The False Mirror

  The longer they cautiously observed the creature, the more certain Fifth-of-Medicine grew that this indeed was one of the half-mythical altered Ashregan warriors. It was taller even than most Humans. In retrospect it was not so surprising that he should have misidentified it. After all, the Ashregan bore the same kind of superficial external resemblance to Humans as Hivistahm did to the smaller but distinctly different O'o'yan.

  He discussed his observations with Itepu, wishing as he did so that the Lepar was one of his own kind or even a sardonic but brilliant S'van. He could do with a little humor just now.

  "How peculiar it is," he found himself murmuring. "It looks Ashregan but moves like a Human."

  "Amplitur bioengineering." Itepu was absolutely convinced of the explanation. "They seek to breed Ashregan who will be the equal of Human fighters, so they graft Human characteristics onto them."

  Like the isolated incident it was, sudden realization burst in the Lepar's slow but persistent brain. A thick black tongue emerged to clean his left eye as he spoke.

  "Do you know what this means? Only two specimens of such as this one were found on Koba, both severely damaged. Here is an example that is not only intact, but alive. If we could capture it and take it back with us . . ."

  Fifth-of-Medicine was sure his companion could see the bulging orbs behind the Hivistahm eyeshades.

  "Are you truly truly mad? Do you not realize what the creature could do? The Ashregan fighters are. Hivistahm and Lepar are not."

  "But this is important." The Lepar's insistence was marked by childlike directness and simplicity. "It would be useful to Weave specialists who are trying to understand what happened on Koba."

  Fifth-of-Medicine clicked the claws on his right hand decisively together. "If we near it go, it kill us will. Truly. I refuse absolutely to have anything to do with such a crazy idea."

  Itepu stared back at him. Surely he will not try anything on his own, the medic thought. Normally a Lepar would display about as much initiative as a vegetable drying in the sun.

  His companion took more time than usual to formulate a reply. "If the Amplitur have been able to give the Ashregan Human fighting abilities in so short a time, it is important that the military council know all about it. It is our responsibility to . .

  "Truly in this matter we no responsibility have." Fifth-of-Medicine was decisive. "I a fifth-level medical technician and physician am. You a maintenance worker are. Let the Massood and Humans specimens capture. Our responsibility is to our way to the river make, our return to the nearest outpost effect, so that those tasks we may resume."

  Ignoring his companion's protestations, Itepu continued to sneak glances over the root. "I think it is wounded. The chance to find one alone and in such circumstances may not happen again soon."

  While every instinct screamed at him to run, to get away from that place, Fifth-of-Medicine was unable to completely submerge his curiosity.

  "Are you sure it hurt is?"

  "Come see how it limps," Itepu whispered down at him.

  The physio tech rose alongside his companion. "Even if the injury substantial is, if the creature has been given Human combat abilities, it still more dangerous is than the two of us combined. An ordinary Ashregan would be more dangerous than the two of us combined." Like any healthy, normal Hivistahm he found himself quivering at the very idea of taking part in actual fighting.

  "There are no Humans and no Massood here to help us," Itepu pointed out. "We must do this on our own or the opportunity will be lost."

  "Then let it be lost."

  "I will try to do something alone if I must."

  Better quickly to die, Fifth-of-Medicine thought, than to be trapped in this place by himself.

  "What do you suggest?" he heard a voice asking. Astonishingly, it was his own. "Charging the creature? We have no weapons."

  "It does not seem to have any, either."

  "Here, let me again look." Fifth-of-Medicine was not about to take the Lepars word for it. Though they could see equally well below and above water, the Lepar sometimes suffered from shortsightedness. He flipped his protective eyeshades up onto his low forehead, where they automatically tightened in place.

  The Ashregan had resumed its seat and was consuming some kind of local fruit. Stare as he might, Fifth-of-Medicine could not see so much as a crude club. The creature's clothes were badly torn, revealing blackened splotches on the exposed scaleless skin. So in addition to an injured leg, it was suffering from burns and exhaustion. It wore no body armor at all. Perhaps it was not even a warrior but some kind of frontline technician. Though all Ashregan were trained hi fighting techniques, not all were soldiers.

  It is not as if we contemplate capturing a Molitar, he told himself. Nor even, he added wryly, a Human. He reconsidered his companion's suggestion. If they could do this thing, the merit they would acquire would be substantial. His musings in the meditation circle would be honored.

  The alternative was unpleasant. If they tried to capture it and failed, the Ashregan might well kill them both. He fumbled at his medic's belt and removed a small plasticine cylinder.

  Itepu watched quietly. "What are you doing?"

  "Trying myself to prepare. Be quiet," the Hivistahm hissed. Tilting back his head, he put the cylinder to his mouth and swallowed two of the pills it ejected. "Field tranquilizers. My reactions will not be affected." He clicked the claws of his left hand together. "But I will physical conflict be able to contemplate with greater equanimity. I may even actual violent contact be able to experience without vomiting."

  "The Lepar are no more warlike than the Hivistahm," his companion reminded him.

  "If that is meant to encourage me, a dismal failure it is. What do you want to do? I know nothing about fighting."

  Itepu's tiny black eyes half closed. "We could wait until it sleeps and then sneak up and hit it in the head."

  "Brilliant. If we hit it too hard it dies, and if we do not hit it hard enough it leaps up and dismembers us."

  The Lepar considered, straining. "There are two of us. If the first blow is not enough, the second one could hit it again."

  Typically complex Lepar cogitation, Fifth-of-Medicine mused. He tried to force himself to think like a warrior, ignoring the slight trembling in his limbs and the rising queasiness in his gut. The tranquilizers were helping.

  "There are several deep, water-cut holes." He turned and pointed back toward the tree among whose root structure they had spent the previous night. "If one of us injured pretended to be, he could the creature intrigue and lure this way. We could the hole camouflage: put branches and leaves over it. The one injured pretending to be could carefully avoid the trap but the pursuing creature in would fall."

  "That is a good idea." There was admiration in the Lepar's voice. "I would not have thought of it."

  Of course you wouldn't, Fifth-of-Medicine mused sympathetically, but that not your fault is. "You will toward the trap the Ashregan lure. I will nearby wait . . ." He started to say "with a club" but knew he could never wield a blunt instrument with harmful intent and so finished, ". . .to make sure everything properly goes."

  His companion regarded him solemnly. "We are not runners." He displayed a webbed hind foot. It was bare, the Lepar having discarded his extraneous sandals long ago. "We are swift in the water, but not on land. The Hivistahm," he added, with sufficient emphasis to startle the medic, "are famed for their sprinting abilities."

  How odd, Fifth-of-Medicine thought, that I had not that considered before my mouth opening. Itepu was staring at him pointedly.

  "I cannot that imagine doing. Truly. We will have to something else think of." His teeth gnashed lightly, indicative of his distress. "To deliberately induce an Ashregan to chase me; no. I could not such a thing do."

  "It would be a brief chase," Itepu argued ingenuously. "Over a modest distance a healthy Hivistahm should be able to keep ahead of an injured Ashregan. They have short legs."

  "Not this mutant," the m
edic reminded him. "It legs like a Human has."

  "You only have to cover a little ground. I will ... I will hide in the bushes between here and the hole and if the creature is getting too close to you I will hit it with a rock." Itepu's tumescent expression brightened at the unexpected realization. "This is good! It combines my idea and yours."

  "Unless the creature catches me anyway and you miss with the rock." Fifth-of-Medicine was much subdued. On the whole, he would rather have been meditating.

  "I do not see how we can do this without taking some risk. Remember, the creature has an injured leg. Surely it cannot run very fast."

  "Truly, that is so." The medic felt a little more optimistic. "It might not even try to chase me."

  "You should not be in much danger." The Lepar was stolidly remorseless.

  "How will I its attention attract?"

  Itepu considered. "Throw something at it. With luck that will make it mad."

  "With luck?" The Hivistahm were not as skilled in the art as the S'van, but they could still muster sarcasm when the occasion demanded it. "That an offensive action would be." His stomach roiled at the very thought. "I do not know if I can ..."

  "Then throw nearby. If you are not actually trying to hit it, there is no offense in the action."

  "Truly," he had to admit. He flipped his eyeshades back into place. "First we have a hole to choose and camouflage."

  The Lepar's wide mouth clapped together twice. "I will take care of that. I am good at manual labor."

  And I will watch, Fifth-of-Medicine thought. I am good at that.

  By late that afternoon Itepu had demonstrated surprising skill in masking the trap they'd chosen. It was steep-sided and deep enough to keep even a tall Ashregan from climbing out.

  That the easy part was, he reminded himself.

  He'd had most of the day to ponder what they planned to try and had almost convinced himself they could bring it off. After all, it wasn't as if he was going to have to fight. Just attract the creature's attention, and run. Except for Humans and Massood, the Hivistahm were about the best runners in the Weave, especially over a short distance.

  They approached the creature's resting place quietly. Itepu murmured something intended to be reassuring in his own language, then sank out of sight back into the forest, leaving Fifth-of-Medicine on his own. He hoped the Lepar located a particularly large rock.

  Am I actually this doing? he asked himself silently as he advanced. I, Fifth-of-Medicine, sophisticated technician and member of respected circles, stalking a soldier of the Purpose? He was awash in fear and revulsion.

  The Ashregan had an injured leg, he kept reminding himself.

  He'd adjusted his translator to handle the creature's own language, having determined that throwing words could be as provocative as throwing stones. It would not work perfectly, but it should function well enough for him to make himself understood. Not that he intended to engage the enemy in an extended conversation.

  What he had not counted on was its imposing size as he drew close. It was the biggest Ashregan he'd ever seen. Truly the Amplitur had bred notable Human characteristics into it. His task suddenly seemed more daunting, his companion Itepu much farther away.

  They had invested too much effort and he had come too far for him to back away now, he told himself nervously. Nor could he envision himself confessing his inadequacies to a Lepar. Not that he feared being accused of cowardice. Cowardice was a primitive concept invalid among civilized peoples. Fortunately he found himself possessed by a kind of paralysis of determination.

  The tranquilizers helped.

  It was almost as if someone else were picking the small round stone out of the muck, as though another being was straightening and throwing it in the Ashregan's direction, supporting its unimpressive trajectory with inane insults in an alien tongue.

  The creature reacted with shocking speed and unnaturally fast reflexes, rising and whirling in one motion, Though its proportions were mutant, the face that confronted Fifth-of-Medicine was wide-eyed and wholly Ashregan.

  Feeling numbly foolish, he continued to stand where he'd risen, exposed and vulnerable, staring back at the enemy. To break the paralysis he jumped up and down several times and twitched obscenely, though it was unlikely the Ashregan was knowledgeable enough to interpret the gestures.

  The stone, the words, the gestures or a combination thereof had an effect, however. Like some great primeval forest spirit, the mutant Ashregan crouched momentarily.

  When it rose anew a horrified Fifth-of-Medicine saw the long spear which the creature had until now kept concealed in the underbrush.

  The weapon was even taller than its maker, as thick around as the medic's wrist, straight and lethal-looking. Its tip of sharpened stone looked quite capable of slicing through iridescent green scales, flesh, and organs.

  With an inarticulate cry, Fifth-of-Medicine put all carefully considered plans aside as he turned and ran.

  5

  He could hear the Ashregan crashing through the brush behind him. It was making less noise than he'd hoped, slipping through the brush and vines and across the spongy surface with entirely too much ease for so large a creature. Nor were they the sounds he imagined would be produced by something massive traveling on a damaged leg.

  Expecting to see nothing so soon, he glanced back over his shoulder and was aghast to note that the Ashregan was not only in sight but already closing. It was not limping.

  What had happened to its injury, he wondered frantically?

  It occurred to him suddenly that maybe there had never been any wound. Perhaps it had been feigning injury all along, just in case it should encounter Weave troops. So perfect had been its ruse that it"had deceived even those it had not seen.

  Long, powerful, heavy-boned legs carried it easily from log to log as it methodically ate up the distance between them with strides the shorter Hivistahm could not hope to match. The ominous spear hung from its fist, parallel to the ground. Fifth-of-Medicine was sure it was already within throwing distance.

  He could feel the stone-tipped, heavy piece of jungle timber slamming into his back, piercing vital organs, emerging from his sternum with sufficient force still unspent to pin him like a specimen bug against the nearest tree. He tried to accelerate, his three-toed sandaled feet hardly touching the ground as he flew through the woods.

  No matter how fast he ran or how radically he swerved, the creature continued to close the distance between them.

  He knew then with absolute certainty that they were not going to trap the Ashregan in their carefully concealed pit because it was going to overtake him long before they reached the place. He imagined he could feel the creature's breath on the back of his neck. His eyes wildly scanned the vegetation he ripped through. Where was Itepu with his poised rock? Still somewhere ahead, too far ahead.

  Another glance backward filled his eyes with that horrible flat face, the parted mouth with its squarish cutting teeth, the projecting bony ridges over the ears, the throw-back patch of fur atop the slightly flattened skull. And the eyes, those round burning eyes, gazing unblinkingly back into his own.

  It's toying with me, he realized suddenly. It knows it can bring me down at any time.

  Emitting a hiss of absolute and complete hysteria, knowing that he would never reach the pit in time, too terrified to lament the accomplishments and merit that would never be his, he ran on.

  There was a crash behind him. In focusing its attention on its prey had the mutant slipped on the perpetually damp ground? Had it tripped over an especially well-concealed liana? Fifth-of-Medicine didn't turn to look, didn't stop until his heart threatened to bang its way out through his heaving chest.

  He blinked. There was nothing behind him.

  Was it still playing with its quarry, sneaking through the brush nearby, silently amused at his inchoate terror? To the best of his knowledge that was not a characteristic of the Ashregan. It had all but run him down. Why pause to prolong the game? Hum
ans were occasionally reputed to do such things, but not Ashregan.

  It was against his better judgment, but then he'd been acting against his better judgment all day, he reminded himself. He started retracing his path, trying to keep to the denser vegetation, working his way slowly and carefully back the way he'd come.

  Eventually he came to something which caused him to suck in his breath with a soft but perceptible hiss.

  The Ashregan stood close by the trap. A portion of the branch-and-leaf camouflage had been contemptuously kicked aside to reveal the pit beneath. Blood streamed from the side of the mutant's skull.

  Itepu lay on his back at the edge of the hole, the tip of the Ashregan's spear dimpling his belly. The medic recalled the crash he'd heard in the midst of his panicky flight.

  The Lepar. Itepu must have leaped from concealment to strike the pursuing Ashregan. Only, the poor amphibian hadn't struck hard enough. The mutant must have been staggered, but instead of going down he'd chased the clumsy Lepar to this point. Itepu had tried to lead the Ashregan into the pit, to succeed where Fifth-of-Medicine had failed.

  He ducked down as the enemy soldier suddenly looked around, scanning the surrounding trees intently. Wondering what had happened to its original quarry, no doubt. Trying to decide if any more Weave fools lurked in the tepid jungle.

  It turned away and began querying Itepu via its own battered battlefield translator. The sounds of the Lepar language filtered back to the cowering physiotech. Fifth-of-Medicine winced as the Ashregan emphasized its inquiry by prodding the prone Lepar with its spear. Each time the unfortunate maintenance worker refused to reply, the spear point probed a little deeper.

  Why doesn't he answer? the medic wondered. The Lepar's defiance would only get him killed more slowly.

  They'd tried, he told himself, and failed. It struck him that the Ashregan's preoccupation with Itepu offered him a chance to slip away quietly. Could he do that? It was the eminently sensible thing to do, of course. Logical, if not civilized. Given time, he was sure he could rationalize his actions.