“You are correct in your recitation of the facts, Caine Riordan, but incorrect in attributing the causes. It is true that we imposed the no-fly restriction unilaterally, but we did so in order to fulfill our obligations to the human authorities who have invited us to protect the mass driver from sabotage, and Indonesia from extranational conquest.”
Caine was so stunned that he could only get out the words, “And who invited you—?” before the pressure door into the shuttle landing bay finally opened. The answer to Caine’s half-asked question walked through it.
A slender young woman wearing what amounted to CoDevCo livery stepped into the passenger and cargo marshalling area in which Caine and Urzueth waited. She extended a hand; her voice was soft, almost shy. “Mr. Riordan, I am Eimi Singh. I am here to escort you planetside, along with our exosapient guests.” She turned to Urzueth. “Is everyone gathered and ready, esteemed Administrator Urzueth? We have a fairly tight operational window, the flight crew tells me.”
“Not just yet, Ms. Singh. We are still awaiting—my error; here they are. The security consultants Mr. Ruap requested. Just over from their ship, I believe.”
Caine turned. Two Hkh’Rkh in battle gear emerged from the inter-bay access corridor and stalked toward the group, their massive, sloped shoulders swaying slightly from side to side as they approached.
Urzueth turned back to Caine. “Now, you wished to know who invited us to assist in your planet’s affairs, Caine Riordan?”
Riordan turned away. “You have just answered that question. Quite clearly.”
The CoDevCo shuttle did seem to be on a tight schedule. As soon as its attitude control thrusters had pushed it backward out of the bay, it performed a one-hundred-eighty-degree tumble, followed by a one-hundred-eighty-degree roll, and then nosed down into a fairly steep angle toward the atmosphere. Caine, at a window seat, affected a distracted hundred-meter stare to cover his intense scrutiny of every detail of every ship he could see. He had all of about half a minute in which he would be able to make observations.
In addition to a host of specifics which he hoped he would not forget if he ever got debriefed by naval technical intelligence experts, he was immediately struck by a profound overall impression of the Arat Kur warships in general. They were not, in fact, warships. Not in any permanent sense, at least. On close inspection, they appeared more like multipurpose designs.
As the shuttle accelerated briskly planetside, he glimpsed what looked like a frigate being serviced by a tender. But, in actuality, they were the same class of ship, or would have appeared so at a fast glance. Detailed study revealed that the majority of their differences were ultimately modular in nature. The frigate had a larger engine deck, had a greater number of thruster pods, and had launch bays in place of cargo containers. But otherwise, the similarities between the craft were marked.
Passing another hull—a small mothership for atmo-interface craft—Caine noted the same style of construction, and the exact same thruster pods he had seen on both the frigate and the tender.
One final scan of the blackness beyond the window showed him what had to be a shift carrier, far “above” him. The traffic, the coveys of protective drones, the PDF turrets: everything told him it was an Arat Kur military vessel of extreme importance. But rather than having a main weapon built along the length of its hull, this one had a detachable spinal mount: a narrow oblong that had been affixed atop the keel, but was not integral to it.
Each ship’s subsections were modular, which made every ship a reconfiguration of interchangeable elements. The only exception was the smooth-hulled shift cruiser that he had seen closely—once—after being rescued from the hab module off the shoulder of Barney Deucy. Streamlined, radically different in design and appearance, it had looked like a craft out of place within its own fleet. Judging from the shift-cruiser’s retractable weapons blisters, sensor clusters, integral spinal weapon, and in-hull weapon and vehicle bays, it was also the only one that had been built expressly for the purpose of waging war.
A whole invasion fleet—and only one model of ship that was built for the sole purpose of waging war.
Which was, on reflection, consistent with Darzhee Kut’s claim that the Arat Kur had been without war for many centuries. Hardly unusual, then, that they did not have warships, any more than they had a standing fleet. Probably, for them, retaining provisions for war-making was a troublesome business necessitated solely by the existence of their unpredictable neighbors.
As the CoDevCo shuttle sped down toward the clouds, its nose pitching up into an atmobraking attitude, Caine caught sight of the hulking body armor of the two Hkh’Rkh, who were strapped in alongside his Arat Kur warders in their articulated combat suits. One race knew no war; the other knew nothing but. Strange allies.
Or, perhaps, he thought, estranged allies.
As the shuttle emerged from the monsoon clouds hanging thick and low over the island of Java, Caine felt his breath catch involuntarily. Black plumes, some rising up from immense fires clearly visible at their three-kilometer altitude, dotted the landscape. The largest of the conflagrations was located five kilometers west of the chaotic, sprawling, sea-hugging metroplex that was Jakarta itself. The shuttle sheered away even farther from that tower of smoke, just as a brace of nonhuman air vehicles swept over them, firing missiles as they headed groundside, forward thrusters beginning to rotate into a VTOL attitude.
Across the aisle, Eimi Singh put a hand to her small earbud, then turned to Urzueth. “I am sorry, esteemed Administrator Urzueth, but Soekarno spaceport remains unavailable. We will have to divert to a direct landing in our compound.”
Caine stared at Urzueth. “A most interesting way to not invade a planet.”
Urzueth glanced out the window, then back at Caine. The unreadable Arat Kur features did not change for a full two seconds. Then, the mandibles became animated again. “Caine Riordan, you misperceive. These fires you see, we did not cause them.”
“So those attack craft heading planetside belong to someone else?”
“Oh, no, they are ours, but they are responding to requests for assistance. From the human government.”
Caine felt slightly nauseous. “The human government?”
“Yes, President Ruap’s provisional Indonesian government.”
Eimi leaned in with a shy, apologetic smile. “The destruction you see is the work of renegade army units. They have severely damaged Soekarno Spaceport. They have disabled various utilities, and as if to prove their bestiality, have actually attacked and destroyed countless food warehouses.”
“And how long has this ‘rebellion’ been going on?” Caine asked, his throat dry.
“Four days,” answered Eimi.
Caine looked at Urzueth. “And how long ago did your first ‘advisors’ and ‘security consultants’ start landing?”
Urzueth eyes seemed to tighten in their ridged settings. “Five days ago.”
Caine leaned back in his chair. “I am guessing that would be shortly after Mr. Ruap’s coup began.”
Eimi shook her head. “Oh, there was no coup. Mr. Ruap was compelled to take control of the government when the last president was assassinated and the new leadership refused to acknowledge the rights granted to CoDevCo regarding the mass driver site.”
Caine studied Ms. Singh narrowly. “And what rights would those be?”
“Full legal possession of the site itself, including complete autonomy to authorize air traffic of any origins into or out of the mass driver facilities.”