Following the ceremony's conclusion, One-who-Surrounds was relieved to retire to a room in which the humidity had been raised to meet Amplitur requirements. The itching which had begun to torment its mottled orange skin began to fade. It was no longer necessary to use drops to keep sensitive eyes moist.
Green-goes-Softly settled into a hammocklike lounge nearby. The large, dark blotch on its dorsal side indicated that the other Amplitur had recently budded, giving birth to a new individual.
"I thought it went well."
"Wellness aplenty," One-who-Surrounds concurred. "They honor their heroes."
"As well they should after what they accomplished on Koba." Green-goes-Softly rolled slightly, into a more comfortable position, straddling the lounge for maximum support. "I sensed in the favored ones no indication of deviation or genetic degeneration."
"Nor did I." Disdaining the other empty lounge, One-who-Surrounds settled into a shallow pool of warm, scented water. "All the reports have been accurate."
"I wish we could have gone to Koba to monitor them in person."
"You know why we did not. Personal danger aside, our presence would have been a burden on the regular Ash-regan troops, much less the progeny of the Project. In active combat against Human beings our presence is a hindrance." Its skin rippled, showing iridescent silver highlights.
"They defeated Humans on their own ground," Green-goes-Softly murmured. "It is a wonderful thing. According to the reports I have seen, the Humans were much surprised."
"As well they should have been." One-who-Surrounds waxed philosophical. "In such small ways does the mental disintegration of an enemy begin. Not only were the fighters successful in their military objectives, they were happy in their work. The Purpose could ask for nothing more."
Green-goes-Softly gestured with a tentacle. "For all their Ashregan upbringing they fight as well as any Humans. The nanobioengineers have done their work exceedingly well. Their alterations have taken perfectly. The overriding desire of the special fighters, like that of their less well-endowed fellow Ashregan, is but to serve the Purpose."
"Yes. It means that the end of the Weave can be envisioned."
Green-goes-Softly knew that the end One-who-Surrounds spoke of might lie several hundred years in the future, but the Amplitur took a longer view of things than most species. Their patience extended well beyond individual lifetimes. It allowed them to wait for new special fighters to enter the fray, and for the genetic alterations which had been performed on those already serving the cause to be passed on to other fighters as yet unconceived.
"It is still a risky business." Scented water sloshed gently around the bulk of One-who-Surrounds.
"I know, but thus far there is only success to show for it. With luck and skill, the Project will continue to prosper."
"There are still those among the brethren who think it unwise, even dangerous."
Green-goes-Softly mentally envisioned a shrug. "One must take risks in war. Our ancestors took many as with far simpler resources they spread the Purpose across the cosmos. We, too, must be bold. Our ancestors never had to confront a sociobiological aberration as extreme as Humankind. New difficulties call for new ways of thinking, new countermeasures. The continued success of the Project will assuage the doubters."
"I concur. I feel wellness about it." One-who-Surrounds retracted its eyestalks, luxuriating in the warm water, pleased to be again in dark, damp surroundings instead of the dry bright light favored by so many of their allies.
4
A morose and dejected Fifth-of-Medicine squatted beneath the towering tree. Warm rain trickled down his dirty green scales to nurture the mud below as he sat contemplating his unnatural fate.
Truly he should not have been there, was not supposed to be in a combat area. The Hivistahm were not fighters. With proper training, some of them could be counted on to serve as support personnel. That was more than could be said for the too-civilized Wais or Motar.
Actual fighting, a barbarity most races had difficulty contemplating, was left to those species in whom the requisite primitive genes had been retained: Massood and, increasingly, Humans. The relentless, horrible, wonderful, utterly unpredictable Humans.
But there were only so many Massood, so many Humans. Other races had to back them up by providing necessary logistical support. That task fell to such as the Bir'rimor, the Lepar, the O'o'yan . . . and the Hivistahm.
A fine medical technician skilled in multiple species repair, Fifth-of-Medicine had been assigned to what for a Hivistahm constituted a forward battle position: emergency physiotech on a rear battle-control sled. He did not expect to be exposed to combat, much less to experience it. But that was precisely what had happened when the combined Ashregan-Crigolit force had surprised the attack group.
Like everyone else he had heard the rumors that the enemy had begun experimenting with new and untraditional strategies, and like everyone else he had dismissed them out of hand. The events of the morning had transformed him instantly from skeptic to true believer. Perhaps if there had been more Humans in the sector the attack might have been beaten off. But they were widely scattered across the surface of contested Eirrosad, and there had been few on his command vessel or its escorting sliders.
After taking several direct hits, the badly crippled transport sled had turned to flee, scraping the jungle canopy as it did so. As it pivoted on its repulsion axis an internal explosion had sent it slamming into a giant forest emergent. It skewed wildly before finally recovering to shudder on its way, shimmying on its stabilizers.
But not before the impact had pitched half a dozen crewmembers through a gaping hole in its side and into the foliage below.
Only two of the six had survived the fall, the otherwise fatal plunge cushioned for them by fortuitously placed branches and leaves. The others had not been so lucky.
By some miracle he had landed in the top of a densely foliated tree, the reedlike upper branches slowing his descent before bending to deposit him, one level at a time, onto similar growths below, until he was finally dumped, bruised but otherwise undamaged, into a puddle of soft mud.
The same mud which had saved his life made fighting on Eirrosad's surface an untenable proposition. Combat was largely restricted to encounters between Weave sliders and enemy floaters, which could dart and hide among the trees and vines. Only the foolish or suicidal would think of trying to conduct a battle on the mushy, planetwide morass which passed for ground. So the surface was left to the specialized native fauna best equipped to cope with it.
And to the unfortunate such as himself. Truly.
He was stuck in the middle of the hostile wilderness the ever irreverent Humans had dubbed the Sludgel: part swamp, part jungle, mostly muck. Without communicator, weapon, or armor. All he had to help him survive was his green physiotech uniform with its attendant equipment, and his wits. He placed little confidence in either. Even his footgear worked against him: high-laced sandals instead of bog boots. He was grudgingly grateful for the overhead vegetation which kept a little of the rain off his scaly scalp.
At least, he thought, the ambient temperature amenable is, and the natives not a worry are. Poor and backward, they lived in transitory jungle villages raised above the ooze on cleverly interwoven stilts, marveling at the incomprehensible forces which contested for control of their world. The Eirrosadians were the second truly tripedal intelligence ever discovered, which made them rather more interesting from a scientific than strategic point of view. By the same token, civilized morality demanded that despite their backwardness they should not be abandoned to the manipulative mercies of the Amplitur and their allies. None could say but that in a thousand years or so they might contribute significantly to the war effort.
He adjusted his eyeshades, which had defied all the laws of physics by clinging to his face despite his violent ejection from the sled and subsequent fall. Their presence contributed significantly to what little comfort remained to him. Reflecting his emoti
onal state, his skin had lost its bright green shininess and turned a dull olive hue. At least it would make him hard for the enemy to spot if they decided to make a visual search of the canopy for survivors.
Beneath the shades, double eyelids blinked at his depressing surroundings. The absence of the bright sunshine so favored by the Hivistahm contributed to his emotional funk. Silently he damned the clouds which blocked out the sun, the rain they gave birth to, and the circumstances which had deposited him in this place.
He considered his situation, quite aware as he did so that it would not improve upon reflection. They were an unknown but surely considerable distance from the nearest forward Weave outpost, which as near as he could estimate lay to the south of their present position. He hadn't devoted much attention to such matters on board the sled, since there was no need for him to be aware of them. Now he was paying for his indifference.
It was going to be a long walk.
They would have to experiment with local foodstuffs, but water obviously wouldn't be a problem. Taste was something else again.
That would likely not be a problem for his fellow survivor, whom he regarded distastefully. Not satisfied with placing him in this ridiculous position, the fates had decided to heap irony atop discomfort by giving him for companionship on the arduous trek to come not another of his own kind, not a Massood or Human to protect him, not even an attentive O'o'yan or sardonic S'van.
No. He was going to have to travel with a Lepar. With a representative of the Weave's slowest-thinking, dullest species. It did not boost his spirits to know that the amphibious Lepar was far better equipped than he to survive an extended sojourn in the Eirrosadian ecozone.
His name was Itepu, and he seemed agreeable enough despite his innate handicaps. He'd been a low-level maintenance assistant aboard the command sled. As was characteristic of his kind, his work had been repetitious and often dirty.
Standing there in his simple uniform of shorts and vest, his slick tail switching reflexively, webbed hind feet buried in mud, he did not look half as uncomfortable as Fifth-of-Medicine felt. Though half his tools were missing, the Lepar's service belt still held equipment that might prove useful during the long march ahead.
His left arm dangled by his side. Badly sprained in the fall, it was the first thing Fifth-of-Medicine had tended to when they'd stumbled into each other while searching for fellow unfortunates.
The medic regarded the Lepar's coccygeal appendage. Imagine an intelligent race that still retained a tail! Tiny black eyes and an enormously wide mouth contributed to an overweening impression of bland stupidity. Yet the Lepar were not stupid. Merely unclever. And as devoted to the defeat of the Purpose as far more intelligent species, Fifth-of-Medicine reminded himself.
Itepu slogged over to the medic's tree, ignoring the rain which ran in rivulets down his green-brown, slightly slimy skin. "Where we go, and when, friend Hivistahm?"
"How know should I?" A disconsolate Fifth-of-Medicine adjusted his translator as he gestured in a vaguely southward direction with a long, delicate, claw-tipped finger.
The Lepar stood silently for a while, listening to the rain and fiddling with his own speaker and earplug while waiting for the higher-ranking Hivistahm to move. "We should go soon," he said finally. "Enemy in this area."
"I do not think so." Fifth-of-Medicine slid off the root on which he'd been brooding, wincing as his legs sank ankle-deep into the fetid, clinging muck. "The battle over is and we have not any shooting for some time heard."
"Rain makes hearing hard."
The physiotech restrained himself. Simply because the Lepar were slow did not mean they were always wrong.
"You are probably correct. We should this area leave."
Better to die out here, he thought, than to be taken alive. Captives were sometimes turned over to the Amplitur for mental "adjustment." A portion of the mind wiped out here, another small section replaced there, and a prisoner was transformed without its consent into a useful agent for the Purpose. He shuddered as he slogged off southward.
A thin film of water covered the boggy surface, magnifying the deceptively solid appearance of the soil beneath. The polite Itepu matched his pace to that of his considerably slower companion.
By evening they had covered more ground than the medic dared hope. As they sat beneath a sheltering leaf the size of a small vehicle eating a peculiar purplish fruit the Lepar had picked, Fifth-of-Medicine felt a little better about their situation. They were in good health and thus far untroubled by the local fauna. He allowed himself to imagine that they might actually have a chance of reaching the outpost.
As near as he could remember, that blessed destination lay on the western shore of a wide, meandering river which ran roughly north-south. If they could make it that far, they could build some kind of raft to carry them the rest of the way downstream to safety. He swatted at something tiny, orange, and persistent. If the local arthropodan life didn't suck all the blood out of them first, he told himself.
He could envision himself among family again, both close and extended. He even managed to meditate for a while, the Lepar observing him silently as he sat cross-legged in the mud, eyes tightly shut, his back to the imaginary contemplation circle. Warm, bright sunshine and hot, dry sand filled his stabilizing thoughts, relaxing him, restoring mental balance.
After a while Itepu turned away and began digging in the mud for things to eat.
By morning the rain had gentled to an occasional light drizzle, and Fifth-of-Medicine's scales began to dry out. His misery quotient fell perceptibly. By midday he was feeling well enough to stride through the undergrowth with some confidence.
They had survived, and would doubtless be feted as heroes upon their return. Even Massood and Humans would have to acknowledge their achievement. Among such hopeful musings Fifth-of-Medicine found time to admire the profusion of chromatically hued jungle flowers.
"Do you like your work?"
"What?" The medic glanced sideways at his lugubrious companion. They were making camp for the evening.
Shiny black eyes looked back at him. "Your work. Do you like doing it?"
As the Lepar were not famed for initiating conversation, Fifth-of-Medicine was somewhat startled by the question. It took him a moment to formulate a reply.
"Truly. I am at what I do very good and hope someday to be a third- or even a second-of-medicine called." To his own surprise he found himself adding, "What about you?"
"I don't think about it much." Itepu yawned, his wide mouth seeming to split his face in half. The dark gullet gaped. "I just do what I was trained to do."
Fifth-of-Medicine was building a bower of leaves and broken twigs. "Sometimes I think it is better that way. Hard it is to see others suffering and not be always able to help. Like the others who out of the sled were thrown but did not survive the explosion or fall. Nothing for them could I do. Truly."
"You did what you could. Tell me: If any enemy was hurt here, would you try to help it?"
It was surprising enough for a Lepar to initiate a conversation. For one to venture a philosophical query bordered on the shocking.
"Truly I do not know. That is something / have not thought about. It would on the specific circumstances depend."
When Itepu digested this without replying, Fifth-of-Medicine felt oddly cheated. It was still on his mind when he rose to wash his eyes the next morning.
By then he was more than merely confident. He was convinced they were going to make it back. Even the weather cooperated, as the rains remained light. So relaxed had he become that he did not jump up from his resting place in panic when a clammy hand unexpectedly clutched at his shoulder.
Itepu was bending over him, making small circular motions with his other hand. It took Fifth-of-Medicine a moment to recognize the movement as the Lepar gesture for silence. Puzzled but for the moment compliant, the phys-iotech rose and followed his crouching companion into the trees.
The amphibian halted behind
a wall-like buttressing root and gestured. Following the pointing finger, the medic nearly let out an involuntary hiss.
Not far enough away sat a single Human, perhaps one of those who'd manned an escort slider. No doubt he'd been shot down by the Crigolit and now found himself in straits similar to their own. Fifth-of-Medicine's spirits rose. If the creature was armed, he and Itepu would be able to travel the rest of the way back to the base in the company of serious protection. In circumstances such as theirs it was better to have the companionship of one Human than three or four Massood. Humans adapted much better to the heat and humidity of Eirrosad.
As he started to rise and wave, the Lepar grabbed him and dragged him down. "I know what you are thinking." Itepu's face was uncomfortably close to his own. "Not Human."
All four of Fifth-of-Medicine's eyelids blinked impatiently. "What are you saying? Of course it Human is."
"Not."
"Look at it. At the lanky form, at the proportions. Human it perfectly is."
Itepu rose slowly to peer over the crest of the root. "Wait and watch."
Confused and resentful of being handed an order by a lowly Lepar, Fifth-of-Medicine complied, but with considerable reluctance.
After a while the creature rose to methodically survey the surrounding jungle. The medic's eyes widened as he hastily ducked back down behind the root.
"Truly correct you were," he whispered tautly. "Ash-regan it is! With Human proportions, but Ashregan." There was no mistaking, he thought uneasily, those bony ridges over the ears or the wide eye sockets. It was surely Ashregan, despite its height and build.
"A giant among Ashregan," Itepu agreed.
The medic's long tongue commenced to vibrate nervously inside his mouth. "By the Circle! It one of the mutant Ashregan fighters may be that so much havoc on Koba wrought. They were spoken of as tall, fast-moving, and much stronger than is of their kind typical. It is supposed they by the Amplitur from normal Ashregan stock bioengineered have been."