The Span of Empire: Chapter Thirty

    “Director,” Fleet Command Dannet said, “you may want to look at the main view screen.”

    When Caitlin did, she saw the familiar schematic of the Khûr system. It took a moment for her to see the additional clouds of symbols spreading out from the various planets and headed toward the elements of her fleet.

    “Is that what I think it is?”

    “If you think those are fleets of ships launched by the natives of the system and heading toward us, then yes.” Dannet’s angles were at dealing-with-the-moment. “And some of those launched from the outer planets are of respectable size.”

    Caitlin turned to Pyr. “Have we had any response at all to our messages?”

    Pyr folded his hands together. “No,” he said with a trace of sadness.

    Caitlin looked back at the view screen. “How many?”

    “Fifty-nine total from the home world,” Lieutenant Vaughan said, “all heading toward us. Sixty-five from the inner world, all headed for our main fleet. Seventy-five from the third planet, and one hundred and nine from the gas giant, all headed inward but no definite target yet.”

    Caitlin snorted. “We know who the target is.”

    “Well,” Vaughan acknowledged, “it’s too early to tell if they’re aiming for our little group or our main fleet or both.”

    “They have ships the size of Harriers,” Dannet added to the conversation.

    “They won’t be as good as Harriers,” Caitlin countered.

    “But they won’t be as easy to kill as those small ships we just encountered, either.”

    “You assume we’re going to be fighting them,” Caitlin said with a frown.

    Dannet said nothing, simply moved to a neutral posture, which for her at this moment was almost provocatory.

    Caitlin thought for a moment, then looked to Vaughan. “Get me a line to Gabe Tully, please.”

    Vaughan touched a series of controls on his workstation.

    “Tully here,” came the response over his speakers in a few seconds.

    “Gabe,” Caitlin said, “have you got anything at all out of your guests yet?”

    “Nope. We just got the surviving officer to start talking to us. Haven’t got past the name, rank, and serial number stage yet.”

    “Damn,” Caitlin responded. “Okay, number one thing we need to know is if we leave the system, how far will they pursue us? Number two thing we need to know is we know they have much bigger ships than we’ve seen, but do they have heavier weapons?”

    “You got it,” Tully said. “Tully out.”

    Caitlin crossed her arms and stared at the floor. We can’t make friends if they won’t talk to us. And even if we continue here and just keep blowing their missiles up, sooner or later something’s going to go wrong and we’re going to be even worse off in trying to make connections. I don’t really want to do this, but I don’t think we have any choice. Time to get out of Dodge before we burn a bridge we’ll really want later on.

    She looked up. “Fleet Commander, all ships to return to main fleet as soon as possible, then head for galactic north at best speed until we pass the boundary of the system. We will defend if attacked, but not return fire unless I order it.”

    Dannet shifted to compliance-to-oudh. “As you direct.” She turned to issue orders to the fleet.

    Wrot stepped up beside Caitlin. “Remove the possibility of confrontation until we understand this system. A good idea.”

    “No,” Caitlin muttered. “Not a good idea. It’s just the least-bad idea at the moment.”

    Boyes looked at Lim, the Khûrûsh-an momentarily forgotten. “He’s my what?”

    The alien–Kamozh–chattered again. Lim listened, then held a hand up and turned to Boyes. “He says that he is your slave by right of conquest and surrender.” She shrugged. “Or at least that’s as close as I can come to it. There are additional strands of meaning that do not work well in English.”

    Boyes looked at Kamozh still lying on the floor, and holstered his pistol. He gave a wild-eyed look for a moment at the mirror that was the observation window.

    The sergeant walked over to the small table that had been pushed to one side of the room and sat down on it. He gestured at a chair for Lim. She took a seat, holding her staff in one hand. “Honestly? A slave? I thought only the Ekhat went in for that stuff.”

    Lim shook her head. “There are no exact parallels between the Khûrûsh and you humans, but if you think of Shogunate Japan blended with equal measures of Homeric Greece and the British Raj, you’re approaching a concept. Except that their emperors are very smart, and very perceptive, and very capable. Also not given to allowing second chances for failure.”

    “But I can’t keep a slave! I mean, even if Colonel Tully let me, what would I do with him?”

    “Leave that for the Colonel and Director Kralik,” Lim said.

    Boyes took a deep breath. “Okay, try talking back to him. Tell him I said he’s got to talk to you to talk to me, and I will take it very badly if he gives you any problems. And tell him to sit up.”

    “I have changed your directive slightly, Director.” Dannet approached Caitlin.

    Caitlin just looked at the big Jao, and crossed her arms, not going to a Jao posture.

    “I have ordered the main fleet to head for the system limits now rather than wait for the return of our group. We will join them on a converging course.”

    Caitlin looked at the main view screen, where the Khûrûsh fleets were moving toward them. It wasn’t hard to understand the fleet commander’s reasoning. The sooner they were out of the way, the sooner there would be no risk of contact.

    “Very well.”

    The fleet commander turned away, and Caitlin looked back at Wrot. “Does anything about this whole experience seem fishy to you?”

    “In what way?” Wrot asked.

    “Everything that’s happened since we came into this system.” She walked away a few steps, then turned and walked back. “I mean, nothing has seemed right since we got here. This is a high-technology civilization. Not as high as the Jao, but definitely at least a little ahead of where Earth was when you Jao first arrived.

    “When your first fleet moved in, as soon as we understood you were from the stars, even as you made your assault landings, we started sending you all kinds of communications, trying to get some kind of understanding of who you were and what you wanted.”

    Caitlin repeated the walk away and return steps. “Here, nothing. Nada. Zilch. We know they know we’re here, because of the radar. But they never offered anything.”

    Walk away, return. “I could almost accept that as a manifestation of extreme caution. Or pathological isolationism. Maybe even cowardice. Except that once we began the approach, once we initiated a communication contact using their frequencies and their language, the only response we got was an attack. No warning, no cautions, no wave-offs; just a full-bore attack.”

    She stood by Vaughan’s workstation. She knew he was listening, as well as Wrot and the Lleix at the next workstation.

    “We’ve been reacting,” she said, “not analyzing. My fault. I wanted the contact to work so badly that I didn’t consider that these folks are not us, and their universe view is apparently very different from ours. But it’s not too late to think about that.”

    Caitlin looked around at those close by: Wrot, Vaughan, Lim and Garhet, Caewithe and Tamt.

    “Maybe they’re crazy. Maybe they’re insane, like the Ekhat. But I have trouble believing that that could be a successful survival strategy for more than one race. And I refuse to believe that there are only three sane races in this corner of the universe.”

    Human, Jao, and Lleix heads all nodded. They were tracking with her so far.

    “So why would a whole race and civilization respond this way? Why would their reaction be ‘Destroy the invader’, at first contact, without even a single attempt to talk?”

    There was a long moment of silence, broken by Pyr. “There has to have been a resounding traumatic event in their history that changed their cultural outlook.”

    Caitlin considered that thought, then nodded. “I can buy that. So what would have caused this kind of mindset?”

    “Paranoia,” Vaughan said quietly. Caitlin turned to him, realization dawning in her own mind. “We’re not . . .”

    “. . .the first alien race they’ve met,” Caitlin completed the thought. “Damn, but that makes sense. That would explain everything that’s happened.” She thought some more, then said, “Open that channel to Tully back up, please.”

    After a few moments, she heard, “Tully here. What’s up, Caitlin?”

    “Colonel Tully, we’re coming to the conclusion over here that the Khûrûsh have had at least one bad experience with another alien race, maybe more than one.”

    There was a whistle, then, “Yeah, I can see that. We’re starting to get more conversation going, over here. I’ll make sure that gets added to the questions.”

    “And one more thing, Gabe,” Caitlin said.

    “Yeah?”

    “I really want to know if they have ever seen or heard of the Ekhat. Show them pictures of Ekhat and Ekhat ships. If they’ve been traumatized, well, who do we know is the most likely candidate to do the traumatizing?”

    “Got it. Will do.”

    “Thanks.”

    Third-Mordent was again blade dancing; again with a male who was larger and stronger and perhaps faster. He was also smarter than her last opponent. He did not rush her, simply strode forward, forehand blades at the ready, head down and red eyes glaring at her.

    She danced aside from his first blow, diverted his second to the side, and spun inside the reach of his blades, blocked both the grasping claw and the small manipulator with a movement of one of her own forehand blades while she reached up and carved a crescent around one of his eyes with the other.

    The male recoiled with a hiss of pain, and Third-Mordent danced away, untouched.

    White ichor was flowing down over the male’s eye, half-blinding him. He repeatedly shook his head, slinging the ichor in spatters around him, but the gash was wide and the flow profuse. His manipulators would not reach that high.

    At that moment, Third-Mordent knew that she could complete the male. It might take her more than a few passages in the dance, but she could do it. Ninth-Minor-Sustained had not cautioned her against it, so it would be permitted. She cocked her head to one side, viewing the male from the perspective that displayed the fresh wound to its best advantage. Would completing this one be wasteful, she considered. Fewer males survived the crèches than females, and there had been generations that had been blighted by a lack of viable males.

    Third-Mordent formed a leit-motif in her mind, then sang it. The male turned his head so that his clear eye focused on Third-Mordent. She danced around him in a controlled slow pavane; he turned to follow her.

    She sounded the leit-motif again; his body started trembling. At first it seemed to be the predator urge–but no, his head was lifting. Still, he was poised with forehand blades ready, tensed, poised, intent. It surprised her that, as intensely as he appeared to desire to spring on her, he was restraining himself. She darted a glance at Ninth-Minor-Sustained, who stood at one end, a looming monolith, unmoving.

    Third-Mordent focused her gaze back to the male, sounding the leit-motif a third time. He edged away from her, raising his forehand blades. She flowed to one side; the male turned, but stepped back a pace. She stepped the other direction. He backed away from her.

    Step by step, slow move by slow move, she danced and he retreated.

    He ended in a corner, hemmed in, unable to dance away. Third-Mordent paused in front of him, poised, one forehand blade still and one drawing a slow line in the air. The one clear eye moved between the moving blade and her face. The blade stopped, and so did the eye.

    The pose held for a long moment.

    “Enough.” Ninth-Minor-Sustained broke her silence and her pose. Third-Mordent stepped away and relaxed, lifting her own head and folding forehand blades away.

    The male didn’t move as Ninth-Minor-Sustained approached him, singing a soliloquy. Her manipulator lifted a cauterizer to treat the male’s wound, and Third-Mordent smelled the order of burned flesh. Ninth-Minor-Sustained stepped back and waved a manipulator at the male, who folded his own forehand blades away and moved to the nearest door, slipping through it when it irised open.

    Third-Mordent stood still, head high and manipulators lifted, as Ninth-Minor-Sustained turned to face her.

    “And now you see the third lesson of control–controlling others. We begin–now.”

    Third-Mordent felt a frisson of fear at how Ninth-Minor-Sustained’s voice did a rapid glissando into her lowest register. The fundamental pitch she attained resonated with overtones that pierced Third-Mordent’s mind in ominous ways.

    Lim turned away from the hologram that was floating in front of the entranced Kamozh. “He says they have never seen anything like that ship.”

    “Okay, show him the Ekhat next,” Tully said, watching over Boyes’ shoulder. The Khûrûsh-an had reacted in surprise when Tully had entered the room, but had quickly settled down when Tully had simply merged into the Boyes/Lim group.

    Lim touched a control on her com pad, and the hologram flickered and changed to the floating form of an Ekhat adult.

    Kamozh recoiled with another baritone hiss. He chattered away at Lim, pointing an emerged claw at the hologram.

    “He says that that is a monster indeed, nastier than anything they have ever seen.”

    “So they have never seen the Ekhat before?”

    Lim spoke to Kamozh. He chattered back at her. She turned back to Tully. “Never to his knowledge.”

    Caitlin pointed to Vaughan. “Put it on public, please.”

    After a moment, Tully’s voice was heard in the command deck.

    “Caitlin, here’s what we have at the moment. First of all, the larger ships use more missiles, some of the same type as we’ve seen, but some also with nuclear warheads.”

    Dannet turned at that note and began issuing quiet orders to the communication technician.

    “Second,” Tully continued, “according to the one guest who is talking, once we get beyond the orbit of the outermost planet, the Khûrûshil ships should break off. Definitely if we move on past the outer cometary ring.

    “And last, they have apparently never seen the Ekhat.”

    “Okay, thanks. Keep us posted if you get more information out of them.”

    “Will do.”

    Some hours had passed, and the Terran fleet was moving well beyond the shell of the fifth planet’s orbit, continuing to head for the frontiers of the Khûrûsh system. Caitlin’s flotilla had rejoined the fleet without more combat, although the Khûrûshil ships from the inmost planet had launched a few missiles at their closest approach, a couple of which Pool Buntyam had blown out of existence just to be safe. The Jao propulsion technology was definitely superior to the natives’, and once the Terran ships were clear of the possibility of direct interception, their lead kept increasing.

    Once the fleet was clear, Caitlin returned to her quarters.

    She had not intended to go to sleep, just to rest for a few moments, but she awoke to her com pad pinging at her. Rolling out of the bunk, she tapped a control. “Yes?”

    “Director, you’d better get back to the command deck.” That was a Jao voice she didn’t place. “We have ships jumping into the sun.”

    “Who . . . never mind. On my way.”

    Caitlin didn’t say anything to her guards as she flew by them. They managed to catch up to her by the time she reached the lift to the command deck. “Come on, come on, come on,” she urged the lift.

    When the doors opened, Caitlin burst out into the command deck. “What’s happening?” she demanded.

    “Two ships in the sun, one emerging from the photosphere,” Terra-Captain Uldra responded as the lift door irised open and a dripping wet fleet commander entered the deck. Dannet had obviously been in the pool when the notice reached her. “More about to arrive.” The lift door irised open again, this time admitting Lieutenant Vaughan who slid into his workstation and started tapping control pads like a drummer.

    “Are they Ekhat?” Caitlin’s heart was in her throat.

    Before Uldra responded, one of the communications techs called out, “Contact made, asking for Director Kralik.”

    “Put it on the screen,” she ordered, pointing to the main view screen. The system template display snowed out, then cleared to reveal a very familiar face.

    “Hello, Caitlin,” said Aille.