The faithful of the Purpose took many prisoners that day. When it became clear that the assault had been turned, the Amplitur sent a powerful combined battlegroup in pursuit of the survivors. Many of Ranji’s friends participated.
They swept beyond the rivers and overran the forward Weave firebase from which the attack had been mounted, taking control of its minimally manned weapons systems and natural defenses and bringing a great swath of previously Weave-controlled territory under Amplitur control. The opportunities for rescue of those surviving Humans and Massood who had been scattered throughout the endless jungle were reduced from modest to nil. Indeed, Granville was forced to request reinforcements simply to hold his own position.
Carson, Moreno, and Selinsing did not even have the consolation of knowing that their deaths had contributed to a gallant failure. It was an ignominious rout. Caught between impenetrable canopy and a fast-moving Crigolit floater, Selinsing’s slider disintegrated under a hail of enemy fire. Carson was shot down over the main river, while Moreno died trying to escape the captured fortress, which was rapidly turned into a sandstone tomb by counterattacking Ashregan and their backups.
Many who were not killed fighting went down in the jungle on disabled vehicles, like so many exhausted birds unable to complete an especially difficult migration. Some were rescued by daring outfliers who ignored Granville’s orders to stand clear. Others were caught and slain or captured by the pursuing enemy.
Colonel Nehemiah Chin might have escaped to face court-martial. Instead he chose to use the concentrated firepower of his command sled to cover the retreat of less heavily armed regular troops. Those who escaped might live again to fight another day, whereas his military career was already finished.
The great gamble had not paid off. Having acquired a debt he knew he could not pay, he saw no reason to return.
It was most ironic because everything he and his coconspirators had hoped for had come to pass. They simply had not credited the enemy with the wherewithal to mount an effective response, an oversight which he spent much of the time remaining to him regretting.
Death brought peace to Colonel Chin, but not contentment.
For the Weave forces on Eirrosad the debacle was total. Plans for pressing the enemy on other fronts were abandoned as reinforcements were hurriedly rushed to defend what remained of Granville’s shrunken sector. Overall strategy suffered a severe and embarrassing retrenchment. Chin’s Catastrophe, as it came to be known, forced Weave tacticians to abandon an optimistic status quo in favor of a policy of anxious defense. Meanwhile, the dead commander’s dour superiors reaped a harvest of recriminations.
It was as serious a battlefield defeat as Weave forces had suffered in some time. The effects were felt beyond Eirrosad, reverberating throughout the chain of command all the way up to the Grand Military Council itself.
As for the Amplitur, they did not throw up their tentacles in triumph and husk hosannas to the Purpose. It was not in their nature to celebrate death, even that of those who would destroy them. Revelry was left to the Crigolit and Ashregan, the Molitar and Mazvec. The Amplitur would celebrate only when the Purpose was fulfilled, be it a hundred years in the future, a thousand, an eon.
That did not mean they did not find gratification in the accomplishment.
For their brilliant tactical maneuver High-manyfold-Leaving and Place-bereft-Inward received quiet praise and new assignments. Of rest there would be none. There would be plenty of time for the Amplitur to rest once the Purpose had been fulfilled. Until that far distant day there was still too much for them to do and too few of them to do it.
The news from Eirrosad had depressed everyone at Weave Command on Omaphil. Conversation and spirits alike were muted. Even the normally jocose S’van were subdued.
Two Humans, a pair of Massood, and three S’van clustered in a high-ceilinged chamber afire with images of suns and ships. Rising and descending on invisible supports, they studied and analyzed the three-dimensional representation of their particular quadrant of the galaxy, not so much reading the map as voyaging through it.
One of the S’van waved the small wandlike device he carried. Representations of starships swirled and repositioned themselves according to his directions. In the enclosed chamber his translator boomed.
“We’ve already overextended ourselves in our attempt to take Eirrosad. It weakens our inner spatial defenses and exposes us along this entire line. I say it’s time to consider pulling back. A strategic retrenchment does not a retreat make.”
“We cannot,” argued a Massood floating high above him. “If we give up Eirrosad, it will make it extremely hard to advance into the next important enemy sector … here.” Her wand stirred galactic soup.
“That’s true. Our next big thrust will be made much easier … if we can hold Eirrosad,” another of the S’van said pointedly.
“Would you concede the Amplitur the same sort of advantage we seek for ourselves?” she riposted. “There are no other habitable worlds in its immediate vicinity.”
“It’s premature to speak of concessions.” One of the Human officers descended to the same level as the S’van. “Our situation on Eirrosad’s been damaged but not devastated. We may not be in a position to mount any attacks for a while, but I think we can hold on to what we have.”
“I don’t doubt that.” The S’van put both hands behind his back, thrusting his thick beard forward. “My concern is that by continuing to support forces on Eirrosad we weaken ourselves elsewhere. It’s well known that Humans dislike looking over their shoulders, lest they see something that displeases them. In warfare ignorance is not bliss; it’s lethal stupidity.”
“Look,” said the other Human sharply, “I’ll grant that you guys are brilliant tacticians, but you’re as cautious as any of the species who don’t carry guns. If it wasn’t for us and the Massood, you wouldn’t advance anywhere. You’d just sit around on your hairy butts waiting for the Amplitur to hit you at their leisure.”
As Human and S’van glared at each other from perspectives that differed as much as their respective heights, one of the Massood hastened to change the subject.
“On a related matter, it seems clear that the decision to return the altered Human-Ashregan to his friends was a mistake.”
“We can’t be certain of that yet.” The Human who replied sounded slightly defensive.
The more belligerent of the two S’van grinned. “Ignorance in this case is embarrassing.”
The senior S’van had yet to say anything. It was a marvel to him that individual members of the contentious species of the Weave could cooperate long enough to have a discussion, much less fight an interstellar war. If the Amplitur could but see how truly fragile was the structure of the Weave, how fractious and argumentative its members, they would surely press their millennia-old assault even harder.
“That incident is history,” the S’van commented. “Not every experiment produces the results one hopes for. Time spent on recriminations is divisive and wasteful.”
“We don’t know what the subject’s present condition is. Just because he hasn’t contacted us yet doesn’t mean he’s never going to.” It was the Human’s turn to be defensive.
“It’s perfectly understandable that you stretch reason out of compassion for one of your own. Had S’van been the subjects of genetic manipulation by the Amplitur we would be equally concerned.”
As was typical of his kind, the Human refused to be swayed by mere logic. “We don’t know for certain that his Ashregan conditioning has reasserted itself. We don’t know for a fact that the work our people did with him here on Omaphil was unsuccessful.” He hesitated. “Majority opinion holds that he’s probably dead, because he was returned to the region where our recent losses occurred. Prior to our reversal of fortunes there, enemy casualties are known to have been heavy. It’s reasonable to assume he was among them. Until then he may very well have been trying to decondition his colleagues, which was his avowed intention in re
turning.”
“Probably we will never know,” said the other Massood.
“Truly I would like to.”
Everyone looked up as a new figure drifted in to join them. Access to the map chamber while conferencing was in progress was supposedly forbidden, but First-of-Surgery had been granted clearances usually denied even to senior officers.
The darkling enclosure was alien to him, so very different from his normal brightly lit surroundings. Furthermore, it was occupied by intimidating Humans and Massood. He instinctively stood close to the S’van.
“I know you.” The younger Human officer frowned slightly in remembrance. “You oversaw the whole experiment.”
“As you truly remember, you may also recall that I most strenuously argued against the unfortunate subject Ranji-aar to his friends returning, but was by the military overruled.” He met and held the Human’s stare, something none but a Turlog could manage for long.
“At the time we felt we had no choice,” said the other Human.
First-of-Surgery eyed him frostily. “Of course you a choice had. You could to myself and other specialists have listened. But your actions were, from what I have seen and studied, of military thinking typical. You around you gather experts and analysts. Not to their opinions listen to, but to an intellectual blanket create to from criticism shield yourselves. Behind this barrier you carry on as before, deluded that you of the help you have acquired made use. Now you have for this shortsightedness on Eirrosad paid the price.”
“Now just a minute,” said the other Human. “Are you suggesting that the return of this individual to his former friends and associates had something to do with our recent defeat on that world?”
“I suggest nothing. I infer nothing. It is only that when the unexpected itself repeats, is piqued my interest in relational hypotheses.”
“It has been determined that the Eirrosad disaster was the fault of a single renegade Human colonel who deliberately excluded from his decision-making process all tactical advice except that which arose from a select inner circle.” The other Human spoke with assurance.
“An all too common fault.” The Human turned sharply on the S’van who’d made the comment, but could discern nothing in the way of expression behind an all-obscuring black beard.
“It distresses me to bad news bring atop bad news.” First-of-Surgery clicked his teeth softly. “Facts have an awkward way of lives of their own assuming.”
“Go ahead,” the nearest Human grumbled. “We’ve heard little else these past few days. A little more won’t make any difference.” The surgeon’s translator rendered the primate’s guttural barkings into barbaric but comprehensible Hivistahm. This maceration of his elegant language did not irritate him. As a physician he had a better understanding than most of Human cultural failings.
“Please my inadequate words excuse, but it has my experience been that visuals time as well as confusion save.”
Removing a control wand not unlike those in the possession of his military colleagues, he adjusted it while waving at the empty space between them. Several star systems were rudely swept aside, to be replaced by the floating image of a Human skull. As he spoke, sections exploded and expanded to reveal hidden secrets.
“You all are or should by now be conversant with the recent studies which were conducted on this world on one of the genetically altered Humans who were preborn abducted by the Amplitur. It was my privilege in charge of those studies to be.” The wand moved.
“Before the individual in question was at his request returned to Eirrosad an operation was carried out in which the Amplitur-induced alteration to his brain was surgically isolated from the rest of his nervous system, thereby negating its influence.” Slitted pupils monitored Humans and Massood for reaction.
“I remind you that my staff and I considered this individual’s release and return premature.”
“That’s old news, not bad news,” commented the nearest Human.
“Truly.” The surgeon’s tone was sharp. “Under natural conditions Human neural tissue rarely regenerates. Modern Hivistahm and O’o’yan technology enables us such regrowth artificially to induce, thereby rendering the Human physiologic condition known historically as ‘paralysis’ a medical anachronism.
“Prior to the conclusion of surgery on the individual in question the Amplitur-induced neural nodule within his brain was biopsied. A computer projection on recent analysis based a potential capacity for self-regeneration of this organ suggests.” As he spoke, animated neurons reasserted themselves within the immensely magnified image rotating before them.
“This is a prognostication only,” observed the male Massood. “The fact that such growth can occur does not mean that it will, or that the Amplitur organ will successfully reconnect itself to the appropriate portions of the individual’s brain.”
“Such rapid cellular growth could even be carcinogenic,” pointed out one of the S’van in uncharacteristically humorless fashion.
“That is not an impossible scenario,” First-of-Surgery admitted. “In that event the individual might die before the condition could be detected and treated. Conversely, if successful regrowth and reconnection were to occur, he might despite all our arduous work with him here, under the sway of the Amplitur again find himself. Or the clash of what he knows with what he feels might well unbalance him mentally.”
“Then all our work here was for naught,” said another S’van.
“Not true. We learned much of importance.” With a wave of the surgeon’s wand the magnified bits of Human brain and neural tissue vanished. “We are certain in the future others modified by the Amplitur to encounter. Perhaps by then we will have how permanently to inhibit the Amplitur organ from regenerating discovered.” To the ensuing silence he added a note of hope.
“As has pointed out been, this a prognostication only is.” Double eyelids blinked. “Such regrowth may not take place, or if it does neural reconnection may not recur, nor may there be any harm to the individual. This but one of many possible physiologic scenarios is.”
“You assign the worst case a high priority, though, or you wouldn’t have interrupted this conference to tell us about it.”
First-of-Surgery regarded the scaleless warrior Human. An ineffable sadness colored his laconic response. “Truly.”
The other Human nodded slowly as he spoke. “What we really need to do is find the world where the Amplitur are doing the actual modifications on Human infants and embryos and blow the goddamned place all the way back to the First Cause.”
First-of-Surgery shivered slightly at the Human’s unbridled ferocity. If not for the need to recruit species capable of combating the advance of the Amplitur, he might not have been above consideration of a little genetic engineering himself. Though from the beginning he had concealed his feelings well, the whole business had unnerved him more than he would have cared to admit.
One thing his studies had led him to ponder was if a “civilized Human” might not be a contradiction in terms, a biological impossibility. He was glad he would not be around to find out, for even the most optimistic scenario had the war against the Amplitur continuing far beyond the end of his projected lifespan.
Even so, his sleep was troubled.
XVII
As was traditional, victory celebrations were kept to a minimum. However, Military Command decided that its triumphant but exhausted soldiers deserved not merely a rest, but that greatest of all rewards for those who serve in combat: a visit home.
Had Ranji been given the option he would have chosen to stay on Eirrosad. His genuine hesitancy was, however, interpreted as modesty, and together with his friends he was shipped back to peaceful Cossuut. His subtle hints that he be allowed to remain behind were swamped in the flush of congratulations. Realizing that excessive demurral on his part would only eventually attract unwanted attention, he had no choice but to accept the enforced vacation.
As a Unifer much attention was focused on him. Wheneve
r possible he tried to have his subordinates answer the innumerable questions that were put to the group, with the result that he became more than ever an object of curiosity and interest. In seeking obscurity he found only fame, or at least fame as it was known within the homogenized ethical orbit presided over by the Amplitur.
Though the cephalopodians had no need of such intangibles themselves, they recognized the importance of maintaining good morale among allied races and did their best, when circumstances were appropriate, to encourage it. Public feting of the victorious was useful. Modest adulation was not discouraged. As for the Amplitur themselves, they ascribed glory to an abstract rather than to individuals.
Saguio proudly appointed himself guardian of his brother’s solitude, shielding him from the queries and attentions of the curious. I wonder if he would be so zealous in my defense, Ranji mused in the privacy of his apartment, if he knew how hard I fought recently to avoid combat. But he was glad of the privacy.
His self-imposed isolation during the voyage back to Cossuut was interpreted as introspection and suitably respected. After a while even the most persistent left him in peace, allowing Saguio to relax his vigil.
Ranji used the time to try and prepare himself for the inevitable forthcoming confrontations. Despite his best efforts, however, he was unprepared for the storm of emotions that tore through him when he was greeted at the shuttle disembarkation point by his joyful parents. He was able to maintain control only by lavishing his attention on his little sister, Cynsa, of whose genetic makeup he was relatively certain. As certain as he could be of his own, he reminded himself.
“Good to have you home, firstborn.” As a sign of paternal Ashregan affection his father was rubbing Ranji between the shoulder blades.
“Yes, son. We worried, and missed.”
The Damned Trilogy Page 59