The False Mirror

by Alan Dean Foster

  "Like you?" Carson wore a grin of a different sort.

  She smiled ever so slightly. Escaping rainbows stained her jet-black crewcut. "It is not inconceivable. It would of course also be incumbent upon me to see that matters of ambivalence were conveyed personally to the acting base commandant so that he could propose a determination based on available evidence and expert opinion."

  "You again." Carson's admiration knew no bounds.

  Having intended only to submit the first draft of a casual notion, Moreno was somewhat taken aback by the speed with which his companions had proceeded to polish it.

  "Slow down. We're all half-drunk."

  "Not me," Carson insisted cheerfully. "I'm four-fifths, at least."

  "What if Chin doesn't take to the idea in the spirit with which it's offered?"

  Selinsing shrugged. "Then I can be held responsible for a poor translation from the Massood, remember? I'm willing to take that much of the risk. If he so chooses, all he can fault us for personally is an excess of enthusiasm."

  Carson's chair hummed as it retreated from the table. He rose, weaving only slightly. As he stepped out of the Human cone of influence, the shape in the shadows changed from that of a tall, voluptuous woman to a short and to the sergeant's eyes utterly repulsive female S'van.

  "Let's do it now." His eyes blazed. "Let's do it quick. I'm sick of sitting on my ass blowing kisses at shadows. I want to kill something."

  That was Carson for you, his friends knew. Just a regular guy. Whispering excitedly among themselves the non-coms exited the club, oblivious as always to the expressions of disgust and relief which crossed the faces of their non-Human allies and fellow patrons as the three primates departed.

  Chin's apartment was located deep within the forward firebase's central accommodations complex. Given the option, on Eirrosad as elsewhere, high-ranking officers usually elected to sacrifice sweeping views in favor of claustrophobic safety. As befitted the base's second-in-command, Chin rated not one but three rooms: a sleeping cubby, private hygienic facilities, and a meeting and strategy room. Native vegetation had been planted atop the complex, which in combination with sophisticated methods of camouflage allowed the base to blend into the surrounding jungle.

  It was quite late and typically dark outside when the three noncoms ventured from their quarters. Overhead, the camouflage aerogel shimmered like fro/en smoke, concealing movement, mass, and heat from possible detection. Beneath its distorting imagery hundreds of soldiers and support personnel sheltered.

  The stone-faced, uninhibited Chin greeted them in a pair of briefs. He disliked climate control as much as official ceremony and in the privacy of his own quarters disdained the use of both. Formally attired, his nocturnal visitors were soon sweating profusely.

  Physically Chin was anything but impressive. He was shorter than any of them, Selinsing included. Like her, his features were small, verging on the delicate. The Malay returned Chin's stare boldly. There was about as much fat on him as on an egret, which he superficially resembled. Despite that he looked older than he was.

  Yet this was a man who had spent his entire adult life fighting in the service of the Weave. The mere fact of his continued survival was all the testimonial he needed. The numerous scars which covered his body, scars which even Hivistahm medical science had been unable to eliminate completely, underlined his accomplishments as rakishly as they clothed his muscles. Small he was, but nothing to trifle with.

  In his expectant presence Carson and Selinsing wavered. In the confines of a commandant's quarters at two o'clock in the morning, intentions nurtured by boredom and booze tended to lose immediacy. As the one who had originally conceived it, a hesitant Moreno was therefore left to give birth to the proposition.

  "Colonel, sir, my colleagues and I, well . . . we've been talking."

  "So I presumed when you requested a meeting at this unconscionable hour." Chin's words were like the rest of him: short, clipped, to the point.

  Moreno was not intimidated. Chin was widely respected as a soldier's officer. "It's something that's beeir bothering us for a long time, something we've talked about a lot. It's not anything we can take care of without help. Command-level help."

  "Your help, sir," Selinsing chipped in. "And your discretion."

  "Really." Eyebrows ephemeral as a late-night regret rose slightly. "It's good to know that one's opinion is respected by one's troops. Excuse me a moment." The near-naked officer rose to check the door, then his viewscreen, before resuming his smile and his seat. "Cool out tonight. Metrolg predicts rain."

  "When doesn't it rain on this stinking planet?" Carson muttered rhetorically.

  "When indeed. Tell me now: with what do you need my help?"

  "Something of vital importance, sir," Moreno told him.

  "Allow me the privilege of making my own evaluation," Chin murmured. "It may differ from yours."

  "I don't think it will, sir." Moreno glanced at his friends for support, then smiled tightly back at the commandant. "None of us do."

  When the word came down from Colonel Chin's Tactics Group that something big was in the offing, the Massood were willing, if a shade puzzled. It struck several of their officers that they had not been consulted on procedure. Informed that the success of the exercise hinged upon surprise and unpredictability, they had to confess that it had indeed caught them completely unprepared, and might logically therefore have the same effect upon the enemy. Debate, they were informed, would only slow them down. It was time to act, not discuss.

  When informed of the nature of the forthcoming operation, the Human officers and noncoms expressed unqualified enthusiasm. Though most of them were as tired of sitting around as the trio which had confronted Chin, none had heretofore manifested their feelings in half so overt a fashion. One or two of the younger officers did find themselves pausing to wonder at the abruptness of it all, but their curiosity was drowned in the rush of preparations which followed the handing down of orders.

  Among the support personnel, Hivistahm and O'o'yan, Wais and Yula and the rest, there were only the usual misgivings. As the representatives of the noncombat species lived in a perpetual state of apprehension anyway, it mattered little to them whether Human and Massood forces were coming or going. They performed their assigned tasks with silent efficiency while doing their best to keep their attention averted from the bloodthirsty grimaces and exclamations of those sentients who were preparing to die on their behalf.

  Some who were hobbyistically inclined to philosophical consideration of matters strategic wondered why this particular moment had been chosen for a massive attack and could find no reason. It did not trouble them overly. It was in the nature of Humans to do the unpredictable. They had been doing it with regularity and to great effect ever since they had been recruited into the effort. No Hivistahm, no Lepar was about to second-guess them.

  Imagine mounting an all-out assault on the enemy when there was no obvious justification for doing so! Clearly a stroke of purest brilliance. The support teams threw themselves energetically into the last-minute, frantic preparations.

  F'tath was not a high-ranking officer, but he was S'van. Even as he joked and hurried to carry out his own duties, he found himself questioning the press of activity. Not the actual orders; they at least were in line with historical Human-Massood strategy. What concerned him was the narrow chain of command down which they had been passed. For example, as pertained to his own department, there hadn't even been time beforehand to discuss projected lines of supply, an omission which to him smacked of the blatantly neglectful.

  He promptly made it his announced intention to bring the oversight to the attention of his superiors at Sector Command as soon as he finished supervising requisite preparations for the battle group's departure, this being about as close to actual combat as a civilized S'van could come. So hectic was the press of work, however, that he could not seem to find sufficient time to properly formulate the questions he badly wanted to ask.
<
br />   Which was very much the intention of those who had drawn up the departure schedules.

  By the time F'tath and those few others to whom similar thoughts had occurred were allotted a break, dozens of heavily armed sleds and sliders were rising above the forest canopy and streaming away eastward, the start of the assault undeterred by the morning rain. At which point it seemed foolish even to a S'van to question an operation already under way. So F'tath and others of like mind carried their concerns with them to bed.

  No reserves were held back. Every slider, sled, and soldier on the base was thrown into the all-out attack. Humans and Massood rolled over the first couple of enemy positions before the startled defenders realized what had hit them. Crigolit and Ashregan were prepared to beat back surgical thrusts by small groups of fast-moving troops, not the kind of ravening firepower which the attackers now brought to bear. That was how it had gone on Eirrosad: probe and flee, strike and retreat. Hurt your enemy as much as possible and then fall back to heavily fortified bases deep in the jungle.

  The Crigolit and Ashregan had no idea how to react to the sudden shift in tactics. Not that their assailants gave them time for prolonged contemplation.

  The Massood in particular were elated at the speed with which the first couple of enemy positions were overrun. Casualties were light, boldness and determination having proven themselves the equal of twice the firepower. They complimented their Human allies even as they redoubled their own gracefully lethal efforts.

  Certain Human noncommissioned officers felt themselves vindicated. The first enemy bases had been taken with greater ease than anyone could have hoped for. Not only Human senses had been dulled by the long war of attrition on Eirrosad. Crigolit and Ashregan reaction times were likewise well below the usual, to their detriment. It was a damn good thing, Carson told his colleagues, that they had decided to move first.

  Conferencing with his subordinates, Chin hit upon a strategy of racing past instead of engaging the remaining three enemy firebases to strike at enemy Sector Headquarters itself. Barely enough time was allotted for the squad supervisors to bellow their agreement, let alone voice any objections.

  If they could not merely take out but capture that critical installation it would place them in position to flank and put pressure on the enemy's planetary HQ. A victory of that magnitude might not end the war for Eirrosad, but it would unequivocally upset the status quo. Dispersement of this possible conclusion induced tired soldiers to redouble their efforts.

  Where resistance was weak or even nonexistent slider riders and sled troops raced ahead, bypassing bewildered enemy emplacements and floater forces, leaving them with nothing to shoot at but vacant forest and empty air. Though increasingly spread out, the combined Human-Massood battle group persisted in its wild, mad advance, shoving aside or smashing everything in its path.

  Floaters were blasted out of the sky before they could assume adequate defensive positions, or were shot down from behind as they tried to retreat. Enemy stores and structures were demolished on the ground as the sled teams strafed and bombed them in passing.

  Stealing a modicum of time, the commandant of one of the remaining enemy firebases did manage to mount something of a counterattack. Sliders and floaters and sleds filled the air with explosive projectiles and needle beams, cohabiting in technologically advanced mayhem as they darted through and around tree-covered Sludgel while driving the unfortunate native fauna half-crazy.

  The Humans excelled at such random, individual combat, cutting up and isolating enemy forces into smaller and smaller groups, until there was nothing left to fight back. Outmatched, Crigolit and Ashregan units had no hope of halting the assault.

  Ineffective as it was, when the first enemy counterattack came F'tath fully expected Command to give the order to hold and consolidate their substantial gains. When no such directive was forthcoming he sought clarification beyond his immediate command level, only to be informed that Colonel Chin and his staff were far too busy plotting the next stage of the advance to grant an audience to a lower-level supply officer. Though he responded with the usual S'van humor, it was not the response F'tath had hoped for.

  In a combat situation, even S'van had learned the value of deferring to Human judgment, but something about this particular campaign left F'tath feeling more than a little uneasy. Though bold and clever on the battlefield, Humans were not perfect, not immune to the occasional tactical mistake. He tried to share his concerns with others, but they were either numbed by the incivility of it all or else too busy to listen to him. In point of fact he was usually too busy to listen to himself.

  But there was always time for worrying.

  15

  So swift, brutal, and effective had the Weave assault been that both forward firebases had been lost by the time Ranji's group received word to mobilize. Saguio had been lounging close enough to unit communications to overhear the first reports.

  "They came in so fast, with utter recklessness," he said breathlessly. "Our people didn't have a chance. Northwest Base managed to put together a counterattack but Command Central doesn't expect it to stop them." Outside the barracks, members of different species were running or scuttling about frantically. Sirens wailed and vehicles sped across the grounds with criminal disregard for equally frantic pedestrians. The base's inhabitants were hastily trying to bring order out of chaos.

  Crigolit barely paused long enough to exchange greetings via antenna touch, while Segunians tripped over everything including their own gangly limbs in their fervid attempts to reach their stations.

  Ranji paid little attention as his brother harangued fellow members of the team from Cossuut. The Humans and Massood, it appeared, had attacked in overwhelming numbers, concentrating a tremendous amount of firepower on a small front. They had pushed past or broken through successive defensive layers and were apparently striking directly for Sector Headquarters itself, with little in their path to slow or stop them. The battle front, which had been relatively stable for many years, had been completely shattered.

  Skids landed outside the barracks, fully stocked and readied for combat by the base's Acarian equipment handlers. A dazed Ranji felt himself swept along as the transport rose and sped northward, skimming the treetops in its haste to reach their assigned position.

  The Cossuut unit was supposed to be utilized only for special purposes, but in the face of Sector Integrity's collapse every available fighter had been conscripted for defense. As the craft began to descend toward the line which had been established outside one of the three surviving firebases, Ranji was forced to seriously consider the likelihood that he might soon be called upon to strike at Human beings with something more damaging than sharp queries.

  Could he give the order to fire on his own kind? If they were indeed his own kind, he reminded himself. In the frenzy of confusion and preparation that engulfed him he was no longer certain of anything, except that prospects for a long and comfortable retirement had recently been drastically reduced. Death at least would resolve all un certainties and put an end to his private sufferings. .j

  Once more the peculiar calm which his troops mistook j for quiet confidence settled over him. Then someone was shaking him by the arm.

  "Did you hear, Ranji?" Saguio regarded his brother with concern. "Change of plans. Command's leaving all the firebases to fend for themselves. We're being committed directly to the defense of Sector Headquarters." His | eyes glittered expectantly. "We're going to be right in the " front of the fighting. No more sneaking around in the middle of the night."

  "I heard. Get into your armor. Tell Tourmast and Weenn to pass the word. We're liable to come under fire before we arrive."

  Saguio frowned slightly. "Headquarters hasn't come under attack yet. Body armor can get hot. There's plenty of time."

  "Where Humans are involved there's never enough time. Just ask the survivors of the two forward firebases ... if there are any. Move it!"

  Startled, Saguio rushed to comply.
/>
  Ranji followed deliberately. War of a different kind was raging within him, unsupportable claims doing battle with reluctant truths, emotion locked in earnest combat with reason.

  Abruptly the grandiose futility of it all struck hard. A thousand years of unending conflict, not over survival or culture but an idea. The more tenuous the concept, he mused, the greater the ferocity with which it was contested. It seemed a wasteful repository for a gift as precious as intelligence.

  But if there was nothing to do battle over, what place did someone like himself who had been trained to fight from birth have in civilized society, be it Ashregan or Human? He began to think of himself as an intellectual as well as emotional foundling. Did such thoughts trouble his friends from home? Had they ever worried any Humans, and if so, how had those mysterious creatures dealt with it? He wondered if he would ever know.

  Certainly they were a most unique and peculiar species, and what was he if not peculiar enough to be one of them?

  The cataract of concern dulled his mind as he slipped into his own field armor, a task he'd drilled at often enough to perform without thinking.

  "They're doing what?" Field Marshal Granville gaped at his Massood counterpart only long enough for the import of the other's words to sink in before the two of them started toward Communications. Granville was a mature, stocky, slightly overweight man, but over the short distance he had no trouble keeping up with the long-legged alien. Additional confirmation of the initial reports was mirrored in the expressions of the communications personnel on duty, irrespective of species.

  "There is no longer any question of what has happened." The Massood district commander's whiskers were twitching violently. "On-site verification arrived just before I left to inform you. I felt it would be more believable coming from me than via courier or over the system, and I am sure that like myself you desire to waste as little time as possible in dealing with the consequences of these actions."