“Impossible,” said T’var. “A species cannot demature.”
Will snorted derisively. “Don’t underestimate the determination of a world filled with fractious fools.”
Despite the best efforts of the enemy to preserve the secret, Humanity and the Weave learned of mankind’s resistance to Amplitur probing when a brace of Human soldiers were exposed to a captured Amplitur officer. Seeking to free himself, the officer struck out, with the result that he lapsed into convulsions. Astonished Massood who came upon the scene listened intently as the puzzled Humans reported the sequence of events.
The inferences which were drawn led to a series of delicate experiments which confirmed what the Amplitur already knew and feared, though an understanding of the Human body’s actual defense mechanism awaited considerable further study.
The Massood troops in the field were not interested in reasons. Delighted and not a little awed by the news, they regarded their hairless colleagues with ever greater respect.
So it came as quite a shock when the population of Earth declined to leap wholeheartedly into the battle against the Purpose, exactly as Will Dulac had told the S’van it might.
The representatives of the Weave were taken aback. Not only had Humans proven themselves superbly in combat, but they alone among sentients were immune to the enemy’s mental trickery and manipulation. Therefore the decision not to participate did not arise from fear.
S’van and Massood attempted to remonstrate with mankind. Their reward was bewilderment. Once it was assured that the Amplitur had fled, the temporary military political council which had been formed to coordinate planetary defense promptly dissolved, once more leaving the Weave with dozens of tribal governments to contend with. Each tribe had its own priorities, its own agenda. Regardless of which system of government its people professed, no two were exactly alike. Nor was there even agreement within tribal borders. Often local consensus was dominated by whichever faction could yell the loudest.
The Wais took pleasure in the byplay of complex mannerisms, the Massood in running. Humans seemed to prefer argument and disagreement. It made them impossible to deal with.
Will felt vindicated as the temporary anti-Amplitur alliance splintered and mankind returned to its old ways. He missed no opportunity to mention it to Jaruselka and Soliwik, T’var and Z’mam and all the rest.
“I warned you,” he was telling Caldaq. “I told you we couldn’t be depended on to fight a war beyond our own world. When the invaders fled so did the desire to fight.
“I expect you’ll be able to recruit a few thousand more soldiers here, but you’ll never get entire governments to participate.”
“Nevertheless we must continue to try,” the Massood responded.
The media reported daily on the ongoing debate, the learned opinion of numerous experts serving, as always, to muddle the facts further. All governments participated lest one gain some unimaginable advantage over its neighbor.
Weave representatives pleaded and argued, elucidated and cajoled, all to no effect. It was true that the Amplitur had been driven off, but there was no permanence in such a victory. Unless they were utterly defeated they would return someday, stronger and more determined than before. If mankind declined to fight now, it would have to defend itself again in the future. All such admonitions and dire warnings aside, governments continued to refuse to commit resources to what remained for most people an obscure, impossibly distant conflict.
The planet prospered as regional conflicts faded under the glare of knowledge. Foolish to brandish weapons against another country when one day all might have to unite to teach an inimical alien species another lesson. Armies were maintained in the event of such an eventuality, but now their soldiers mingled freely with one another, discussing tactics and trading ideas. Those corporations which specialized in military research and development found themselves as busy as ever, modifying and improving weaponry for a conflict which might never come.
“You’ll never get the kind of participation you want,” Will kept telling T’var. “Mankind can’t agree on small things. There’s no way we’d ever get together on something like this. You’re going to have to be satisfied with a few recruits here and there. No matter what arguments you use, the majority of the population will always opt for peace and isolation.”
“As always, you seem pleased by the course of events, Will Dulac.”
“Me? Hell, I’m delighted. This is the next best thing to having been ignored. Earth’s a much nicer place now that peace has broken out. Also you’ve provided an outlet for people with warlike inclinations, not to mention the average malcontent. They can join your forces and work out their frustrations and anger light-years away from their peaceable neighbors. Those who make it back have usually been pretty tamed by what they’ve encountered.
“Meanwhile the rest of us can relax and get on with the business of finally advancing our culture and repairing the environment.”
“Can you come with me?” T’var slid off his bench. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“All right. Just give me a second to shut this down.” He made sure his work in progress was saved before cutting power to the electronic composer.
T’var took him to a new section of the ever-expanding research complex. Unlike most of the new buildings, which towered above the pristine lagoon, this one was grafted inconspicuously to the side of the reef.
A large circular doorway admitted them to a room unlike anything Will had previously encountered. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to a level of illumination well below the Human norm.
The far wall consisted of a gigantic transparent bubble which protruded into the sea. As he watched, a school of hundreds of mahogany snappers and yellow jacks swam past. Giant elephant-ear sponges framed the seascape.
Movement drew his attention from the breathtaking underwater ballet. Something large and bulky was moving in the shadows. Only when it passed in front of the bubble was he able, based on what he had been told, to identify the shape.
A Turlog.
He caught his breath. Turlog analysis had contributed to many of the victories on Vasarih and Aurun. Even the S’van admitted that without Turlog assistance and perceptiveness the Amplitur might well have overrun the Weave centuries ago. To the best of Will’s knowledge no Human had yet set eyes upon a member of that shy and reclusive species.
Their importance to the war against the Purpose was inversely proportional to their limited numbers. They disdained, nay, they actively disliked the company of others, even individuals of their own kind.
Will knew a Turlog had been present on the ship which had first brought Caldaq and his companions to Earth, but he had not heard that any had participated in the planet’s defense. He could not keep himself from staring.
The vast chitonous shape scuttled further into the diffuse blue light supplied by the bubble, advancing on half a dozen short, inflexible legs. About the size of a full-grown steer, it seemed to belong more to the underwater world outside than to the darkened room with its dim telltales and readouts.
It had both a hard exterior and an internal skeleton, a combination which resulted in an extremely slow-moving, awkward being. Two pale silvery eyes regarded him emotionlessly. Each stiff, hard-shelled arm ended in four-pronged pincers, which looked sharp and clumsy.
T’var kept his voice low, though whether out of habit or politeness Will didn’t know.
“This is Pasiiakilion.”
Automatically Will started to extend a hand, then hesitated. Not out of fear. Nothing so bulky and slow could be threatening. But he sensed no need here for extraneous movement, unnecessary gestures. He had been admitted; therefore his presence was accepted.
The pale eyes and inflexible face revealed nothing. Turlog and man stared silently at one another. Will felt that this creature would devote its entire being to whatever subject was at hand, be it a discussion of the nature of subatomic particles, galactic war, or the petals of a fl
ower.
The silence was broken by a coarse, gravelly noise that reminded Will of raw rock spinning inside a gem tumbler. There must have been a translator nearby, because the rasping was transformed into barely intelligible English.
“Will Dulac. I know of you.”
“And I think I’ve heard of you. Aren’t you one of Caldaq’s original crew?”
Waves washing gravel on a deserted beach. “It is quiet down here. I like your world. It interests me.”
Will tried to see more of the room, which was filled with things and grotesque alien shapes. A heap of glowing mucus glistened damply in a far corner. Seeking a better look, he took a step forward.
“Please go no farther.” The voice was as emotionless as it was raspy. “My egg cluster. Perhaps you may know that we are hermaphroditic.”
Like the Amplitur, Will realized with a start. “No. I didn’t know that.”
“We wonder often about sex,” murmured Pasiiakilion. “So much energy, so much drive and concentration spent merely to promote reproduction. But as our own efforts at reproduction seem inadequate, we make no value judgments.”
Will whispered to the unnaturally subdued T’var. “Why did you bring me down here?”
“Something I thought you of all people should know,” the S’van replied softly. “I could be reprimanded for doing this. Pasiiakilion can explain better than I.” His attitude was very serious, very un-S’van. In the dim light his stocky form seemed less diminutive.
“Your people are contentious and confused,” rumbled the Turlog, “but wonderful fighters. The best we have yet found.”
“So I’ve been told.” That was no revelation. Will waited.
“As your social development has lagged remarkably behind your technological accomplishments, you have yet to achieve a planetary government. Your geology has also worked against you. Thus you have no means of formally representing yourselves to the Weave.”
“We don’t want to join anyway,” Will responded. “It’s been agreed that if individuals want to fight for the Weave they should be allowed to do so, but there’s no broad base of support for any kind of formal alliance.”
“I know that. It is a good thing.”
Will was taken aback, unsure he’d heard correctly. “I thought you wanted us in the Weave. I know that’s how the Hivistahm and Lepar and Massood and all the others feel. If it was up to them right now every adult on Earth would be undergoing combat training.”
“We want you for soldiers because that is what you do best,” said the Turlog.
“No. It’s not what we ‘do best.’ I can’t deny that we seem to do it well, but …”
“Please let me continue,” said Pasiiakilion, interrupting. “I am not used to talking and so am not very good at it.” Will restrained himself.
“I give you truth. You are the best fighters. You may be more than that: you may represent a turning point, though it is far, far too soon to hazard such a prediction. Despite that, those of us who think hard about such matters do not want your people to join the Weave.”
“Caldaq would say differently.”
“As would many. But it would not be in the best interests of the Weave, or of your own kind.”
Will knew he should have been delighted to find another philosophical ally among the aliens. Instead he was wary.
“That’s what I’ve been saying for years. So you think we should stay out of formal alliances, too? That’s great. If we’re left alone we can be just as peaceable as the O’o’yan or Wais.”
“No, you cannot. We want you to fight on, but we do not want you to join. We want your help, but not your companionship. You are dangerous. To the Amplitur, to every civilized species you encounter, to yourselves.
“With time that may change. No matter how much assistance your kind renders, the Amplitur will not be defeated tomorrow, or the next day, or any time in the foreseeable future. They are patient and resourceful because they are dedicated, however wrongly. Your people do not know patience. Today they find ready success in battle. That will change, or the Amplitur are much less than we have thought them to be.
“We do not want you in the Weave. The Hivistahm do not want you, the O’o’yan do not want you, the Wais and Lepar do not want you. Even the S’van do not want you.”
Will looked sharply at T’var. Small dark eyes stared back at him.
“I see. You want us to be your mercenaries but not your friends.”
“You are not sufficiently evolved to be friends,” said Pasiiakilion mercilessly. “It is thought that with help and teaching you might mature. But if we change you, then you will not be the fighters you are now. You are more valuable to the Weave as fighters than as friends.” Will said nothing, waiting silently. Outside the bubble an eagle ray flew by on silent wings.
“If you could somehow,” the Turlog continued relentlessly, “cobble together a rudimentary planetary government, if this United Nations of yours could acquire enough strength to be regarded as truly representative of your people, you would still not be offered membership in the Weave. Your presence would be disruptive, a characteristic already present in sufficient quantity among the civilized races. The introduction of an uncivilized one such as your own would be counterproductive, possibly explosive.”
“You don’t know that. I think you’re wrong about my kind. I think you’ve been wrong from the beginning.”
“I would like nothing more than to be able to believe that. It may be so. Hence the caution with which we proceed.” A pincer waved, silhouetted by the blue light from the bubble. “But for now you understand why we are pleased that you do not wish membership in the Weave, a membership the Weave does not wish you to have but would be embarrassed to deny. This way both sides get what they want.”
“You might explain that,” Will murmured.
“It has been my lot to conduct an extensive study of your racial psychology. You cannot be trusted to respond rationally to a disclosure of the results, to recognize your own weaknesses. You would respond as you respond to everything contrary to what you want to believe: with violence.
“The Weave overflows with artists and philosophers, musicians and technicians. Fighters are in very short supply. Given a choice even the Massood would prefer not to fight. Now we have found you. We need you.”
“What happens,” Will wondered after a long pause, “when we’ve defeated the Amplitur, when we’ve beaten this Purpose of theirs? What happens to us then?”
“That is far in the future,” said T’var quickly. “All that matters now is defeating them.”
Silvery eyes had not strayed from Will’s face. “Myself, I wonder at the ramifications of the mechanism which shields the Human mind from Amplitur manipulation. No others have this quality.”
“Not even the Turlog?” Will asked challengingly.
“Not even the Turlog.” Pasiiakilion shifted all six legs.
“Are you afraid of us?”
“Not of you. Of the enigma you present.”
“Disruption,” said T’var. “We don’t need any more disruptions. The Weave has been in danger of falling apart since the day it was founded. Defeating the Amplitur may take another hundred years, a thousand. In any event none of us in this room will be around for the outcome. So we have to concern ourselves now about what we’re leaving to our unknowing descendants. Besides,” he added in as aggressive a tone as Will had ever heard from a S’van, “isn’t this what you wanted all along? To keep your world as uninvolved as possible?”
“Yes, sure,” Will replied. “I wanted us to be left alone. But not disliked.”
“No one dislikes you,” said Pasiiakilion somberly. “Because of your accomplishments your people are admired, even venerated throughout the Weave.”
“Sure. Because it means someone else doesn’t have to fight. It’s not affection. You can admire a cobra but that doesn’t mean you want to snuggle up to one.”
“It’s what you would call a ‘love-hate relationship,�
�” said T’var as his sense of humor returned.
“Does it matter to you so much then, William Dulac,” the Turlog inquired, “why you have achieved that which you fought so long to gain?”
“I don’t know,” Will muttered. “I thought it did, but now you’ve confused me.”
“Do you have such a deep longing to be liked? Is it not sufficient for now to be respected?”
“If you’re being respected for the right reasons, yes. For contributions to the advancement of civilization, or culture. Not for the ability to slaughter Crigolit.”
The Turlog pivoted to study the seascape outside the bubble. “I am sorry. The S’van and I thought you had the right to know what is the truth of things. For now.”
“Time to go.” T’var tugged on Will’s sleeve. “You’ve heard what I wanted you to hear.”
“But I’m not through. There are questions …”
“Another time,” rasped the Turlog without rancor. “I have eggs to attend to.”
“You ought to be flattered,” T’var told him once they were back in a properly lit corridor. He looked back over his shoulder. “Pasiiakilion gave you more time than I’ve ever seen him allot to anyone else, Caldaq included. Not only that, he responded to your own inquiries instead of just delivering himself of information. He very badly wanted you to understand.”
Will slowed his pace to that of the shorter S’van. “I don’t think he liked me very much.”
“The Turlog don’t ‘like’ anyone, not even other Turlog.” T’var led the way into the lift that would carry them surfaceward. “They only help at all because they hate the thought of being subsumed into the Amplitur Purpose worse than they do the strain of cooperating with the Weave.”
“Everything he said was true?”
“I’ve never known a Turlog to lie.”
The Damned Trilogy Page 34