s—uh, it’s—”

  “‘Paint it Black’ by a group called the Rolling Stones. Original recording, the archivists at Langley tell me.”

  Riordan shook his head. “Okay, but—but what do you want me to do about it?”

  “I, and Yaargraukh, want you to go to Turkh’saar and find out why humans playing twentieth century rock music over their tactical-channels are attacking the Hkh’Rkh—and how that’s even possible, since we can’t even reach that area of space yet. And it’s got to be handled right away, because this has landed in the Hkh’Rkh’s political powderkeg like a lit firecracker. With First Voice still missing on Earth amid accusations that he is secretly being held by us, this incident has whipped their hardliners up into a xenophobic frenzy, convinced them that we have sent a raiding team into their space.”

  Caine stared at the palmtop. “But to achieve what?”

  Downing shrugged. “They haven’t offered any coherent hypotheses about that, but they also don’t seem to care. Their internal debates—about just how duplicitous we really are, how to respond to this incursion, and who is to succeed First Voice—are now about to tear them apart. According to Yaargraukh, there is increasing talk of a multi-sided civil war.”

  Riordan nodded. “Which could propel them just that much deeper into the Ktoran camp.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And how am I supposed to get to Turkh’saar to investigate this?”

  “I plan on asking Yiithrii’ah’aash. Since I will cut some official corners to retroactively ‘allow’ his trip here, he might return the favor by conveying you to the system in question: BD +56 2966. The Slaasriithi conducted a fair amount of commerce raiding against the Hkh’Rkh during the war. Consequently they have both the shift range and the local familiarity to deliver you where you need to go.”

  “Operational assets?”

  “I’ve brought some personnel who can accompany you. Not a lot, I’m afraid. Clearance for this operation rather limited the selection pool.”

  Caine turned, stared back up at Puller, saw a few faces looking down at them from the bridge windows. “And what about the crew who came out here with me?”

  “Them? Well, I should think they’ll be happy to go home.”

  “Yeah? Will they?” Caine opened his collarcom, his eyes on Downing’s. “Hey everyone, I need you to listen to a situation that’s come up. Richard, tell them what you just told me.”

  “Caine, if I do that—”

  “Richard, since they are already intelligence risks because of what we saw during our trip into Slaasriithi space, how much more hot water can they get into by hearing about current events on Turkh’saar?”

  Downing returned Riordan’s stare, then shrugged and told the whole tale again.

  There was a long silence, broken by Miles O’Garran: “Man, that is some serious shit.”

  Caine couldn’t help but grin. “Yes, it is. And here’s why I had Mr. Downing share it with you: you’ve got a choice to make. Either you go straight back to Earth or you go straight back out into the field to investigate this very serious shit. I have no idea what we’ll find there, or if we’ll make it back. Frankly, I’m not sure of anything about this mission: my ignorance is absolute. But you all know what going back to Earth could mean: extended debriefs, protective custody, god knows how many years living in secure facilities, safe houses, whatever. You’ve seen, and you know, too much to be allowed out in general circulation. Or am I exaggerating, Richard?”

  “Caine, I would not impose that kind of cloistering on any of your—”

  “I’m not talking about you, Richard. I’m talking about the people you answer to, who can trump any assurances you might give us. On a whim. Am I exaggerating what they are likely to do?”

  Downing looked away. “No.”

  Caine turned and looked at the nine faces now crowded against the bridge windows, spoke into his collarcom. “I can’t guarantee you anything except that whatever we face, we face together. And maybe, when we come back, we can cut a deal to stay out of a facility for people who know too much. If, on the other hand, you want to go back to Earth, I can get Richard to promise you, with one hand on his heart and the other on the Bible, that you won’t wind up in one of those ultra-secluded country clubs. But how much that promise is worth—well, you’ll have to make that decision for yourself. I realize you might need some time to think about it, so there’s no ru—”

  “We’re coming with you.” It was Karam. “We’re not stupid; we know how this would go down.”

  Bannor’s voice went over the top of Tsaami’s. “We all make a pretty good team. We think it best if we keep it that way, if that’s all right with you. Commodore.”

  Caine felt a tightness behind his eyes, nodded at them, turned back to Downing. “They’re coming along for the ride.”

  Downing was
gazing steadily at Riordan. “So I hear. They seem a fine group, Caine.”

  “They are. Every damned one of them.” He realized his collarcom was still on, slapped it off. “So are we done with business?”

  “We are.”

  “Then I’ve got some personal questions to—”

  Downing suddenly looked nervous. And tortured. “Caine, about Elena, about what happened—”

  “Richard. This is not a prelude to recriminations.” Riordan swallowed; it felt like there was a baseball in his throat. “I get it; I get what happened. I thought about it a lot on the way out here. You didn’t really have any—”

  “No, Caine. No. Enough is enough. My culpability goes deeper than you know and I’d rather have you angry—homicidally furious—at me, than live with this any longer.” Downing’s eyes were suddenly red-rimmed, almost rheumy. “Elena should never have been in Jakarta; she should never have been involved in any of this. For bloody Christ’s sake, she’s my godchild; I held her on my knee. She called me Uncle Richard as soon as she could talk.”

  “Richard, I know you must feel—”

  “You know what I feel? Really?” Downing jabbed a finger at Caine. “You have every right to hate me, to despise what I’ve done and how I’ve failed her. But don’t tell me you know what I feel, Riordan. Added altogether, you’ve known Elena Corcoran a few weeks. I knew her for almost her entire life. If I had one meal with her, I have had, literally, a thousand. She babysat my daughter, took her around with Connor sometimes when they were both small—and when she was still devastated by losing you, though none of us knew anything about that at the time.” His face contorted, grew red. “And this, this, is the life to which I led her? Boxed up somewhere in a Dornaani medical facility, hovering in the twilight between life and death?” He looked at Caine, furious and pleading. “Why was she ever inducted into IRIS? Why was she a member of the delegation to the Convocation? Why was she in Jakarta? Why was she part of the team who entered the Arat Kur headquarters with you? Why was she anywhere in range of that murdering bastard Shethkador? Because of me, god damn it. Because of me.” He averted his head, his teeth clenched, his whole body leaning sharply away as if he was trying to get out of it, somehow. “God, I could use a drink.”

 

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