Charles Gannon - Raising Caine

“It is happy indeed, Autarch Tval Jerapthere, that your memory now compasses this instance. To conclude, I felt it likely that the Aboriginals would — through inspiration, thoroughness, or serendipity — discover that the environment suit was a deception. They did, and the outcome was as I predicted: they are now aware of our true speciate identity. Furthermore, they have shared it with one Arat Kur of the Ee’ar caste, who will no doubt share it with select members of his own, as well as the Hur, caste. There was also a Custodian present, so the Dornaani discord occasioned by their contending conjectures about our identity are now at an end, and so too is the concomitant drain on the surveillance and intelligence assets they have long dedicated to the matter. Furthermore, the Aboriginals now have full access to Arat Kur technology.”

Ulsor Tval Vasarkas’ declarative was shaded to suggest that the Autarch would brook no dispute on the matter. “That latter risk was deemed acceptable.”

“By the Autarchs, perhaps,” Shethkador replied carefully. “However, you may recall that I opined differently. The observable phenomenon of postwar rebuilding on Earth, in the face of the unresolved exosapient threat, was already arising when the Aboriginal fleet departed for its strike against Sigma Draconis. Even now Earth is reverse-engineering key naval technologies: pseudo-singularity capacitors, navigation systems, field-effect generators, spinal-mounted X-ray lasers, high-yield pulse fusion thrusters, antimatter production and retention systems. They will be manufacturing them within two years. In five years’ time, these technologies will be commonplace in the Aboriginal formations. In ten years’ time, they will be ubiquitous.”

Davros’ contact was unconcerned. “Let them do so. The economic impact of such rebuilding will cripple them.”

“On the contrary, Autarch. It will strengthen the Aboriginals by providing jobs in their market-driven economy and will make them both bolder and more canny opponents.”

Beren pushed back to the fore of the contact, and his shading was as reptile-cool as it was hostile. “Are you saying our plans were folly?”

Time to redirect the exchange. “I would not risk my geneline by suggesting that the Autarchs could be so profoundly and singularly mistaken. Let us say that we are all still paying for the error of the rogue elements of House Perekmeres.”

Beren’s contact was as calm as his animus was clear. “It is always convenient to blame the dead, Srin Shethkador.”

“Perhaps, but it is never right — nor wise — to blame the Autarchs, Autarch. And is there any denying that House Perekmeres’ unapproved attempt to cripple Earth with an asteroid strike triggered this cascade of disastrous sequelae? Instead of eliminating the Aboriginals as a threat and resetting their cultural paradigms, the so-called Doomsday Rock alerted them to exosapience and interstellar travel and, thereby, accelerated the problem. Were not the lately failed war plans — hasty, forced, inelegant — simply the ineluctable offspring of the Perekmeres’s defiance of the Houses and the Autarchs?”

If Ulsor Tval Vasarkas’ comment had a subtext, Shethkador could not discern it: “You sound as if you would purge the Perekmeres again, if it were possible.”

“I laud the thoroughness of their Extirpation, even down to the fetuses in the EndoWombs. I would have gladly assisted, had I been asked.”

This time, Ulsor’s contact trod a line between assertion and irony. “Your reputation for dutiful service remains impeccable, Srin Shethkador.”

“I would best serve the core values of the Creche worlds if my perspicacity enjoyed equal confidence among the Autarchs.”

Ulsor’s response was quick and sharp. “Is this insolence, Srin Shethkador?”

“This is simple fact, esteemed Autarch. Did I not fear this outcome? Did I not predict its disastrous progress?”

“You did. So how do we know that you have not had a hand in creating that failure to enhance your reputation for foresightfulness?”

“Let us assume, as your hypothesis must, that I have lost all loyalty to the Ktoran Sphere. Even so, the scheme you suggest would still be folly for me and my geneline. There is more glory to be had, more fame to be acquired, more improvement of my gene-rating to be enjoyed, in acquiring victory than there is in having been sadly correct in my foresight. Will I be draped in the enemy’s skins because I predicted this failure? No. But I might very well have worn that mantle of the flayed remains of our foes had I been able to send word that Earth would soon come under our power. No, esteemed Autarch: though I may be proven right by these events, it is no victory for me.”

Tlerek could almost see Ulsor’s nod across the dozens of light-years. “Well said. And better still, it is as you say.”

Shethkador could feel the strength borrowed from the expended Catalysite’s protoplasm beginning to wane rapidly, like a star tucking behind the terminator line of a swiftly rotating world. And not a moment too soon: these walking corpses would remonstrate and share their dubious wisdom for hours, given the chance…

Kromn Tval Shethkador’s contact reached out across the light-years briefly but sharply. “Your signal fades, Tlerek Srin Shethkador. You proceed with our trust in your judgment.”

There was a pulse of approval from Ruurun, followed shortly thereafter by Ulsor’s clipped, “Your perspicacity does not go unappreciated, young Shethkador.” But the emphasis upon “young,” and the absence of praise for other characteristics, was not lost on Tlerek.

He resolved to dominate what was left of the contact with pointless pleasantries, so that none of the Autarchs could utter any last-second directives that might restrict his actions. “I am gratified to represent the Ktoran Sphere in this place, and to attend to the voices of the Autarchs. I shall make further report when I determine whether it is best to reposition Ferocious Monolith so that it seems to have commenced its homeward journey as instructed by the Custodians, or to fabricate a pretext to remain and gather further data.”

Tlerek Srin Shethkador waited for a response. There was none — and his perception of the universe as a vast membrane comprised of touch-sensitive cells was gone. In its place was the narrow reality contained within the scope of his senses and an annoying feeling of diminishment.

Shethkador was up off the cushions as soon as he became aware of that first tinge of melancholia: down that path lay overuse of, even addiction to, the artificial surges of the Reifying power enabled by the Catalysites. Of course, the Catalysites themselves were not the enemy: they were utterly insensate. The foe was the Symbiot itself, seducing with the temporarily actualized promise of fabulous power — power which came at the cost of one’s autonomy. Which was why the Ktoran reflex for dominion was all-important, not merely because it fueled the will to control all other species and planets, but to maintain control over oneself. Resolving not to rub at the painful welt on his index finger, where the caustic fluids of the Catalysite had surged greedily into his bloodstream, Shethkador exited the Sensorium.

Olsirkos was there. Two guards were present also, but hanging well back, out of earshot. “Fearsome Srin,” Olsirkos began, “if you should wish to first take some repose in the—”

“I have need of information, not rest. It is also necessary that I make an appearance on the bridge. Attend me.” Because, as the ancient axiom has it, “one cannot assert one’s dominion in one’s absence.”

Without checking to see if Olsirkos was at his heels — for it was the ’vah’s life if he was not — Tlerek Srin Shethkador made swiftly for the bridge.