The False Mirror

by Alan Dean Foster

  His nervousness faded rapidly. Everyone was overjoyed to see him. No one voiced suspicion or incertitude. His tale of injury and survival was accepted verbatim, in part because there was no reason to doubt him, in part because they wanted to believe it. When there is a need for heroes and they are so inconsiderate as not to invent themselves, others take up the task for them.

  No one questioned his appearance or physical condition. Insofar as they were concerned it was a miracle he'd been found alive in any condition. When pressed for details of his experience, he relaxed and allowed his fecund imagination to take over.

  When finally he was reunited with his own unit, the response was overwhelming and utterly accepting. If he had told them he'd spent the previous weeks on Eirrosad's major satellite collecting mineral samples they would have believed him implicitly. He received so many backhanded slaps he feared for the integrity of his prostheses.

  "Such a long time!" The naked adoration in strong Birachii's eyes forced Ranji to turn away in embarrassment. "Notice of your death was posted officially over two months ago."

  "It was premature," was all he could murmur.

  They were walking the grounds of a forward firebase, concealed in the eternal jungle some distance from where Ranji had been found. It seemed that everyone recognized him and waved or shouted in passing, regular Ashregan and insectoid Crigolit troops as well as familiar members of his own unit. He forced himself to acknowledge each undeserved accolade, acutely conscious of how his miraculous return had lifted their morale.

  It was hard to keep from staring at his friends, knowing what he knew now about their birthright. Appearances, which hitherto he had paid little attention to, now aroused in him an almost morbid fascination. Cranial ridges that did not belong, eyes that now seemed unnaturally wide, fingers lengthened by the presence of extraneous bone, unusually flattened nostrils, and the absence of external ears all struck him as both alien and familiar. There was within him taking place a crisis of perception.

  His reactions were noticed, and sympathetically attributed to the understandable aftereffects of his exhausting experience.

  The more time he spent among old friends and familiar surroundings, the darker grew the shadow of doubt that had once more begun to shade his thoughts. Was what he had seen and learned beyond doubt? Had every question been adequately answered? That he was being manipulated he knew for a certainty. But by whom? By which side? By the Amplitur, by the Weave ... by both?

  What was he, who was he, and where did his loyalty rationally lie? With appearances, with genes, or with friends? He had been exposed to and had been asked to accept in a very short period of time multiple revelations of mind-shattering import. This he had done. Or so he had believed. At the time.

  It was easier to live the days in languid succession, to simply exist, to be, and not constantly torment oneself pondering the greater mysteries of existence. One thing he could not escape, however. One thing there was always before his eyes. No matter how he tried to avoid it, he could never again escape the realization that his friends looked far more like Humans onto whom a few Ashregan features had been grafted than the other way around.

  When they inquired, as he knew they would, as to how he had survived for so long without supplies, he told stories of gathering edible fruits and nuts, of killing and eating small animals, of gathering rainwater in cupped leaves. He'd done everything they'd been told to do in survival training, and this had preserved him. They listened raptly, their appetite for his memories insatiable.

  Had he in the course of his odyssey encountered any of the enemy? Several, he admitted. No, not Massood or Humans. Hivistahm and Lepar. Yes, their presence in a combat zone had surprised him. More than they could know. He had dealt with them as circumstances required.

  It was during one such gathering that swift, pretty Cossinza-iiv came forward apologetically. "I have something important to tell you, Ranji." The others tried to shush her. "I'm sorry, but I can't keep it a secret any longer."

  "Keep what a secret?" Ranji asked guardedly.

  "Did you know that the big advance base to our immediate rear is tomorrow to receive the newest batch of special fighters from Cossuut?"

  Ranji was openly surprised. "This is the first I've heard of it."

  New recruits from home. New graduates. Had that much time passed since his only concern in life had been to do well in the Maze?

  "When they're cleared to join us it will more than double our strength. The next time Command gives us a special assignment we'll be able to hit the enemy a lot harder than we have here or on Koba."

  "That's great." Ranji mustered a minimum of enthusiasm. "That's the secret?"

  "No." Cossinza was smiling. So were some of those behind her. "Your brother's with them. They jumped him a level."

  Distantly Ranji heard himself expressing his pleasure at the news. So Saguio was here, on Eirrosad. Wonderful. Thus far he'd managed to beguile other Ashregan, Crigolit, even close childhood friends. But could he fool his own brother?

  That Saguio was Ms brother was something Ranji did not doubt. They shared similar height and strength, the same desire and skills. Ranji was a little smarter, his younger sibling slightly taller. The resemblances outweighed any differences. He and Saguio had been fashioned from identical genetic stock. Whatever that was. It didn't matter to Ranji whether they shared the same natural parents or not. Saguio was and always would be his brother.

  His apprehensions were overcome the next morning as soon as he caught sight of his brother stepping off the transport sled. As for Saguio, if Ranji had sported two heads it would not have lessened his pleasure at finding himself again with his elder brother.

  They spent hours catching up, reminiscing, and swapping stories. If Saguio detected a certain reticence on the part of his revered sibling to discuss their parents, he chose to ignore it.

  "I heard about what happened to you out there. I can't imagine what it must've been like."

  Brother benign, truer words never fell from your lips. What would be his reaction, Ranji mused, when he finally learned the truth? Like everyone else, Saguio was convinced his brother was a hero. But that didn't matter, because he was only a hero among the Ashregan, and he was not of them. Nor was Saguio, nor Cossinza, nor clever Soratii-eev. Or were they?

  He needed to arrive at truth: without interference from Humans, or Ashregan, or Amplitur, or anyone else. Let them skirmish over the future of worlds or the disposition of half a galaxy. The fight for his identity concerned him nonetheless.

  When he judged the moment propitious to finally reveal what he'd learned to his friends, he realized they might very well kill him. Even Saguio might partake of the festivities. There were no armed Humans, no self-assured Hivistahm around to help him now. The balance of his life lay in his hands and no others. Whatever else he might think of his former captors, he had to admire the risk they'd taken in allowing him to return to his people. That suggested confidence ... or great daring. Both were reputed to be Human characteristics.

  Before he spoke, before he put his life on the line, he had to be certain beyond any doubt. Despite what he'd told his captors prior to his departure from Omaphil, that was a destination he had yet to set eyes upon.

  Meanwhile he relaxed in the company of his brother, and reminiscences of simpler times. Of days when certainty had ruled his life, and the Purpose was always there for comfort. Now that hitherto exalted philosophy struck him as something less than grand.

  How was he to proceed when the time came to try and convince Saguio and the others that they were not Ashre-gan, but mere dupes of the Amplitur? He had with him no damning pictures, no reams of statistics, no means for conducting tests on querulous companions. Only his reputation and strength of character, and he knew full well those might not be enough.

  He didn't have to do it, he knew. He was safe among those who admired and respected him. On the basis of his perceived ordeal he could claim combat fatigue and put in for a noncombat
position. They would love to have him as an instructor on Cossuut. He could try to forget what he'd seen, what he'd learned, and return home to live out the remainder of his life among familiar surroundings and friends. His participation one way or the other wasn't going to alter the course of a thousand-year-old conflict anyhow. Even if he was Human, he owed nothing to that dire and unfamiliar species.

  There remained, however, one responsibility he could not rationalize away, could not shrug off. That was to the unborn. Unless they were treated, his friends' offspring would unknowingly inherit the traits and physical distortions intended for them by the Amplitur. There would be no convincing a child born of such circumstances of its Humanness. Whatever his eventual fate, he did not see how he could let it happen to those for whom no choice would be allowed.

  He would make a beginning with Saguio. That decision, at least, was easy to make. His brother would listen to what others would reflexively dismiss as madness. With luck he would be able to continue at least a few before they carted him away for medical treatment.

  13

  Ranji's friends and colleagues were not the only ones who listened with interest to his tale of solitary survival in the jungles of Eirrosad. The Amplitur devoted much attention to the exploits of their new fighters. Among them his story provoked a certain amount of contented jubilation . . . and curiosity.

  Certainly his experience confirmed the viability of the genetic line they hoped to propagate. It would not do for such a feat to pass ignored. Congratulations were in order ... as well as careful debriefing.

  "The Teachers are coming!"

  Ranji, Saguio, and several friends were relaxing in the field barracks when Tourmast burst in with his announcement. Until Operations decided on their next assignment there was little for them to do but exercise, try to stay active in the debilitating humidity, and wait.

  Silently Ranji absorbed the declaration's import. The forthcoming confrontation induced in him neither panic nor visible unease. He was surprised only because he had not expected it to come so soon. A great calm settled over him. He would not have to go seeking the answers to some of his questions: they were about to come to him.

  His future, like his self, would be defined by the reactions of the Teachers. For the first time he would be bringing something other than simple awe to the encounter. No matter what the outcome he could no longer think of them as purely altruistic custodians of universal truths. The Humans and Hivistahm and Massood had taken away his innocence and traded it for a dubious Humanity.

  The Amplitur insisted they could not read minds, only venture suggestions. What if he did not respond properly? What sort of suggestions ought he to expect? He was almost too tired to care.

  Ashregan and Crigolit officers hunted frantically for the dress uniforms which were important only to them. While the Amplitur were not big on ceremony, many of those 'races which fought alongside them felt otherwise. A formal multispecies welcoming committee was hastily assembled north of the central landing disk.

  The heavily armed transport skid was setting down silently even as stragglers continued to arrive, uniforms hastily straightened, to swell the ranks of the impromptu honor guard. An air of anxious uncertainty hung about the ranked officers like stale pheromones.

  None of which appeared to trouble the Teachers. There were two of them: impressive when one realized that only four were present on all of Eirrosad. None among the assembled Ashregan and Crigolit could imagine what would motivate a surprise visit on their part to the potentially dangerous vicinity of a forward support base.

  Together they approached the regional commander on their four short, squat legs, advancing with ponderous grace. Tentacle tips danced snake ballet in the turgid air, describing arcs and circles pregnant with import only to another Amplitur.

  As a Unifer, Ranji was among those in front. He looked on silently as the esteemed pair conferred with the regional commander and his team. Among the Teachers' escort were a pair of tall, angular Copavi. Never having seen a Copavi in person before, he focused his attention on them. They looked too fragile to manage the long, narrow-barreled weapons they carried.

  Then he saw that the Teachers were making their way toward the line in which he stood. Any attempt to further divert his thoughts was reduced to an instant exercise in futility.

  Alongside him friends and fellow fighters murmured expectantly. Saguio expanded with pride. His brother might be in for more excitement than he expected, Ranji mused quietly.

  Abruptly there was no more time for speculation. Stumpy eyestalks tipped with black globes tilted toward him, and pupils like streaks of molten gold focused on his own. As he returned the gaze he did his best to make his mind a complete blank, intimidated despite supposedly firm resolve to the contrary. After all, these were the Teachers.

  He felt warmth and good fellowship flowing outward from them, to envelop him in a soothing, reassuring mental blanket. How could such as these be responsible for the abominations postulated by the representatives of the Weave? They were the very essence of empathy and understanding. There was within them only goodness and light. He decided not to think; only to react.

  The base commander, a portly Ashregan of incongruously sorrowful demeanor, was speaking.

  "... And this is the famous Ranji-aar of Cossuut, who as you have heard only recently returned to us, having spent many -months alone in the jungle behind enemy lines."

  "A most remarkable episode." Instead of projecting its thoughts into the minds of its audience the second Amplitur utilized its horny mouthparts to replicate the supple sounds of the Ashregan language. The utilization of natural speech was in itself something of an honor for the one so addressed.

  "You bring Wellness to us all." Eyestalks bobbed at arm's length from Ranji"s face.

  Simultaneously he felt the familiar tickling inside his head, indication that one or both of the Amplitur was projecting directly to him. In spite of himself he tensed, but the Teacher did not jerk away. There was none of the thrashing of tentacles and twitching of limbs that would have signified contact with the mental defense mechanism of a mature Human nervous system.

  So he was not as Human as the scientists of the Weave insisted. Matter for contemplation. How much more of what they had told him on Omaphil was nonsense and propaganda? If he was fully Human, then his mental contact with a Teacher should have sent it reeling backward in shock and pain. Instead those slitted black eyes continued to weave imperceptibly on the ends of their stalks, regarding him with beatific solemnity.

  The gentling contact was full of admiration for his accomplishment and joy at his safe return, as well as concern for his current health. There was in it nothing hostile, nothing threatening. Nothing to fear.

  What followed then was no more than an afterthought, a casual inconsequentiality. An indifferent suggestion that Ranji's line step forward so that they might all be singled - out for special praise. Ranji blinked against the sun, and in the duration of that blink he hesitated. His brother did not, nor did any of the others. Only Ranji lingered; deliberately, minutely, making of his hesitation a slight stumble before joining the others in their crisp advance.

  The tight smile stayed frozen on his face. Because he knew that among his companions he alone could have held his position, he alone could have resisted the suggestion. For the briefest of instants he had sensed command instead of suggestion, pull instead of request. For such a small revelation it filled him with great confusion.

  And fear. Had his pause been noted and understood for what it was? The smoky bulbous orbs hovering before him were impenetrable, the cephalopodian face behind them unreadable.

  The Amplitur gave no sign that anything was amiss or that it suspected anything abnormal had just taken place. Sensitive tentacle tips reached out and around to embrace him. He stood in that warm, alien grasp, numb and smiling, until he was released. Wordlessly the Teacher retracted its tentacles and together with its companion began moving down the line of fighters, leavi
ng Ranji to try and analyze the confrontation as best he could.

  For the first time he had felt that contact with the Teachers involved more than mere suggestion. There had been a definite tug, a compulsion. Having recognized it, he'd been able to resist it, though he had eventually complied with the actual command for fear of being found out. His friends, he realized, had not been allowed that choice.

  How many such "suggestions" had he and his companions unwittingly been compelled to comply with in their lifetimes? This time he had been able to recognize and resist. But neither had he reacted as a Human would have. What was he? What had the Hivistahm surgeons made of him?

  He had little time to wonder, because the Amplitur retraced their steps until they were again confronting Mm.

  This time the insinuating, insistent probe was directed at him alone. There was no opportunity to conceal resistance among mass movement. He waited, fighting to conceal his unease.

  It was "suggested" that he tell his story once again, so that the Teachers as well as his fellow fighters might benefit from his experiences. Under other circumstances Ranji would have demurred, but he knew he was not being asked: he was being told.

  Though he knew he could have refused, he complied promptly and with apparent enthusiasm, turning to face the ranks of silent soldiers. He could feel black and gold eyes on his back, studying him intently, and did his best to ignore the sensation as he once more regaled his companions with his carefully composed sequence of elaborate lies.

  Occasionally one Teacher or the other would silently suggest that he elaborate on this or that particular point. Ranji complied readily with the mental coaching that passed unnoticed by his audience.

  When he'd concluded the tale he was offered the greatest honor of all. Had not the Amplitur for thousands of years carried the burden of the Purpose figuratively upon their backs? The Teacher nearest him knelt, beckoning to him with both mind and tentacle. Given no choice in the matter, a reluctant Ranji stepped forward and settled himself atop the Amplitur, straddling the smooth, fleshy back. The Teacher thoughtfully steadied its passenger with a tentacle, then stood.