Charles Gannon - Raising Caine

“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 genome to make us more tractable, more willing to blend ourselves into a panspeciate 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.”

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. Yaargraukh has asked that we send you to help.” 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, offworld 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 a plaintive guitar solo, 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 reach that area of space yet. And it’s got to be handled right away, because this has landed in the Hkh’Rkhs’ 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 up their hardliners 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 primed to tear them apart. According to Yaargraukh, there is increasing talk of a multisided civil war.”

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

“Exactly.”

“And how do I 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?”