The Damned Trilogy
Despite the pullout of the enemy command unit, mopping up of isolated Crigolit outposts continued even as permanent ground-based defense systems were installed. The latter was necessary to forestall any enemy attempts to reestablish themselves on Chemadii. In the early centuries of the war the Weave had been caught out several times when it had been lulled into believing it had won control of a disputed world, only to have the Amplitur counterattack in force and regain dominance, at severe cost to the Weave in personnel and material.
That was long before Humans had entered the conflict.
Being highly civilized, the Amplitur were not mentally geared to designing combat strategy. Like the Massood and the Ashregan and the Hivistahm and all the other civilized races, they had to learn through an awkward combination of trial and error. This was a process with which Humans had no such difficulty. In the combat that was natural to them they never hesitated. Even as this facility remained a great conundrum to the rest of the Weave, they recognized it for the advantage it was and made use of it at every opportunity. The Amplitur and their minions were slow to react.
It was no wonder the tide of battle had taken a distinct and measurable turn.
Lalelelang squatted on the porch of her room, which overlooked one of several armored atriums that connected the multiple wings of the base. It was as comfortable to sit on the flat, bare extruded plastic as anywhere within because none of the furniture had been designed with Wais in mind. A Wais presence was neither required nor expected on a disputed world, therefore no facilities for them were included in construction schematics. She had to make do with a room intended for the occasional visiting S’van advisor. The S’van were squat and stocky while the Wais were slim and fragile, except in the middle. So the apartment was not comfortable. Worse, it was not even decorated. Wais and S’van living priorities were very different.
She coped. It was better than sleeping outside the complex, in the field. And S’van facilities were easier to deal with than their prodigious Human equivalents. At least she could reach certain vital components.
She let her gaze rise to the transparent roof of the covered corridor. Now that Chemadii had been freed, the armor shielding had been drawn back permanently, letting in the warm coastal sunshine. The several local plants she had adopted in an attempt to give the stark domicile a dash of Wais-inspired color strained upward.
The door chuckled, in the preferred manner of a S’van announcement, and she rose to acknowledge her visitor. She was mildly surprised to see Straat-ien. It was unusual for him to seek her out.
She stepped aside to admit him, and he had to duck to clear the low S’van doorway and ceiling. Ignoring the useless, too-small furniture, he made himself as comfortable as he could on the padded floor, wedging his bulky anthropoid frame against the wall.
“Refreshment?” she ventured. “Drink or food?”
“No thanks.” He glanced briefly toward the open porch.
“Not that you avoid me,” she continued, “but it is not like you to seek me out. I take pleasure in your company.”
“You don’t have to run the usual Wais politeness at me,” he replied. “We’ve worked together long enough not to need to pretend. I know that like any Wais you find my physical presence unpleasant, especially in an enclosed space. You just tolerate it better.”
His brief reply contained more violations of simple etiquette than the average Wais would commit in a year, she knew. She ignored it, as she ignored all such Human bumbling. You could not work with them otherwise.
“There’s something I think you should know.” It struck her that he was wrestling with some inner torment. “I’ve come to trust you, Lalelelang. No, I mean really trust you.”
She half shut her eyes against that penetrating, unconsciously feral stare. “I know that. Were it otherwise I certainly would have met with an unfortunate accident some time ago.”
“That’s right.” He made not the slightest attempt to disguise the fact, diplomatically or otherwise. “I trust you because I’m convinced that you’re utterly wedded to your work. To studying us, and to proving or disproving your long-held thesis about how my species is going to react once the war is ended.” He glanced toward the porch again.
“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that myself. We’ve discussed it so often I can’t help but think about it.”
“I know that.” He seemed to need prompting.
“Lalelelang, among my suggestive relations far and near, I hold one of the highest ranks within the military. I’ve acquired substantial rank in a comparatively short time. Within the Core there are only three who outrank me. One of them is a General Couvier, who’s presently stationed on Ascej.”
“I do not know the name.”
“No reason you should,” he grunted. “He doesn’t travel in academic circles. I’ve just received a personal communication from him. So have all other high-ranking Core members. There’s normal chain-of-command and then there’s Core chain-of-command.”
She indicated her understanding. “The latter being utilized to deal with such matters as the occasional turncoat Turlog.”
He nodded. “Over the years we’ve developed our own extended family code and other clandestine methods of exchanging information. We had to. You know what would happen if our talent became common knowledge.”
“You did not seek me out in this cramped room to remind me of that which I already know.”
“No, I didn’t.” He hesitated, obviously gathering his thoughts. “It seems that the chance to make a final determination of the validity of your life’s work may not lie so far in the future as you thought. For that matter, as anyone has thought.”
She slid off the uncomfortable curved S’van lounge. “What are you talking about, Nevan?”
“Couvier has informed me that Chemadii was apparently the last step in a long ongoing strategy, the last link in a chain of preparation that Weave command has been struggling to forge for several hundred years. But that’s not the kicker. The real secret concerns something that’s been known for the past half-century but has only recently been revealed to soldiers of Couvier’s rank. That tells you a lot right there.” He looked around. “I would have something to drink but you wouldn’t have anything here I’d find strong enough to be useful.”
“My apologies.”
“Couvier is notifying those Core members who rank immediately below him. We’re to take it from there. But I’ve decided to inform you also, because it bears on your work. Heavily.” He leaned toward her.
“We now know the location of the Amplitur homeworlds.”
Her crest erected as she fully digested his announcement. “Can that be true? Captured Mazvec and Korath and others have always said that the Amplitur homeworlds were impossibly distant.”
“Distant, apparently. Impossibly, no. There are two, in the same system. Both fairly unexceptional, with oxynitro atmospheres and conventional gravity. The third and fifth worlds from their sun. Apparently there’s no doubt that they’re the original Amplitur homeworlds and not early colonies. As you know, the Amplitur were not active colonizers. They’ve tried to take control of everything else instead.”
“I am impressed.”
“That’s just the ribbon on the package. Consider this: In the last decade a lot of troops and ships and material has been positioned. Quietly and carefully, so as not to provoke questions either among the enemy or the Weave population itself. I’m sure you never noticed it or thought about it. Neither did I or anyone else I know. Only the top level of Command knew what it was all really for.
“There’s been a vast accumulation of forces in an otherwise relatively tranquil sector. Sources have been alluding vaguely for years to preparations for a major assault on Chi’Khi, the Crigolit home system. Well, an assault is in the works, all right, but when it comes it’ll be in another direction, and through a much bigger chunk of Underspace.
“The intent is to attack the fifth world, Eil, and then move on qui
ckly to hit Ail before the Amplitur have time to regroup and mount a significant defense of either world. If it’s successful you know what that’ll mean.”
Lalelelang thought back, considering the hundreds of years of intermittent but endless conflict that had existed between the Weave and the Amplitur ever since some Massood had first gone to the aid of a race called the Sspari. A thousand years of resistance to the all-dominating Amplitur Purpose, a millennium of fighting and dying.
If the secret Amplitur homeworlds had indeed been found, if they could be attacked and taken, it would mean the End of the War.
How did one contemplate such a prospect? Generation upon generation had lived and died without giving it a passing thought, ever cognizant of its impossibility. Now a killing Human sat hunched over in her living quarters telling her in its intolerably brusque, straightforward fashion that such a thing was within reach.
“The Amplitur homeworlds,” she found herself whispering. “It would mean the end, wouldn’t it?”
“A thousand years and more of war finished, over,” Straat-ien mused aloud. “The genetically and mentally altered subject races of the Amplitur, freed. There would be a grand realignment of alliances and agreements. Maybe a true galactic civilization, something less forced by circumstance or exigency than the Weave. In a word, peace. If not contentment.”
Odd, she thought, to hear a Human speculating on a state his species had never known.
“It also means that your theories will be put to the practical test,” he went on, “possibly in your own lifetime. If surprise can be maintained and the attack succeeds, there’ll be no more Mazvec or Crigolit or Ashregan or Amplitur for my kind to do battle with. We and the Massood will disarm, to the thanks of a grateful Weave. My people will be expected to return quietly to Earth, there to resume prewar pursuits.” He shifted his position on the floor.
“Except that we can’t all return to Earth. There are too many of us now, scattered in large concentrations across many worlds besides those we’ve begun to colonize. Human procreation was encouraged and supported by the Weave. We were urged to produce as many soldiers as possible to assist the Massood in combating the subject Amplitur races. Those men and women will be looking for new occupations, which can only be found within the greater commercial alignment of the Weave. We’ll at last have to be invited in because being left out is not a viable alternative.”
Isn’t it? she wondered.
“You don’t think that’s going to happen. Your hypothesis says that we won’t be able to handle the peace, that we’ll pick a fight with the S’van or some other species.”
“As I have wished all along, I hope that I am proven wrong,” she said sedately. “A new war, between Humankind and the Weave, would be to no one’s benefit.”
“We’d win any such conflict,” he murmured. “You know that.”
“With the Massood once again fighting on behalf of the Weave, and with all the logistical support that implies? I am not so certain. I am sure only of the unnecessary destruction that would ensue. Devastation would be the only victor in such a confrontation.” She gazed at him out of wide blue eyes. “It was admirable of you to confide this in me.”
He rose, bending slightly to avoid the ceiling. “I didn’t do it on impulse or because of my good nature. I had to think about it long and hard. But I know from experience how good you are at keeping secrets. Your work’s become an important part of my life. I thought it was time to give something back.”
She performed an intricate seated dance of deliberation, which Straat-ien admired without understanding. “It may still remain something for our descendants to deal with. The attack may fail, or the fight continue for many years.”
He nodded. “That’s right. But if nothing else, the discovery shortens the war. The Amplitur will throw everything into defending their homeworlds, which means they’ll have to draw resources away from other theaters of operation. The fall of the Mazvec and their other allied races will be accelerated.”
She saw him to the door, trailing his bulk. “That may yet take hundreds of years.”
He turned in the corridor, bending to face her. “There was a time when that might’ve been true. But not anymore. Remember: We’re involved.”
She closed the door behind him, knowing he spoke the truth, wishing he did not. His revelation of forthcoming Weave military intentions cast a radical new perspective on her own work. It was unsettling enough to have to deal with it as theory.
Was it selfish of her to want to live out her life span before she or any of her kind had to deal with it as fact?
“I thought we had something special, Nevan.”
He continued with his packing, feeling her eyes on his back.
“You could request that I travel with you,” she went on earnestly, “as an aide or … I don’t know. You’re clever, you’d think of something. You’ve got enough rank to pull it off.”
He shut and sealed the travel case. “It’s no good, Naomi. Your rating doesn’t qualify you. It would look like just what it is. Someone would notice and there’d be trouble. Trouble no amount of rank could make disappear.” He fingered the lock on the case, tuning it to the specific electrical output of his own body, then moved to its nearby waiting mate.
He smiled inwardly as he thought of Lal. She would think his luggage impossibly utilitarian. Her equivalent was exquisitely contoured and embellished, reflective of traditional Wais design.
Naomi was persistent. Maybe she had a right to be, Nevan thought bleakly, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Are you going to just walk out of here, out of my life, and pretend that you don’t feel anything between us anymore? I know better, Nevan. You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself.” Her tone was starting to crack around the edges, like a stressed recording.
He was packed. Suddenly there was no more reason to fool with the cases. So he turned. “Chemadii’s been a lonely and dangerous posting. I had certain needs, you had certain needs. I think we complemented each other very well.
“I’d like to keep in touch, Naomi. I’d like that very much.” He reached out to lightly stroke her cheek. “But asking me to break rules and regulations so that you can come with me, that I can’t do. Our work doesn’t overlap, doesn’t even brush against each other. I’m not risking my career for you, or even for us. Hell, I’m not going to risk your career.
“If we were simultaneously posted to Earth, or some diplomatic station, it might be different. But that isn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, this is the way the Service works. Believe me, this isn’t easy for me, either. It’s just something we’re going to have to deal with. Both of us.”
Eyes moist, she pulled away from his hand. “Where are you being sent?”
“I can’t tell you. You know that.”
She nodded, then looked back at him so sharply he blinked. “I’ll bet she’s going.”
“Going? Who?” Her intensity momentarily stunned him.
“The canary you’re always running around with. That damned Wais.”
It took a moment for the implausibility of the situation to sink in. When it finally did he could only gape at her in disbelief.
“Naomi, you’re not jealous of an alien? You’re not implying that historian Lal, a Wais of Mahmahar, and I have some kind of relationship other than professional?” He shook his head in astonishment. “What other kind of relationship could we have?”
Naomi was equally conscious of how inane it sounded. That didn’t stop her. “You see her almost every day. You work together by yourselves. When she requires your presence you respond, when you have something to say to her she appears instantly at your side. You confide in her, you’ve told me that yourself.” She folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “I’d call that a relationship. You don’t have to define it any further.”
“I don’t confide in her.”
“No? You share secrets. I know you do, because when I’ve asked you about certain things the two
of you talk about you’ve refused to tell me about them.”
“That’s part of my job. Work, strictly work.” This was becoming irritating.
“Is it? One hears stories, tales. I always took them for sleazy jokes, but if you’re out in the field long enough you find yourself starting to wonder about everything.”
“Naomi,” he said tightly, “you’re letting your remorse, not to mention your imagination, run away with you.”
“Am I? I’d like to think so. You’re the one who’s running away, Nevan.”
He inhaled deeply. “I am not ‘running’ anywhere. As you’re perfectly aware, I’ve been transferred. You’re being impossibly—”
“What?” she interrupted him. “Romantic? Maybe. Isn’t it the Wais who say we have no notion of true romance, of real beauty? That our conception of romance is nothing more than a flaccid derivative of our antagonistic nature? Maybe they’re right.” She managed a weak shrug. “I’d like to prove them wrong, right now, right here. But I guess I can’t, can I?”
“Historian La1 and I respect each other for the ability each of us brings to our respective professions.”
“Of course you do.” Her voice fell as her interest waned. “All I know is that that ornithorp sees you ten times as much as I do. For all I know—”
Angry now, he cut her off. “You don’t know anything!”
“No. No, I guess I don’t.” Eyes forward, back straight, she strode stiffly past him, not looking back. The door sensed her approach and obediently slid aside, closing behind her.
He stood silently at the foot of the bed, knowing that going after her would only make things worse. If she’d been Core, now—but if she’d been Core the whole confrontation wouldn’t have been necessary, would never have happened.