To Challenge Heaven, page 22
“As far as their defensive installations are concerned, they carried out a live fire exercise for one of their orbital weapons platforms while we were watching, and we got a lot of data from that. It doesn’t look like they have anything the Puppies didn’t have, although their energy weapons seem to be rather more powerful and longer ranged. One thing we weren’t able to get was any hard data on their shipkiller missiles’ capabilities. Overall, the way they polished off the ‘opposition forces’ looked pretty competent. In fact, it may have looked too competent. To be honest, I think the Admiral would have been pretty unhappy with me if I’d arranged that exercise.” He grimaced. “We can’t be sure without a better read on their weapons’ capabilities and with no idea at all how they briefed in the participants ahead of time, but that looked an awful lot more like a ‘gimme’ than a serious exercise designed as a challenge.”
“I realize we don’t want to underestimate these people, Mister President,” Admiral Swenson put in, “but I think Tifton has a point about that, and it actually makes a certain kind of sense, when you think about it.”
Howell raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged.
“Let me preface this by saying that, having been exposed to Ambassador Dvorak, I’ve developed an interest in history as a sort of self-defense mechanism.” Howell’s lips twitched at her dry tone. “And if the Ambassador were here, I suspect he’d point out the historical parallel between, say, the British Royal Navy of 1890 or so and the current Hegemony.”
Howell hid a smile at both her tone and the way in which her prefatory comment echoed his own thoughts—courtesy of Dvorak—from a few moments before. On the other hand, he was pretty sure he knew where she was going—he’d read Fisher’s biography, so he knew the Sisyphean task the long-dead admiral had faced in dragging the Royal British Navy kicking and screaming into the twentieth century. But if he was right about where she was headed, it was a remarkably valid point, and one eminently worth making for all present. So—
“In what way?” he asked.
“In the wake of the Napoleonic Wars, the Brits were the naval superpower,” Swenson replied. “By the end of the nineteenth century, the British Empire covered a quarter of the Earth’s surface and ruled twenty-three percent of its population. For obvious reasons, they had the world’s biggest merchant marine, and that meant their navy was the largest on the planet, as well. They built to a ‘two-power’ standard, which assumed their fleet had to be at least equal in power to the next two largest navies combined, and they’d been—literally, not just figuratively—the world’s oceanic ‘policeman’ for almost a century. Quite a few other nations resented that, but most of them were perfectly content to let someone else shoulder the responsibility and pay the price tag to protect everyone’s commerce. And resentment or not, no one—at least until Kaiser Wilhelm came along and stepped on his sword with both feet—was stupid enough to think they could challenge the British Empire’s naval supremacy. And the officers and men of the Royal Navy knew all of that. So since there was no military threat on their mental event horizons, at least until the Kaiser got antsy, they concentrated on things like seamanship, smartness of drill, and showing the flag instead of actual preparation for battle with anything like a peer competitor. Of course, eventually Wilhelm and Tirpitz did come along and decide to build their ‘risk fleet,’ which dragged the Brits into an enormous upgrade of their own to maintain their superiority.”
She gave Howell a respectful but rather pointed look, and he nodded back ever so slightly in acknowledgment. He had no desire to reprise Alfred von Tirpitz’s role and evoke a Galactic Fisher and a Hegemony “dreadnought revolution.” Unfortunately, he strongly suspected it would be better to do that than to rely on the Hegemony’s nonexistent restraint and benevolence.
“So what you’re saying,” he said out loud, “is that it looks like the analysts back home who predicted that the Liatu—the Hegemony in general—would have allowed their military preparedness to atrophy because they’d gone so long without facing any meaningful threat may have been right?”
“Mostly.” Swenson nodded. “That would certainly seem to be a fair description of their present mindset, at least, based on what we’ve seen so far. And given the fact that any halfway capable system sensor net should have seen something to suggest we’re here. But at the same time, given what we know about their basic technological capabilities, those weapons platforms of theirs appear to be very heavily armed by their own standards. They may be so invested in a ‘peacetime’ mentality that they’re basically blind as bats, but that doesn’t mean they’ve skimped on firepower. I’d hate to go up against what we’ve seen so far with Hegemony-level technology, to be honest.”
“What we’ve been able to infer about Liatu psychology makes it abundantly clear that benevolent altruism or anything remotely like trust for anyone outside their own ‘herd’ aren’t part of their psychology,” Doctor Shumate reminded them. “Admittedly, those qualities don’t seem to be much of a factor for any of the Founders, at least on an inter-species basis, but the Liatu take that to a level all their own. The fact is that, as far as we can tell, they have the next best thing to zero empathy for any other species. Their record here in Tairyon is only one instance of what the ‘peaceful herbivores’ have done when a less-advanced species … inconvenienced them. For that matter, let’s not forget that the first contact between any of the Galactics, long before the Hegemony was created, was when the Kreptu ran into the Liatu in the Kanzhyquo System after the Liatu had already claimed it.” She shook her head. “That led to an actual shooting war. They managed to turn it off pretty quickly, by Galactic standards, but the Liatu have that tucked away in their memory banks, and their basic attitudes towards other species really haven’t changed a lot.
“So it probably shouldn’t be a surprise that they’d build defenses based on what someone with that mindset would expect—or fear, at least—out of those other species. And we know from the Hegemony database that the Liatu are one of the species who were most opposed to the expansion of the Shongair Empire. They protested every single decision by the Hegemony Council to allow the Shongairi to claim new star systems. Well, except for the decision to hand over Earth, anyway.” She shrugged. “I suspect they had an even better appreciation than most of the long-term threat the Shongairi posed to the Hegemony’s neat little mafia because it was more or less what they would have expected out of themselves, vegetarians or no, had the positions been reversed.”
Howell nodded slowly. That tracked with his own pre-mission analysis. Which, he reminded himself, was the best reason not to wed himself too firmly to it. Preconceptions were one of the best ways ever invented to shoot oneself in the foot.
“That’s understood, Evelyn,” he said out loud, and looked at Garçāo.
“What’s your take, Fernando?”
“The same as yours, I’m quite sure,” Garçāo replied with a slight smile. “I believe the consensus of our military experts is that we’ve learned all we can from passive, covert observation.” He quirked an eyebrow at Swenson and her uniformed subordinates. They nodded firmly, and he shrugged. “Given that, and given what we’ve actually seen of their … behavior since our arrival,” it was his turn to gesture at the space the hologram had occupied, and there was no trace of a smile on his face when he did, “I believe it’s time to move to Phase Two.”
“You’re right, that is what I was thinking. And since we happen to be two of the smartest people I know,” he bared his teeth at Garçāo in a fierce grin, “I agree with your estimate.”
His grin vanished, and his expression was much more serious as he looked around the table one last time.
“Let’s do this,” he said.
PALACE OF GOVERNMENT,
CITY OF ITHYRA,
PLANET TAIRYS,
TAIRYON SYSTEM,
419.9 LY FROM EARTH,
NOVEMBER 18, YEAR 42 TE.
“First Minister. Forgive me, First Minister, but you need to wake up.”
First Minister Sherak opened her eyes unwillingly, then blinked up at the aide standing beside her bedchamber wallow. She rolled one eye to check the time display without taking the other from the obviously nervous male and scowled as she discovered that it was almost exactly midnight.
“Why?” she snapped.
“I apologize profusely, First Minister.” The aide ducked his head, covering his eyes in abasement. “I would never have interrupted your sleep period if it wasn’t an emergency!”
“Emergency?”
Sherak’s eyes narrowed. She thrust herself up out of her wallow and felt the bedchamber’s warmer air circulate about her. She kept her own wallow set to an even lower temperature than most Liatus. At her age, she needed the chill to help her settle into sleep, but there were disadvantages to that. Like the fact that it took longer for her wits to come fully online when she was dragged from her slumber unexpectedly.
She draped a smartfabric wrap about herself, turning up its temperature to help the warming process, and glared at her hapless aide. From his body language, it seemed likely he realized her thoughts were not at their best and knew better than to admit he did.
Which irritated her even more deeply.
“What sort of emergency?” she demanded.
“It’s a com message, Domynas.”
“You woke me from a sound sleep for a com message?”
Her tone promised dire consequences, and the aide covered his eyes once more, his hide tinged with the gray of worry and just a touch of ocher fear. Her fulminating gaze should have ignited him on the spot, but she made herself draw a deep, whistling breath through her breathing slits.
“And just who is this ‘emergency’ message from?”
“We … we don’t know, Domynas.”
“What?” Sherak blinked both eyes, certain she must have misunderstood.
“It came in addressed specifically to you, First Minister. It had the proper access protocols for the Palace communication center, but it was voice only, with no visual. And there was no return address, no originating data stamp.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It should be, Domynas.” The aide bobbed his torso in acknowledgment. “But it happened. And if the … person who sent it is telling the truth.…”
His voice trailed off, and Sherak glowered at him, her hide touched with the orange-red of anger, although that anger was directed less at him than at the obvious absurdity of what he’d just said. The system datanet logged the origin and destination of every com call. That was hardwired into the computers, damn it!
She started to tell the aide exactly that, in no uncertain terms, but her brain was beginning to function with more of its wonted efficiency as her blood temperature rose.
“And what did this ‘person’ have to say?” she asked instead, in something closer to a normal tone.
“I think it would be best if you heard it for yourself, First Minister. With your permission?”
The aide gestured at the wallowside data terminal. Sherak bobbed curt permission, and he tapped the touchscreen, bringing it online.
“Greetings, First Minister Sherak,” a voice said from the terminal. It spoke perfect Liatu, which was no surprise … until it continued. “My name is Judson Howell, and I am speaking to you on behalf of the human race.”
Human race? Sherak blinked. What in the name of Entropy was a “human,” and what was one of it doing in her star system?
“We’ve come,” the alien voice continued as if it had read her mind, “because one of your Hegemony’s member species recently attacked our homeworld without provocation or challenge. The attack took us by surprise, and the initial kinetic bombardments inflicted heavy casualties upon my people.” The voice hardened. “We were … displeased by that. Which is why our defenders killed every single one of our attackers and captured their entire fleet intact.”
Sherak’s breathing slits closed. Killed them all? Captured their entire fleet? No lesser species in recorded history had ever so much as driven off a Hegemony capital ship, far less defeated and captured one of its fleets!
“What happened to the individuals foolish enough to attack us, and the fact that I’m here, in your star system—not to mention the fact that you haven’t so much as noticed my starships’ arrival—should indicate to you that we possess a high level of technological capability. I advise you to bear that very carefully in mind during the course of our visit here.”
Sherak forced her breathing slits to open. Whatever else might be true, the “human’s” translating software was clearly superior to that of her own species. The soft menace in that last sentence came through perfectly.
“I’ve been sent, with a suitable escort, to make contact with the Hegemony. My mission here is to determine if peaceful intercourse with any of the Hegemony’s member species is possible … or worth the bother.”
The alien’s coolly dismissive tone was as infuriating as it was frightening. And it hadn’t mentioned how powerful its “suitable escort” might be, Sherak noted. Somehow she doubted that had been a simple oversight.
“As part of that determining process, our purpose is to … evaluate the Hegemony. A significant part of that evaluation will include your species’—and the Hegemony in general’s—mode of interacting with other intelligent species. Frankly, our initial contact with you ‘Galactics’ was less than promising in that respect. Killing half our homeworld’s population was an … infelicitous way to introduce yourselves to us.
“In the event that we decide the Hegemony isn’t worth joining, or that it poses an ongoing threat—bearing in mind that one of its members has already attacked us—then this visit will be the first step in neutralizing any such threat, instead. And we will neutralize it in what I can assure you will be an effective manner.”
The alien’s tone cut like a knife, now, and orange-red fury—fueled in no small part by something far too much like panic—flooded through Sherak like a tide of acid.
“I will be back in touch with you shortly, First Minister,” the “human” said. “For now, I’ll leave you to consider what I’ve already said. And I’ll also add for your consideration that it would be … unwise to react belligerently when our warships allow themselves to be detected.”
The com went silent, and Sherak, Second Hatched of Her Brood, Daughter of Ursahl, of the Line of Sercom, stared at the blank display while icicles of fear fluttered up and down her spine.
COUNCIL CHAMBER,
PALACE OF GOVERNMENT,
CITY OF ITHYRA,
PLANET TAIRYS,
TAIRYON SYSTEM,
419.9 LY FROM EARTH,
NOVEMBER 18, YEAR 42 TE.
“Unacceptable,” First Minister Sherak said half a stohmahl later as she addressed the council, her hide a bright orange-red. “Unacceptable!”
Her eyes swiveled to encompass the entire council—the other four ministers, High Ghyrcolar Ithral, Ghyrcolar Urtal, and Navy Commander Segmar—and she was encouraged to see their hides were similarly colored.
“What part is unacceptable to you?” Second Minister Hyrak, Fifth Hatched of Her Brood, Daughter of Yorach, of the Line of Sercom, asked.
“All of it!” Sherak exclaimed. “The temerity of this—this, human! To talk to one of the Founding races in such terms is unacceptable! He will be taught his place. What is even more unacceptable, though—” she turned to look at Navy Commander Segmar “—is how they were able to sneak up on us in the first place.” If anything, her color brightened, although it stayed orange-red. “And also, where in Entropy’s sake are they?”
“I have people looking into it,” Navy Commander Segmar, Second Hatched of His Brood, Son of Kalisar, of the Line of Jorik, said. “We’ll find out what happened and rectify it.”
“I don’t want to know later, once you’ve had time to think up excuses, and I don’t care about rectifying it for later; I want to know right now what went wrong, and I want to know where they are!” She emphasized each of the last three words. “How did they sneak up on us?”
Segmar looked down and covered his eyes, but when he looked up again, he met her gaze.
“I do not—at this moment—know where these ‘humans’ are,” he admitted, “but I do have some idea about how they were able to approach us undetected.” He turned a light shade of green in embarrassment. “I fear, however, that you won’t like it.”
“I already don’t like it!” Sherak screamed. “What is it that I’ll like even less?”
“I fear that all of our systems were not online or scanning,” Segmar replied. One eye twitched toward Lyralk then came back to Sherak. “That may be how it was possible.”
Sherak turned to Third Minister Lyralk, who a more belligerent species might have called the Tairyon System’s Minister of War.
“Can you tell me why in Entropy’s sake our systems weren’t online and scanning?”
“Because, up until now, there was no need,” Third Minister Lyralk, Third Hatched of Her Brood, Daughter of Yortha, of the Line of Symalk, said. “Operating the defense forces, warships, and orbital platforms increases wear and tear on the systems. It degrades their lifetimes, requires additional maintenance and replacement. It is—or it was, anyway—more efficient to have most of them in a state of readiness, rather than actually operating. It maximizes the ghyrhyrma’s horkaraha.”
