In Nadir's Shadow Read online

  "Even if they do, the floaters are going to want their cocoons back, which will strip us of the capacity for interstellar travel. We can't allow that. We must retain the ability to defend ourselves, or else we lose the means to enforce whatever agreement we make. Conditions that leaves us at the mercy of the floaters equate to unconditional surrender, and that will never be an option. And if those are their demands, we will reject them and fight to the end, and we will take steps to ensure our species will survive. But the best version of that scenario still involves the deaths of billions. So what can we give up? What do we have that we can trade for the cessation of hostilities? Will a dozen cocoons left untouched for a thousand years be enough?" He lifted his hands. "Impossible to know. Until we try."

  "Obviously, the gravity of our situation is the only reason we're even considering this course of action," Arsenim said. "For most people, the idea of making peace with floaters, after everything our people have suffered, is simply unthinkable." His tone implied he included himself in that assessment.

  "Which is why we need particular individuals, pragmatic minds trained from a young age to ascertain, at the most basic level, what this war is truly costing us," Prokhor cut in with a glare at Arsenim. "And to use that knowledge to determine what we can afford to offer in exchange for peace."

  Khariton lowered his head and stared at the counter in front of him. Someone coughed as the silence stretched, but he said nothing. He understood the stakes, the odds, and the sheer scale of the good he might be able to do, but it all led back to the same conclusion: doing this would destroy any chance of getting what he wanted.

  "You've just absorbed a lot of new information," Irakliy said. "What are your thoughts?"

  Khariton looked at the old Commander and recalled the endless after-action reports from guards, the hollow voices and haunted eyes of men and women who had survived when their comrades had died. To value someone, and be valued, as deeply as that... "You don't understand. If I do this, I will never be one of you. If I succeed, it'll be because I'm not like you."

  The other Commanders exchanged uncertain glances, but Irakliy's expression softened. "Some will see it that way," he said quietly. "For a time. But once people stop losing their sons and daughters, once they no longer live in fear of messages telling them someone they love died far away, things will change. We don't know if any of this will work. As things stand, the floaters can eradicate us down to the last holdouts within a few years. If they decide peace isn't in their best interests, nothing can stop them from doing precisely that. Sure, we can save a handful, send them off to a faraway corner of the galaxy to try and rebuild, but the odds of success are slim. These may be the final days of our kind, unless we succeed. For centuries, our people have sacrificed in the name of survival. You have a chance to give them more than that."

  He knew he should do this, that is was the right and dutiful thing to do, but the obstinate thought of remaining an outsider for the rest of his life turned to panic every time he wanted to accept. Was there no way to do this without sacrificing his future? None of these people understood. He'd gladly risk life, health, pain, even loss. He'd endure any hardship, if it meant he could look someone in the eye and know they cared whether he lived or died.

  He balled his fists under the counter. "You talk about sacrifice, but I haven't experienced any. I've lived my life in labs and offices. I can calculate resource costs and mortality rates. So can a computer. You're asking me to quantify the suffering of our people without ever having shared it." He struggled to keep his tone neutral, dispassionate. He had to use facts. "I'm not one of you. How can I decide your fate?"

  "It's a simple concept," Arsenim snapped. "Find out what the floaters want in exchange for an end to hostilities, and see if we can afford to give it up. It's not about suffering, it's about survival. You don't need to be human to understand that."

  Arsenim's words left a brewing silence. Prokhor's jaw bunched and he looked away, his feelings plain. Pelageya watched Khariton with eyes like embers, for all her bristling rage merely gauging his response.

  Makari slowly turned to face her colleague. Her melodic voice strummed with emotion: "If it were that simple, Arsenim, we wouldn't need to consider any of this. There is risk in peace as well as war. The only thing we know for sure is that victory is no longer possible, no matter how much you deny it. Continuing the fight will result in our extinction. Everything else is a chance worth taking." Her nostrils flared. "I'm tired of failing our people. Aren't you? Their lives consist of work, loss, and death. Multiply that by nineteen billion and you have the Commonwealth. You say suffering is irrelevant? We are synonymous with suffering. It's at the core of this shell of a nation. It's eaten out the heart of whatever it once meant to be human, and it needs to stop!"

  Arsenim's stare radiated contempt. The other Supreme Commanders simply looked uncomfortable, except for Irakliy, who watched the rest with rapt interest.

  The outburst sparked an idea in Khariton's mind. "I've always wanted to be a guard," he said into the silence.

  Arsenim gave him a murderous look. "You what?"

  "I have no family to lose," Khariton continued. "I have no friends, and I wouldn't know how to make any. But the ones who bear the cost of waging war more than anyone are the guards." His ears glowed as a feverish smile crept onto his face. "They live together, fight together, and rely on each other utterly. But they lose each other constantly. By necessity, they build deep bonds of trust with their comrades, only to have them randomly broken every time they go into combat. To learn the value of peace, I need to see what war means to those who fight it every day."

  Prokhor shook his head. "I don't understand why it has to be the guards. Fleet crew put their lives on the line just the same. Why not do a tour on a titan?"

  "Casualties are much heavier for the guards," Khariton began.

  Prokhor cut him off: "My point exactly. We're much more likely to lose you. We don't have a lot of time left to do this. Every week, the floaters drive us back and we suffer more losses. It's going to be hard to sue for peace when we only have a handful of ships left. Even worse, if you die, there might not be enough time for another prospect to complete the program."

  There was the rational argument he'd anticipated. "Right now, I lack the frame of reference to do what you want me to. Whatever time it takes to develop that is unavoidable, but I can speculate that that time will be shortened in proportion to the intensity of my experience." He still saw too much skepticism on the faces around him. "None of us know if this is truly feasible, since no one has ever done it before, and most factors are outside our control. However, based on the available information, I believe there is a small chance of success. Because we will only have a single opportunity, it's only logical to improve the odds however we can. An incomplete understanding of the state of our nation may lead to my rejection of conditions that are in truth preferable to continuing the war. Given our understanding that such a rejection will likely result in the extinction of our species, it would be prudent to ensure we are in the best position to recognize whether an alternative is acceptable."

  Arsenim shook his head. "I told you that a lab-born could never be what you need for this to work. He just doesn't understand what's at stake."

  "On the contrary," Irakliy said. "I think he understands better than most." He looked around the room. "Ideas?"

  Prokhor sighed. "Khariton's predecessors couldn't help us, so maybe it's time to try something different. If he's to be risked in combat, then it makes sense to me to surround him with the best soldiers we have. For my sector, that means the 114th Advance Guards, under Chief Raisa. We tend to send them into difficult circumstances, but we can skip some of the extreme cases for the duration of Khariton's deployment."

  Irakliy turned to Khariton. "How does that sound?"

  Khariton's chest swelled with anticipation. "Very promising, sir."

  *****

  From his perch near the top of the Sacred Circle, A
zial watched another group enter the structure below. The chief led the way through a crack in the ancient wall that served as the entrance, and Azial recognized Azriyahu of the Moumis tribe. Songs turned into cheers and greetings from those already present, and the Sharyukin following their chief raised their arms in response. Azriyahu scanned the knots of people seated on the tiered roof overlooking the empty space in the middle, and chose as his destination a space next to Chief Ibilsin, of the neighboring Nin-muk tribe. Using stepping stones placed around the sheer white walls enclosing the empty inner circle, he quickly climbed to the top and exchanged jovial greetings with the other chief.

  Azial leaned towards Chief Tihamtu and said in a low voice, "Azriyahu and Ibilsin will oppose me."

  "Of course they will. They live by the mountains, where the loud men haven't gone yet."

  "Their voices will be stronger for speaking together."

  Tihamtu laughed softly. "Their arguments will sound selfish, and by choosing to sit together, they show that they are weak. Don't underestimate your own people, Azial, or the strength of your words. Balbasu will support you, and he is well respected." The chief turned where he sat to give him a look of mock reproach. "And so am I!"

  Azial smiled and bowed his head, embracing Tihamtu's easy confidence to bolster his own. The journey from Udaki village to the Sacred Circle had been smooth, leaving him with plenty of time to consider what he would say to the chiefs. Now that the time had come to voice his proposal to unite the tribes in formal alliance and stand against the loud men, he felt nervous as a child. But he'd spent two seasons preparing for this day, and Tihamtu was with him. He would succeed.

  Tukullu of the Sumai next led his Sharyukin into the circle, leaving Balbasu as the only chief not yet present. The sun had sunk beneath the green canopy of broad-leafed trees, and the sky overhead faded from pink to dark purple. Sharyukin busied themselves lighting torches on poles already placed in cracks in the structure, and soon the smell of burning palm oil drove away the jungle air. More warriors took up positions around the outer edge, to guard against Vile attacks from the jungle just beyond the walls.

  Finally, shouts went up from the wall overlooking the approach to the Circle. Shortly after, Chief Balbasu of the Yahua tribe emerged into the circle, thick arms spread open and eyes wide in an affected glare. Shouts of greeting went up, along with jeers from the Moumis and Nin-muk about his late arrival. The bearish chief took them all with a laugh before climbing to find a seat opposite Tihamtu. His warriors hurried to light the area.

  "I wonder why Balbasu is so late," Azial said.

  "We arrived first, so we speak first. Now we know Balbasu will speak last. The first and the last word will be in your favor," Tihamtu said, his tone satisfied. "I don't think he's late by accident. Now, we can begin." The Udaki tribe chief stood and raised his arms. "All right! This is it! I, Tihamtu, Chief of the Udaki tribe, will speak now, and you must listen until I am done!"

  Songs died away until only the jungle's voice echoed through the Circle. All but the sentries turned their attention to Tihamtu.

  "For this great gathering of the chiefs of the Kith, I ask for the blessing of the Great Mother and Father. Anoint those gathered with your good will and wisdom, that every decision made be for the good of the Kith." After a pause, he resumed, "The world has changed, and danger faces the Kith. I invite Azial, leader of the Udaki Sharyukin, to speak." He sat down as Azial took to his feet.

  "You all know me," Azial said, his voice claiming the Circle. "You've all counted the trophies on my body. No one has killed more Vile than I. I've never run from a fight, and I never will. Many years ago, on the brink of our coming of age, my twin sister and I asked permission to ascend the Mountain That Sees and seek a revelation of our fate. We'd heard a voice in our dreams, growing stronger each night, speaking of important tasks that awaited us. We made sacrifice to the Great Mother and Father, and set out from Udaki village with no food and little water. From the foot of the mountain, we climbed for seven days, and reached the Whisper Rock. There, we fell, awaiting death. There, we saw the truth.

  "We saw our men, dying without wounds, begging for an end. We saw our women, gaunt and drained on the ground, weeping. Our children, taken away, never to be seen again. We saw our villages, wreathed in fire and smoke. These visions were a gift. This was our fate, unless we made a different one."

  Patient gazes all around. Most of those present had heard the story, and even the most distant tribes had likely heard some version of it. No one even remembered the last time twin Sharyukin had been born. That they were destined for greatness had been obvious to all.

  Azial took a deep breath. "The fate I witnessed has come. It stands on these shores. It snakes through this jungle. It hunts us while we speak here, and like the strike of the taipan, its attack will be sudden and deadly. Who among you has watched youths leave your village, never to return? Who has seen worthless trinkets and cheap tools brought back to your villages by triumphant warriors, who believe they bartered for riches when all they received was junk? I speak of the loud men! I speak of their presumption in stomping through hallowed ground! I speak of their lies when they seduce our youths into a life of servitude! I speak of their greed when they trade their refuse for our hard-made craft! Already they map the jungle trails, seeking our villages. Already they spread vicious lies among us, seeking to drive us apart. If they could, they would conquer us without ever fighting us. Ten years ago, when their burning ship first came from the sea, we warned you of the danger. We were proven right at every turn. Now they are finally strong enough to enter the jungle.

  "A few hundred live in their village. In another ten years it will be thousands, and ever more after that. By then, they'll be able to do whatever they want. I want to offer my son a better world when he grows into a man, and not look away in shame when one day, he asks me: what did you do, when the loud men first came, and showed us their ways?" He paused to let his words settle, and examined the faces of the chiefs. Balbasu was doing the same. Most of the others appeared grim and thoughtful. Azriyahu and Ibilsin just looked unhappy. "For the Kith to survive, we must make our voices as one. We send word to the loud men, from every tribe: you are not welcome in the jungle. Whenever we find you here, we will kill you. Then we hunt them, every time they trespass. We keep our young away from them until they are wise enough to pierce the loud men's lies." He raised his voice. "And every time they speak to us, they will hear the same reply. Every time they try to divide us, they will hear the same voice. The chiefs will decide what that voice will say. In here, on our sacred ground, we can differ and argue. But when we leave this place, the Kith must speak as one!"

  He sat down. Murmurs erupted around the circle as each chief conferred with his advisors. Azial said to Tihamtu, "What do you think?"

  "Strongly said, and after all that, your call to action is relatively mild. Had you demanded the immediate slaughter of all loud men, you would have failed."

  Azial suppressed a scowl. "I am not my sister, Tihamtu. I understand restraint."

  "So did she," the chief countered, "but she didn't believe in it."

  Chief Gobryas of the Sadudu slowly came to his feet, claiming his right to speak next. Bald and slender, he had the bright eyes said to confer the secret sight. His tribe had long since encountered the loud men, and Azial hoped for his support. His voice was sharp and high: "Azial speaks with strong words, and for that he earns respect. I have seen what he speaks of. The Sadudu have seen young men and women lured away with promises of adventure and treasure. Perhaps they find it, for they never return. Or perhaps they are kept as slaves, and never get the chance to escape from their mistakes. We cannot do nothing, or we will disappear. But I will ask Azial: what will we do, when the loud men stop trying to buy and cheat us, and begin to kill us? They have powers like those from the legends. They can kill from far away without arrows. What can the Kith do, when they come for us in their thousands?"

  Azial stood. "The lou
d men are not from here. They live on the world, not in it. Within the jungle, ten thousand loud men would fall to a hundred Sharyukin. If that day comes, I will lead those hundred and prove my words to you. This, I swear."

  Gobryas pointed at him and swept the circle with his gaze. "Azial has given his word that he will defeat the enemy if they come. No one has reason to question his vow! The Sadudu will do as he says."

  Ibilsin was on his feet before Gobryas had finished sitting down. "Who will defend the villages, while Azial leads our warriors away? Our enemy is the Vile! The monsters always watch, looking for a time to attack. What will Azial do, when he returns home to find Vile hatching in the bodies of his family?"

  "No."

  Tihamtu's quiet word stopped Azial more than the hand on his shoulder. The chief stood in his place, and spoke in that calm tone that hinted of laziness to those that didn't know him: "The Great Mother and Father have blessed the Udaki tribe with seventy-two Sharyukin, nineteen of them still children. Perhaps Ibilsin worries that the blood has grown weaker in his village, but since he brought fifteen warriors to this meeting, I expect he left at least another thirty at home. If every tribe adds fifteen of theirs to the twenty I will offer, we will already have more than the hundred Azial has asked for."

  Ibilsin's eyes had widened with rage. He waved his scepter and spittle flew from his mouth as he screamed, "You insult the Nin-muk! Will I challenge your champion now, Tihamtu? Will I show you how strong the blood flows among the Nin-muk?"

  Tihamtu opened his hands. "If you feel insulted, Ibilsin, it was your own words that wounded you. If your warriors are strong and many, why do you speak of your concern?"

  "I speak, because you would waste our warriors against the loud men! When have they ever been as dangerous as the Vile? Is one enemy not enough, that you would make a new one for us?" He cast his arms wide and looked around the circle. Azriyahu nodded his support. Others looked thoughtful.