Trial by Fire: Chapter Fourteen

Arat Kur flagship Greatvein, Barnard’s Star

    “With your return, the rocknest is made whole again, Darzhee Kut.”

    Darzhee Kut made the customary response. “In returning to its harmonies, I live again.”

    His rock-sibling Urzueth Ragh extended his sensory polyps in unrestrained joy. “We all feared to soon sing your dirge. But since your rescue, some have hummed haunting notes of the lay of your life among the humans. Was it as terrible as we feared?”

    “It was not as I expected it to be. I was alone for days before–”

    “So it is true. Your crew, Rzzekh and Iistrur, sing no more.”

    “They sing no more. So when the humans came, it was a strange sensation.”

    “Explicate.”

    “I feared them, prepared for them–”

    “Trapped them, I heard.”

    “As our forebears did their prey and foes, yes. But I was also relieved when they arrived. I had been without association for so long.”

    “I understand.”

    “You do not. It became worse. When they took me prisoner, they set me off by myself.”

    “They left you alone? Alone? For how long?”

    “I do not know. Many hours.”

    “And you can still harmonize? You are hewn from strong rock, Darzhee Kut.”

    “This ability is a prerequisite for those of us in the Ee’ar caste who would explore new places or associations. In contacting other species, we might spend time in isolation.”

    “I do not envy you the tunnel you dig, rock-sibling. Did they understand what they were doing to you?”

    “No. The humans eventually apologized, but only for putting me in a large, high, empty room. This leads me to believe that they thought it was agoraphobia alone which caused my reaction.”

    “So they did not understand how dangerous it was to isolate you?”

    “How could they? As a species, they often seek solitude, and much prefer to shun enemies rather than have their company.”

    “And they did not understand that it was their attempt to communicate–to associate–with you that enabled you to hear the music of life once again?”

    “No, they did not see this, for they are not gregarious creatures. They would perceive our need for association as excessive, even crippling. They would never conceive of needing company so profoundly that one must seek out an adversary, rather than die into the silence of oneself alone.”

    “They are strange creatures.”

    #8220;They are unlike us in this way.”

    “As more of our rock-siblings are finding out, even now.”

    “Sing me this new melody. Have we discovered more humans in this system?”

    “No. Our advance flotilla is even now in the home-system of the humans, securing their largest gas giant for our refueling purposes. We shall follow presently.”

    They had arrived at the narrow entry into the meeting module that had been crafted especially for roof-sharings with the Hkh’Rkh. The great predators could barely fit through the corridors of the Arat Kur vessels, and the Hkh’Rkh vessels were so crude and uncomfortable that the Arat Kur had found that they could not concentrate properly when aboard them. So this was the point of contact between their worlds of radically different physical–and cultural–shape.

    “It is a vast and unpleasant place.” Urzueth ground his dental plates together as he tilted upward to glance at the ceiling that was too distant for his comfort, and too close for the Hkh’Rkhs’.

    Darzhee rubbed his plates together for sake of harmonizing, but felt little of the other’s distress. After his hours in the human ship, he had grown accustomed to the wide spaces. “Let us take our places; the others will be here soon.”

    As they slid into their belly-cupping couches, Urzueth stared at the tall and monstrous Hkh’Rkh chairs. “I would just as soon be elsewhere, rock-sibling.”

    “I understand.”

    “Then why am I here?”

    “If it should come to pass that my voice is stilled by events, then as the First Delegate’s chief administrator, you must be ready to finish my song for me.”

    Urzueth fretted his claws against each other with a series of rapid clicks. “These are random notes you emit, Darzhee. Now that you are back in the rocknest, what could happen to you?”

    “Anything, rock-sibling. War is a sun-time that blinds whole races. Nothing is beyond possibility. And I think the humans will surprise us.”

    “Why? Our technological advantage is not merely profound, but overwhelmingly decisive. And they were clearly not expecting an attack. They suffered a great defeat, in this system.”

    “Yes, but they are better warriors.”

    “When they are at very close ranges, perhaps–”

    “No. It goes beyond that simple refrain with which we have reassured ourselves. We think the Hkh’Rkh great fighters because they are large and fierce, but the humans have a more dangerous trait.”

    “Which is?”

    “They are innovative. They can change their ideas very rapidly when pursuing a goal, if they must.”

    “They are irresolute.”

    “No. That is how you of the Hur caste see them, and possibly why you feel so confident embarking upon this war. But what you see in the humans as a lack of resolve is in fact the presence of immense flexibility. They may not be as daunting as the Hkh’Rkh, but they can adapt better to sudden changes–and war, my rock-sibling, is nothing but one sudden change after another.”

    “Your melody grows strange and atonal, Darzhee Kut. Do not make me anxious.”

    “I apologize, rock-sibling. But I learned much from my time with them. Including my long roof-sharing with their Spokesperson, earlier today.”

    Urzueth whistled. “This is the one named Caine Riordan, yes? He is the one from the Convocation, the one with whom you had hoped to speak?”

    “Yes. His arrival is a great good fortune for us.”

    “True. Now we have an emissary to bear our demands to the human leaders.”

    “He is far more than that.” Darzhee paused, decided to trust Urzueth. “He is also one who might understand why we broke the Accords. Understand and not judge.”

    “This does not harmonize. We cannot reveal this. To humans least of all.”

    “My thoughts are a counterpoint in major. We must reveal this truth to those with whom we would negotiate, and eventually, to all humans. The song I have been forbidden to sing is not known to them. They have forgotten those deeds, I tell you. They do not know who they were, those many millennia ago. And they are those creatures no longer.”

    “Do not believe that last hopeful coda, rock-sibling,” Urzueth demurred. “Their perfidies were not the product of sophisticated misthinkings, but arose from their very nature, were built into their genetics by their particular journey of evolution. They cannot help but ever and again become what they truly are.”

    “So we are nothing but our genetics? We are the puppets of our past, encoded as the chemicals within us?”

    “Darzhee Kut, you are my rock-sibling and in almost all things, our harmonies make the highest roof stones ring. But in this we cannot find the same key.”

    “But the safety of these two humans–”

    “Fear not. As the First Delegate’s immediate assistant, I may assure you, that, even over the objections of the Hkh’Rkh, he has resolved that the two humans will be well and carefully treated.”

    Darzhee kept his voice low. “He may find the Hkh’Rkh insistent that they be executed.”

    “It will not happen. Hu’urs Khraam has committed to this.”

    First Delegate Hu’urs Khraam, coming through the hatch from the Hkh’Rkh shuttle that had mated to the meeting module, stopped, ran his eyes across the two much younger Arat Kur, who dipped their chins low. “I hear ghost-songs–or I heard my name,” he fluted.

    “Invoked in the speculation that it was you who approached, esteemed High First Delegate.”

    Hu’urs Khraam ignored Urzueth and his rhetorical flourish, stared steadily at Darzhee Kut before turning to his rear and motioning for those behind him to enter the module.

    The thumping treads of Hkh’Rkh became audible, drew closer. Two full seconds before his impressive bulk actually arrived in the module, the shadow of First Voice of the First Family stretched into it like a dark herald. He nodded–barely–to First Delegate Khraam, who, like him, had overall authority for the gathered forces of his species.

    Hu’urs Khraam spread his claws wide and toward the ceiling. “Our operations in this system are at an end. The surviving human ships, those that kept their distance during the engagement of the fleets, are still fleeing out toward the Kuiper belt. Several highly autonomous drones remain in pursuit, but I am informed that they are unlikely to catch the human craft.”

    “The humans are cowards.” The phlegm bubbled in First Fist Graagkhruud’s long slothlike snout as he said it, stimulating a low rumble of concurrence from the rest of First Voice’s hulking retinue.

    “With respect, First Fist, the humans were prudent.” Hu’urs Khraam lowered his claws. “They attempted to draw us into pursuit, which would have deterred us from shifting to Earth as swiftly as we might. They understood the importance of buying more time for their shift-hull, the Prometheus, in the hope it might finish its preacceleration and reach Earth before we do. Only because we resolutely declined to take their bait, is that hope now groundless.”

    Graagkhruud’s small round eyes protruded slightly from either side of his long, smooth, neck-tapering head. “Several of the masters of my ships once again request to remain behind, to give chase and harry them. And afterward, to keep a presence in this system.”

 

---

 

    “And again, I applaud their eagerness, but must deny their request.” The First Delegate gestured to the holographic displays lining the walls. “All available warcraft and ground assets will be needed upon arrival in the Sol system. The humans have developed their home planets extensively, whereas we may carry only limited forces with us. Consequently, we must expect that there will be far more missions to perform than ships to perform them. Drones and several observation craft will be sufficient to leave behind here.”

    “And what of their shift-hull, the Prometheus?” First Voice’s tone was far less bellicose than that of his general, First Fist, Darzhee Kut noted.

    Hu’urs Khraam’s dental plates clacked once. “Even the drones cannot catch Prometheus. But she needs to achieve twice our preacceleration velocity before she can shift. Therefore, though she started her run before we arrived, we will still be able to shift before her. However, our fleet must immediately accelerate to two point five gee constant to achieve this.”

    “We are prepared.”

    “Very good. We must do so within the hour. And by that time, all deployed ships and small craft will have returned to their respective carriers, so it will be imprudent to meet again as we do now. So this shall be the last roof-sharing between us before we arrive in the Sol system. Consequently, it is also our last opportunity to share any last thoughts on our plans for that campaign.”

    First Voice hunched over the table as well as the immensity of his barrel-shaped ribcage would allow. “I am satisfied with the plans–for now. What I will think once we arrive and assess the human response, I cannot say. But what of the intelligence gleaned from their wreckage and from their base named The Pearl? Does it impel us to change our strategy?”

    “We see no reason to think so. And our projection holds that the Prometheus plans to run to Earth or Ross 154.”

    “And do we have new intelligence that indicates which warships might be at Ross 154?”

    Hu’urs Khraam waved his claws loosely. “Nothing specific, but their signal logs indicate that we have correctly anticipated that their naval dispersal is to our advantage. Most of their other fleet assets are spread throughout the systems that they call the Green Mains, and have only lately been summoned to gather in the systems Ross 154 and Junction. But those assets cannot reach Earth if we hold Ross 154. So it is as we foresaw. By dividing our fleet here, we can send one half to attack the humans’ home system, and the other to take and hold Ross 154. In this way, any of the human warships that are in the Green Mains are cut off and cannot help the home cluster.”

    “There is another naval base at Ross 154, is there not?” Graagkhruud sounded eager; the equilateral triangle of his three-nostrilled snout-end widened.

    Hu’urs Khraam looked to Urzueth and bobbed. Urzueth explained. “There is a human naval station at Ross 154, and if major fleet elements are present, our forces shall launch a full assault upon them and the base. However, if the human assets have not yet gathered in strength, the fleet we dispatch to that system shall lie quiet and observe, monitoring communications and traffic.”

    “We have come on this campaign to fight, not to watch.” Graagkhruud was ready to rise from his seat.

    “And so we shall–at the most propitious time,” Hu’urs Khraam replied. “If additional human vessels arrive in Ross 154 and are unaware of our presence, our analysis of their standard operating procedures suggests they will approach their base to replenish their consumables, particularly their antimatter stocks. They are likely to anticipate fighting extended engagements in systems where we have eliminated or commandeered their antimatter production facilities. Consequently, we can intercept such ships after they collect near the base, and perhaps compel their surrender. At least, we could so obstruct their efforts to preaccelerate and shift, that word of Earth’s capitulation will arrive before they can leave.”

    Graagkhruud’s reply was so loud that the room’s translator was almost drowned out. “This is cowardice.”

    The smallest Hkh’Rkh in First Voice’s retinue leaned forward slowly. “It would allow us to minimize the damage to the humans.”

    “You not only speak as the humans’ Advocate, Yaargraukh. You take their side.”

    Darzhee Kut noticed the disdain with which First Fist uttered the title “Advocate,” which signified that Yaargraukh was the Hkh’Rkh who had been given the thankless job of not only providing expert assessment of the humans, but of representing their interests to First Voice. A necessity, since creatures which had no place in the Hkh’Rkh honor system had no official standing before any of its authority figures.

    In response to First Fist’s almost sneering accusation, Yaargraukh inclined his head slightly. “By showing restraint now, First Fist, we may be made less unhappy should the Dornaani prevail and punish us for invading the human homeworld. Which is a flagrant violation of the Twenty-first Accord.”

    “How readily you whine about defeat, Advocate. Our allies the Ktor will dine on the entrails of the increasingly irresolute Dornaani, and we shall rewrite their Accords to our own liking.”

    “However,” interjected First Voice, “until that time, there is no harm in Urzueth’s observation that it may be more prudent to immobilize our enemy without loss to ourselves in Ross 154, than it is to destroy him. But”–he turned back to Hu’urs Khraam–”I nurse a concern that our post-battle intelligence has not been able to conclusively dismiss. What if, as we began our attack here, the humans already had ships at full preacceleration, waiting to carry warnings to Earth and its colonies?”

    “First Voice of the First Family,” soothed Hu’urs Khraam, “this possibility is profoundly unlikely. What intelligence we were able to gather from the wreckage of the base they called The Pearl, and from those few very wrecks which still had intact mainframes, shows no evidence that there was a preaccelerated ship waiting in this system. And, from the moment our advance shift-cruiser arrived in-system, it was constantly watching for the terawatt-level spike of a shift-drive, which would be plainly detectable even out to the edges of the Kuiper belt.

    “So, be calmed. This attack was a complete surprise. Our fleet had completed half its preacceleration before the Convocation concluded. Consequently, the humans had no time, let alone clear provocations, to task any of their shift carriers to be preaccelerated in watchful readiness to alert other systems. And, after having destroyed the majority of their best carriers here, we know just how few of their shift vessels remain unaccounted for.”

    Darzhee Kut watched as Yaargraukh looked to First Voice for permission to speak, watched him lay his immense “hands” flat and calm upon the table when First Voice nodded. This one is prudent–even by our standards.

    “Hu’urs Khraam, with respect for the excellence of your warships and the valor of ours, did you not find it unusual how quickly and easily the humans were overcome? And how many of them seemed to suffer catastrophic destruction as a result of their fusion reactors losing containment? I suspected, from the advance intelligence, that their ships would be more robust and would give us a sharper fight.”

    “I agree,” Hu’urs Khraam answered, “but we cannot pause to question our good fortune overmuch. I am told that it would be most instructive if we had had time to conduct post-action analysis of the wreckage. But, as you say, the destruction was so complete, that it would be a lengthy task to locate and retrieve all the significant pieces, and even so, we might not learn anything of use. But most importantly, your suzerain First Voice and I harmonize fully on this one strategic principle: we must retain the initiative that we have seized with this victory. We will shift to the Sol system before the Prometheus has completed its preacceleration, and will thus arrive before Earth can be warned of our approach. That is the advantage we must not sacrifice. And once there, I predict we will have ample opportunity to survey all the human wreckage we might wish.”

    Graagkhruud’s tongue flicked twice; he had noted and enjoyed Hu’urs’ concluding witticism.

    Darzhee Kut bobbed for recognition, received it from Hu’urs Khraam. “Could a human fleet be waiting at Ross 154, preaccelerated and ready to shift here–to Barnard’s Star–as soon as our flotilla arrives there? If so, they would ‘get behind’ the force we are sending to wall up those warships that we think are out along their Green Mains.”

    Hu’urs Khraam bobbed a slow, profound approval. “This is well-worried, Darzhee Kut. However, if they try such a trick, they will be in dire circumstances. If our flotilla arrives at Ross 154 and finds that a human fleet has just shifted out, our fleet will be able to preaccelerate and give chase in twenty days. However, once arriving here in Barnard’s Star, human ships from Ross 154, constrained to use frontier refueling, would probably require at least forty days–five of fueling and thirty-five of preacceleration–before they can get out-system. In that time, we would assault and seize Ross 154, refuel, preaccelerate and arrive back here almost three weeks before they could leave. Our high-speed drones would be able to pursue, maybe disable, some of them, and delay the rest. And even so, we would be ready to shift again just as soon–or before–they are.”

 

---

 

    Darzhee Kut bobbed his appreciation for the answer–and turned when First Voice called his name. “Speaker Kut, has your interrogation of the human prisoners furnished any new perspectives that bear upon our current invasion plans?”

    Darzhee was considering how best to emphasize–again–that the humans were not prisoners, when Hu’urs Khraam intervened. “First Voice, I have screened the recordings made of Speaker Kut’s conversations with the humans. Neither of them are familiar with our projected area of groundside operations and have not been on Earth for over half a year. They seem to have little information relevant to that aspect of our invasion. And while they were not stunned at our attack, nor that the Hkh’Rkh were our allies in it, they were surprised that we were able to mount it so quickly after the conclusion of the Convocation.”

    “And their knowledge of broader military deployment?”

    “Neither human is privy to recent information of this kind. However, their inability to confirm or contradict our assessments is not worrisome. We consider our present sources most reliable.”

    “Who are these sources?” First Voice asked.

    The First Delegate himself answered. “They are several.” Darzhee Kut noted the curious evasiveness of Hu’urs Khraam’s response; if First Voice had also, he did not press the point. “Indeed, their own broadcasts are not the least among these.”

    “That intelligence must be at least ten years old.”

    “Slightly more, actually, but we believe it to be serviceable. The most pertinent facts have not changed significantly since then. Indonesia is still a nation plagued by overpopulation, poverty, pollution, poor resource management, and inadequate public utilities. Several political separatist factions still operate within its borders, as well as the Pan-Islamic religious insurgency that has been globally active for more than a century now. The population harbors resentments against both its own government and the Earth’s dominant nations for its condition.”

    “And this is where the humans elected to build their orbital-launch mass driver?” Graagkhruud scoffed. “Were they mad?”

    Urzueth picked up the tale. “Our sources indicate that the mass driver was an attempt to economically strengthen the nation, to foster foreign trade and investment, and to thereby assuage the general dissatisfaction that fueled the various insurgencies. Besides, the island of Java was a logical location. It sits astride or near several major shipping routes, including the singularly important Strait of Malacca. It is close to the equator and its mountainous spine was a natural support for the mass driver’s long, high-angle, electromagnetic launch tube. Labor costs were cheap and local environmental restrictions–what few there were–were easily waived.”

    First Voice waggled his body where his neck spread out into extremely sloped shoulders. “All reasons for us to seize the island. I understand. But I am concerned that the population is too large to control without resorting to–extreme measures.”

    “We predict otherwise. Firstly, as I have mentioned, some of our sources are based within the general region and others represent globally-pervasive megacorporations that have expressed sympathy for our plans.”

    “They would take allegiance against their own world?” Graagkhruud’s voice was a choking roll of phlegm.

    “They would, in order to be its leaders when we depart.”

    Yaargraukh shifted in his seat. “Allies bought with money and promises are only allies until they find a higher bidder.” For the first time that he could remember, Darzhee Kut saw First Fist Graagkhruud pony-nod in agreement with something that Advocate Yaargraukh had said.

    “We are very cognizant of this,” replied Hu’urs Khraam. “However, our human allies stand much to gain immediately upon our arrival, and yet, have little influence over the outcome of our campaign, which enjoys the advantage of being conducted on an isolated land mass. As an island nation, Indonesia affords us a geographically finite periphery, the borders of which are easily scanned and interdicted, given our absolute air superiority and orbital fire support. This allows us to annihilate counterattacks mounted by air or sea, and to bring decisive and accurate fire to bear upon any indigenous insurgents. We have elected to restrict operations to the islands of Java, as per your suggestions. There is no reason to overstretch our already limited forces.”

    “All quite prudent, but what of their submarines?” First Voice almost sounded fretful. “I am familiar with the problems of detecting these craft from the few wars in which we used them. Even our sensors cannot detect them at depths greater than five hundred meters, if they are following stealth protocols.”

    Darzhee Kut hid the amused quivering of his taste-polyps. You also don’t want to admit that you’re upset because the human nautical technology is vastly superior to your own.

    Hu’urs Khraam spread his claws. “Controlling the submarines is a concern, but we have complete confidence in our maritime sensors, undersea drones, and especially the purpose-built airphibian vehicles we have with us. But we must also remember that the human submarines are dated craft. Most are over forty years old and are scheduled to be decommissioned. Besides, how large a counterinvasion force can they mount from such vessels?”

    “I am more concerned with their nuclear capabilities.”

    “Which is why our occupation–all our cantonments and bases–will be located within the human cities of Java. The humans’ strategic defense forces will be unable to target us, for we will have their fellow-creatures as our living shields. This of course presumes that their submarines would survive the rise to launch depth, for once we detect such vessels, our orbital fire support will eliminate them within twenty seconds. With this one minor threat controlled, we can consolidate our position untroubled by other strategic incursions. The region is not self-sufficient in rice production, but a brief cessation of all maritime contact will not induce immediate famine and civil unrest. This minimizes the likelihood of a popular insurgency arising.

    “Most importantly, however, Indonesia is far away from Earth’s true political centers. This provides us with a buffer from the immense military formations possessed by the largest powers, and allows us to control the degree of friction and hostility present in our discussions with their political leaders. Were we to land in, let us say, the Eurasian landmass, or North America, or coastal China, diplomacy and negotiation would immediately break down. Which, in turn, would make it impossible for us discuss our terms with the humans and explain the wisdom of acceding to them.”

    Darzhee surprised himself by asking without a warning preamble. “What are these terms?”

    Hu’urs Khraam settled his claws slowly to the table. “Complete withdrawal from the 70 Ophiuchi star system and a co-dominium of Barnard’s Star with the Arat Kur Wholenest.”

    “And the surrender of a habitable world in what they call their Big Green Main, for settlement by the Hkh’Rkh.” First Voice had risen, crest erect, as he said it.

    Darzhee Kut looked back and forth. “Surely, this last requirement is a ploy.”

    First Voice looked down his very long snout. “This is not a ploy, but a plan to expand.”

    Darzhee Kut could hardly believe what he was hearing. “And what of the human colony that is already on whichever world is so ceded?”

    Hu’urs Khraam offered a soothing hum. “They will continue to be self-determining, and will not be relocated.”

    “But if the rest of the humans should become aggressive–”

    “The population would, of course, be at great risk from reprisals.”

    Darzhee Kut glanced sidelong at Graagkhruud, whose tongue flicked slightly. A colony of hostages with their neck encircled by a predator’s talons. “First Delegate, surely there is room for negotiation on all these points.”

    First Voice’s neck stretched high and straight. “Your terms are your affair. Ours are not negotiable. And your support of them is the price of our cooperation and alliance. The humans have gathered all the green worlds unto themselves. We must seize one if there is to be any semblance of parity.”

    Darzhee Kut bobbed once. “With respect, First Voice, the worlds they occupied, though they did not know it at the time, are all within the sphere allowed them under the Accords.”

    Phlegm fluttered in First Voice’s nose. “We are allies with you because we not only have common cause against the humans, but against the Accords. Its legalities are claws without bones; they are abominations to be brushed aside. Now, time grows short. Did the humans reveal anything useful?”

    “Not really,” Darzhee admitted. “But this is not surprising. They are both proficient, and probably trained, in being able to converse without revealing strategically sensitive information. However, I found one moment puzzling in my conversation with Caine Riordan. With your permission, I would like to replay it for you.”

    Silence granted consent. Darzhee Kut pushed a stud on his control wand.

    The flat holographic screen centered on the long wall of the meeting module revealed Darzhee Kut facing Riordan, who was nodding, seemed oddly calm as he commented. “And so you plan to attack Indonesia. May I ask why?”

    Darzhee Kut watched his own claws rise. “Is it not obvious? It is at a great enough remove from your major powers that they will not feel so directly threatened and thus might listen long enough to hear our terms for withdrawal. For I assure you, Caine Riordan, that we do not wish to remain on your planet.”

    “There are many places more remote from the great powers of my world than Indonesia. Why there?”

    “Can you not guess?”

    “The mass driver.”

    “It was a surety that you would see this. Many nations have labored long and spent dearly to build this extraordinary device. And they will not wish us to harm it. Similarly, they will avoid harming it themselves.”

 

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    “So it is a hostage.”

    “In a manner of speaking. We have no wish to take living hostages.”

    “Just a monetarily valuable one.”

    “Yes, to say nothing of its being unprotected. It is a veritable gift for us and for the megacorporations we shall appoint as our partners and indigenous overseers.”

    Riordan’s look of relaxed interest in the conversation seemed to fall away momentarily. His eyes opened slightly wider, his lips parted. Then, as fast as it was present, the expression was gone.

    Darzhee Kut stopped the recording. “I could not read Riordan’s last change in facial expression. I have insufficient experience with humans.” Because the Hur caste’s elders would not let me study more than a few of their most harmless visual broadcasts. “So I put this recording before those who might have more insight than I. I ask you, therefore, what did that look signify? Surprise, or something else?”

    No comments. He turned to Yaargraukh. “Is it true that you spent considerable time with this human?”

    Yaargraukh nodded, still staring at the screen. “I know him.”

    “Then tell me, what is this? Surprise?”

    “Yes, surprise. But also comprehension.”

    “What? I do not understand.”

    Yaargraukh aimed a single calar digit at the frozen image. “He has realized something, and tried not to reveal that he was surprised–and that it was you who gave him useful information.”

    “But even if that is true, why should Riordan conceal his surprise? He must know we will not release him until after the invasion is complete and the beachhead is secure.”

    “Undoubtedly.”

    “So then why conceal his realization, his reactions? What does he hope to achieve?”

    “I do not know. Perhaps it is merely habit.”

    “But you think not.”

    “I think not.”

    “Can we trust him?”

    Yaargraukh opened his mouth–

    But Graagkhruud spoke first. “Clearly not. At the Convocation, he was the one who attempted to lure Yaargraukh himself into a trap, into a module that ‘malfunctioned’ and exposed them both to vacuum.”

    Yaargraukh raised a claw to interject, his black eyes retracting somewhat–

    –and Darzhee Kut knew the clarification the Advocate was about to offer: that Riordan himself had almost been killed by the “malfunction.” Every account of the incident made it clear that Riordan had not been aware, let alone the architect, of that assassination attempt. More likely, he had been the actual target.

    But First Fist had no interest in allowing Yaargraukh to make that distinction. He spoke too swiftly and loudly to be interrupted. “And now, most recently, while traveling under a diplomatic transponder, Riordan fired upon your ship. It was a cowardly and duplicitous ruse. He and Corcoran should have been executed the moment they came aboard.”

    Darzhee Kut averted his eyes. “As I reported, their explanation of the particulars of the incident involving the diplomatic transponder signal has satisfied us all.” Hu’urs Khraam bobbed once.

    First Voice’s crest rose slightly. “It does not satisfy me, nor do their convenient ‘retirements’ from being warriors.”

    Yaargraukh’s neck swiveled deferentially. “It does sound odd. Yet, I know this Riordan. He is an honorable being.”

    Graagkhruud’s retort was instantaneous. “He is a being only insofar as he makes noises like language.”

    Darzhee Kut saw Yaargraukh’s earflaps shiver as though they were going to close. Among the Hkh’Rkh, this reflex meant that he had heard something which was embarrassing, uncouth, or disgusting, and had just barely managed to suppress a more dramatic display of that repugnance. It was probably in reaction to his superior’s blunt bigotry. A bigotry which, by extension, would also tend to categorize the Arat Kur and all other non-Hkh’Rkh races as beings. Fine allies, indeed.

    But Graagkhruud was not finished. “And honorable? This Riordan creature lied when he hid behind the safety of a diplomatic flag and then attacked.” Graagkhruud reared up. “But a lie does always reveal one truth: that he who tells it is a liar.”

    “If we know it to be a lie, yes,” countered Darzhee Kut. “But we do not know this. Besides, Riordan is not a warfighter; that is his companion’s skill.”

    First Voice intervened. “You err, Speaker Kut. I have heard Riordan speak, have learned something of his deeds and how he thinks. He is more a warrior-human than most of those who wear the uniforms of that caste. And your own report indicated that it was him, not the true warrior, who carried a weapon when they boarded your disabled ship.”

    Yaargraukh’s voice was quiet but so slow and measured that it attracted more attention than a shout. “Still, I find no fault in this person’s honor.” Darzhee Kut leaned back, as did the other Hkh’Rkh. In his own tongue, Yaargraukh had not used the word “being,” the Hkhi term for most exosapients, who, although intelligent, had no place in the honor code hierarchies which determined personhood. Rather, Yaargraukh had used the word “person,” which not only implied a sapient recognized as having a mind equal to their own, but as a creature capable of accruing honor.

    “The Advocate blasphemes–or betrays us.” Graagkhruud breathed, his crest rising. “I cannot tell which.”

    Darzhee Kut closed his eyes against the strain upon his patience. “This cannot, and need not, be settled here. Caine Riordan is a senior emissary of his people, and he is our guest, not our prisoner. We would, however, be pleased and grateful if you were to leave some of your warriors with us to provide security for the humans while they are on our ship.”

    “I was not aware that those who are truly and genuinely guests need to be chaperoned and monitored by armed guards. Perhaps you, too, feel them to be something other than guests. Something more akin to prisoners.” First Fist let his breath out through his nose, the mucus therein warbling and fluttering grotesquely.

    Darzhee Kut let his eye covers slide shut for a moment. Harmonize with the greater purpose. Embrace the differences of the Old Family Hkh’Rkh–at least in this moment. “Honorable Graagkhruud, perhaps our ways are different in this. Here is our way: we presume that the humans are, and will behave as, diplomats while with us. But since we could be wrong, we must take steps to minimize what damage they might do should their actions show them to be saboteurs. For this reason, and for their own protection, as well, we require that they have a security escort.”

    First Voice stood. “You will have your ‘security escort,’ since you seem uncertain of being able to guard unarmed prisoners yourselves.” His crest flattened and he did not bother to look back down at Hu’urs Khraam before he turned and left. Graagkhruud’s exit was equally abrupt and without acknowledgment of his Arat Kur hosts. Yaargraukh stood, opened his hands and showed Hu’urs Khraam his palms in what was a military show of respect, and then strode quickly after his superior.

    Darzhee Kut interlocked his claws, looked down for a moment, then up at Hu’urs Khraam–who was already looking at him. “What is your opinion of the Hkh’Rkh, Darzhee Kut?”

    “I hesitate to reply, First Delegate, for I can only sing the notes I truly hear.”

    “I asked you to come today so you could sing just such notes.”

    Darzhee Kut spread his claws slowly. “Their reaction to our emissaries bears out our fears regarding the Hkh’Rkh as allies. They are intemperate, impatient, occasionally dismissive of crucial details. They are strong but inelegant in their thought and intolerant of difference. I do observe however, that the Advocate, who is also a member of a New Family–a lower class among the Hkh’Rkh–has few of these detriments.”

    “Let us dig to the first stone of the foundation. Can we trust them?”

    “To keep their word? Yes, absolutely.”

    “And to perform the tasks as they must? For if upon landing, they are tried by a sharp insurgency, they must be firm but restrained in their response. Do you think they can achieve this?

    “Esteemed Hu’urs Khraam, I do not know. Some, such as Yaargraukh, could. Some, such as Graagkhruud, cannot.”

    “And First Voice?”

    “He has wisdom, but its melodies are often lost amidst the old rhythms of his heritage and his legacy as the scion of the greatest of the Old Families. I feel his common sense is great enough to perceive the wisdom of what Yaargraukh says, but I fear that his pride is too great to hear it over the roar of Graagkhruud’s exhortations to pursue honor and total war.”

    “I fear this as well. But, if the humans accede to our terms, we shall depart quickly, and our allies will not need to restrain themselves for long. Happily, our swift victory will give them little opportunity to err.”

    Darzhee Kut wriggled slightly in his couch. “The humans might agree to negotiate, but they will not agree to the Hkh’Rkh terms. Indeed, I fear they will not even agree to ours.”

    “But to surrender 70 Ophiuchi would only show reason, wisdom.”

    “So might we see it. But the Hkh’Rkh would see it as proof of fear and lack of resolve–which is just how the humans themselves will see it.”

    “This makes them akin to the Hkh’Rkh.”

    “I wish to sing notes that ever harmonize with yours, esteemed Hu’urs Khraam, but I think you will find that particular estimate of the humans to be incorrect. They are very different from the Hkh’Rkh.” He paused, looked at the image of Caine Riordan’s focused and carefully unemotional face frozen on the screen behind him. “They are very different indeed.”