The Damned Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  “No,” he said, perhaps a little too quickly. “It’s only that I had the chance to chat with the noncommissioned officer in question, a Sergeant Conner, and in the course of general conversation on other subjects he happened to mention it to me. Not because of the encounter, which is common enough, but because he happened to notice you off to one side recording it.”

  “My presence did not compromise his behavior at a sensitive moment, I hope?”

  “Not at all. But you know that your presence in such surroundings is unprecedented. You have to expect that it will be noted.”

  She sounded relieved. “I understand. As a researcher I am naturally always concerned that my presence may influence and thereby alter the very situation I am attempting to study.”

  “If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one around to hear,” he muttered.

  “Your pardon?”

  “Nothing. I’m rambling. So your work is in good shape?”

  “Better than I. Exhaustion has become my constant companion.”

  “Never know it to look at you.”

  “You flatter promisingly. It is something Humans are transparent at, even to one another. But I appreciate the concern.” She let out a long, trilling whistle that finished in a descending coda. “When I return home I am sure I will require several months’ rest before I can even begin to think of dealing with the mountain of material I have accumulated. It will be work enough simply to see to its proper replication and storage.”

  “Yes,” Nevan murmured absently, “it would be terrible if any of it were lost.” Bracing himself against the wall, he straightened and stood towering over her. Despite her conditioning she flinched at the nearness of his bulk. It was an instinctive reaction she could not completely shroud. And Straat-ien was one of the smaller Humans on the sled.

  “So you’ll have plenty to keep you busy back at the main base.”

  “Assuredly. I have recorded and observed. Now it is time to systematize. If possible I should also like to obtain more material on Human interaction with Weave species other than the Massood.”

  He inclined his head. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “I am sure that by now you have observed that where my work is concerned I am anything but reticent.” The lashes fluttered again.

  “You’ve been very straightforward,” he admitted.

  “I know. Among my kind that would be a serious criticism.”

  Sensing that he was making her increasingly nervous, he retreated several steps. “You’re damned unique, Lalelelang.”

  “How would you know?” She made it sound almost playful. “How many Wais had you met before me, Colonel Nevan Straat-ien?”

  “Well, two.” He laughed and quickly dampened the reaction when he saw her flinch at the sight of his exposed teeth.

  “I hope your opinion of my kind has not suffered from our relationship.”

  “Likewise.”

  “I can say confidently at this point that you are less than a revelation, but more than a confirmation. You aspire to civilized behavior. It is not your fault that the nuances of proper behavior escape your species.”

  Though he knew there was no malice in her comments, he couldn’t keep himself from bridling slightly. “We’ve got other things to do. There are no nuances on the battlefield.”

  “The propoundment of hasty absolutes are the conclusions of the insecure,” she replied, rather more enigmatically than he would have preferred.

  Back at Base Attila a week later he found himself traversing the main service concourse in the company of Mai Pauk Conner. In addition to other Humans and Massood, the serviceway was thronged with Hivistahm and O’o’yan, S’van and Lepar, all operating on Chemadii in important support capacities. Enclosing bubbles of Bullerene armor let in sunlight to nourish the native plants that grew in profusion in the free-form planters that lined walls and floor.

  The two men were discussing the matter of a Massood captain who had noted the frequency with which his own troops often disregarded his orders in favor of those issued in the field by lower-ranking Humans. It had been discovered by a soldier with Core connections to Conner that this officer had begun keeping a personal file on such incidents. Thus alerted, the young woman had quietly brought the situation to the sergeant’s attention.

  This was not unprecedented. Core members found themselves having to deal with such potentially dangerous attention throughout the Weave, with far more frequency than they would have liked.

  If the officer in question had eventually submitted his data to an analytical computer and had happened to ask it the correct, discomfiting questions, it might possibly have informed him that the presence at such times of citizens whose ancestry could without exception be traced back to Cossuutian Restorees suggested an unreasonable coincidence that might bear further investigation.

  Conner was informing Straat-ien that the worthy Massood officer in question had died tragically in the battle for the great strategic peninsula known as Jac II. It was not an isolated death. Other Massood and Humans had also perished in the fight. Under such circumstances the loss of one more Massood would neither be remarked upon nor investigated.

  It would be reported that the captain had died bravely, a credit to his clan. It was the first time that Nevan had been involved even tangentially in the essential death of an ally to preserve the secrecy of the Core. It did not sit well with him. It did not sit any better with those more immediately involved, but all knew that such regrettable measures were sometimes necessary. Their continued survival, as well as that of their spouses and offspring, depended upon keeping themselves and their peculiar abilities out of the light.

  The need for such preventative social surgery was extremely rare. That it might have to be carried out so soon again, and on the same world, was troubling. The fact that the individual so marked for possible excision was a representative of one of the Weave’s least offensive species made it that much more uncomfortable to contemplate.

  “How much do you think she suspects?” the sergeant asked him.

  “Nothing, yet. She may never. Dammit, Conner, you’re the one who got me started on this.”

  Conner shook his head sadly. “I didn’t call her. I didn’t tell her to be there when I was suggesting those Massood. I didn’t remind her to use her recorder. You’re just as worried as I am or you wouldn’t be talking to me about it now.”

  Straat-ien stopped to peer over a tubular metal railing at the level immediately below the main concourse. “I still don’t believe she’s onto anything. But in the unlikely event that she is, and something were to happen to me, it’s important that a relative knows. Just in case. You know the Law.”

  Conner nodded. “You’re worried about what she might think when she gets back to her homeworld and starts deciphering her material.”

  “Not really. I just wanted someone else to know.”

  “You’re being sanguine, sir.” Conner was now speaking to his companion not as a junior, but as a distant relative. They were all related, of course. All the Core members. Through ancestry. Through Amplitur genetic manipulation. Through need.

  “The Wais are persistent. Their minds are the equal of any, and there’s nothing wrong with this female’s. Sure, she may skip right over the encounter. It’s buried in the mass of data that she’s accumulated. But sir—Nevan—can we take that chance? If she divines anything it’s going to be a lot harder to correct the situation on her homeworld than it would be here.”

  Straat-ien considered the tree climbing from the lower level before him. It had multiple entwined trunks and long, pale yellow leaves. “What’re you getting at, Conner? That when the opportunity presents itself I ‘suggest’ she forget all about the incident?”

  Conner didn’t hesitate. “We both know that won’t work in this case, sir. If she’d just witnessed it, sure. But she made a recording. As soon as she saw it again it would wipe out the effects of the strongest suggestion you or I coul
d make. That would be worse than doing nothing at all because it would start her thinking about why she forgot it in the first place. Nor would suggesting her and trying to isolate and erase the recording be enough. She might have had it duped and stored elsewhere.”

  “All right. What’s your ‘suggestion’?”

  The sergeant didn’t hesitate. “Take her out on another combat pass. From what you’ve told me about her I’m sure she’d jump at the chance.” The younger, taller man put closed fists together and twisted them in opposite directions. “Wais are fragile.”

  “This case isn’t that simple.” Nevan found displeasing the image so dynamically envisioned by his companion. “She’s not a combatant, she’s an important individual on her own world, and she’s been made my personal responsibility. If she dies here, under any circumstances, it’s going to reflect badly on me.”

  “Better for you to become bad news for a while than for her to find anything out. You know that.”

  A squad of Massood strode past beneath them. Nevan knew what the reaction of their kind would be to the revelation that certain select Humans could mentally manipulate them as effectively as the Amplitur.

  He glanced up, through the Bullerene glazing. Beyond the deep-sea cove in which the base had been constructed, ascending cliffs forged a towering bluff that formed a distinctive cream-colored landmark against the sky. For most of their length the cliffs were sheer and unclimbable except by experts fitted with special equipment. The western ocean of Chemadii crashed eternally against the granitic escarpment, throwing showers of spray over fifty meters into the air even in calm weather. Deep inside the base he was effectively insulated from their thunder.

  It was a splendid panorama, as profoundly stark as any he’d encountered in his travels.

  “Naturally it has to look like an accident.” Conner rambled on, placidly homicidal. “I imagine the easiest way will be to get her out into another battlefield situation. If she’s had her fill of that there are other ways. If you’re worried about your involvement, I can take care of it.”

  “I can’t distance myself that easily.” Straat-ien allowed his gaze to wander away from the view and back to the strolling inhabitants of the concourse. The attack siren whined once, causing a number of pedestrians to glance moodily upward, but the electronic exclamation was not repeated. False alarm, he mused, or an asymmetrical test.

  “I don’t see why you’re so worried about problems that don’t yet exist, Nevan. Whatever the reaction we can deal with it. Accidents happen. Especially in combat. And she’s no soldier, hasn’t had any training. If she were to go proto during her visit here, her fellow Wais would probably be less surprised at her fate than anyone else. They’d all bob their heads knowingly, or whatever the hell it is they do.”

  “I know all that.” Straat-ien’s reply was tinged with irritation. “All I’m saying is that I’m not sure it’s necessary. Just because she saw you suggesting a bunch of Massood doesn’t mean she’ll ever divine anything deeper than that. Remember, she’s swamped with information.”

  “That’s today,” the sergeant argued. “Who knows what she’ll see in it a year from now, or five, after she’s had time for cerebration?”

  “She may skip right through it. Mark it down as just another unremarkable Human-otherspecies encounter.”

  Conner considered a moment before replying, somewhat quizzically. “This isn’t just a matter of professional respect anymore, is it? You really like this canary.”

  “You have to admire her. Put the average Wais through what she’s experienced and it would go cataleptic inside a minute.”

  “Shit, man, I admire her, too. The trouble is, every time you turn around that damn recorder of hers is up in your face.”

  “That’s her job,” Nevan reminded his companion.

  “Her guts are what make her dangerous. Look, Cossucousin; you rank me, both in the corps and in the Core. The decision’s up to you.”

  “I need to be certain the danger is real before we throw away a mind like that. Even a non-Human one. Give me a few more days.”

  Conner shrugged. “I don’t see what the big deal is. In the great scheme of things what’s one Wais historian more or less?”

  Straat-ien stiffened slightly. “Obviously my feelings in the matter differ from yours, Sergeant. If there’s truth in your sentiment then we’re no better than the Hivistahm and the S’van and the others think we are.”

  “I’m just letting you know how I feel, sir. As for how the Weave sees us, I personally think it’s a little late to try and collectively convince them that we’re the pastoral, benevolent type.” He took a step backward.

  Straat-ien hastened to reassure him. “If I don’t think the problem can be resolved any other way, I promise you I’ll take care of it myself.”

  “What about your concerns about being responsible for her?”

  “I’ll take care of that. I can be unobtrusive. There’s the advantage that she won’t suspect me, and when it’s over neither will anyone else.”

  Conner hesitated. “You know best, Nevan. But if you change your mind and decide you need help …”

  “I can get ahold of you through the system. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Conner saluted smartly, grinned, and headed off down the corridor, leaving Straat-ien alone with his thoughts.

  That night Naomi found his repeated mention of Lalelelang puzzling. “Why are you so interested in this alien, anyway? When she first got here all you could do was gripe about how she was complicating your daily routine, getting in your way, and generally making life difficult for you. Not to mention endangering herself and those around her.”

  “Opinions change.” Straat-ien rolled away from her and lay on his back, hands behind his head as he considered the ceiling. “For a Wais she’s shown extraordinary courage.”

  “Good for her. That doesn’t mean you have to get obsessive about it.”

  Submerging the distress he felt, he turned his head slightly. “Who says she’s becoming an obsession?” Was he going to have to arrange for his lovely consensual companion on Chemadii to have an accident as well? Once one was forced to embark on a program of excising a problem, it wouldn’t do to leave potentially embarrassing complications lying around.

  He smiled and rolled over to face her, letting his left arm drape itself over her waist. “She has been a concern, but hardly an obsession. Because of what she’s voluntarily subjected herself to, her motivations intrigue me.”

  “She’s a historian.” Naomi snuggled closer. “She’s just doing her job. Nothing amazing about that.”

  “There is if you know much about the Wais.” Considering how best to defuse her unhealthy curiosity, he had a sudden inspiration. “Would you like to meet her?”

  Naomi looked thoughtful. Eventually she gave him an indifferent smile. “Naw. I’ve met Wais before. They’re uppity, standoffish, look-down-their-beak-at-you snobs. No matter how brainy she is I’m sure that at heart this one’s no different. Maybe she seems friendlier, but I bet that’s just part of her job. She can’t very well go around offending the very Humans she wants to study. She has to be part professional diplomat. So she keeps the proverbial grip on her olfactory organs while smiling verbally at her stinky subjects. She’s certainly charmed you.”

  “I said that I was impressed by her dedication. I’d hardly say that I was charmed.”

  Naomi was obviously enjoying herself now. “She probably talks about you behind your back, makes snide remarks about Humans in general when she’s communicating with other Wais. They’re like that, you know. Gossipy. Not that the rest of the Weave doesn’t do likewise, from the Massood right on down to the Lepar.”

  “The Lepar aren’t smart enough to be snide,” he argued.

  “You know what I mean. They all quietly look down on us. And that’s okay, as long as they respect us. But the Wais, they’re just so damn supercilious about it. It makes you want to put a hand ov
er their beaks until they start to turn blue.”

  “The Wais look down on everyone, not just Humankind.” Nevan’s hand moved, distracting her. “It’s their culture: form over substance.”

  Her lower jaw dropped slightly and her eyes slitted. “Speaking of form over substance, Colonel …” She drew him closer and for a while he gladly put aside the problems posed by the dangerously persistent alien historian.

  X

  “Why did you bring me up here?” Lalelelang had her recorder out and operating, dutifully tracking her surroundings.

  They stood near the edge of the point that formed the northernmost end of the penetrating cove whose fulcrum was occupied by the hardened Weave base. A single sled could be seen approaching a landing platform. It hugged the cliffs, using them for cover. Seventy meters below, the green sea of Chemadii smashed against the pale granite cliff face. Spray broke away from the crest of the angry surf to rise up and over the top, dampening her feathers. She knew it probably didn’t bother her companion. Humans could tolerate remarkable extremes of climate.

  A double-seated slider sat parked behind them, waiting to carry them back to the base. Colonel Nevan Straat-ien moved closer, and she could sense his bulk. The proximity made her uneasy but she held her ground.

  “I thought it might be helpful for you to have an overview of the entire base. Sort of framing information for the rest of your material. Besides, it’s pretty up here.”

  “I agree, but my interests lie in individual interactions.” She gestured with a dank wingtip. “This is textbook background. As for its aesthetics, I can only admire abstractly the undisciplined ruggedness you Humans seem to find so attractive. As a Wais I prefer scenery that has been tastefully imbued with the order of civilization.”

  They were quite alone. The base had been in operation for some time, and the view from the point was no longer a novelty. Toward the horizon he thought he could make out several of the monstrous cephalopods who this time of year could regularly be observed on their southward migration. They swam in stops and starts with contractions of their massive split tails, short tentacles thrust downward like the centerboards of ancient sailing vessels.