The Damned Trilogy
“With each succeeding generation your talent may strengthen or weaken. You cannot predict. You can only record and study and analyze so that you will be as well prepared as possible for whatever may happen. Allow me, who can offer something none of your own kind can, to be a part of that. You need me, Colonel Nevan. You and your people need my perspective.”
The slim, feathered, ebulliently attired figure gazed back at him expectantly. He knew he could wring the hollow-boned, flexible neck with one hand, just as he could suggest that once back on the surface she walk into the sea or step off the top of a high building. She was physically and mentally helpless before him.
Except … what she said made sense.
And he could always kill her later, choosing an even more efficacious venue.
“You’re not afraid to remain in my company knowing that I could dispose of you at any time, or suggest that you do so yourself?”
“Of course I am afraid. I am dedicated, not numb. But my whole life has consisted of taking risks on behalf of my work. I am not about to change now.” Straat-ien thought it almost a Human thing to say.
“I’ll be watching you every minute. If I sense that you’re going to run on me, or reveal even a hint of what you’ve learned—”
Her head bobbed as she interrupted. “I know. You would be a fool to do otherwise.”
He extended a hand and she flinched instinctively.
“Honored Scholar Historian Lalelelang of Mahmahar: welcome to the Core.”
Her inflexible beak did not allow her to mimic the Human smile, nor would she have wished to. Wings and body, neck and eyes, feathers and lashes gyrated in the most refined gestures of elation.
Most of them were quite wasted on the unperceptive Human, of course.
XII
Disappointment and shock suffused the base when it was discovered that the resident Turlog had deliberately cracked the wall which sealed its chambers off from the cove, allowing seawater to pour in and drown the single occupant. Everyone was reminded that the Turlog were an incomparably morose species whose general disillusionment with life was well known. Although suicides among their kind were infrequent, they were not unprecedented. Weave command dutifully bemoaned the loss of strategic advice.
For their part, the Amplitur deplored the demise of one of their highly valuable dual operatives inside the Weave military structure, and thought no more on it. Though regrettable, such losses were insignificant to the overall conduct of the great conflict.
Straat-ien had to continually reassure himself that he’d made the right decision. Because of all they had been through together he trusted Lalelelang as much as it was possible for one of the Core to trust an outsider. In some ways it was easier than it would have been with a non-Core Human. But he watched her constantly, and was never entirely comfortable with the choice he had made.
Still, as she had pointed out, he could rectify the situation any time he wanted to if ever he found himself so inclined.
She was careful to do nothing to arouse any suspicion, working in close proximity to him at all times. As well as having her occasional off-world Underspace transmissions carefully monitored, he had them run through extensive ciphernetic programming without her knowledge. Everything always came back clean. She was not trying to secretly send any information to her homeworld. Much of what she transmitted consisted of generalities and greetings to her triadic sisters.
Additionally, he had suspicions other than his own to deal with.
It was inevitable that he eventually introduce her to the other Core members on Chemadii. They were four in number: Lance Corpsman McConnell, a field captain named Inez, and the redoubtable Sergeant Conner, who was participating in active operations and could not be present. Together they constituted the entire representation of the Core on Chemadii.
Seated on the narrow recreational beach that fronted the only shallow part of the cove, they regarded their squat, muscular colleague with almost as much suspicion as the diminutive, gaudy Wais who sat off to one side fiddling with her sophisticated attire.
“I still can’t believe you told her everything.” Though not much bigger than Lalelelang, Captain Magdelena Mariah Inez could have eviscerated the Wais without working up a sweat. As she spoke she gazed unapologetically at the historian. Lalelelang had perfected the technique of half closing her eyes while still appearing to give her full attention to Human acquaintances. This enabled her to better tolerate the daunting, nerve-fraying, homicidal Human stare.
“She was there,” he explained. “She asked questions. Eventually she would have figured out much if not all of it. And as I’ve explained I had reasons for filling her in on the rest. I think her argument is sound. She can be useful to us.”
“You could have tried to cover it up. Told her something else, tried to rationalize it another way. Explained that only you had the talent.” McConnell was by far the youngest of the trio, but his opinion was no less worthy than that of his elders.
Straat-ien shook his head slowly. “She would’ve found out for herself sooner or later. She’s too good at making connections. I told you: Conner was worried that she’d eventually have seen something in his encounter with the Massood. It’s better this way.”
“Unless we kill her,” Inez added quietly.
Lalelelang remained calm. Straat-ien had prepared her for this and there was nothing she could do about it in any event.
He held his companions’ attention. “I think that would be wasteful. I’ve already mentioned her own thesis, which I happen to disagree with.”
“Imagine us turning on the Massood, or the Hivis, or any of the others.” McConnell let out a snort of disbelief.
“She makes a good case. That’s what I mean by having an external perspective. It would be very useful to the Core. I can assure you that her interest in us is purely professional.” He glanced at Lalelelang. “Look at her. Do you think she’s standing there wondering if we’re going to vote to execute her?” In spite of themselves McConnell and Inez both found themselves turning to the inoffensive Wais. “No. She’s lamenting the fact that I told her she couldn’t bring out her equipment to record this meeting. And if we did vote to have her killed she’d want to record that, too. There’s nothing there but an independent spirit of inquiry wrapped in a bundle of feathers.”
“I don’t know …” Inez remained unconvinced.
“She even thinks our existence might act as a moderating influence on what she sees as our inevitable postwar hostile tendencies.”
Inez blinked, looked back to the colonel. “Assuming there’s any validity to her crazy theory in the first place, how could we do that? You must have told her we can’t influence other Humans.”
“She insists we don’t know everything there is to know about ourselves and the talent. You can’t argue with that. Nobody can. The Restoration is only a few generations old. Who’s to say what may or may not eventually evolve? We’re all still learning as we go. I can think of a lot of instances in which it would be safer and more useful to have a non-Human opinion on Core matters than that of, say, a non-Restoree Human.”
McConnell was nodding. “My experience is subordinate here, sir, but I see your point. If she’s telling the truth and if she’s completely trustworthy.”
“I’ve explained the safeguards I’ve put in place,” Straat-ien responded. “She knows that I can kill her whenever I wish, or have her kill herself. She knows that either of you could kill her or suggest that she do away with herself independent of anything I could do to stop you.”
“That’s true enough,” Inez murmured diffidently.
Lalelelang heard and quantified the implied threat as abstract data. If you could mentally reduce every aspect of uncivilized Human activity to mere data you could somewhat distance yourself emotionally from their maniacal behavior. It was a survival skill she had mastered out of necessity.
“Yet there she sits, silent and composed, while a trio of Humans calmly debates her poss
ible termination. Does she plead for her life or try to flee? No. You know why?” Straat-ien smiled. “Because all she wants to do is help, and because even though we insisted she leave her equipment behind, she’s still working, still observing. She’s not interested in giving us away. Because if she did, it would mean she’d lose the chance to study us.”
Inez and McConnell exchanged a glance. The captain faced her superior. “You’re senior here, Colonel, both in age and experience. I won’t deny that I’m less than entirely comfortable with this development, but I can see the points behind your argument. If you vouch for her cooperation, if you’re that sure of this alien, then I defer to your judgment.”
“Same here,” McConnell added readily.
Lalelelang said nothing, betrayed nothing outwardly, but inside she untensed. On this peaceful, cool beach in the company of unarmed, discursive Humans she knew she’d come nearer to dying than at any time on either of the battlefields she’d visited.
Straat-ien, too, allowed himself to relax. “I’m glad you agree. I don’t think this is a decision any of us or any of our relatives will ever have occasion to regret.”
“This business of the Turlog.” Inez’s expression mixed bitterness and disbelief. “To think that they’ve been playing both sides; developing tactics for us and then relaying those same tactical decisions to the enemy, just to try and reduce the general population of intelligent beings and give themselves a little more ‘privacy.’ It’s as perfidious as anything the Amplitur have ever done.”
“They can’t help themselves,” Straat-ien explained. “It’s the way they’ve evolved. Fortunately the number involved seems to be small. I’ve been able to do some follow-up checking already, thanks to Lalelelang’s help.” McConnell and Inez glanced approvingly at the Wais. “Because of that intense love of isolation only a small portion of the species are active participants in planning Weave strategy, and not all of those are working in a dual capacity. Remember: They like to operate independently of one another.”
“According to what you’ve told us the number involved is big enough to have caused a lot of trouble,” Inez commented.
McConnell was nodding in agreement. “What do we do about it?”
Straat-ien was scooping up fine gravel with his right hand, letting the wave-polished nodules trickle out between his fingers. Most of it was jade or jasper, with some agate and moonstones scattered throughout the mix. A beach of semiprecious gems.
“We’ll pass the word along to Core members on those worlds where Turlog are active in military matters. They can arrange to have a private conversation with each participant. Those who are in contact with the Amplitur will be dealt with on an individual basis. Some coordination will be necessary: we can’t have a dozen or more Turlog simultaneously involved in fatal accidents.”
“If you’ll design the overall program, sir, I’ll take care of the necessary transmissions,” Inez declared.
“Done. Just keep me posted, Captain.”
Lalelelang listened and despite her experiences was dazed. The Humans discussed the possible termination of so many intelligent beings as dispassionately as if they had been planning to fumigate their living quarters. There was no hesitation in their speech, no regret in their manner. Not once did they mention possible alternatives, no doubt having in their own minds already dispensed with the unviable option of civilized behavior.
As they went about their planning they ignored her completely, for which she was grateful. Despite her medication and exercises she could not possibly have participated in the discussion. Merely being present and having to overhear was a daunting experience.
Inez rose. “You know, Nevan, that we can’t keep this development to ourselves.” She eyed the silent, elegant Wais. “Higher authorities within the Core will have to be notified.”
“I intend to take care of that myself. I’m confident they’ll agree with me, too.” He gestured in Lalelelang’s direction. “She knows we can’t keep this meeting a secret, nor does she want to do so. The more Core members who know about her, the better her access to research opportunities.”
“Very brave or very stupid,” Inez muttered.
“I am neither.” Now that her fate—for the immediate future, at least—had been decided, Lalelelang felt no compunction against speaking. “I am simply dedicated to my work. I have always been thus.”
“Admirable,” Inez declared. “In this instance, also foolhardy.”
“Please. If you wish to belittle me, use forethought before speaking.”
Wais, the captain thought. Even if one’s life was at stake it could not help but be overbearing.
“I’m glad you trust her so implicitly, Nevan,” Inez whispered later as together with McConnell they walked toward Underspace communications, “but if I were you I still wouldn’t let her out of my sight any more than absolutely necessary. No matter how much she insists she wants to study us, wants to help, she’s still non-Human. Still a Wais.”
“Yes and no. She’s advanced beyond speciesism. She’s pure scientist.”
“I hope you’re right,” Inez mused as they turned a corner. “I hope to God you’re right. Because it’s a hell of a chance you’re taking on a bundle of easily rattled, overornamented alien fluff.”
Not to mention the burden she’s placing on herself, he added silently.
His inner turmoil played out on his countenance like the shifting patterns on the face of a dune subjected to a hot and relentless wind. Lalelelang marveled at the range of expressions of which the highly flexible Human face was capable. The inflexible Wais beak precluded such facial eloquence, but Lalelelang’s people more than made up for the deficiency with a breathtaking range of physical gestures unmatched in depth and detail by any other intelligent species.
“You are still not sure of this, are you? Or of me.”
They were on their way to a morning briefing. He glanced down sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I heard everything you told your two friends, but in your own mind you are still not so convinced. You are not sure whether to try and help me with my own work, try to make use of me, or kill me. These thoughts circulate continually in your mind and try as you might you cannot be rid of them. The result is that your spirit is unsettled.”
“Not hard to tell that you’ve been studying us for a long time.” He was a bit overwhelmed by her perception.
Even as she responded with a reflexive gesture she knew he would not understand it. “As I have so often stated, it is my work. No other intelligent species suffers such internal torment, over the meaning of existence or anything else. Your runaway racial angst is a product of your bizarre endocrine system.”
“We realized that a long time ago,” he told her.
“But you have not yet learned how to cope with it. No wonder you are so abnormally violent. No wonder you throw yourselves into fighting with such desperate delight. You suffer from a traitorous body chemistry.”
He could sense the pity and empathy in her tone.
“Don’t disparage it. If we were ‘normal’ we wouldn’t be half so useful to the Weave.”
“That is so, and happens to be an area of study of particular interest to me. But it cannot prevent myself or others from feeling sorry for you. A pity you talented Restorees cannot suggest other Humans.”
“I agree, but why?”
“You could probably work a therapy deep enough to make some real improvements.”
They turned up a narrow corridor. “Happy Humans won’t help defeat the Amplitur.”
“Sadly so.”
The process of weeding out the duplicitous Turlog proceeded efficiently and unobtrusively. Core members passed information to relatives on other worlds, usually by means of Underspace-transmitted special codes, more rarely in person. By and by, certain Turlog met with unfortunate accidents. Their demise provoked no special curiosity among their brethren, who had no more interest in the individual doings of their own kind than in the activities
of other species.
It did somewhat reduce the Weave’s ability to develop and master complex new strategies. That was nothing compared to the intelligence loss suffered by the Amplitur. Hard as those persistent and patient adversaries sought an explanation for the hemorrhaging, they could find nothing.
The retaking of the delta and a host of additional bases and fortifications farther up the great river broke the back of enemy resistance on Chemadii. Thereafter, enemy actions were reduced to a stubborn but steady retreat as Weave forces reduced or removed them all across the planet. What reinforcements the Amplitur managed to divert Chemadii-way proved insufficient and ineffectual in the face of the remorseless, Human-spearheaded Weave assault.
When finally their planetary headquarters itself came under attack, they launched the usual convulsive final counterattack. Doomed to failure, it did allow the enemy command staff time to escape to an Underspace transport waiting in orbit. Ships winked in and out of Underspace and, as usual, the Weave failed to interdict the refugees.
This failure was mitigated by the official capture of the last enemy resistance on Chemadii. Another world had been freed from Amplitur control, released from involuntary submission to an alien and inflexible Purpose.
So extensive had Lalelelang’s store of information become that she knew there were whole areas of specialization she would never live long enough to study in anything other than the most cursory manner. Those Wais who came after her and who chose to make use of it would have material enough to keep them profitably occupied for a decade.
Yet she was reluctant to stop. Such an opportunity might never come again, to her or any Wais. So she continued to trail Straat-ien even to the most boring gatherings, observing and recording and making notes about the most routine activities.
He ignored her, having grown so used to her being virtually underfoot that his daily routine would have seemed incomplete without her inquisitive presence. This was also true of those he worked with. The early flood of jokes and snide remarks had dried up. No one remarked anymore on her attendance at meetings or the questions she eagerly posed to startled soldiers in corridors or the recreation hall.