The False Mirror

by Alan Dean Foster

  "I am wholly Ashregan. If you think otherwise then you're wasting mind time."

  "Truly you must pictures of Humans have seen. I cannot believe you have never upon the physical similarities remarked."

  "I'm aware of the superficial resemblance. Also the differences," Ranji assured him.

  "It would not be beyond the Amplitur to with an allied species genetically interfere if they believed their goals they could enhance." If this was a development the Weave was aware of but keeping secret from the general populace, he thought, then a quick strike at the world where the Amplitur were carrying out their activities might stop it cold.

  It shocked him to realize that he had just promulgated a possible rationale for precisely the kind of massacre their prisoner insisted had taken place at Houcilat. But surely the S'van, the Hivistahm would not permit such a thing.

  Surely.

  "That's nonsense." The prisoner shifted against his bonds. "The Ashregan are a physically diverse species. Just because some of us are taller and stronger than the rest doesn't mean we're the products of some bizarre, not to mention unethical, genetic manipulation."

  "It is not for me to determine. You will by better minds than mine be analyzed and studied." Seeing the look on the Ashregan's face he added, "I doubt you will to vivisection be subjected. Do you think truly that we are the barbarians the Amplitur make us out to be?"

  "They don't call you barbarians," Ranji told him.

  Sharp teeth clicked in the medic's narrow snout. "Not directly, no. But they suggest it. Your Amplitur masters at suggestion very good are."

  "They're not our 'masters.' Within the Purpose all species are equal."

  "Have you not Amplitur suggestions been subjected to?"

  "I've had mind contact with a couple, yes." He said it proudly. "I feel only elevated and honored for the experience."

  "Of course. They would 'suggest' that you feel that way."

  "I did feel that way," Ranji shot back, more loudly than he intended.

  Fifth-of-Medicine was not in the mood to discuss the inefficacies of circular logic. Together he and Itepu shoved the finished raft all the way into the water. It drifted motionless next to the muddy shore, reassuringly stable.

  "Let's go," he told the prisoner. "Do not anything foolish try. You could perhaps into the river dump us, but my friend is as at home in the water as on land and you can be sure he would expend his energies on rescuing me, not you. You could not escape."

  Ranji shuffled forward, the restraining log heavy against his ankles. "Just because I'm a warrior doesn't mean you have to belabor the obvious."

  6

  As Fifth-of-Medicine had anticipated, their unexpected appearance at the outermost defensive perimeter of the nearest Weave outpost touched off quite a celebration among the station's astonished personnel. Tired and dirty but otherwise intact, they were escorted from the outpost to Weave military headquarters. Not only had they survived the devastating attack on the Weave's northeastern front, they had made their way back on foot through hostile terrain, without weapons. And they had brought a prisoner out with them.

  It was the type of exploit expected of Humans or Massood, not Hivistahm and Lepar.

  Though concerned about his mental state, Fifth-of-Medicine 's colleagues accorded him a place of honor the first time he joined a meditation circle, and his accumulation of merit was duly and ceremoniously noted. As for Itepu, the accolades he received were offered quietly: an occasional congratulatory word, a casual admiring touch. He did not bathe in them: he was anxious to get back to work.

  The initial eagerness of the base's medical staff to examine the prisoner soon gave way to discouragement as they realized they were ill equipped to carry out anything like a proper study of the creature. Still, their necessarily cursory studies only confirmed what Fifth-of-Medicine had already noted, that being a confusing melange of Human and Ashregan characteristics in the same body. It was a biological puzzle the Hivistahm and O'o'yan technicians on Eirrosad did not have a large enough key to unlock.

  It was decided to send the captive out on the next supply shuttle. A Human would have reacted violently to the news that he was to be shipped so far from his friends, but their prisoner was not Human. As an Ashregan soldier trained in the Purpose he acquiesced calmly to the decision, making only one small and rather quaint request. Though Command thought it baffling, they graciously consented to its fulfillment.

  So while Ranji found himself speeding through Under-space toward an unknown destination far from Eirrosad and even farther from his beloved Cossuut, he did not travel alone. More than a few were bemused as to why the single demand he made was for the company of a particular Lepar.

  Headquarters psychologist Third-of-Mind thought he had an explanation. "Here is an Ashregan prisoner, of mind probing probably afraid. He knows of the Lepar reputation for simplicity, and knows personally this particular individual. He will try the Lepar to employ to check the veracity of what is to him told by others."

  The base commander was Massood. It was his task to try and win a world for the Weave-a world of suffocating humidity and cloying rain, two meteorological traits he was not particularly fond of. He was not much interested in the physiological aberrations or mental workings of one Ashregan prisoner, now blissfully removed from his jurisdiction.

  He dismissed the psychologist without comment.

  On the ship racing away from Eirrosad's sun, however, there was more time for curiosity. Everyone was conscious of the regard in which muttering specialists held the unique passenger, who communicated his personal requests through the eccentric medium of a Lepar maintenance worker. They marveled at its size during its occasional escorted walks through unsensitive portions of the ship. It was far and away the largest Ashregan any of them had ever seen.

  The S Van captain was somewhat disappointed in their destination. True, there were large and competent scientific facilities on Omaphil, but it was a Tula world. He would much rather have taken their prisoner to one inhabited by his own kind.

  The option was not available to him. The military counselors had been quite specific. The Yula settled planet of Omaphil was the nearest fully developed Weave world to Eirrosad, and for reasons unknowable it might at some time in the near future be desirable to return the captive to that contested globe. He stroked his beard reflexively. It might be all right. Yula was a cosmopolitan place. There would be S'van present to keep an eye on developments, even if they were not directly involved in the examination process itself.

  There was no reason for him to concern himself with the prisoner specifically except that the S'van made it a point to concern themselves with everything. Not that they were overly curious. Merely paranoid.

  Yulans in fact comprised a substantial part of the crew, together with the usual complement of Hivistahm, O'o'yan, Lepar, and S'van officers. There was also a squad of Massood, who had been suborned from Eirrosad specifically to keep watch on the captive. As the Ashregan proved to be a model prisoner, they were able to pass their duty time in comfort.

  They were accompanied by a trio of Human soldiers whose resemblance to the captive provoked a good deal of whispered comment among the crew. The Ashregan displayed no inclination to seek their company, however, instead preferring the companionship of the Lepar who had accompanied him on board. That pleased the more imaginative among the crew, who found the Ashregan's proximity to look-alike Human soldiers inexplicably unnerving.

  Not that the prisoner's preference for the Lepar's company was any less puzzling. To the average Lepar, a couple of sentences constituted an extended conversation. What did the Ashregan find to talk about with his amphibious attendant? The crew amused themselves inventing outrageous explanations.

  With his three legs and three arms, his unusual tripodal posture, three yellow eyes centered on the flat front end of the triangular skull, mottled yellow-and-brown fur which bulged from beneath the skirt of his light-duty uniform, Teoth looked a lot like an overstaffe
d child's doll. Though he was no taller than the average Hivistahm, all that fur made him appear far more massive.

  It was real fur, thick a dense as a S Van's beard though far softer and infinitely better groomed. It covered Teoth's entire body, including the head and limbs, and its complex pattern of spots defined his identity.

  While not one of the more populous or important races, the Yula had been part of the Weave for hundreds of years, believed fully in the cause, and contributed what they could to the resistance against the Amplitur. They were fully civilized, which meant that they did not participate in any actual fighting but instead gave aid and support to those who did, like the Humans and Massood. Which explained their presence aboard the transport vessel.

  The Yula inhabited, not surprisingly, three worlds, of which Omaphil was the most prominent. Its economy was dominated by agriculture and light industry, of which only a portion was dedicated to the war effort. Despite their sensitive galactic location, the Yula enjoyed the deceptively peaceful existence common to most worlds of both the Weave and the Purpose. Actual fighting was something that took place elsewhere, on lightly populated planets, between the primitive species of the Weave and those unfortunates who had been adjusted for the purpose by the Amplitur.

  It was for this reason that Teoth was concerned that conveyance of this special captive warrior to peaceful Omaphil did not seem to greatly trouble his fellows. Despite repeated and earnest attempts to discuss the matter with them, they chose to go about their tasks unconcerned.

  He found more sympathy among the perpetually brooding, always somber Hivistahm. Two in particular, Eighth-of-Records and Sixth-of-Technics, provided a willing audience for his polemics. They shared his fear of the prisoner and what it represented.

  They usually met in the zero-g bubble, trying to choose times when it was not too crowded. While others bounced off the soft, padded walls or drifted through the ever-changing central maze or engaged in various null-g games, the three conspirators kept out of the way and to themselves.

  Teoth's motives were simple: he did not want to see some crazed Ashregan fighting machine imported into his world. While most would insist that a single hostile alien could not pose much of a threat, Teoth would have violently disagreed. In that respect his attitude was more Hivistahm than Yula. Certainly that contributed to a unanimity of opinion among the three.

  Because of his position, Eighth-of-Records knew as much about their passenger as anyone aboard. Sixth-of-Technics and Teoth had caught glimpses of it during its occasional escorted walks through the ship. Those brief encounters were terrifying enough.

  Eighth-of-Records was declaiming softly. "They say that a new kind of mutant Ashregan fighter it is an example of, bioengineered by the Amplitur the Humans to counteract. "

  "I wonder how successful it has been," murmured Sixth-of-Technics.

  "Truly I do not know." His companion's teeth clicked. "It a secret is. There are rumors, though. As tough as Humans it is said they are."

  "Why my world? That is what I want to know." Teoth fiddled with his translator, wanting to make certain everything he said was clearly comprehensible to his Hivistahm companions. "Why not one of the Massood planets? Or better yet, the Human world, where it could be well and truly isolated. Were it to get loose there it could not wreak havoc on a civilized society."

  "You know why," said Sixth-of-Technics. "Because Omaphil the nearest fully developed Weave world to Eir-rosad is."

  "Council is anxious." The other Hivistahm's inner, transparent set of eyelids were shut against the bubble's glare. "They do not what to make of it know."

  "Well I know what to make of it." Teoth was emphatic. "I believe that all the worst rumors are accurate, that this creature is the latest example of the Amplitur's immoral experiments in bioengineering."

  "There must be more," insisted Sixth-of-Technics. "The Amplitur would not just a single such creature release."

  Teoth gestured significantly. "Surely you have heard about what happened on Koba."

  "Truly." Eighth-of-Records shuddered. "Can you imagine what might happen if it were to aboard this ship get loose?"

  "I am less concerned with what happens aboard this ship than I am about my cherished homeworld." Seeing that he was starting to rotate, Teoth reached out with two of his three hands to steady himself against the padded wall.

  "If that were to happen, how many cubs would it kill before it could finally be destroyed? How many homes would it ravage? The 'specialists' admit they know little about it, about its ultimate abilities or potential. Why subject a peaceful place like Omaphil to their dangerous experiments?" He focused all three eyes on his companions.

  "The Yula have always been willing participants in the workings of the Weave. So why should they be singled out for additional risk?"

  "They are not singled out being." Sixth-of-Technics felt compelled to restate the obvious. "The Ashregan is being there taken for reasons of time and urgency, and proximity to Eirrosad."

  "I am not mollified by the explanations." Teoth's tone grew less peremptory. "My people are not as mature as yours, or certain others. They would not deal as well with the knowledge that this creature had been brought into their midst."

  "Sure I am that the intention is to keep its presence on Omaphil a secret." Sixth-of-Technics hissed softly.

  "The Yula believe in openness." Teoth's fur bristled. "I simply do not agree with any of this, any of it at all. Is this but the first of many such impositions to be made upon my world? Does the Weave military council intend to bring all such mutants to Omaphil for study? What if they should begin to breed in captivity? If one is as rumored capable of great horrors, what might many do?

  "We are not fighters. The Yula are civilized. We would be helpless in the face of such an onslaught. Massood would have to be brought in to control the problem, or even worse"-and his distress was palpable even to the Hivistahm-" Humans."

  "Truly I would not on my homeworld wish this being loose," agreed Eighth-of-Records.

  "Let them take the scientists to Eirrosad if they wish to study it." Teoth's legs drifted lazily.

  Sixth-of-Technics clicked claws together. "What do you think should be done?"

  "I am not sure." Three eyes blinked. "I am only a simple technician like yourself. But I do know that this matter is too important to be left to the likes of self-serving scientists."

  A group of gamboling S'van came near, and the trio went silent until they had passed. "Are you something uncivilized preparing to propose?"

  "I would not think of it that way," Teoth argued. "I am only saying that those who are closer to the people should take it upon themselves to carefully monitor the situation."

  * * * * *

  The two xenologists regarded the prisoner thoughtfully. Its occasional volubility notwithstanding, it remained as much of an enigma as when they had first encountered it.

  Half the pair was S'van. He was typically short and squat. A dense black beard practically obscured his face. More thick, wiry hair was visible where his wrists and ankles emerged from his clothing. His eyebrows threatened to obscure his vision.

  His Massood associate towered over him, her uniform of ship-duty vest and shorts snug against close-cropped silvery fur, gray cat eyes alert to the captive's every move, black-tufted ears flicked alertly forward. Her muzzle and whiskers were in constant motion. As she worked she picked at her short, sharp teeth, a type of grooming as natural to the Massood as breathing.

  "I don't understand it." The S'van spoke in a soft, reassuring tone much like the recordings Ranji was familiar with. It was as tranquil a voice as a Vandir's. Certainly his interrogator was anything but physically intimidating. Hardly a being to be afraid of, Ranji told himself. The S'van's manner was at all times cordial and civilized.

  The Massood female was much more physically impressive. Taller man Ranji but not as strong, her attention was concentrated on the compact device she carried. Probably recording everything he did or said, he
decided. Not that he minded. He had nothing to hide and could do nothing to prevent it in any event.

  He paid close attention as the finely tuned translator they had given him interpreted their conversation.

  "His responses are typically Ashregan," the S'van was saying. "Even to the trick questions I composed."

  "That is my opinion also." The Massood gazed at the silent prisoner. "Mentally and emotionally he is completely Ashregan. Physically he is unique. You have seen the preliminary medical report?"

  The S'van bobbed his head. "Internally he's as Human as your average soldier from Earth. The differences be tween Humans and Ashregan are modest, but distinct. In this one they're absent except for the notable exceptions of the skull and fingers. He displays the familiar Ashregan bony ridges over recessed ears, the same expanded eye sockets, flattened nose, and the longer fingers with the extra knuckle on each." He gazed at the pocket readout screen that rested alight on his lap.

  "Of course we're not supposed to concern ourselves with physiology. That's for others to delve into. We're supposed to be working on his mind, not his guts."

  "What do you intend to do with my mind?" Ranji inquired politely. "Do you think this will do any good?"

  "There!" The S'van xenologist was pleased. "That's the most Humanlike response he's given yet. No Ashregan would volunteer such a sarcastic remark in the course of an interrogation."

  "I was not being sarcastic." Ranji leaned back in his chair. "You don't understand my people at all. We may look a lot like your Humans but our thought processes are completely different . . . thank the Purpose! Your obtuse-ness on this matter is wearying."

  The S'van was not easily baited. "Oh, I don't know. I think the psychological data base we've managed to construct from interviews conducted with thousands of your kind down through the centuries has resulted in a pretty accurate profile of Ashregan thought processes." He chuckled and stroked his tangled steel-wool beard. Among Weave races the S'van were reputed to have the most highly developed sense of humor, together with, perversely, the otherwise utterly barbaric Humans.