The Damned Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  “I suggest, and take the liberty of suggesting on behalf of my colleagues—” Soft whistles of profound agreement came from the others “—that you consider taking some time to reintegrate yourself into the society from which you have been so long separated.”

  Stunned by the extent of her transgression, Lalelelang hastened to deliver herself of an elaborate apologia of words and gestures. It appeared to mollify the Board, which was as understanding as it was unperceptive.

  The result was that she left the meeting dissatisfied and discouraged. She had hoped for, though she had not really expected, something more. Having thus damaged her academic social standing and gained nothing in return, she sought solace in her triad.

  Her sisters managed to succor her somewhat, but they could not reassure her. They did not subscribe to her outrageous hypotheses any more than had the Board. Better, they advised her, that she should listen to the wise advice of the seniors and throw herself into systematizing the vast body of knowledge she had accumulated in the course of her daring travels.

  She thanked them but declared to their dismay that she would continue to keep to her own counsel.

  Part of the problem, she knew, was that any normal Wais would find the entire subject distasteful. She could hardly blame her people for that. Nor were her theories likely to find a more enthusiastic welcome among the S’van, or the Hivistahm.

  The coming cataclysm was inevitable. There was no mistake. Her theories predicted it. At least, she mused in frustration, she would not be around to experience it.

  She was in her office when the visitor was declared. The announcing code implied that it was not a student or fellow academic. For a brief while she bustled with excitement, remembering a similar visit of not so very long ago.

  When her visitor finally arrived and was admitted she was as surprised as she was disappointed.

  The female S’van searched in vain for a place to sit. Short and thickset, she could not fit into the simple untenanted seat intended for the much slimmer Wais pelvis, nor did she have a hope of reaching the ledge beneath the window, which a much larger visitor had at one time occupied.

  In one corner sat a large potted plant whose slim, multiple trunks reached the ceiling before sending out overarching, spatulate leaves. She balanced herself precariously on the rim of the container, stroking the short, neatly trimmed beard that was a hallmark of S’van females. The thick black curls both front and back were heavily pomaded with a substance that caused them to flash iridescent beneath the overhead lights. Her clothing was traditionally garish in tone, with none of the subtlety or nuance of Wais attire.

  “What do you want with me?” Lalelelang’s S’van was smooth and accentless. Her disappointment could not completely suffocate her curiosity. “Do you represent an academic organization?”

  “You could say that.” The S’van was typically direct. “My presence here is semiofficial, though as far as anyone outside this office is concerned, this is an informal meeting.

  “The organization which I represent has a long-standing interest in your work. People have particularly been intrigued by some of your recent publications, in which you harangue like mad for one of your pet theories.” The visitor shifted her position on the planter. “It doesn’t look like you’re having much luck getting anyone to pay any attention to it.”

  “Until now, it would seem.”

  The S’van clicked her teeth. “You’re unusually direct for a Wais. I put that down to the amount of time you spent working closely with Humans. By the way, my name’s Ch’vis.”

  “There is no question that I have been somewhat influenced by my studies,” Lalelelang replied. “If you would prefer to deal with traditional Wais politesse I can introduce you to several colleagues who are familiar with my research.”

  “No, no. I think it’s better that I talk to you.” She scratched at the back of her neck, where thick black coils vanished down the collar of her jumpsuit. Lalelelang shuddered slightly. One of the differences between the humanoid S’van and Homo sapiens was that the latter had no manners, whereas the S’van had them but often chose to ignore them. The S’van were also one of the few intelligent species the Wais could physically look down upon, though the short, hirsute bipeds were much heavier in body.

  “What about my work interests you enough to prompt a visit in person?” she inquired.

  “Others have studied it in more depth than I, but the gist of it seems to be your claim that now that the war is over, unfocused Humans are going to go on the rampage: against the rest of the Weave, against each other, or both. You predict the rise of unmanageable conflict, to the general detriment of civilization.”

  Lalelelang’s neck dipped slightly forward and she blinked one eye in an especially emphatic manner. “An unscholarly but not inaccurate summation.”

  “The organization I represent is impressed with the research you’ve accumulated to back up your theories.”

  “Is it?” Eyelashes fluttered. “What organization might that be?”

  “Doesn’t really matter.” Ch’vis leaned back against the multiple stems of the domesticated plant. It flexed alarmingly, and she hastened to straighten. “Nice place to work. Pleasant view, quiet.”

  “Are you offering me support?” Lalelelang asked.

  “Call it mutual. You see, members of the group I work with have been observing Humankind pretty closely ever since they first joined in the war against the Amplitur. Some of our efforts parallel yours. Or did you think that your work was unique?”

  She shuffled uncertainly on her work nest. “I know that it is not. I have had many contacts with non-Wais, off-world scholars with similar interests, but no such correspondence can be all-inclusive.”

  The S’van responded with a double clicking of her front incisors only. “It’s not surprising that you wouldn’t know of us. We don’t seek publicity.”

  “Then if you people concur with my conclusions, you must realize that assertive intervention is imperative.”

  Ch’vis regarded her fingers. “Not necessarily. Many of us are of the mind that so long as Humankind’s destructive energies are directed internally, there’s no real danger to the Weave.”

  “That is not a civilized approach.”

  The S’van looked sharply at her. “Self-preservation takes precedence over civilized behavior. We agree with your analysis of Human nature. They’ve always fought and they always will fight. Contact with the Weave hasn’t and isn’t going to change that. So long as their conflict doesn’t spread to non-Human worlds, we think they should be permitted to pursue their traditional forms of ‘recreation’ without interference.

  “At the same time we don’t ignore them completely because, as you correctly point out, we might need them again in some far distant, unforeseeable future to counter some unimaginable threat. So we try to manage them. Keep them aggressive but limit the damage. Let them slaughter one another but not allow them to weaken themselves beyond recovery.”

  “Manage Humans? What a whimsical notion.”

  “There are ways,” the S’van insisted diffidently. “We think it can be done successfully as well as unobtrusively. Since they were first contacted we’ve learned a great deal about them. They’re more malleable than you might think. Certainly the Wais, through no fault of your own, could not direct such an enterprise. We S’van, however, are a bit cleverer.”

  “Devious and deceptive, you mean.”

  Ch’vis screwed a stubby finger into her left ear. “Your mastery of my language is admirable, but not perfect. I must’ve misheard a word or two.”

  Lalelelang eyed the S’van in disbelief. “So you could help them, but you’re not going to. You will allow them to war among themselves within parameters that you will magisterially specify, without regard to their welfare.”

  “Without our intervention they’d eventually destroy themselves altogether,” Ch’vis argued. “That much of your research we accept implicitly. They were on the verge of doin
g so when the Weave first contacted them. Recall your Human history. They had actually gone as far as employing nuclear weapons against one another.”

  “An isolated incident that was not repeated.”

  The S’van sniffed. “Fortunate, but hardly indicative of a permanent change of behavior. If the Weave had not involved them they would probably have obliterated themselves by now.” The visitor’s attitude lightened. “Besides, where’s the harm? They like to fight. We’ll limit them but let them. Humankind has no proper civilization. They’re a resource, to be managed. Help them to eschew their aggressive tendencies and you destroy that resource.” She slipped off the planter and adjusted the folds of her suit.

  “Why come all this way to tell me this?” Lalelelang wanted to know.

  “Your reputation extends beyond Mahmahar, and you make a lot of noise. Meanwhile your work on Human-non-Human social interaction under combat conditions is pioneering. We think it deserves your full attention. You really need to concentrate on it instead of venting loud opinions on that which is already being brought under control.”

  She fought to control her instinctive quivering. “Ch’vis, are you threatening me?”

  “Dear me, no!” The S’van threw up both hands in mock alarm. “How can you conceive of something so uncivilized? We are merely, as fellow researchers, suggesting that you narrow your field of endeavor and concentrate on the sub-specialty in which your work is unparalleled.” She waddled toward the doorway.

  “We have extensive modeling facilities. We’ve plotted numerous possible futures for Humankind and we’re pretty confident that the one we’ve chosen will be best not only for the entire Weave but for them as well.”

  “Do you expect me to stand by and do nothing?”

  “We don’t expect anything of you, Exalted Scholar Lalelelang. I was not told to expect anything of you. I’ve made no demands here today, issued no ultimatums. It’s a sign of the respect in which we hold you and your independent achievements that I was ordered to come here and deliver to you this information.”

  “To induce me to retreat behind a veil of silence, you mean.”

  “It’s hard to convey bitterness in my language, but you do it very well,” said Ch’vis admiringly. “It doesn’t become you, and it’s not necessary. Sometime I hope to show you our models. Then you’d understand what we’re doing is for the best, for everyone.”

  “The S’van have never been noted for their altruism.”

  “Nor have the Wais. We all have our own interests. Believe me, in this instance they coincide. You’re a scholar, and a most remarkable one. Scholars are notoriously impractical individuals.” She reached to activate the door.

  “Wait! Are there other organizations like yours? Among the Hivistahm, perhaps, or the O’o’yan?”

  Ch’vis considered. “Interesting thought. Not to our knowledge. As you more than anyone should know, the intimate study of Humankind is not a popular subject.” She thumbed the door control, and the barrier slid aside. “We’d like to share information with you, historian. We can help each other.”

  “But not Humankind,” Lalelelang shot back.

  “Your attitude will change. It might as well, since there isn’t anything you can do about this. It has support from quarters that would startle you.”

  With that Ch’vis excused herself. Not elaborately and floridly as a Wais would have, but in S’van fashion, with a click of bright square teeth and a parting joke.

  Lalelelang stared at the portal. If the S’van were as aware of the problem as she was but wouldn’t do anything to try and solve it, what chance did she have? More than that, they didn’t want the problem solved. They just wanted to keep it under control. That was not only unfair to Humankind, it was dangerous. Nor did she share their optimism about managing Human aggressiveness. That was something that needed to be permanently modified, not administered, if Humans were ever to be granted full Weave membership and take their rightful and hard-earned place in the mainstream of galactic civilization. Only then could it be certain that they would no longer be a threat to themselves or to any other species.

  But if the Weave remained indifferent to granting that membership, and a powerful S’van faction was arrayed against her, what hope did she have of making any progress?

  She would have to seek the aid of an organization of her own, one powerful and shrewd enough to somehow contravene the efforts of the devious S’van. Everything would have to be carried out in a manner that would not alert Ch’vis and her colleagues. Lalelelang knew of only one such group that might have the requisite resources and determination.

  Certainly they were powerful. The matter of their shrewdness was still open to question.

  XVII

  “What’s that?” Pila rolled over and tried to get a glimpse of the communicator that Straat-ien was watching as he sat on the edge of the bed. The compact screen he held was eight centimeters square and capable of mock-holo projection.

  She leaned up against him, slipping her arms around his chest, resting her chin on his left shoulder. “A Wais! How interesting. I see she isn’t wearing a translator.” She listened intently.

  “Her gestures are certainly emphatic. Is this the one you told me about, the one you’ve known for so long?” He nodded. They continued listening together until the transmission ended.

  Straat-ien put the communicator on the end table and lay back down on the bed. His companion snuggled close to him, lying on her right side, her left hand warm on his chest. They were silent for a while, each digesting the contents of the alien’s message.

  “Do you think she’s right about us?” Pila finally asked.

  “I don’t know.” Straat-ien stared at the ceiling. “Sometimes I think she knows more about us than we do ourselves.”

  “So we’re doomed to keep fighting forever? These S’van will keep us from destroying ourselves but that’s it? No help to change old attitudes, no assistance in forging a peaceful civilization.” She frowned. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “Nor do I,” Straat-ien murmured. “But you and I have the benefit of Core insight. We’re a very small, not especially influential minority. The bulk of Humankind still looks at things differently.”

  “It sounds like this Wais expects you to do something about it.”

  He shrugged and kicked against the sheets that clung to his legs. “She knows me better than she knows any other Human. She knows about the Core and that we’re trying to find a way to make some changes in Human attitudes. That’s going to be hard enough going without active opposition. From the S’van, no less. They’re dangerously smart.”

  “You think she’s safe?”

  “She’s managed okay so far.” He looked thoughtful. “When the Core was deciding her fate, I argued that if we left her alone, she’d be useful to us someday. Here’s the proof of it.” He tapped the recorder. “If it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t know about this S’van organization.”

  “Right enough.” Pila was mature, and knowledgeable. “Now we can take steps to deal with that. A few suggestions in the right places and we can neutralize their influence without being obvious about it.”

  Straat-ien sighed. “I wish we could persuade our own kind as easily. There’ve already been outbreaks of fighting on several of the colonies. The Core Council expects it to spread to Earth any time now. Why people can’t recognize the counterproductiveness of such regressive behavior is beyond me.”

  She patted his chest. “As you pointed out, we enjoy the Core perspective, darling. Most of Humankind doesn’t … yet.”

  “If we’re not careful, it never will. I know that the genome for the Amplitur-introduced neural nexus is dominant, but it’ll take hundreds of years for it to spread deep enough into the racial pool to make a real difference.”

  “Until that happens we must do the best we can, Nevan. We have a great responsibility.” She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest.

  “I wish I knew for certain i
f Lalelelang’s projections are right.”

  “We have to assume that they are. Assuming otherwise means leaving our fate in the hands of the S’van and the Hivistahm and all the rest.”

  “The S’van,” he muttered. “I would have sooner suspected the Hivis, or even the Massood. But not the S’van.”

  “They joke and kid around to mask their intelligence,” she reminded him. “They always have.” She was silent for a moment, stroking him. “Nevan,” she inquired somberly, “do you think we have a chance? To integrate ourselves into Weave society and enjoy a peaceful, participatory future? Or is your Wais right and we’ll always be doomed to fighting and killing?”

  “Lalelelang’s a pessimist, but she hopes we can change. She thinks that because of our unique perspective the Core can be the instrument of that change, that we can be the renovating anomaly her statistics don’t account for.”

  Pila raised herself higher and stared hard at him. “I didn’t ask what she thinks. I asked what you think.”

  He was silent for a while. Then he turned to envelop her in his arms and draw her down to him.

  “Right now I think I’m tired of thinking.”

  Cataloging the ocean of material she’d acquired, performing seminars, and designing course materials, all this left Lalelelang little time for promoting her theories or, for that matter, any kind of social life. Outwardly her triad sisters supported her efforts, but privately they despaired. Their brilliant, attractive, famous sister was wasting away, devoting her entire life to her studies. They told her repeatedly that her time was ill apportioned, but there was nothing they could do about it. Lalelelang would acknowledge their efforts on her behalf and proceed to ignore them, just as she ignored those males bold enough to approach her.

  They could not know that she had much more than her own survival in mind.

  Utilizing the university’s far-ranging facilities, she scrutinized the interworld media with grim conviction, seeking out the kind of information that never reached the general population. One world, even a portion of one continent, generated more than enough news to satisfy their interest. Besides, now that the war was well over, who cared what Humans, or for that matter the Hivistahm or the Massood, did on their own worlds? The Weave had been created to deal with the Amplitur. With that ancient interstellar threat finally removed the frequency of interspecies contact was already beginning to abate.