“Yes, Hu’urs Khraam, but let us consider their failures, also. They did save many of their capital ships at Barnard’s Star, but those hulls are now stranded in that system. And those that they did lose were captained by individuals who evinced little imagination or verve; those ships seemed to be slavishly following a preset battle plan. And here on their home world, the humans’ greatest corporate houses have become our allies and are undoing the defenses of their own species. So again: humanity is defined by its variations, its inconstancies.”
“Perhaps. But there was no such variation or inconstancy in their push to the stars, Speaker Kut. The speed and efficiency of their expansion was so great that all of the members of the Accord, even the Dornaani, were caught off-guard. I find it hard to believe that now, with their survival at stake, and their known talent for war and destruction, that they would perform so unevenly. It is an oddness, and it troubles me.” He rose; Darzhee distinctly heard one of the linking-integuments in his belly-plates creak. “It probably troubles me because I am too old.”
“With respect, Hu’urs Khraam, you—”
“I am old, Darzhee Kut, even for one of the Hur caste. At any rate, it was folly for me to attend this undertaking myself. One of the younger Hur, such as—”
“Revered Hu’urs Khraam, none but you was suited for this great mission. Every deephall in the Wholenest knew it.”
“Bah. Did they know I would be tested to my very death-song by these Hkh’Rkh? Every day, their overlord First Voice places the same petitions before me. Attack the great cities, the great powers, of this planet. North America, Eurasia, the Chinese littoral. They are weak, he says. We have no reason to think so, I reply. The EMP warheads crippled them, he asserts. Yes, crippled their civilian sector, I counter, but we disabled little or none of their military equipment, so far as we can tell. We have orbital control, he thunders, and we must use it so that they will respect us—and they will respect nothing less than a full-scale attack. I point out the troubles we are having here, on one medium-sized island. He dismisses these difficulties as byproducts of our ‘restrictive rules of engagement.’ Another sign of Arat Kur weakness and lack of resolve.” The First Delegate rose. His manipulator polyps quivered a bit—from strain or pain, Darzhee Kut could not discern. “I tell you, young Kut, it is the Hkh’Rkh, not the humans, that will be the death of me. Now, I must settle into my quarters and find the harmonies that have escaped me this day.”
“And what do I do about Caine Riordan?”
“Do? Do about him? What do you mean?”
“How do we best respond to his gesture, to the potentials for peace and trust that his deed invites us to consider?”
“Here, young Kut, is what you must do. You must remind yourself—hourly—that Caine Riordan is but one human. He is an aberration among them, a flicker of conscience that his own megacorporate kin would have extinguished if he had not run far and fast. Do not let his noble deed seduce you into thinking the rest of his race are capable of something similar.”
Darzhee Kut held his mandibles very still. The troubling nature of humans had long been known to the higher castes of the Wholenest, but at this moment, in the face of contrary possibilities, Hu’urs Khraam’s counsel sounded suspiciously like unthinking speciate bigotry. “And Riordan himself. What do I tell him?”
Hu’urs Khraam looked at Darzhee Kut closely. “Tell him that his deed was noble and we are grateful for it. And, if you think he is ready to hear it, you should also tell him that we can already measure how much his deed will change the outcome of this war.”
“Really? How much?”
“Not at all.”
BOOK TWO
Counterattack
Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections. It settles them into predictable patterns of response, occupying their minds while you wait for the extraordinary moment—that which they cannot anticipate.
Part One
January 12, 2120
Chapter Thirty-Three
Downing glanced up at the mission clock: 2120.01.12 Z1006.48 local. Twelve seconds to go.
The commo officer’s voice called the last warning. “Coming up on projected signal reception: ten seconds.”
He turned to Alnduul. “You can tell when an interstellar superstring is perturbed by a shift drive, even at this range?”
“Yes, but this is true only if we know which superstring to monitor and if the phenomenon is, fundamentally speaking, local. Theoretically, one should be able to detect a perturbation of a superstring anywhere along its ‘length’ at the instant it occurs, for the string has no dimensions as we understand them.”
Downing frowned. “That would seem to hold out the possibility of almost instantaneous communication, regardless of distance.”
“So many have hoped. But the technology to do so remains elusive.”
Considering that the Dornaani had had—at least—several thousand years to identify the necessary technological fix, Downing put this option from his mind.
Commo officer John Campbell of the Australian Air Force nodded at his control panel. “And—mark. Projecting that transmission has been received by the shift-carrier Tankyū-sha Maru at a range of three point five light-days.” He turned to Downing. “And now, sir?”
“And now, we wait.”
Evidently, they were not going to have to wait for long. Alnduul’s associate made a finger-streaming gesture. The Dornaani leaned their heads together. Alnduul listened, his lids fluttered. He straightened, looked at Downing. “The Tankyū-sha Maru has now entered shift space as per the instructions you sent on January eighth.”
Which meant that it was already at its destination and sending the signal that would activate the final, fateful phase of Case Leo Gap. Either that or a freak drive failure had destroyed the Tankyū-sha Maru and, with it, any hope of retaking the Solar System. Downing tried not to swallow audibly. “Lieutenant Campbell, please check the light-pins in the Dornaani holosphere’s close-up of Jakarta. Are our delivery assets for Case Timber Pony currently in striking range?”
The young lieutenant from Perth studied the alien device for a moment. “Confirmed in range, sir. The green one is within the optimum activation footprint now. The other two are within five kilometers.” The young Perther looked up. “Orders, sir?”
Downing felt the collective eyes of his staff, the veteran security detachment, and even the Dornaani upon him. He swallowed. “Set the infiltration units’ final assault clock for three hours. Send the word to the irregular units that they will go active along with the preparatory barrage in ten minutes, but to await a final confirmation before jumpoff.” Because if the interstellar cavalry fails to come over the hill by then, a general ground attack will be suicide.
“Messages sent to all units, sir.” The Aussie continued to look at him, unblinking, waiting.