The Damned Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Precisely.” Caldaq took a step forward, unable to remain in one place any longer. A Massood with less self-control would long since have been pacing the room. “You are for their Purpose or against it.”

  “The Amplitur have their own art, their own aesthetics,” Will found himself arguing. “Why can’t we try sharing with them instead of fighting them?”

  “But it’s all directed toward honoring this Purpose of theirs, right?” Benjamin asked. “Seems pretty restrictive to me. I like editors and writers who disagree with me. Keeps things lively. I don’t know that I’d care for a homogenized world, however peaceful.”

  “We don’t know that they’d restrict diversity,” Will insisted. “For years these people have been telling me that our society’s unique among the inhabited worlds. If we can convince the Amplitur of that, I think there’s a good chance they’ll leave us alone.”

  “Maybe. Maybe. But I don’t see how we can ask a bunch of folks from somewhere far away who don’t even know us to do our fighting for us … assuming there’s any fighting to be done,” he added to forestall Will’s protest. “In any event, that’s not a decision to be made by me, or you, or anyone in this room.”

  “You’ve heard our history. How do you intend to proceed?” asked T’var.

  “I’ll see that you’re given a forum. That’s my job.” Leaning forward, he activated an intercom on his desk.

  An agitated voice quickly responded. Will could overhear other voices talking in the background. “Mr. Benjamin, are you all right?”

  “Calm down, Mattie. Everything’s under control.”

  “What are those …?”

  “Questions later. We’ve got a paper to get out. Tell Elena I want the front page wiped.”

  “Mr. Benjamin, the whole front …?”

  “All of it, right up to the damn masthead. And I want plenty of space inside. No, forget that, leave it as set. We’re going to do a special insert. Gives us more flexibility. When you’re through ring Prestwick at CBS: I owe him one. After that get me the president’s press secretary. Then see if you can put me through to General Maxwell over at the Pentagon.” He grinned up at his visitors.

  “Joint Chiefs of Staff. We’ll see if we can’t pull a quick session together, either here or there. They don’t usually let visitors sit in on their meetings, but I think in your case they’ll make an exception.” He redirected his voice to the intercom.

  “Tell Maxwell it’s C.R. at the Post, and call my wife and tell her I’ll be working late tonight.”

  “Yes sir, but …”

  “That’s all for now, Mattie. More later.” He clicked off, leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands across his belly. “We have a few minutes. Maybe we’d better go over what you’re going to say to the power brokers.

  “You know how to talk to these visitors, Mr. Dulac, but I know how to talk politics. Different languages. We don’t want anybody thinking yes when somebody means no.”

  “Do you think they will listen to us?” Will asked him, suddenly tired. “Do you think they’ll believe any of it?”

  “They will when the biologists I’m going to call in a minute from now reveal the results of their examinations. You’ve seen too many old movies from the forties and fifties. Watch how closely they pay attention after you tell them that an identical encounter is taking place in the Kremlin.”

  Despite the old man’s confidence Will wasn’t sure what to expect. Discord certainly, then debate, resistance.

  There was all that and much more. Humanity had to accept not only first contact with an intelligent alien race, but with hundreds. Immediately thereafter man was confronted with the intimidating revelation that he was about to be plunged headlong into a millennia-long conflict the existence of which he had evolved in ignorance of.

  As argument raged across the face of the planet as to how mankind should react, hundreds of Weave-trained Humans began returning from Vasarih and Aurun. They were not politicians, or professional soldiers, but ordinary souls recruited off the streets of Central America.

  They scattered to their countries of origin, where each had his or her moment in front of the camera. Expressions of dissatisfaction were few. Among the exuberant majority the rationale for their contentment varied considerably.

  Or as a cane cutter from Trinidad put it, “It not like shooting other people, mon. Dee Crigolit dey ugly things. So are dee Molitar and dee Acaria. Dee Ashregan got funny faces and dee all been brainwashed. That what dee Amplitur do to you if deh get you. Wash out your brain till dere nothing left except dere crazy Purpose. And dee pay, she’s damn sight better dan for cutting cane.”

  Will and others of like mind looked on helplessly as public opinion shifted with astonishing speed from paranoia to combat fever and the world began to mobilize to meet the perceived threat. Weave specialists patiently explained why they could not predict when and where the enemy would arrive, and why they could not prevent it from landing troops. They might set down outside Manhattan or in the heart of Africa. There was no way of telling.

  At least Earth would not suffer the fate of those primitive worlds which had been forced to face bombardment from orbit. Within months several dozen Weave warships had taken up stations around the blue planet. The Amplitur would be forced to attack Earth in the same fashion as they might assault any developed Weave world: by winking into normal space, offloading troops as fast as possible, and fleeing back to the safety of Underspace before their ships could be targeted and destroyed. They would also have to deal unprepared with Earth’s unique and confusing geology.

  It developed that because of intense fighting elsewhere, Massood troops could be spared only to assist in training the natives and not for actual combat. But the Hivistahm and Yula made certain that Weave weaponry in abundance was made available to the multiple Human armies. Huge transports materialized in orbit to offload vast quantities of material and supplies.

  For the first time in mankind’s acrimonious history, all the armies of the Earth were united against a common foe. Together with their intent, fast-learning Human counterparts, Massood professionals devised multiple strategies designed to contest any enemy landing. Coordination of worldwide defenses proceeded at a most satisfactory pace.

  Will was in the expanded communications and study center at the base, watching as Weave technicians simultaneously monitored dozens of domestic television broadcasts. They recorded everything for in-depth offworld dissection, from the sublime to the absurd.

  “The Amplitur will be at a considerable disadvantage when they arrive.” Caldaq was leaning against a rail, observing the busy technicians below. “The distance they have to travel is extreme, and they can know but little of your world’s peculiarities.”

  “We can’t count on that,” Will pointed out.

  “That is true. But it is one thing to hear that a world’s land-mass has disintegrated into many sections, another to cope with the tactical problems it poses. The Amplitur will be forced to learn as they fight.” He turned from the rail. “Friend Will, I read disappointment in your expression.”

  “I thought there’d be more debate. I thought more people would be reluctant to make preparations for war.” He laughed bitterly. “I thought that the Soviets and Americans would at least hesitate before trusting each other. The two armed forces practically fell into one another’s arms. After so many years of spying on each other they knew exactly how best to integrate their units.” He looked up at Caldaq.

  “I heard that the president was miffed over how you deployed your ships.”

  “He was not alone,” Caldaq admitted. “Many of your tribal chiefs were upset that we did not first discuss the matter with them. At the time we did not realize it was a question of social propriety, thinking it purely a military matter. Command did not wish to waste time.” He hesitated. “Often I find myself believing that your people need to be protected against themselves.

  “The Amplitur will find their work here difficult. C
onsider the business of trying to secure planetary power sources. Normally a landing force will seek out and attempt to take control of the few important fusion facilities. But you have no such centralized power sources. Your energy grid is as fragmented as your society. Power is derived from a few nuclear plants and a multitude of small, inefficient facilities that burn fossil fuels.” His lips curled behind the twitching black nose.

  “Your society is founded upon confusion. If an artist were to propose it, it would not be believed. Imagine a species achieving your level of technology and still burning irreplaceable hydrocarbon deposits simply to generate energy! The illogic of it numbs the mind. Fortunately it will confuse the Amplitur as well. I am told there is not a single fusion plant on the entire planet.”

  “We’ve had trouble cracking the problem.” Will was apologetic without knowing why.

  “Astonishing. Had you matured normally you would of course have acquired the technique long ago. Instead you have dissipated your energies in endless petty tribal quarrels.

  “That may now turn to your advantage. The Amplitur will find you as puzzling as did we when first we began to study your society. I would very much like to be in their command center when they burst out of Underspace preparatory to landing troops only to find that your population is scattered across six land-masses instead of the familiar one. There is also the matter of your extreme, unpredictable weather.

  “No, they are going to have a very difficult time. Which is not to say,” he added darkly, “that their failure is guaranteed. Fighting may continue for some time. But have no fear. The Weave stands beside you, even as some of your people have stood by the Weave.”

  For gold, Will thought. Most of the recruits who’d returned from Vasarih and Aurun could care less about the Weave, their rarefied pronouncements on television notwithstanding. He knew it would be useless to point that out. People girding for possible battle would always prefer an encouraging fiction to an uncomfortable truth.

  “So you have no way of knowing when they’re likely to arrive here?”

  “Not at your world, no. A ship traveling through Underspace generates an immensely diffuse distortion wave around itself. In interstellar space this is not detectable. But when it encounters something as dense as a solar magnetosphere the disruption can be detected. It is akin to an object traveling underwater. In deep water it is not noticeable, but as the water becomes shallower waves may be produced on the surface.

  “Many vessels entering your sun’s magnetosphere will produce considerable distortion. With luck we may have one or two weeks’ notice of the enemy’s arrival.”

  “A couple of weeks,” Will murmured. “That’s not much time to get used to an idea.”

  “The majority of your species appears to be coping with the possibility quite well.”

  Will shrugged. “I suppose. A lot of the world’s been waiting quite a while for the bug-eyed blood-sucking monsters from space to show up.”

  Caldaq’s puzzlement was evident. “The Amplitur are not bug-eyed. Nor do they suck blood. If one discounts the fact that they are invertebrates they are physically quite attractive. It is their philosophy that is repugnant.” He turned thoughtful.

  “But I believe I understand the reference. It is as if your entire species has been waiting thousands of years for a conflict of this nature. I have heard individuals speak of preparing to fight the armies of the ‘Devil.’”

  Will shrugged. “People employ whatever metaphors reassure them. When they think they’re going to war, they need something to hate.”

  “But we of the Weave do not hate the Amplitur. Hate is an unnecessarily excessive emotion. Disagree yes, envy yes, dislike surely, but not hate. Hate wastes protein. Even primitive predators kill without hating their prey. Hate is … immature.”

  “What did you expect from us? We’re not a mature species. Your own specialists have pointed that out repeatedly. Speaking of which, I’ve a question for you.

  “It looks like that in spite of everything I and those who think like me can do, we may end up fighting for the Weave’s cause. We’re receiving Weave protection and assistance. But no one’s discussed our actually joining the Weave yet.” He eyed the tall Massood sharply. “Why is that, Caldaq?”

  “The General Council believes,” the commander replied smoothly, “that the task at hand is to prevent your world from falling under the sway of the enemy. Matters of social integration must wait until that is assured.”

  “I suppose so,” Will agreed. But the evasiveness of his friend’s reply troubled him.

  He peered over the railing. Hivistahm and O’o’yan bustled between stations, impacting on clusters of S’van. Lepar delivered messages or scoured one corner of the expansive chamber. A single Wais swept grandly through an exit, trailing feathers and perfume.

  “Do you think they’ll attack here? After all, this is still the center of Weave operations on Earth.”

  “I think we are reasonably safe here. They must first secure a landhold before they can think of fighting on the water, and your world generates sufficient electronic background noise to make things difficult for their detectors. But I cannot promise that they will overlook this place. Their instrumentation is very good. I wish I could convince you to accept a sidearm.”

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told a woman on Vasarih: I’m not into guns. I don’t like guns. Plenty of other Humans feel the same way, despite what you’ve been seeing on the national broadcasts these past months. Driving off an invasion is one thing, but once that’s over and done with you’ll see how fast they choose to put their weapons aside. People are like that after every war. They throw themselves mindlessly and wholeheartedly into battle, only to experience mass revulsion near the end. It wasn’t always like that, but we’ve matured a lot during the last half century.

  “If you think you’re going to get a united planetary government to permanently mobilize against the Amplitur on the Weave’s behalf then I think you’re in for an unpleasant shock.”

  “You are so certain of your species, Will Dulac. Have you forgotten that not long ago you yourself used a gun, and against your own kind? You killed.”

  Will shivered slightly at the memory. “I did it to save the lives of my friends. I’d do it to protect my family, if I had any family. That’s a helluva lot different from taking up arms against someone whose philosophy you happen to disagree with.”

  “The Amplitur Purpose is more dangerous to you than any weapon.”

  Will turned toward the doorway. “Let’s not get started on that again. I’m not carrying a sidearm, and that’s final!”

  Caldaq did not smile. Instead, his upper lip rippled rhythmically. “No need to get violent about it.”

  “I’m not getting violent.” He spoke sardonically to his friend. “Sometimes I think you people are just as tricky as the S’van. You just hide it better.”

  “No one is as tricky as a S’van,” Caldaq corrected him. “I was merely pointing out the obvious.”

  “Yelling because you’re upset about something and picking up a gun with the deliberate intention of shooting another intelligent being can’t be equated. They’re not the same thing.”

  “Aren’t they?”

  “I don’t want to argue about it.”

  “Naturally not. Since we first met you have made noble claims for your species, but I fear they reflect more of your personal philosophy than Human reality.”

  “We’ll see.” The doors parted to allow Will egress. “When this is all over, maybe even before it’s over, we’ll see.”

  XXIV

  Weave ships monitoring the solar magnetosphere recorded the approach of the Amplitur fleet a little more than two weeks in advance of its projected arrival in Earth orbit. Despite the extensive preparations mankind had made, the announcement was still greeted with shock around the world. The Weave warships in orbit went on heightened alert. As for the natives, there was little they could do except continue their preparation
s, wait, and watch the sky.

  When the enemy armada finally materialized above the central Atlantic it was to disgorge a fusillade of troop shuttles surfaceward, not to talk. There followed a frantic, amazingly brief exchange of projectiles and high-energy-beam weapons at the outer fringe of the ionosphere which reminded farmers in the Azores, who were directly below, of the occasional rare wintertime visit of the aurora borealis.

  The massive mutual discharge of energy produced very little destruction. One of the defending warships was damaged. One of the attacking vessels was totally destroyed.

  Ground-based forces obliterated several of the rapidly descending shuttles, overwhelming their defensive capabilities. The rest achieved touchdown, landing on four of the six populated continents. From then on victory or defeat was a matter of hourly reports.

  Despite his newly bestowed official appointment as a high-ranking liaison-at-large, Will felt eerily divorced from the conflict. There was little for him to do except answer the questions of the occasional reporter visiting the base looking for an angle. Will knew little of combat, communications, or international relations, and right then the services of a composer were not much in demand.

  He took to wandering aimlessly through the greatly enlarged base, whose functions had in many ways been superseded by outposts in Washington, Moscow, Brussels, Tokyo, Rio, Nairobi, and Sydney as Humanity sought to coordinate the defense of its world. International communications were regularly disrupted by the invading forces. The battle quickly became fragmented as central control was lost.

  This did not quite result in the demoralizing disruption the Amplitur had anticipated.

  The Crigolit unifer slowed her floater and waited for the rest of her unit to catch up. One by one they cut their drives to study the terrain ahead. Individual scanners showed nothing but sandy yellowish hills devoid of all but rudimentary vegetation. It was an unpleasant place for a fight but an important one, for not far ahead lay an important hydroelectric installation.