The prisoner gazed a moment longer at the amphibian, then pivoted to start off in the indicated direction. His captors followed. Amazement at their accomplishments thus far caused them to walk proud.
Despite Fifth-of-Medicine’s fears, they were not attacked. Nothing leaped out at them from the undergrowth, nothing materialized to impede their progress. Having delivered himself of several proclamations, the Ashregan had turned surprisingly docile. Fifth-of-Medicine and Itepu did not relax, staying as alert as when they’d first trapped the soldier. For surely this creature’s companions would be searching for him.
They reached the river without incident. The prisoner sat quietly while his captors, making good use of Fifth-of-Medicine’s surgical instruments and Itepu’s remaining tools, fashioned a crude raft. If they needed any further proof that the creature was Ashregan, its continued docility as they worked with logs and vines confirmed it. A Human would have jumped into the river despite the likelihood of drowning, or struck out with its restrained legs, or at least inflicted on them a constant stream of invective. That was the way of Humans. It was not the manner of Ashregans.
Instead, he continued to lecture them endlessly on the true way of the Purpose, until the medic was ready to put aside the value of their prisoner and strike him dead with the spear.
“We have everything you could say already heard,” he finally informed the mutant exasperatedly. “Despite what you believe, there is civilization outside the Purpose. Truly.”
“Civilized peoples do not slaughter the helpless civilian populations of undefended worlds,” the Ashregan shot back.
Fifth-of-Medicine glanced up curiously from where he was working on the raft. “What are you talking about?”
“My parents. My entire family and all its friends and relations were wiped out by Humans and Massood.”
“Truly now, I cannot imagine to what you refer.”
“The massacre of Houcilat, of course. I can’t believe you never heard of it, no matter how thorough is Weave control of your information media. Houcilat was my world of origin.”
Fifth-of-Medicine reflected as he worked. “Houcilat, Houcilat. Truly, yes. That was a world colonized by both Ashregan and, I believe, Bir’rimor. It contested was, and taken back by the Weave some time ago. I am at recent history fairly competent. Do you anything of what he speaks recall, Itepu?”
The Lepar looked up from where it was working waist-deep in water. “We do not have good memories. But the name strikes me.”
“The fighting was lengthy but modest in scope, and the world was back for the Weave won. But there no massacre of inhabitants was. Truly.” Fifth-of-Medicine fastened two logs together, eyeing his handiwork with satisfaction. Misapplication of his extensive medical training such construction might be, but there were none present to proffer objections.
“All inhabitants were allowed under Weave supervision to remain, or to other Ashregan worlds repatriated were.”
Ranji’s brows drew together. “Weave propaganda. Everyone on Houcilat was slaughtered. Including my natural parents.”
The medic drew a thick liana tight. “Killed they may have been. I am sure some civilian casualties there were. But a massacre there was not.”
“All my parents’ friends, all my relatives and their relatives, were killed. Do the Hivistahm describe such atrocities in languid phrases?”
Fifth-of-Medicine glanced behind him. “Even that may be truth, but I tell you that there was no slaughter. That is not the way of the Weave. You have been lied to.”
“The Amplitur …” Ranji started to remind his captors that the Amplitur never lied. Even they would have to admit to that. But as he thought back it struck him that no Amplitur, either in person or on recording, had ever spoken directly about Houcilat. The story of the massacre of Houcilat had been told to him by his parents and teachers, who were Ashregan. It might be interesting some day to put the question to an Amplitur and observe the response.
No! Absurd, inconceivable, a thing he could not countenance. Why should he for an instant question parents or instructors because of what a Purposeless, enemy Hivistahm chose to say on the bank of an unnamed river on a primitive, contested world?
“You’re the ones who’ve been lied to,” he responded confidently. “There was a massacre.”
“That possible is,” admitted Fifth-of-Medicine readily. “Truly I was not there. But tell me this, Ashregan Unifer: What would be the purpose of such slaughter? What would it gain the Weave?”
“It need have no purpose if Humans were involved.”
“Even Humans more restrained are. There are of isolated barbaric incidents some rumors, but nothing on the scale to which you refer. Nor are Humans alone to fight allowed. Massood or others are always present, and would have such a terrible thing confirmed.”
“Are you so sure? It would be to the Weave’s benefit to conceal such an incident. Because you do not have the Purpose, you are always fighting and arguing among yourselves. Knowledge of such an outrage could cause trouble among you.”
“You very plausibly argue.” Fifth-of-Medicine secured a vine, snugging two cross-limbs tightly together. “Though I do not believe you, I allow as how you might be correct. Will you not grant me the same privilege? Anything is possible which cannot disproved be.”
Ranji went silent as his captors worked. Silence offered time to think, which, as his teachers had sometimes pointed out, could be dangerous. Why would they lie to him, especially about something as important to him and his friends as the destruction of Houcilat? The Hivistahm had seemed genuinely surprised by his disclosure, and equally convinced no such massacre had occurred. Yes, the Weave government could have covered it up, but was such a thing really possible in this time of rapid interworld and interspecies communication?
“My friends will drive you off this world,” he declared for lack of anything more convincing to say. “And massacre or not, the Weave remains responsible for the death of my parents.”
“I am for that most sorry,” the physiotech told him. “Even when great and exalted ideals at stake are, civilians sometimes perish in their cause. But I and my companion nothing to do with that had. We were at the time of Houcilat not adults.”
Ranji calmed himself. He should be looking for a chance to escape, not wasting his energy arguing with the enemy. “I didn’t mean to imply that I blamed you personally. Only the misguided and misled organization that organizes your war effort. To do otherwise would not be in keeping with the higher tenets of the Purpose.”
“Of course it wouldn’t.” Fifth-of-Medicine’s claws clicked together sideways, a gesture his kind used to express sarcasm. “Your form puzzles me greatly.”
“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 h
e 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.”
VI
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 Underspace 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 Yula 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 overstuffed 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 and 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.”
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