Trial by Fire - eARC (69 page)

“Just so,” affirmed Darzhee Kut. “The humans will hunt us down until they have made our homerock magma and ashes. And to prevent them from doing so, we would need to hunt them down on all their other worlds. So, once we are done here, let us also be resolved to lay waste to Alpha Centauri, to Epsilon Indi, to Delta Pavonis, to Beta Hydri, Zeta Tucanae, and p-Eridani, for you will need to destroy them all, one by one, if you are to finish the atrocity you would start.”

Yaargraukh’s voice was grim. “As if the Dornaani would let us.”

First Voice’s tone was measured, careful. “The Dornaani are not here, have not come. You start at shadows that your own mind has conjured, Advocate.”

“Do I, First Voice? Tell me, if the Dornaani have
not
been exterminated, can they allow this—and us—to stand?”

Darzhee Kut clicked his claws, signaling an amplification of Yaargraukh’s point. “First Voice, do not mistake Dornaani calm for indecisiveness. They will not hesitate to use force. They fought horrible wars before any of us saw the heavens as something other than a place of myths and gods. They will not abide what you are contemplating.”

“There may be none left to object,” observed First Voice, “if the Ktorans’ war against them has gone as planned.”

Yaargraukh reared up. “Are you willing to make that wager, First Voice of the First Family? And what do we gain even if you win it? A commitment to destroy green worlds and a whole race in a war that even now ceases to have any honor in it? And if you lose the wager? Do you wish to be known as the Hkhi whose gamble resulted in our permanent expulsion, even quarantine, from contact with other races? And if we cannot accept such a fate placidly, what then might the Dornaani feel compelled to do? Exterminate us?”

Hu’urs Khraam's voice was quiet. “No. They will—change—you.”

The Hkh’Rkh crests all rose. First Voice growled. “What do you mean?”

The First Delegate raised a didactic claw. “The Dornaani would not initiate genocide; they have sworn an oath against it. But altering your species through selective and successive retroviruses, foods that are engineered to rebalance your hormones, asymptomatic epidemics that, initially unnoticed, sterilize ninety percent of your females. These passive controls they would indeed use.”

Yaargraukh turned to First Voice. “And this risk is worth the profit and glory of a race exterminated from orbit without honor, half a dozen ruined worlds, and no promise of new lands? What nature of gamble is this, First Voice?”

“Then what is to be done?” Graagkhruud asked.

Yaargraukh let the phlegm roll long and contemptuous in his nostrils. “Fight and die, First Fist. Or leave. The choice is yours, and I am indifferent to your deliberations. I will take my place among the defenders, for I have no more counsel to offer. By your leave, First Voice.” Who bobbed once, curtly. Yaargraukh turned and left.

Graagkhruud’s chest was a sustained rumble. “His insolence warrants death.”

First Voice looked after him. “And his courage and honesty earns honor. We will let events help us decide which it should be, for I cannot decree both. But you may point out to him that a creature with great honor and honesty must always be ready to serve the First Voice in any way required, and such readiness is now paramount. And if he fails in his oaths, he must be ready to answer for that failure, to accept any Challenge. Any Challenge, from any Challenger—First Fist.” First Voice looked at Graagkhruud, long and silently.

Who lowered his eyes and put his clenched fist low on his barrellike chest. “Your vassal hears and understands, suzerain.” Graagkhruud hunch-bowed himself out of the command center.

Darzhee Kut buzzed mildly. “So what is decided?”

Hu’urs Khraam's claws snipped the air restively. “Even though the magma rises around us, I am reluctant to contemplate withdrawal. But—”

First Voice reared up to his full 2.2 meters. “The Hkh’Rkh do not flee. We fight until we win or die.”

“And if an honorable withdrawal is negotiated?”

“Let that be sought and crafted by creatures who find no inherent contradiction in linking the word ‘honorable’ with ‘withdrawal.’” First Voice leaned down, warbling phlegm. “But know that if an ‘ally’ once abandons us, we will neither forget, nor forgive, it. I leave to inspect our defenses. I return soon.” He loped out, ears flattened and quivering. His retinue was a broad, swaggering wake behind him.

The sensor specialist signaled he had an update. Urzueth Ragh glanced at it, then chattered, “Esteemed Hu’urs Khraam, the enemy continue launching air vehicles. Their transatmospheric interceptors are climbing up beyond twenty-five kilometers, but their ascent is atypically slow.”

“That’s because they’re not attacking—yet.”

Darzhee Kut and the other Arat Kur cadre turned to look at Caine. Hu’urs Khraam bobbed toward him. “I invite your explanation, Speaker Riordan. Why would your commanders launch a wave of interceptors if they do not mean to assault our ships in orbit?”

Darzhee Kut recognized Caine’s smile as being one which, paradoxically, did not signify either happiness or amusement. “Oh, if the
military
commanders were in charge of this launch, I’m sure they’d be filling your hulls with nukes by now. No, this is a politically managed maneuver.”

“To what end?”

“To give you enough time to realize that although you are not in immediate danger, the threats are rapidly increasing. And to give them an opportunity to discover whether, in the face of those threats, you will react aggressively or comply.”

“Comply?” mused Hu’urs Khraam.

Darzhee Kut understood. “Comply with the warning the humans issued at the end of their last communiqué: ‘if you attempt orbital interdiction against any of our air units, we will launch a nuclear attack directly against your two major compounds in Jakarta and Surabaja.’”

Urzueth Ragh looked at him. “So do the humans expect us to allow their interceptors to continue to climb toward orbit?”

Darzhee Kut returned Urzueth’s stare. “Are we prepared to interdict one hundred percent of the nuclear weapons they would launch if we do not?”

Hu’urs Khraam looked at them both, then allowed chitinous covers to close over his eyes. Darzhee Kut edged closer to the Arat Kur who had, over these weeks, become more his mentor than his superior. “Revered Hu’urs Khraam, if at this time we cannot act, perhaps this is the right moment to talk…”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Near the Presidential Palace compound, Jakarta, Earth

Trevor leaned back so he could see up through the hole in the roof several stories above. Just before they had reached this building—their jumpoff point for the final attack—the rear fuselage of an intercepted rocket had cut a straight shaft through it, from roof to atrium. The jagged, impromptu skylight now showed a darkening, low cloudbank. But still no sign of rain. Or of more airbursting nukes.

Tygg approached, looked up as well. “Is it almost time?”

“Almost. Let’s pull Gavin in from overwatch.”

“Right. And I’ll send one of my blokes to get the electronics out of the Faraday cage.”

Trevor nodded. “Yeah, might as well. If we see any more nukes, they’re going to be in our laps, not high overhead.”

“There’s a cheery thought, mate. I’m off.”

As Tygg headed down to the basement, Trevor walked to the front of the building, found the chief crouched in the same concealed position he’d been in since entering the building. “What’s the good word, Stosh?”

“All quiet on the Western Front.”

“Winfield?”

“Still no sign of him. Don’t worry. He’s a tough kid from Watts.”

“Stosh, Jake Winfields’ from Greenwich, Connecticut.”

“Well, his grandmother—or grandfather, or someone—still lives in Watts. And he visited them. Once. Well, he wanted to, anyway.”

Trevor smiled. “Stosh, you are insane.”

“I am inspired. They are frequently confused.”

Trevor nodded in the direction of Harmoni Square. “What else can you tell me?”

“No cell chatter since our big bright white ones went off at twelve o’clock high. Fried the net, I’m guessing. A few unattached insurgents skulking around, giving the Roach motel a wide berth.”

“And the Arat Kur security forces?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’d left when no one was looking.”

“No more Hkh’Rkh search-and-destroy squads, either?”

“Not since Gavin introduced the last bunch of Sloths to the wonders of long-range marksmanship.”

John Gavin had caught the Hkh’Rkh elites flatfooted with the Remington assault gun, ran them straight into Stosh and Tygg’s combined field of fire. Trevor had wanted to avoid an engagement, but the Hkh’Rkh NCO had evidently arrived at the same conclusion that Trevor had come to an hour earlier. That this particular building was an ideal spot for an OP and multiple sniper nests. Unfortunately, as Stosh pointed out later, multiple tenancy was strictly prohibited within the city limits and the human commandos had enforced that exclusionary law with a decisive application of firepower. “Stosh,” Trevor said quietly, “tell our local recruits we’re ready to move. Should be getting the go signal for the final attack any minute, now.”

“Bringing news like that, they’ll probably try to kiss me.”

Trevor stared at the homely SEAL. “Not a chance, chief.”

“Woe is me, unwanted and unloved. Any other heartbreaking orders?”

“Yeah. Tell the locals who laid the demo charges that they need to talk us through the triggering sequence again.”

“How hard can it be, Skipper? We press the buttons. The charges they laid in a nice straight row go off one after the other, blowing open a path from our front door right into the Roach motel.”

“Simple in concept, Stosh, but I want to get the timing exactly right. And I want them to run their remote circuit-test of the charges that the inside agents placed along the compound’s inner walls. If the Arat Kur or Hkh’Rkh found and removed them, I want to know that before we start running up our own highway of destruction—only to find ourselves bouncing off the still-intact compound walls.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be much fun. I’ll send the fireworks boys up on the double.”

Trevor squinted at the closest enemy hardpoint, only eighty meters away, brooding outward into Majahapit Street from the gutted Chamber of Commerce building.
I watch you and, maybe, you watch me. Or maybe you figure that since this building is quiet, your hit-squad cleared at least this much turf for you.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes until their final assault on the west perimeter was to get the “go-no go” signal. That presumed, of course, that the second-hand messaging remained accurate. The word had come via a runner from another large mob moving slowly north along streets paralleling Merdeka square on the east, who had in turn received it from one of the tunnel rats who were manning the fiber-com net under the streets somewhere to the north. And today, in Jakarta, that was about as high-quality a message a anyone was going to get.

Trevor felt as much as heard movement behind him. Bannor Rulaine was there, an extra eight-millimeter CoBro assault rifle in hand. Trevor nodded his thanks. “Thanks for building us that Faraday cage, Bannor.”

“Not a problem. Never imagined I’d ever have use for that particular bit of training. Spent years thinking it had been a waste of six hours of my very important life. But our intact electronics and RAPs should give us the edge we need.”

“I sure hope so, Bannor.” Trevor looked back at the enemy hardpoint, wondered if the demo charges would take it down as planned, wondered what lay beyond it. “I sure hope so.”

Presidential Palace, Jakarta, Earth

Caine rubbed his left forearm with his right hand. Was that pain ever going to go away? He hadn’t felt any discomfort there since his abortive attempt to leave Indonesia, but here it was, back again: a sharp stabbing sensation, racing along his ulna.

Caine leaned forward, checked the command center’s side door to see if the departing Hkh’Rkh had possibly neglected to post a guard there. Nope, still one on duty, rifle held at port arms. No way to get out and warn Yaargraukh that Graagkhruud and his retinue had left the room looking like Macbeth’s henchmen being sent to kill Banquo.
And just wait until First Voice hears who Hu’urs Khraam is now trying to reach on the radio, and why. That ought to be worth the price of admission.

It was Hu’urs Khraam himself who jarred Caine out of his train of thought. “Once we have contacted your people, Speaker Riordan, I will be grateful to have you help us assess their intentions.”

“First Delegate Khraam, surely you are not asking me to be a traitor.”

“I am only asking you to do what you have already done: provide us with insight regarding human actions. Your observations have been far more useful and perspicacious than those of our—special advisors. It was you who helped us understand the slow approach of the interceptors, after all.”

“True, First Delegate. But I did so because I am here to help you
and
my people both find a way to avoid further fighting. By sharing that information with you, I served that purpose. I am not here to help you fight, or gain an advantage in negotiations, against my own people.”

Hu’urs Khraam considered. “But you will help us perceive correctly if we seem to be misperceiving?”

“Of course.”

The Arat Kur communications specialist signaled Hu’urs Khraam. He had a senior representative of the human command structure on the line. The First Delegate rose up slightly. “Hello? To whom am I speaking?”

The human voice that responded was the same one that had contacted them earlier. Caine kept himself from smiling.

Because it was Downing. “First Delegate Hu’urs Khraam, I am glad to speak to you.”

Hu’urs Khraam paused. “My apologies, but am I speaking to Delegate Downing?”

“That is correct.”

“My apologies. I did not recognize your voice when my subalternate Urzueth Ragh spoke with you earlier.”

“That is quite understandable, First Delegate. We had little contact at the Convocation, and this has been a busy and difficult day.”