The Damned Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  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.

  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.

  XV

  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 uncertainties and put an end to his private sufferings.

  Once more the peculiar calm which his troops mistook 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.”

  “Gratefulness for that, Shatenka,” wheezed the field marshal in passable Massood. The two sector commanders hurried to the nearest console, causing the Hivistahm technician seated there to fumble nervously at his translator in the presence of so much feral rank.

  “Are you in contact with the base in question?” Granville inquired bluntly. The Hivistahm replied in the affirmative. “Then put me through.”

  “Truly I should like to, honored Commander, but I cannot,” the Hivistahm replied sorrowfully.

  “Why not?” Granville’s tenebrous Human tone made the noncombative Hivistahm shake slightly.

  “Because there is truly no one there. All responses from programs are. Apparently everyone in the attack participating is, even to including support personnel.”

  “This is madness.” Commander Shatenka added something in colloquial Massood which none of the tangent translators near him succeeded in picking up.

  The two commanders moved to another console and confronted a Human officer. “Who’s in charge out there?”

  Names scrolled down the screen in front of the woman like damned souls plunging hellward. “A Colonel Nehemiah Chin, sir.”

  “I have remembrance of that name.” Shatenka’s upper lip curled emphatically. “A good officer. It makes no sense.”

  “I’ll say it makes no sense,” Granville growled. “Who sent him orders requesting an all-out assault in his sector? It leaves us damn exposed back here.”

  “I have already called for a full defensive mobilization,” Shatenka assured him.

  “I know, I know. That’s hardly the point.”

  A Hivistahm analyst looked up from her console, wary of the Human commander’s temper. “Honored sirs, first reports indicate that the forces in question already taken have two major hostile positions and are directly for the enemy Regional Command center striking.”

  “You’re right. Someone is mad.” Granville glanced up at his tall counterpart and lowered his voice. “What’s your considered opinion, Shatenka. Can Chin bring this off?”

  The Massood considered, digging energetically at a back molar. His whiskers subsided. “The forces in question are composed largely of your own kind. However, since you ask my thoughts, I should say it depends on how much firepower they can ultimately bring to bear when they finally reach their target. If by then the enemy has not profoundly reduced them in strength and they do not pause their attack long enough to give the Ashregan time to muster reserves from other regions, then I should think it possible. Just.”

  Granville angrily fingered his translator. “If this attack fails, or even stalls, they’ll find themselves trapped between large-scale enemy regional defenses and those they’ve bypassed or failed to wipe out on the way in. In which event we could lose the entire battle group.”

  “Your thinking mirrors my own. They have advanced too far too fast. Now they have no choice but to press the assault.”

  “Maybe not. If we can reach individual squad leaders, we can countermand their orders. If enough of the group turns together, they ought to be able to fight their way back.” Granville plotted a path toward fieldcom.

  Shatenka followed. “Communications at this range will be bad.”

  “I know. I wish R&D could find a way to defend a communications relay satellite against knockdown for longer than a couple of days. We’ll just have to do the best we can.”

  Somehow he was not surprised when the O’o’yan technician informed them that he could not make contact with a single element of the rogue Weave force.

  “The problem is at the receiving end, Great Marshal. It matters not which frequency I employ. There is no acknowledgment.”

  “It fits.”

  “What fits, my friend?” Shatenka inquired anxiously.

  “Chin’s acting on his own, without orders.”

  The Massood growled softly, his small triangular ears flattening against his skull. “That is a very serious assumption.”

  “Grounded, I think, in more than coincidence.”

  “Perhaps. But irrelevant should the venture succeed.”

  “Truly, as our Hivi friends would say. He’s been very clever.” There was grudging admiration in the field marshal’s voice. “He’ll emerge from this either a damned hero, or just damned.”

  “We cannot reinforce them,” Shatenka pointed out.

  “I know. The extent of their advance places us in enough danger as it is. I only hope that our opponents are so dazed and confused by Chin’s attack that none of them take the time to realize how exposed it’s rendered us back here.

  “In the meantime, until the situation resolves itself we’ll back him every way we can and pray his people bring this off. We can forward certain classes of supplies by unpiloted sled. I’ll see to that. You deal with any questions from Central.”

  “I would far rather be on the battlefield.” The Massood sniffed pointedly.

  “Your thoughts,” muttered Granville acerbically, “mirror my own.” He turned back to the O’o’yan tech. “Keep trying to make contact. If you reach anyone—Human, Massood, Lepar, regardless of rank or position—I want to know about it. If I’m not here, find me. If I’m asleep, wake me. If I’m in the can, beat on the door.”

  The O’o’yan inclined its narrow, delicate head. “Understood, Great Marshal.”

  Any early feelings of uncertainty among the members of the attacking force about their chosen course of action vanished as enemy resistance collapsed under the fury of the Human-Massood assault. There was barely enough time to s
avor each triumph before orders arrived directing the next attack on the enemy’s position. Certainly there was no time to formulate questions, which was the intent of Chin and his collaborators from the beginning.

  The attack gave no sign of faltering. The soldiers of Chin’s battle group were in superb condition, and even seemed to gain strength with each objective attained. Though the initial advantage of surprise had been expended, the battle group continued to forge ahead on skill and dedication alone.

  The counterattack gave some members of Chin’s staff pause, especially when he insisted on sending shock teams and scouts on ahead to probe the enemy’s SHQ defenses in spite of the fact that the enemy now had to be aware of their intentions. But since Chin’s predictions had been coming true with edifying regularity, pause did not give way to objection. Not that a few concerns would have swayed the colonel in any event. There were too many others on the staff who fully supported his strategy.

  While Chin’s reaction to his accomplishments thus far was less than boisterous, some of his personnel were less restrained. Three noncommissioned officers in particular made no attempt to hide their feelings. Though exhausted, they had no intention of requesting a break, neither for themselves nor their troops. Not with the perimeter of the enemy’s Sector Headquarters already under attack from outlying scouts striking from superfast sliders.

  Take that objective, they knew, and the poofs back at Regional would have no choice but to back them with fresh troops. They would have gained too much to risk giving back. Enemy influence across the entire southern quarter of the Eirrosadian landmass would be broken.

  Things were going so well that Chin had decided to send several squads racing around behind the enemy HQ in order to be in position to interdict any attempts at reinforcement. In an earlier era such strategy might have been carried out with aircraft, but with the advent hundreds of years before of compact computer-guided missiles and energy beams capable of knocking anything out of the sky, control of the air had become irrelevant to modern warfare. Among the clouds there was no place to hide.