The Kalif's War Read online

  * * *

  Over three days of questioning, questioning with techniques that were varied and sensitive, data had gone from SUMBAA on Klestron to SUMBAAs on Varatos, Maolaari, Ikthvoktos ... all of them. And instantaneously, despite the parsecs of space between them. It was an ability that humans neither suspected nor even imagined. SUMBAA on Varatos, the first SUMBAA built, had glimpsed the cosmology that permitted instantaneous exchange, then evolved the program and hardware that implemented it. And kept it all secret from humans.

  SUMBAA had learned considerably more from Tain than it had included in its report to the sultan. It had sought far more than it had learned, but now it knew and understood quite a lot about the Confederation, and even more about the young woman it had interrogated.

  Though about her, too, its information was still fragmentary. There was a barrier in her mind to which it lacked the key.

  More than anything else, SUMBAA had acquired a host of new questions without visible answers, or even substantial probabilities.

  Seven

  "And this floor houses more Intelligence," the civilian specialist said. "In the main wing are offices, conference rooms, the paper library—things of that sort. The stub wing is all apartments and rooms intended for hostages. Empty of course since '95, except now and then for a prisoner being held, ah, extralegally. Mainly off-worlders." The man paused, smirked. "Matter of fact, we have one now, really an off-worlder! You were on the expedition; you may know of her: an alien female, a remarkably beautiful woman."

  The information, so casually given, startled Colonel Veeri Thoglakaveera. Here! In the building where he'd be working! And covered his reaction quickly enough that the specialist missed it. He remembered the detention module at the 3rd Battalion bivouac, back on Terfreya, where he'd gone to pick her up. She'd been dirty, bruised, and disheveled, and the place had smelled of urine and excrement from the pail in the corner. Even so, she'd excited him. Excited him then and even more later, when he'd fantasized about her. At the recreation compound, humping a Terfreyan prostitute, he'd closed his eyes and pretended it was her.

  Then they'd left Terfreya, been driven from it. After that he'd spent nearly three years in stasis, enroute home, and hadn't thought of her again.

  "Care to see her?" asked the specialist, then chuckled. "You really can, you know; in her bath for instance. Those rooms are all monitored. She has beautiful long legs and no body hair at all that I could see, except for, heh heh, a pale little puff on her vee. Like something an artist might paint, if he wasn't afraid of being arrested."

  The colonel's throat went dry. The notion of spying on a beautiful woman's nakedness hit him with surprising force—particularly this beautiful woman's. "That's not the sort of game a vice minister plays," he said wryly. "Especially when he's to marry the archprelate's daughter in three days."

  "Ah! I hadn't heard! My congratulations! That's more than an outstanding family connection; Leolani Reenoveseekti is a very attractive young woman."

  It was and she was, the colonel well knew. But all the way through the tour, the young woman who encroached on his consciousness was not the archprelate's pretty daughter. His guide even showed him the monitor room. Only two screens were turned on. One of them showed the female prisoner sitting fully clothed in front of a window, reading a book.

  Finally the colonel had his scheduled first briefing from the minister, three demanding hours of it, banishing her from his consciousness. He'd been through nothing like it since completing intelligence training at the Marine Academy. When it was over, though, he retired to his new office and reviewed the computer file on the prisoner. Tain, Tain Faronya. An interesting name.

  There was nothing in the file from SUMBAA's interrogation, nor anything suggesting there'd been one. Nor was the sultan identified as the source of her transfer from the military prison; that wasn't the kind of thing he'd leave accessible. What was apparent was that there was no hope of getting any worthwhile information from her. Her memory had somehow been erased in the accident aboard ship. Obviously the sultan's goveminent wasn't really interested in her any longer, but didn't quite know what to do with her. She was here in the building because she had no home, family, or friends on Klestron, and had to be kept somewhere.

  After working hours, the colonel walked to his new apartment, in a very exclusive building with very discreet management. Management that catered particularly to wealthy men in government who were interested in assignations and mistresses; the wealthy young colonel had sexual as well as political ambitions. While walking he planned, plans made more exciting by risk.

  Supper was quite satisfactory. Good actually, considering his household staff was new both to him and to his apartment. While he ate, he refined his plan, including a scenario of its fruition, the actual conquest. Then he put on evening clothes, casual and comfortable, and left for the ministry.

  The first thing he did there was go to the monitor room. Again, happily, it was vacant. He'd thought it would be at this hour. And there was Tain—naked! Dancing! Incredible luck, and an excellent omen! Watching her, he found it hard to breathe. The monitors were labelled with the apartment numbers; hers was 6-B11. After watching for a minute, he disabled both it and the monitor for 6-Bllb, her bathroom, by removing their control cards and slipping them into his shirt pocket. Then, heart pounding, he left, hurrying down the empty hall to get to the lift tube before anyone should see him there.

  He went up to floor six and thence to the stub wing. He actually felt weak-kneed as he approached her room: 6-B5. 6-B7, 6-B9. Then he was there. There was a small, metallic-looking surveillance plate on the door, like an occupant's viewplate installed on the outside instead of the inside. He had no card to activate either plate or lock.

  He pressed the door buzzer. If she didn't open, he was out of luck. If she did, the next question would be how naive she was. With an effort he composed himself, remembering the omen, and the scenario he'd rehearsed while walking from his apartment.

  The door opened, just a few inches, and she peered through. She'd pulled on a dress. He made no move to block the door's being closed again.

  "Good evening, Tain," he said. "You don't remember me."

  She simply stared.

  "I'm Colonel Thoglakaveera; my friends call me Veeri. We're old friends, you and I. I rescued you from the 3rd Battalion field camp, where you'd been captured. On Terfreya, that is. I'm told you've lost your memory since then."

  She nodded.

  "May I come in?"

  She hesitated, then opened the door further. He stepped inside and looked around. She still held the latch handle, and he put his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly. "We should close this," he said. "It's important that no one else hear what I have to tell you."

  She looked uncertainly at him, but withdrew her hand. He closed the door. "You're in danger," he said.

  Still she didn't speak, but her eyes widened.

  He pointed. "There's a hidden monitor pickup. In the thermostat cover." He was guessing; it might be the clock face. "And another in your bath."

  Fear flickered.

  "In war time, the rooms on this floor were used to house high-level prisoners," he went on. "There's a monitor room full of view screens, where our people can spy on them. Since you've been here, men keep going there to watch you, to watch you dancing naked, or bathing. They—get excited. I'm afraid a group of them will break in here sometime and—you know."

  Still she said nothing, didn't even nod, but she was definitely frightened now.

  "And if they do, I'm afraid they'll kill you afterward, so you can't identify them. But I have an influential position here in the ministry. I believe I can get you transferred to a private apartment, away from here, where you'll be safe."

  At last she spoke. "I don't know. I—I'm afraid."

  He put his hands on her hips and stared at her. "You prefer to die?"

  She licked dry lips.

  "You still have a choice. But you'll have to mak
e it now. I've watched you myself, and I want to—be with you. Take care of you and protect you. Otherwise—If you're lucky and aren't murdered here, you'll have to stay in this room the rest of your life. Without friends." His hands had slid behind her, cupping her buttocks, drawing her against him. "But if you let me, I'll take you out of here," he murmured. "I'm an influential man. A wealthy man. Your life with me will be very good." He pulled her skirt up in back, found her buttocks bare, as he'd expected, and pressed her harder against him as he squeezed them. His voice turned husky. "Also I'm a very good lover."

  He kissed her roughly, then stepped back and pulled her dress open, the press-seams parting with a hissing sound. He stared for a moment, then wrapping his arms around her hips, lifted her, carried her upright to her bed, and dropped her on it. She'd done nothing to resist or help him; now she lay there, exposed, smooth-skinned, staring at him with wide and frightened eyes. Hands shaking with urgency, he pulled off his clothes.

  * * *

  It was an hour later that he left her room, slipping furtively down the silent hallway. Now there was danger again. He left the lift tube on five, found both corridor and monitor room empty, and put the control cards back into the monitors. Their screens returned to life. Tain lay curled in a naked ball on her bed, face down, arms around her head as if to shield it. He could tell she was crying, and a pang of conscience touched his chest. Suppressing it he left, seeing no one till he passed through reception, where three security officers sat, two reading, one dozing.

  He nodded to them as he passed through, gesturing them to remain seated. As far as they were concerned, the new vice minister had stayed late, familiarizing himself with the policy and regulation files.

  It seemed to him he should feel exhilarated. Instead, as he walked down the lamp-lit, tree-lined avenue toward his apartment, uncertainties nagged. What if she reported what happened? Maybe he should have strangled her. Surprised at the thought and repelled by it, he shook it off. Still though, she might tell, unless he got her out of there.

  She'd been crying. Causing her to cry hadn't been part of his imaginings. What did she think of him? The first time he'd been quick as a boy. Later she'd responded, even if not as freely as he'd fantasized. Pleasing her had been part of it, and he realized now how unlikely that had been, under the circumstances.

  Kargh, but she was beautiful though! If only he could marry her! Every man on Klestron would envy him. But he'd gotten engaged to Leolani, and there was no way out of it—not that wouldn't ruin him. Leolani was the daughter of the Archprelate of Khaloom, and after the sultan and his own father, the archprelate was the most powerful man on Klestron, not to mention being the probable successor to the aging sultan. It had seemed a brilliant idea to make him his father-in-law.

  The thought slowed his steps. It had been a brilliant idea. It still was. Maybe this business with the prisoner hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe he should let be, forget her. What would Leolani be like in bed? With her father's wealth, she'd have the advantage of tutoring from one of the best bride's aunts on Klestron. Although that guaranteed nothing. In the final analysis, it all came down to interest.

  But the prisoner! She was so damned beautiful! So exotic! Those long smooth legs, those smooth and lovely breasts....

  By the time he'd reached his apartment and showered, his mind had settled considerably. He and Leolani were to live on her father's estate, thirty miles south of Khaloom. He'd spend part of his time living there and part in his apartment here, that had been agreed on. Even her father split his time between his estate and the city; that was common among men who were important in government. He'd bed Leolani at home and the prisoner in the city. And if Leolani learned of her, there'd be no problem finding someone willing to take the beautiful alien in.

  He opened his liquor cabinet, took down a bottle of well-aged brandy, and poured a double in a brandy glass. As he inhaled its fragrance, a thought occurred to him: Maybe the archprelate kept a mistress in the city! Unlikely perhaps, but possible. He'd hire an investigator to find out; it shouldn't be difficult. If so, and if he was found out himself, he wouldn't need to worry about the archprelate's reaction.

  Meanwhile he'd broach the matter of the prisoner's release tomorrow. Casually. If the Minister or the Intelligence Director asked what his interest was, he'd point out that it had been himself who, on Terfreya, had taken her to the ship, where she'd lost her memory and been brought here. That he felt responsible for her being here. If necessary, he would also mention the voyeurism in the monitor room, and its possible effect on staff morals. They might well ask then, would almost surely ask, if he was willing to become her guardian, and he'd waffle a bit before saying yes.

  Risky, of course, but not unreasonably so.

  He'd set the prisoner up in a small apartment in his own building, he decided, an apartment on another floor, for appearances' sake, with a single serving girl who'd live in and keep her company. The cost would be no problem for a scion of the Thoglakaveera family. And if he was careful about it, keeping a low profile, Leolani would never know.

  Eight

  Among the white robes of his five councilmen, the Kalif's carmine robe stood out like a vivid red jewel. He seldom used his gavel with this group; he didn't now. He simply looked them over and spoke.

  "We're all here; let's begin. I presume you've read and digested the report from Sultan Rashti regarding his expedition and its results. Any comments? Alb Thoga."

  A thin-faced exarch, almost emaciated looking, opened his narrow beak. "We discussed this a year ago, when we got his preliminary report. He should have been deposed then, as a matter of principle, and the matter closed!"

  "Thank you, Alb Thoga," the Kalif answered dryly. "When we discussed it a year ago, the circumstances were different. The expedition was kept secret on Klestron—a remarkable accomplishment—and we succeeded in keeping it secret here, where only the six of us knew. We agreed then that it would be severely unwise to make it public before the expedition returned. Now it's back, and it's discoveries will certainly become public; undoubtedly on Klestron they already have. Which will present both Karghanik and the empire with problems. And possibly opportunities."

  A large, stubby-fingered hand lifted abruptly from the table, and the Kalif responded. "Alb Tariil?"

  A heavy-set, powerful-looking exarch spoke. "Your Reverence, what—opportunities do you refer to?"

  The Kalif smiled wryly. They were apparent enough, and Tariil's instant reaction showed he'd recognized them himself, reading Rashti's report. "I intend simply to chair this meeting for now," he answered, "and allow the rest of you to talk. Alb Jilsomo?"

  The Kalif's lieutenant, Jilsomo Savbatso, spoke. "Regarding problems, the one that comes immediately to mind is the effect of habitable planets having been found besides the eleven that The Book of The Prophet accounts for. The planets and the humans living on them. True, they're accounted for by inference in The Book of the Mountain, but it was branded apocryphal by the Convention of Dhalaporu. Perhaps we need to consider elevating it. In fact, it appears now that The Prophet did write it."

  Two voices raised in protest at this. The Kalif rapped his gavel. "Gentlemen! One at a time. Alb Drova?"

  The exarch who answered was the eldest of them, a man once lean and strong but now frail. Regardless, he stood up to speak. "Thank you, Your Reverence. To elevate any apocryphum, even The Book of the Mountain, would set a dangerous and unacceptable precedent, and I, for one, could never agree to it. Compared to earlier religions, one of the great strengths of Karghanik has been, and is, the stability and authority of its scriptures. And the fact that, through millennia of wars and insurrections, through Kalifs and exarchs wise and unwise, honorable and corrupt—even through the deadly fever, the burning plague—the basis of Karghanik has remained reliable...."

  The Kalif heard him out, waiting till Alb Drova sat down again before replying. "Your concerns are well taken and well expressed," he said, "and I thank you for them.
But please, good friend, do not say you can never agree to elevating The Book of the Mountain. Surely not before it's been thoroughly considered and discussed."

  He spread his hands and looked around. "What alternatives would you suggest? The numerous inhabited planets of the Confederation have been found, and this is bound to become common knowledge. Soon. And given this fact, which then is preferable? To expand holy writ to account for them, with what now clearly seems to have been written by The Prophet? Or to reject The Prophet's gift, and leave a gross anomaly between established fact and Holy Scripture? An anomaly which can be used by men of ill will to disparage The Book as a whole."

  Alb Tariil lifted his thick hand again, and the Kalif acknowledged it.

  "As much as your proposal goes against the grain, Your Reverence, I agree with you. We do need to elevate The Book of the Mountain. But the more dangerous discovery, for Karghanik and perhaps the security of the empire, is the discovery of the non-human empire. A very large and seemingly formidable empire. A Klestronu flotilla intruded into their space and fired on one of their ships. Suppose they decide to visit us with a punitive force?"

  The Kalif got to his feet to answer. As he stood, his glance moved to Alb Thoga, who clearly hadn't considered the possibility of invasion by the non-humans. Thoga's pinched face reflected shocked sobriety instead of its usual rancor.

  "Regarding the possibility of a non-human invasion: I am not much concerned. The hostile encounters occurred between four and five years ago, and there's been no sign of invaders yet, not even in reconnaisance. I doubt there ever will be. They don't know where the flotilla came from, though they might know the direction it had been traveling. And the first encounter was more than ten hyperspace months out from Klestron, well beyond the limits of previous exploration and far outside our own empire."

  He looked around the table. "Actually, the non-humans may not have a vast empire. That's an assumption based on the distance between encounters. But the evidence suggests that both encounters were with a single ship that pursued them, probably well outside their own space. The encounters might not even have been in their own space! It's even conceivable that they occupy only a single system, though that's unlikely for a species that has hyperspace generators.