sites in dolor chains! He’ll be punished as no Rothen has been in ages.”
Lark shrugged. “Perhaps. But stop and think a bit.
“First, Ro-kenn wasn’t relying on disease alone to do the job.
“Oh, he probably had a whole library of bugs — infectious agents used in past wars in the Five Galaxies. No doubt starfaring qheuens long ago developed countermeasures against the germ raging through Uthen’s lymph pipes right now. I’m sure Ro-kenn’s concoctions will kill a lot more of us.”
Ling started to protest, but Lark forged ahead.
“Nevertheless, I know a thing or two about how pestilence works in natural ecosystems. It would be a complete fluke for even a string of diseases to wipe out every member of the Six. Random immunities would stymie the best-designed bugs. Furthermore, the sparser the population got, the harder it would be to reach and infect dispersed survivors.
“No, Ro-kenn needed something more. A breakdown of the Commons into total war! A war that could be exploited, pushed to the limits. A struggle so bitter that each race would pursue its victims to the farthest comers of Jijo, willingly helping to spread new parasites in order to slay their foes.”
He saw Ling struggle to find a way around his logic. But she had been present when Ro-kenn’s psi-recordings were played — sick dream images, meant to incite fatal grudges among the Six. Those present weren’t fooled because they were forewarned, but what if the messages had been broadcast as planned … amplified through the compelling wave forms of the Holy Egg?
“I will tell of this, back home,” she vowed in a low, faint voice. “He will be punished.”
“That’s gratifying,” Lark went on. “But I’m not finished. You see, even by combining plagues with war, Ro- kenn could never guarantee annihilation of all six races, or eliminate the off chance that credible testimony might be passed down the generations — perhaps stored in some cave — to finally reach Institute prosecutors. On the other hand, he could influence which race or sept would be left standing at the end, and which would perish first. There is one, in particular, whose fate he knows well how to manipulate. That one is Homo sapiens.
“The way I see it, Ro-kenn’s plan had several parts. First, he had to make sure Earthlings were hated. Second, he must weaken the other five races by releasing diseases that could then be blamed on humans. But the ultimate goal was to make sure humans went extinct on Jijo. He didn’t give a damn if others left a few survivors to tell the tale.”
Ling stared. “What good would that do? You said testimony might be passed down—”
“Yes, but with Earthlings on Jijo only a hated memory, all history will tell is that once upon a time a ship full of humans came down, stole genes, and tried to kill everybody. No one will bother emphasizing which humans did these things.
“In the future — perhaps only a few centuries, if someone plants an anonymous tip — Galactic judges would arrive and hear that people from Earth did these dreadful things. Earth will bear the full brunt of any sanctions, while the Rothen get off scot-free.”
Ling was silent for a long moment, working her way through his logic. Finally, she looked up with a broad grin.
“You had me worried a minute, but I found the defect in your reasoning!”
Lark tilted his head. “Do tell.”
“Your diabolical scenario just might make sense, but for two flaws—
“First—the Rothen are patrons of all humanity. Earth and her colonies, while presently governed by Darwinist fools on the Terragens Council, still represent the vast majority of our gene pool. The Rothen would never let harm come to our homeworld. Even in the current galactic crisis, they are acting behind the scenes to ensure Earth’s safety from the enemies besetting her.”
There it was again … a reference to dire events happening megaparsecs away. Lark yearned to follow that thread, but Ling continued with her argument.
“Second — let’s say Ro-kenn wanted all blame shifted to humans. Then why did he and Ro-pol emerge from the station and show themselves? By walking around, letting artists sketch them and scribes take down their words, weren’t they jeopardizing the Rothen to the same eyewitness accounts you say could damage Earth?”
Ling seemed ready to accept that her immediate boss might be criminal or insane, but with bulwarks of logic she defended her patron race. Lark had mixed feelings about demolishing such faith. He, too, had his heresies.
“I’m sorry, Ling, but my scenario still stands.
“Your first point only has validity if it is true that the Rothen are our patrons. I know that’s the central premise around which you were raised, but believing does not make it so. You admit your people, the Daniks, are small in number, live on an isolated outpost, and see just a few Rothen. Putting aside mythic fables about ancient visitors and Egyptian pyramids, all you really have is their word regarding a supposed relationship with our race. One that may simply be a hoax.
“As for your second point, just look back at the way events unfolded. Ro-kenn surely knew he was being sketched when he emerged that evening, using his charisma on the crowd and planting seeds of dissension. After living so long together, all six races are affected by each other’s standards of beauty, and the Rothen were indeed beautiful!
“Ro-kenn may even have known we had the ability to etch our drawings onto durable plates. Later, when he saw Bloor’s first set of photographic images, he hardly batted an eye. Oh, he pretended to dicker with the sages, but you and I could both tell he was unafraid of the ‘proof’ being used to blackmail him. He was only buying time till the ship returned. And it might have worked — if Bloor hadn’t uncovered and recorded Ro-pol’s corpse, bare and unmasked. That’s when Ro-kenn went hysterically murderous, ordering a massacre!”
“I know.” Ling shook her head. “It was madness. But you must understand. Disturbing the dead is very serious. It must have pushed him over the edge—”
“Over the edge, my left hind hoof! He knew exactly what he was doing. Think, Ling. Suppose someday Institute observers see photos showing humans, and a bunch of very humanlike beings nobody ever heard of, committing crimes on Jijo. Could such crude pictures ever really implicate the Rothen?
“Perhaps they might, if that’s what Rothen looked like. But till Bloor shot Ro-pol’s naked face, our crude images posed no threat to Rothen security. Because in a century or two those facial disguise symbionts won’t exist anymore, and no one alive will know that Rothen ever looked like that.”
“What are you talking about? Every Danik grows up seeing Rothen as they appear with symbionts on. Obviously there will be people around who know …”
Her voice faded. She stared at Lark, unblinking. “You can’t mean—”
“Why not? After long association with your people, I’m sure they’ve acquired the necessary means. Once humans are of no further use as front men for their schemes, your ‘patrons’ will simply use a wide spectrum of tailored viruses to wipe out every Danik, just as they planned to eliminate humans on Jijo.
“For that matter, once they’ve tested it on both our peoples, they’ll be in a good position to sell such a weapon to Earth’s enemies. After all, once our race goes extinct, who will protest our innocence? Who will bother to look for other suspects in a series of petty felonies that were committed, all over the Five Galaxies, by groups of bipeds looking a lot like—”
“Enough!” Ling shouted, standing suddenly, spilling gold cocoons from her lap. She backed away, hyperventilating.
Unrelenting, he stood and followed.
“I’ve thought about little else since we left the Glade. And it all makes sense. Even down to the way the Rothen won’t let your kind use neural taps.”
“I told you before. It’s forbidden because the taps might drive us mad!”
“Really? Why do the Rothen themselves have them? Because they’re more highly evolved?” Lark snorted. “Anyway, I hear that nowadays humans elsewhere use them effectively.”
“How do you know what humans elsewhere—”
Lark hurriedly cut her off.
“The truth is, the Rothen can’t risk letting their pet humans make direct mind-computer links, because someday one of you Daniks might bypass sanitized consoles, draw on the Great Library directly, and figure out how you’ve been pawns—”
Ling backed away another pace. “Please, Lark … I don’t want to do this anymore.”
He felt an impulse to stop, to take pity. But he quashed it. This had to come out, all of it.
