Charles Gannon - Raising Caine

“It is. I am.”

The Ktor named Nezdeh tested the edge with practiced care, touched the ceremonial cloth that had been bound around the center of the blade. “This is used for ritual suicides, is it not?”

“It was.” Ayana left out the fact that although that use was now quite rare, it had not disappeared entirely.

Nezdeh fixed red-flecked hazel eyes upon hers. “Do not attempt to lie to me, low-breed. You would now be as dead as Brackman if you did not interest me.”

Untrue. Brackman was extraneous to your plans. But you need me to ensure your hold over Kozakowski. “I misspoke. The tanto is still used in this fashion, but very infrequently.”

This seemed to partially mollify the Ktor, but only partially. “It is a warrior’s means of preserving honor, I recall. So tell me — warrior — did you intend to use it on yourself?”

Not before I used it on as many of you as I could catch by surprise. “No, it is not mine,” she lied. “In my culture, a woman’s honor is not that of a warrior, and her failures are not effaced in this fashion.” Which was no longer uniformly true in Japan’s changing culture. “This tanto was my father’s and those of my family’s many fathers before him. He was a warrior, as were they.” Which was true.

Nezdeh stared at her for a long time. Ayana had the sense that her life depended upon the Ktor being unable to read anything in her face, her eyes.

Apparently, she succeeded at remaining expressionless. Nezdeh passed the box to the most junior of the four Ktor. “You may not have this weapon, of course,” she commented casually, “but we shall retain it, undefaced. On this you have my word.” The other two senior Ktor glanced at her in what might have been surprise.

“In the meantime,” Nezdeh continued, “both you and Kozakowski shall acquaint our logistics officer, Sehtrek, with the contents of your ship, its lading manifest, and most particularly, any pertinent facts or contents which do not appear in your data files. And unless you wish to lose appendages, do not think you will conceal anything from us. Nor should you think that we will be so gullible as to believe that you have no hidden caches or off-manifest items. Sehtrek will be here within the minute: attend him when he comes.” She turned to the two other Ktor who had spoken. “We should confer on our next steps.” Then, with a final glance at Ayana, the Ktor woman exited.

Ayana, half-surprised to still be alive, wondered if she should be grateful or dismayed that she was.

Caine Riordan watched as a crab-armed cargo tug grabbed a habitation module from the Lincoln ’s forward cargo racks, leaving a gap in the serried ranks of its fellows. The tug’s operator was quite accomplished: even as its manipulator arms half rotated the hab mod, the tug was already boosting away from the human shift-carrier and angling into a trajectory that would take it toward the nearby Slaasriithi ship.

Downing approached the gallery window, nodded at the tug as it overtook their shuttle on a roughly parallel course. “I believe that hab mod is your new home. It should be in place by the time we rendezvous with the Slaasriithi.”

The deck moved slightly under their feet. Their own craft had cut thrust, probably to let the tug get farther ahead. Riordan reached out for a handle, steadied his body against a slow drift up from the deck. “So where are the other warm bodies who’ll be going down the rabbit’s hole with me?”

As if in answer to his question, Ben Hwang drifted into the room. “I’m here. Can’t say I’m enjoying the ride, though.” He moved slowly toward the gallery window, carefully towing himself from one hand hold to the next.

Downing watched the Nobel prize winner’s cautious progress. “Rulaine and O’Garran are coming out on the next shuttle, along with this Tsaami fellow who ferried you to and from your meeting with the Slaasriithi ambassador.”

“A second shuttle, just for the three of them?”

“No, they’re just tagging along with all the kit we’ve scratched together for you. I’m not sure you appreciate the challenges this has posed, Caine. This fleet came out here to fight a war, not explore new biospheres. This mission has half a dozen logistics staffs scrambling to find compact, pioneer-grade biosensors, microlabs, an automed, and more Dornaani translators.”

“Hah,” said Vassily Sukhinin from the doorway, “those bean counters have it easy.”

“Oh?” smiled Riordan. “And you’ve come along to say farewell, too?”

“ Da ,” Sukhinin grinned back as he glided, quite professionally, to join the other three at the wide expanse of triple-layered glass. “Anything to get away from the staff officers who have been pestering me about finding personnel for your legation. The Fleet doesn’t have enough of the civilian-grade specialties and is also struggling with an incomplete database.”

“Incomplete?” Hwang echoed.

Sukhinin nodded. “Yes. It was just luck that Doppelganger is carrying most of the needed specialists. Along with gospodin Gaspard and his staff, she brought hundreds of civilian personnel, many with credentials that are rare among military ranks. But each of them must be added into the Fleet’s database. And only after trickling through Doppelganger ’s Arat Kur communication systems. It is not a smooth operation.”

Downing stared at the distant speck that was Doppelganger ’s sister ship, Changeling . “And I won’t even be here to see the end of it.”

“You are leaving already?” Hwang sounded as surprised as Caine felt. “I thought you were staying until Visser formally hands the reins over to Vassily.”

Downing shook his head. “The secure pouch that came on board Doppelganger carried new orders. Due to Wasserman’s discoveries, I have to catch up with the outbound Changeling and oversee his security, all the way back to Earth. Lemuel Wasserman is now the pearl of great price, so we can’t let anything happen to him. The wanker.”

As Hwang pushed himself further down the expanse of window to get a better vantage point as they approached the Slaasriithi shift-carrier, Riordan’s took advantage of the comparative privacy. “So Richard, once you’ve left Sigma Draconis, who’s going to run the on-site intelligence operations?”

It was Sukhinin who responded, elliptically. Or so it seemed, at first. “Originally, I was concerned that it would be intolerable to remain here, working alongside that arrogant upstart, Gaspard.” The Russian’s smiling eyes became sharp. “But now, he is traveling to have tea with aliens. And I have determined, after speaking with Richard, that there are additional interesting activities that want my attention while I am in this system.”

Caine looked from Downing to Sukhinin and back again. He nodded thoughtfully at Richard. “So. Vassily is replacing you.”

“Yes.”

Caine waited a moment. “In every relevant regard.”

“Yes.”

Caine glanced at Sukhinin. “So you know.”

Vassily smiled. “Yes, I know about your clandestine Institute for Research, Intelligence, and Security.”

“For how long?”

Vassily’s smile widened as he checked his watch. “About five hours, now, I estimate. But its existence was no surprise to me.”

Caine nodded. “Did Nolan drop some broad hints?”

Sukhinin straightened. “Nolan Corcoran and I were friends, but you must also remember that the admiral was a consummate professional. I understand your supposition: that given our coordination before the Parthenon Dialogs, and our prior friendship, he might have…well, ‘encouraged’ me to speculate that there was an undisclosed international intelligence group assessing Earth’s vulnerability to exosapients. But he did not do so. And he did not need to. I had my own suspicions.”