All That Bedevils Us, page 25
“Acceptance has value,” said Selekasm. “We are all grateful.”
“Yes,” said Poptocick. “T’lack threat biggest ever. Murolish have assembled great fleets. Now we determine that Grand Concordance correlates. All of it.” The Vivish waved tentacles at Takak.
“That is appreciated,” said Takak.
“Great fleets?” Costa asked, trying to conceal a sudden uneasiness. Beside him he saw Dorgnas narrow and lower her eyes, wariness in the face of a Rusalas.
“The muster began before you arrived,” said Selekasm. “Before we knew of the Grand Concordance. The incursions of Phobic T’lack will be resisted. We must recover lost Radial star systems. After that, the Phobics must be reduced and contained.”
Costa knew Takak well enough to read distress in the being’s body language, in a stiffer and more upright posture and the clenched fists of his lower limbs. “When was that decided?” he asked before Takak could do so.
“We understood that to be an option you might employ,” Sarah added.
“This is our response to aggression,” Selekasm replied. “It has proven effective.”
“Would it not be sufficient to drive them back to their original star systems?” Maladar asked.
“Clarify reduction,” Takak added before anyone could answer. “You speak of star systems or population?”
“Both,” said Babtocick.
“How much reduction in population?” Takak asked.
“To be determined as campaign develops,” Selekasm replied. “No more than necessary.”
“It would seem we are still speaking of a great loss of life,” said Dorgnas. “Possibly on both sides.”
“Yes. Most unfortunate,” said Babtocick. “Long peace after preserves life.”
The end justifies the means? There’s something we don’t need in common! “What if we could come up with an alternative?” Costa asked.
“No alternative works,” Selekasm replied. “None we have found.”
“There has to be another way,” Costa insisted. “You have the knowledge and experience of seven new species to add to your own. Go ahead and reclaim lost star systems, but stop there. Give us time to find a better way to prevent further Phobic aggression, if only to save the lives of Correlation members who must fight.”
Mab stepped forward, her round, slightly concave Freen features as unreadable as ever. “Present an idea. It will be considered.”
Thinking fast, Costa said, “It will take time to work something up. In the meantime, we would not object to pushing the Phobics back to their original star systems. Back to where they belong. Afterward, the matter of containment can be managed jointly by the Grand Concordance and the Correlation. The Phobics are caught between us. There should be no need for reduction while we search for a better way to manage the situation.”
“Original T’lack space is too large for containment alone,” said Babtocick. “Reduction is required.”
“The charts I have seen tell a different tale,” said Maladar. “The region of space occupied by the Phobics is no larger than that controlled by the Correlation.”
“Murolish consider all T’lack space,” said Selekasm. “Safest action.”
“The Freen object to that,” said Mab. “We must treat Phobics and Philics as different species.” She waved a hand at Takak. “Philics fight for us. They correlate.”
“We should follow the Murolish,” Poptocick said. “Do what works. What has always worked before.”
“I offer a lesson my people learned the hard way, a long time ago,” said Costa. “Working in lockstep with the past too often leads to disaster. Things change, and this situation is different from what happened to you before. Mab is right. You cannot treat all the T’lack as one thing.”
“It will be discussed,” said Selekasm.
“In council,” said Mab.
“Murolish will not wait,” said Poptocick. “They are inflexible.”
“One hopes they are also reasonable,” said Takak. “A compromise must be found.”
“Yes, it must be,” said Costa, making eye contact with Mab. “The Grand Concordance is allied with the Philic T’lack. Takak’s people are members of the Grand Concordance.” He paused, wondering how much further to go with that line, how much more obvious he needed to be.
He hadn’t gone far enough for Maladar. “We would stand by them,” she said, and for just a moment Costa caught a glimpse of sharp, Leyra’an teeth. “If the Murolish or anyone else were to attack the Philics it would be seen as an act of war against the Grand Concordance. Make very sure your Councils understand this.”
Her words were a threat, and not the way Costa wanted to put it, but he said nothing to contradict her. Maladar was right, he knew it, and decided to trust her long instincts. Before the Faceless War she had been a powerful matriarch among her people, and an experienced diplomat. She was also absolutely correct in stating that the Grand Concordance would come to the defense of the Philic T’lack. Had already done so, in the T’lack civil war. The people of the Correlation needed to know the risk they took by approaching the situation in such a manner.
“Present my suggestion to your Councils,” Costa said before anyone could respond to her. “Let it be enough that we push the Phobics back where they belong. Then we can work together and find a solution that does not involve genocide.”
Silence surrounded them, then Mab said, “Yes.”
A ripple of agreement spread through her gathered colleagues, even among the stubborn-seeming Vivish, but Costa felt no relief from his anxiety. There were no Murolish among them, and the Murolish controlled the Correlation fleet.
~29~
“Forgive me for being so blunt back there,” Maladar said as the shuttle moved steadily back toward Loknata. It turned in space before them, its size rendering the appearance of rotation as deceptively slow. “Equivocation risked a dangerous lack of clarity.”
“I wasn’t equivocating,” Costa replied. “I was trying to lead them to that conclusion without it sounding like a threat or a warning.”
For a moment it seemed she would react sharply to even so mild an admonition, but then Maladar merely inclined her head to him and accepted the correction without comment. What’s done is done, Costa thought, knowing that even speaking out of turn, Maladar was correct.
None of the Correlation representatives had responded directly to Maladar’s statement, and Costa had left well enough alone at that point. A gathering of Humans or Leyra’an, he knew, would have been stiff and awkward after such an exchange, and he had been poised to make a conciliatory gesture when their hosts reacted to her words. Instead, they’d tabled the discussion, saying it was now a matter for their various councils to discuss. Those with authority to make decisions were present, but such discussions would not be quick in coming. If any of the Correlation representatives had picked up hostility or threat from her words, there was no sign of it. But Costa didn’t believe for a moment that the implications of her assertion would be lost on a collection of sophisticated, space-faring civilizations.
“The point absolutely needed to be made,” he said in the hope of avoiding lingering awkwardness between the two of them. “I was sorting out the words when you sounded off.”
“I did not mean to intrude on your authority,” Maladar assured him.
“Yes, you did.” He met her gaze, held it, and in a moment they both laughed.
“Yes, I did,” Maladar admitted. “Old habits, from when I was a matriarch of my clan, reasserted themselves.”
Back aboard the Loknata, Costa ordered a stand-down, and urged his people to take some rest. He scheduled a debriefing for the next day, and went to his quarters with Dorgnas firmly attached to his arm. There they shared a meal and slept, the timing being what it was. Midday on the following day the GCEF staff gathered and Maladar repeated her apology for her presumption.
“I must agree with my Leyra’an colleague,” said Fuumbral. “It is essential that they understand clearly the risk they take if they do not discriminate between Philics and Phobics.”
“She’s not wrong,” Costa said. “That’s why I’m less annoyed by her speaking up than she seems to think I should be.”
“Some of them certainly do understand,” Dorgnas said. “The Freen woman, Mab, clearly shares this orbit. Or near enough.”
“I do get the sense that she’s thinking in the right direction,” Costa agreed. They occupied a table and chairs in what had become their official conference room aboard the Loknata, a plain and unadorned place of pale ivory-colored walls and a slightly darker ceiling. Along with Fuumbral, Dorgnas, and Maladar were Takak, Lektat, Banetisib, and the clone sister pair of Norlil and Xenlis. Rory sat across the table from him; Sarah had gone off to handle an update of the translation system. “Some of the others aren’t too far off. I don’t think any of them actually want an expanded war.”
“And yet some seem willing to let the Murolish wage total war on the T’lack.” Maladar’s teeth flicked in and out of view for a moment.
“Or they are resigned to it,” Costa said. “I got the feeling there’s more than a few that find the Murolish intimidating.”
“Jan, we cannot allow the Correlation to simply exterminate the T’lack down to some arbitrary population size.” Dorgnas’ eyes were wide and as high up as they could go. “All of the Phobic T’lack are capable of being converted. The loss of life the Correlation is considering…” Her entire face seemed to pinch in on itself at that thought.
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Costa replied, wondering as he spoke just how empty his assurances might turn out to be.
“They are willing to consider an alternative,” Fuumbral reminded them.
“What we suggested is obviously not good enough,” Costa said. “At least, not as a long-term solution.”
“Unfortunately, they are correct in their concern,” Lektat said. “The Phobics operate on ancient instinct through current technology. They know otherness is still there. They will persist. The border will not remain stable if they maintain full strength.”
“Current efforts to spread acceptance will not work swiftly enough to end Phobic aggression,” said Takak.
“Then we’d better come up with an idea that works, and quickly,” Costa said. “We all heard them. The Murolish are assembling their fleets, and for the moment they seem to have the blessing of the Correlation councils, whatever or wherever those are.”
“Do we know anything about this fleet the Murolish are assembling?” Maladar asked.
Xenlis tapped at the pad in the table before her. “They did not jest when they said they would be open and honest. They’ve given us numbers regarding fleet size and capacity. Here.” She touched the pad again and a 3-D data frame shimmered into view.
Costa scanned the data and worked not to react out loud. Others, Maladar in particular, were not so restrained. The fleet size the Correlation was able to put together and send into T’lack space over a broad front would have intimidated the Faceless, an entity that had hijacked Commonwealth ship-building tech and literally built ships faster than the Allies could destroy them. “They aren’t trying to be open with us,” Costa said, unable to keep his voice free of anger. “The Murolish probably authorized this. They’re trying to be intimidating. They want to frighten us.”
“It’s working,” Rory muttered.
“We need that alternative,” Costa said. “We need it sooner.”
“But what can we do?” Dorgnas looked at him, eyes wide and low. “They have already rejected merely blockading T’lack space. Even knowing the Grand Concordance would back them up.”
“Even with our help, it is not practical,” said Takak. “That is the reason for the emphasis on reduction.”
“Could we evacuate the Philic T’lack?” Fuumbral asked. “There are the fallow stars. They could relocate, remove themselves from danger.”
The fallow stars were star systems once occupied by the Rusalas before the Faceless launched their war. Costa didn’t need to give that option much thought. “The facilities around the fallow stars were wrecked during the Faceless War,” he said. “And even if the Philics were willing to abandon everything they’ve built…”
“We are not,” said Lektat.
“Of course not. But in any case it would take decades to relocate their entire civilization.” Costa shook his head as he went on. “No, somehow we need to make it unnecessary for the Correlation to invade and arbitrarily exterminate some percentage of the Phobic T’lack population.”
“It would be preferable,” said Takak. “The Phobics are wrong to think us defective for accepting otherness, but it is possible to change them.” He gestured toward Lektat with his right arms. “They should not be wasted, if that can be avoided.”
Wasted. Well, that’s a way to look at it.
“Surely the Phobics, when they understand the threat they face, will choose to convert,” said Banetisib.
“No,” Lektat replied. “They cannot make that choice. The Philic race exists only because mergers shared the experience of acceptance originally unique to Questers. Once that sharing takes place it is your experience as well, and the good sense of acceptance is inescapable. It is why they kill every Philic they meet, treating us as a contagion. They revive and embrace the ancient instinct that kept the T’lack below ground for millennia. Only when the Quester caste evolved did we stop seeing otherness in different nests. Only then did we climb to the stars.”
“And now that unity has broken,” said Maladar. “Such a great irony, that the characteristics of your caste, having allowed the T’lack to advance so far, now place the T’lack in such peril.”
“They are one nest,” said Takak. “We are another. They see otherness in us.”
“This is not an encouraging conversation,” Maladar said in a low voice.
“No,” Dorgnas replied, eyes drooping. “No, it is not.”
“Forced sharing is necessary,” Lektat said in the awkward pause that filled the room. “When that is done, they can no longer think as they once did. But converting prisoners taken in the early months of the civil war made it obvious this task would take far too long.”
“It is an uncomfortable concept for Sibling Species,” Takak said to Lektat. “They do not understand the revelatory nature of such a merger.”
“The closest thing we have,” said Costa, “is a form of mental conditioning that creates a compulsion to perform certain behaviors, or accept a belief. It is invasive and often damaging.”
“A very different thing, then,” said Lektat. “I can remember my previous behavior toward otherness. The forced merger I endured revealed to me that such thinking is an error. A reversion to instincts that no longer serve a useful purpose. It seems so obvious now, but left to my own experiences I might not have discovered the beauty there is in our collective diversity. Although, being a Quester, it is not beyond the realm of possibility that I might have come to that truth eventually.”
“Other castes lack the flexibility to even consider that possibility,” said Takak. “Those among the Philics think as they do only because they underwent merger. There is no other way to spread acceptance.”
“Irony,” Rory muttered, shaking his head. “Damn, that’s not strong enough by half! The Phobics can’t beat us, so they go after a new source of otherness to exterminate that, and trigger a response that might well exterminate them.”
“No-win situation,” Costa muttered, shaking his head. “That’s simply not acceptable, people!”
“No, it is not,” said Fuumbral. “We are missing something. There is an option that has not presented itself. There must be.” It rumbled in a disconcerting way, then went on. “Xenophobia is inherent in the T’lack species. Takak’s association overcame that through a unique set of circumstances. Those circumstances cannot be repeated, and we cannot reason with the Phobics on the matter, so direct conversion is necessary. How do we affect large-scale conversion? That is our challenge.”
How do we facilitate the brain-raping of an entire civilization? Costa shuddered, but kept the thought to himself. However Takak and Lektat presented it, the concept was repugnant to him. It was a fundamental difference between the T’lack and Human outlook. It was also a moot point, since mass conversion of the T’lack was also impossible. The number of Phobic T’lack they needed to convert was a number followed by far too many zeroes. It would take an all-out war involving every known species, followed by complete occupation of Phobic space, and would likely result in more deaths than conversions. “You convert captives,” Costa said with a nod toward Lektat. “What would happen if converted prisoners traveled back to Phobic space and pretended they were otherwise?”
“A covert program of conversion and acceptance?” Maladar asked.
“Why not?”
“The Phobics would kill those who return, and any they managed to convert,” Takak replied. “The process would be too slow to make much progress before the plan was revealed.”
Norlil turned in her seat and looked up at Takak. “Do you recall our conversation, some weeks ago, regarding contagion?”
“I do,” Takak responded. “Were you able to investigate the idea we discussed?”
“Indeed, yes, and the simulations run by the Grahlin did not rule out its viability.”
“What idea?” Costa demanded.
“There is a life form from the Grahlin home world that in its original form was a dangerous parasite, one that attacked the central nervous system. It was highly contagious. We engineered it centuries ago to be a living data storage and delivery system. At one time we used it to fast-teach offspring produced by early cloning efforts. This was before we perfected biocybernetic methods similar to Commonwealth nanomedical technology to accomplish the same goal. The organism forms a temporary symbiotic relationship with the learner, becoming part of the brain tissue in a manner analogous to T’lack mergers. It was thought that, using this creature as a template, we could create a T’lack counterpart. It would certainly have the capacity to store the necessary data.”
