Caine's Mutiny, page 46
part #4 of Caine Riordan Series
Idrem was somewhat taken aback by the speed and accuracy of Brenlor’s analysis. “It could indeed transpire as you foresee.”
Brenlor waved an almost dismissive hand. “It is sure to, if this Jrekhalkar is killed. Our problems might not end with ensuring the compliance of Turkh’saar’s new Voice. That new leader might be the member of a Clan without adequate political weight to influence the Patrijuridicate, to ensure that they shall acknowledge their Honor-debt to us for protecting their lands when they were unable to do so. In that event, the Hkh’Rkh Greatsires cannot be compelled to make our safety the price they exact for further cooperation with the Ktoran Sphere.”
He stood. “Without that alliance and leverage, the resurgence of House Perekmeres cannot be achieved. We would be lucky to survive as corsairs, raiders. That is no life for a Srin, for a Hegemon. So we must bend our efforts to preventing Jrekhalkar’s demise.”
Idrem sensed Brenlor swinging toward the rash reactivity that the Srin often mistook for decisive action when confronted with a crisis. He moved to control the extremes of that temperament from ruining their plans. “I will have several alternatives for you within the hour.”
Brenlor glanced at him. “Do not think to manage me, High Sentinel. I am not distracted by other duties, so I myself shall formulate a plan for dealing with this risk to our ultimate objective.” He turned to the Aboriginal who had been waiting nervously since giving the first report. “What other communications did you detect?”
“The Terran radio squelches we detected last night do indeed originate from the unusual site south of the engagement zone. Apparently, a group that travelled there by rotary-wing aircraft is now stranded by mechanical failures. Hkh’Rkh scouts are headed toward them now.”
Brenlor started. “Retask a sensor to bring that area under close observation.”
“If it pleases the Srin, I was so bold as to already take that liberty, and have secured relevant information.”
Brenlor eyed the Aboriginal narrowly. “Your desire to please has led you to the very brink of impertinence—but not over it. You measured the risk of your action well, this time. Now, what have you observed?”
“Two helicopters on the ground in an area that appears to be some kind of impact site where the Hkh’Rkh once conducted excavations. The number of human biosigns varies from minute to minute. I project that members of the team are exploring the excavations, causing their signals to appear and disappear as they move into the subterranean reaches.”
Brenlor nodded. “You have done well.” He turned to Idrem. “This further complicates matters.”
Idrem noticed that both the gaze and tone of his superior were distracted. “You see a significance in this that I do not.”
Brenlor nodded once. “I do. In learning about the ‘assistance’ we provided to the Custodians during the period when we helped them monitor the Aboriginals, I came across information about other covert operations we were able to conduct in this region of space. This site, I fear, is connected to one such operation—one the Aboriginals must not report.”
Idrem rarely detected dread in Brenlor: he detected it now. “What would occur if they did report what they have now found?”
“It would depend upon how accurate their conjectures are, but if we presume—as we must—that they understand what they have seen, it would undo us. Indeed, it would make us objects of hate and targets for extermination by both the Patrijuridicate and the Sphere, debts of honor notwithstanding.” Seeing Idrem’s surprise, his mouth opening to ask questions, Brenlor shook his head. “There is no time to speak of the details. Suffice it to say that my grandsire knew of Turkh’saar only because there had been an earlier clandestine operation here—an operation designed to ensure the usefulness of the Hkh’Rkh when the time came to recruit them. I am certain that this site is the consequence of that operation. If it is discovered by the humans, they will deduce the nature of Ktor’s manipulation of interstellar events. And they will no doubt share the evidence and their conclusions with the other powers of the Accord. Including the Hkh’Rkh. Whose resulting hatred of Ktor could well become absolute.”
Idrem’s reflexive curiosity tried to pull him down paths of conjecture and hypothesis, but there wasn’t the time for that, now. “So whatever good we might do them here will be voided by the evidence of our species’ earlier manipulations. Indeed, our current operation will be presumed to be simply one more clandestine manipulation. Which, of course, it is.”
“Correct. We must now formulate a response which will both prevent this discovery and ensure that Jrekhalkar lives through the coming battle.”
Idrem wanted to ask Brenlor why in the name of the Progenitors he had neglected to mention this deeper history of Turkh’saar when committing the scant survivors of House Perekmeres to their current operations. But he already knew the answer: because Nezdeh would have asserted the risk to be too great, that too many things could go wrong, that their bold grasp for victory could become a headlong plunge into the abyss. As might now occur.
Careful to suppress any sign of his anger at Brenlor, Idrem turned to the Aboriginal. “You spoke of a third communiqué. What was it?”
“One of the human transports sent a lascom signal into the suspected vicinity of the Slaasriithi shift-carrier. It was of extremely short duration. There is some evidence that an equally short reply was issued.”
“Content?”
“We did not have a sufficient density of nanosensors in the area to pick up sidescatter or intercept the beam. However, now that we have telemetry on the beam, we will send a swarm impulse so that more of the cloud will condense along that vector.”
Idrem raised a cautioning finger. “Do not overconcentrate the nanosensor assets. The recent communiqués will not have been aimed directly at the Slaasriithi ship, but at a small independent relay platform that will constantly be changing position. However, the consequent telemetry change will be relatively small, so bring the cloud into that general sector, but do not concentrate them for a full intercept of subsequent signals. It is more important that we know when each side sends, and for how long. If we overconcentrate the nanosensors, in the hope of getting the content, we may miss the message entirely. For instance, what happened just before this first lascom exchange?”
The Aboriginal frowned. “The human team at the site signalled that it was stranded there.”
“Exactly. It seems that this event prompted a reconsideration of plans and actions, either on its own or in conjunction with other concerns. Their communication to the Slaasriithi indicates that they consider this an event of great importance. That is crucial intelligence for us, which we might miss entirely were we to concentrate our assets too narrowly in the unlikely hope of tapping into the message itself.”
Brenlor nodded approvingly. “The High Sentinel speaks wisdom that should inform all your thought. Return to your duties.” He walked back toward the iris valve; Idrem knew to follow him. Once Idrem was close, Brenlor murmured, “If the Terrans bring the Slaasriithi shift-carrier into close orbit, or even geosynchronous, we are done. We would be lucky to escape alive.”
“True, Brenlor. But the odds of that are low. The Slaasriithi lack the resolve to take risks. They may send drones—the ones we encountered at Disparity, for instance—but they will not endanger their shift-carrier by bringing it so close to a gravity well.”
“Let us hope you are right.”
“I believe we can ensure I am. We need only bring our other hulls close enough that their engine output registers on the enemy’s sensors. The implied size of the craft capable of emitting such powerful energy spikes will compel the Slaasriithi to remain hidden. And we might further increase our apparent numbers and threat by emplacing image makers on Arbitrage’s remaining shuttles and drones.”
Brenlor had begun to smile when the senior Aboriginal on the bridge turned toward them. “Long range passive sensors have just detected an approaching object, Fearsome Srin.”
“Telemetry and identity?”
“Trackback indicates it emerged from the near edge of the belt, proximal to the last confirmed location of the Slaasriithi. The craft’s output characteristics resemble those of an automated drone dispenser which the Slaasriithi use for long-range ferrying and deployment of independent platforms.”
Brenlor examined the trajectory lines that suddenly appeared in the holoplot. “Projected destination?”
“Its trajectory will bring it very near to our own position, Esteemed Srin. However, unless the craft counterboosts more aggressively, it will pass us and decelerate to a relative stop within the debris field just beyond close orbit.”
After a moment of silence, Brenlor murmured, “The Progenitors have answered our need.”
Idrem did not like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”
The Srin pointed at the holoplot. “Look. The inbound Slaasriithi drone carrier will cross our line of sight to the engagement area on the planet.”
Idrem was genuinely puzzled. “The Srin sees a ploy that is hidden from me.”
Brenlor sounded surprised and disappointed. “Truly? Consider: what two objectives must we carry out to ensure we achieve our goals on Turkh’saar? To intervene in time to save the imbecile Jrekhalkar and to prevent the humans from discerning the true nature of the site they are investigating.”
“Yes, these are our objectives.”
“We may now achieve the second objective in the same stroke we use to achieve the first.” He pointed into the holograph. “We shall wait for the Slaasriithi craft to come into our railgun’s cone of fire.”
“It is doubtful we would destroy it. The flight time of our projectiles would approach forty minutes; it would evade.”
“Yes—because our enemies will perceive the Slaasriithi drone carrier to be our actual target.”
Then Idrem saw the ploy, with a mix of horror, fascination, and admiration. “You intend the projectiles to strike the site.”
“We must trap the humans there. The Hkh’Rkh will surely investigate and besiege them. The Terran commander will attempt to rescue his personnel and so further divide his forces and delay his departure. The Hkh’Rkh will swiftly become embroiled with the humans, sustain heavy losses, and validate our intervention.”
Idrem nodded, but thought: this is what destroyed our House. Wildly aggressive tactics that were not subjected to proper review, proper analysis. What Brenlor proposes could work, and if it does, it will pay off brilliantly. But if it does not—“Your progenitors would swell with pride at the bold genius of the plan you propose. But it reveals us earlier than we planned.”
“That hardly matters. Once we order Arbitrage and the tug to activate their drives, the Slaasriithi will know we are in the system.”
“Yes, but they will know Lurker’s exact position.”
“We will move to a new hiding spot, then ambush whatever drones the Slaasriithi might later release with the predeployed missiles we have floating in the debris belt. And if the Terrans dare try to rise up out of the gravity well, they will be contending with our superior weapons and targeting.”
“And how do we ensure that the humans at the dig site survive our initial railgun strike so that the Hkh’Rkh may threaten them?”
“We do not need to. They will flee underground, into the excavations. And surely they will have ample warning: the Slaasriithi will detect the incoming rounds, convey that information to the Aboriginals, who will in turn alert their researchers at the site. Whose discoveries will no longer reach the Terran authorities. The Hkh’Rkh, or we, shall see to that.” Brenlor stared at Idrem, at once excited and impatient.
Idrem needed to highlight the risks without challenging Brenlor’s authority. “Srin Perekmeres, the Terrans have a cautionary concept: the law of unintended consequences.”
“I am familiar with it. We have our own rough equivalents.”
“Yes, and here is how it might apply to this stratagem. Currently, the Terrans wish to avoid combat and withdraw with the Aboriginal soldiers your ancestor left on Turkh’saar. However, if they are confronted with all the challenges you would put before them, they may change their plans.”
“You mean, they would abandon the stranded Aboriginals and flee?”
“Perhaps, but I think it more likely that they might cease to avoid combat. Rather, they might elect to preemptively destroy the Hkh’Rkh forces.”
“In which case we shall intervene. As per our plan.”
“Yes, but we have always assumed that the Terrans would refrain from bringing their full power to bear, due to their own restrictive rules of engagement. If they set aside those rules, they could cripple the leadership of the Hkh’Rkh so swiftly that there will be no one left with a debt of honor to us, at least no one with sufficient political influence to represent us before the Patrijuridicate.”
Brenlor nodded thoughtfully. “It is a reasonable concern, but not so likely as to make the plan inadvisable. We shall bear your cautions in mind as we wait for the Slaasriithi drones to come into our cone of fire. Perhaps new events shall make it inadvisable, or unnecessary to use the railgun as we proceed.”
Which meant there was very little chance that the attack could be forestalled, practically speaking. But Idrem had done all that he could; he knew the set of Brenlor’s heavy jaw meant that the decision had been made. “Shall I send Arbitrage word of our plans, and of what they must do?”
Brenlor smiled. “We shall send that message together.” And Idrem wondered if the message behind the Srin’s smile was, “Which will prevent you from communicating privately with Nezdeh, to coordinate an attempt to dissuade me.”
Which was, of course, exactly what Idrem had hoped to do.
* * *
Nezdeh Srina Perekmeres reread the lascom transmission from Red Lurker, then wiped it off her screen. A moment later, her cabin’s privacy chime sounded. “Enter.”
The iris valve dilated; Emil Kozakowski stepped through.
She wanted to withhold her gaze but did not do so: the Aboriginal might interpret it as lack of resolve, as uncertainty of dominion. But he was increasingly unpleasant to look at. Reduced caloric intake, imposed on the Aboriginal crew both to conserve rations and to deny them the vitality needed for mutiny, had reduced his once pear-shape to more that of a simple oval. But Kozakowski had not kept up with the prescribed exercise regimen and so his decrease in weight had left his flesh baggy, flaccid. And pale, despite his claims that he spent enough time under his stateroom’s health-spectrum lights.
As he always did when summoned, Kozakowski was wringing his hands. A detestable creature, his inquiry was as obsequious as had been his first, the day Arbitrage had been seized by the Ktor. “How may I be of service to you, Esteemed Srina Perekmeres?”
“I require an estimate of how long our image makers will be able to function aboard your primitive shuttles. They drain a great deal of energy and they will tax the electronics. You have seen the numbers I forwarded to you?”
“Yes, Srina. I have consulted with our flight technicians. If we install tankage modules in the shuttles’ cargo bays, we can run their MAP thrusters in a closed cycle and generate more power. However, this is inefficient, and they will exhaust their fuel in approximately twenty-two hours. If we hold one shuttle in reserve to refuel them, we could extend this to two days. After that, the thrusters’ burn rate will have outstripped our refuel rate. There would be blackouts between the exhaustion of fuel and the next visit from the tanker.
“The ability of our shuttles’ electronics to handle your image makers is far more uncertain. Beyond matters of load variance and peaks, there is also a concern with rigging adequate transformers.”
“Why must you rig special transformers? Certainly the shuttles’ capacitors can alter the current as required.”
Emil offered a regretful bow. “Feared Srina, our civilian shuttles rely on simple batteries and fuel-cell replenishment; they do not have capacitors. So they have almost no integral ability to transform current, not at the levels required by your image makers. My technical staff are completing the improvised transformers now, but until they are tested, we have no way of knowing—”
Nezdeh silenced Kozakowski with a wave. “We do not have the time for tests. The shuttles must be deployed within the hour. Failure will carry severe penalties.” She held Kozakowski’s evasive eyes. “Severe penalties for all concerned.” Kozakowski shivered.
And now it is time to add the possibility of pleasure as an alternative to the threat of pain. “Conversely, noteworthy success warrants encouragement, so your personnel shall receive extra rations if they can keep the systems running beyond initial estimates.” Kozakowski did not look particularly enthused: his desires went far beyond the creature comforts of a full belly at the end of the day. “Furthermore, I will accept a petition from you—presuming, of course, that the performance of your technicians markedly exceeds our expectations.”
Emil Kozakowski’s eyes fixed eagerly upon hers, suddenly bright and unblinking. “Fearsome Srina, as you have pointed out, I could never safely return to Earth as your agent so long as Ayana Tagawa might bear witness against me. I would be executed, but only after I was tortured for information about you and the homo imperiens of Ktor.”
Nezdeh nodded. It was uncertain whether Kozakowski would be tortured—some of the Terran blocs were idiotically squeamish about employing pain as an incentive to cooperation—but his execution was a foregone conclusion. “So: speak what you wish. Plainly.”
“I wish to be safe in your continued service.”
Such clever, craven phrasing. If you were a Ktor—perish that thought!—you would know how to say it directly: “I wish Ayana Tagawa dead.” Nezdeh affected a regretful shake of her head. “I cannot grant that at this time: Tagawa is crucial to the operation of Arbitrage and the oversight of many crew functions.”
“I understand, Esteemed Srina. But perhaps later, when her services are no longer so essential?”
