“Over a day ago.” Seeing the surprised look on Riordan’s face, he explained. “I did not wish to bother you as you prepared your friends for their suspension. You were especially solicitous of them.”
“Yeah, well, they’re my responsibility.”
“You also have a responsibility to yourself, Caine Riordan. I have consulted with those of my crew who are monitoring your caloric intake. It is insufficient.”
Riordan grinned crookedly. “I mean no slight, Yiithrii’ah’aash, but your cuisine is not, er, the most appetizing.”
“It is as I warned you. We simply do not have enough of your accustomed viands, and it was reported to me that your group did not find our genetically matched foodstuffs agreeable.”
Riordan rubbed his stomach. “You heard right.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash began walking toward the forward hatchway that would lead him back into his own ship. “What shall you do during this long journey, Caine Riordan?”
Caine glanced at Puller’s bridge stations as they passed that compartment. “I didn’t start out as a military officer or a diplomat, Yiithrii’ah’aash. I fell into it, pretty much by accident. But now that I am a captain — hell, a bloody commodore — and a diplomat, there are some skills I should acquire and hone. It’s only book and simulator knowledge, of course. But it’s the best — and the least — I can do. A good combat commander tries to prepare as much as possible.”
“You are a defense analyst. And you have fought. Do you not know enough already?”
Riordan smiled: it was a question that only a near-pacifist with no speciate concept of a military could ask. “Yiithrii’ah’aash, I know just enough about being a naval officer to be aware that I know almost nothing. I have reasonable familiarity with the various services, their various missions, but now I need depth, genuine expertise.” Riordan sighed, thought of all the reading and sims ahead of him. “It’s ridiculous that I’m going to try to teach myself. People with a lifetime of experience should be the ones imparting the knowledge. They’re the ones who know where all the fine-sounding theory breaks down and the messy reality begins. But I can only work with what I’ve got. So I’ll learn what I can, keep my limitations in mind, and do my best when the time comes. Or die trying.”
“One may only train so much, Caine Riordan. All creatures require rest or reflection.”
“I’ll have plenty of time to rest. And as concerns reflection”—passing his ready room, he saw the photo of Connor’s young teenaged face, recognizably a fusion of his own and Elena’s—“I have a lot of letters to write. A lifetime’s worth, you might say.” Three more steps brought them to the forward hatch. Riordan raised his hand in farewell. “I look forward to talking when you awaken, Yiithrii’ah’aash.”
Yiithrii’ah’aash was evidently staring at Caine, then glanced back to the photo of Connor, flanked by one of Elena. “I look forward to our conversations as well, Caine Riordan. Until then, be well. And, if you can, be at peace.”
The hatch closed automatically while Caine was still considering Yiithrii’ah’aash’s parting words. Or would that be his parting benediction? He glanced back at the photos the Slaasriithi had noticed, wondered how often the exosapient had glimpsed him staring at them. Being at peace was a whole lot easier when your loved ones were close, safe, healthy, cared for. A common trait among all species, I’ll bet, Caine reflected. Maybe that will be our first topic of conversation.
Or maybe it will be about the limits of responsibility for others and their loved ones. Riordan reached inside his duty-suit, slid a photograph out of an inner pocket: Keith Macmillan’s little girl, Katie. Found on Macmillan’s person, it was much-seamed and marked by the slowly erosive oils of fingertips. And who shall save you now, little Katie, with a front tooth missing and a smile as wide as the Scottish highland skies? Riordan started to replace the photograph but stopped: no. You’re going to put it next to Connor’s. You’re going to look at those laughing eyes of hers every day. And you’re going to ask yourself: what must be done?
Caine felt his stomach sink; he’d come close to putting the picture with the rest of the forensic materials, the evidence, several times, but had always held back. Held back from conveniently filing away that smile and those eyes and letting the cruel events set in motion by the Ktor run their tragic course. No, he decided, no; you stay with me, Katie. And teach me about the limits of our responsibilities to others, to the innocent. If there are any limits.
Caine dogged the hatch, leaned into his stateroom, and affixed Katie’s photo between those of Elena and Connor. He touched their faces and then moved with a lengthening stride toward the bridge simulators. He had a lot of catching up to do.
And only four months in which to do it.
* * *
Tlerek Srin Shethkador wanted to ignore the privacy chimes but could not afford to do so. It was the unpleasant duty of a captain to respond to the summons of any who had sufficient rank to consult with him directly. He suppressed a sigh. “Enter.”
Olsirkos entered in a rush, bowed his obeisance. “Word has arrived at the Convocation station located at EV Lacertae. The internecine friction among the Hkh’Rkh is reaching dangerous levels.”
“Is a cause attributed?”
“Reportedly, there is an incursion of Aboriginal raiders in their codominium system with the Arat Kur at BD +56 2966.”
Shethkador frowned. “That is absurd. The Aboriginals have no way to reach that system. And if they could, such an act would be folly. It is in the Aboriginals’ interests to encourage calm relations and secure an extended peace for both reconstruction and technological upgrades. They are not behind this madness.”
“Your wisdom guides my opinions, Potent Srin. But if it is not the Aboriginals, then who could it be?”
“That, Olsirkos, is a most interesting question. And one to which you shall find the answer.”
“Me, Fearsome Srin?”
“Yes, you. The shift-destroyer Will-Breaker is due within the week. You shall take command of her and surreptitiously investigate what is transpiring in that system, especially its main world, Turkh’saar.”
“Of course, Fearsome Srin. But what of maintaining a watch for the renegade Perekmeres who absconded with Red Lurker and the Aboriginal shift-carrier Arbitrage?”
“That is part of why I must remain here at Sigma Draconis. That, and to be on hand for the postsurrender talks that the Autarchs have instructed me to request. But I would not at all be surprised if, in the course of investigating the current insanity arising on Turkh’saar, you come across the spoor of these Perekmeres curs.”
“You think that they may be behind this disturbance, Honored Srin?”
“Possibly. There is a smell of desperation about this ‘raiding,’ and the renegades of an Extirpated House would certainly bear that reek, themselves. Besides, they might correctly perceive that a precipitous plunge into another war with the Aboriginals and their allies could be parlayed into a rise in their fortunes.”
“If I find evidence of the Perekmeres’ involvement, shall I seek them out and destroy them, Srin Shethkador?”
“Your primary task is to observe and report, Olsirkos.” The Progenitors only know that the subtleties of statecraft are not within the compass of your abilities. “Then I shall determine how we shall respond. But presently, I have a most unpleasant task to attend to.”
“Further analysis of the peace treaty between the Aboriginals and the Arat Kur?”