A Call to Arms

by Alan Dean Foster

  “The majority of older, developed worlds lie nearer the galactic center, and not in a straight line from your system, either. Exploration has historically concentrated on systems that lie close to one another. Yours is situated in a different direction entirely.”

  Caldaq did not mind answering questions. The native was acting sensibly and they were learning much simply by observing him. Curiosity was a hallmark of the higher intelligences.

  “May we have a look around your boat? Your home?” the Wais inquired politely.

  “Sure, why not? I can’t stop you anyway.”

  Again! Just when the native began behaving normally it would say or do something irrational.

  “Why would you want to stop us?” Caldaq asked him.

  “Well, I mean, it’s my boat, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. But we would not harm it or take anything from it.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that you would. It was just a natural reaction, a figure of speech, okay? Don’t get uptight about it.” Will wondered how efficient the translator devices were.

  “But it is not a natural reaction,” Caldaq replied even as Dropahc and Wouldea disappeared into the starboard hull. He wished for the expertise of a xenopsych. The sooner the native was examined by a specialist the more real answers they would have. Until such time he would have to muddle along as best he could, utilizing the minimal training he had in such fields.

  “You assume the possibility that had you chosen to deny us permission to examine your craft we would have done so by force if necessary.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t have?”

  This automatic inclusion of the negative in the native’s reply struck Caldaq as most distressing. Were they really communicating? He asked the question of his translator.

  The Wais checked her instrumentation. “All devices are functioning optimally, Captain.”

  “What about misinterpreted colloquialisms?”

  “I have detected none.”

  “Then you confirm from your own knowledge what I am hearing?”

  A hand fluttered in the humid air of the cabin. “My mastery of this language is not perfect and there are contradictions which my colleagues and I have yet to thoroughly resolve. For example, these people utilize an excessive number of verbs to convey very simple concepts. It is almost as if they luxuriate in an excess of action beyond what is necessary to communicate a concept. But while we may be missing certain subtle shadings of meaning I do not believe anything is being misconveyed by your unit.”

  Caldaq’s upper lip rippled. “Very well. Unless you inform me otherwise we will proceed on that basis.”

  There was a single chair in the cabin. Caldaq eyed it speculatively, chose instead to sit cross-legged on the floor, resting his long arms on his knees. As he did so the corners of the Human’s mouth twisted upward. It was very near a similar S’van expression, Caldaq thought.

  “When your lips arc like that does it mean something pleases or displeases you?”

  “I’m smiling, if that’s what you mean,” Will replied. “The expression is one of amusement.”

  Better to find something humorous than threatening, the captain mused. “What is it you find amusing?”

  “The way you’re sitting. You look like you’re getting ready to start meditating or something.”

  “No. I am simply sitting.” Actually there was more to it than that. It had been shown that certain peoples felt more comfortable when they were physically able to look down on someone they regarded as a potential threat. Lowering his height, Caldaq knew, might help to put the native more at ease.

  He decided that the action which had resulted in Dropahc’s broken hand had been an aberration sparked by their sudden appearance. Since then the native had been physically placid. In a way it was too bad. But then they hadn’t really expected anything else.

  Still, there was intelligence here, and technology of a level yet to be determined. A second potential ally for the Weave. Truly the expedition could be counted a great success.

  “Have you any objection to additional questions?”

  Will leaned back against the couch. “If you’re after top-secret information I can’t help you. I know synthesizers and boating and that’s about it.”

  “Answer what you can. We will not be displeased if you cannot.”

  “Sure.” Will looked outside. Indifferent to what was happening on the cat, phosphorescent marine organisms were turning the water astern a pale lavender blue. The natural phenomenon was soothing and reassuring to mind as well as eye.

  Caldaq made certain the Wais and the one soldier who had not gone below were both alert before speaking anew.

  “Before we landed here, before this encounter, we sent down two small drone craft to execute preliminary surveys of your world. This is part of the procedure I spoke of earlier. Both of them vanished. We would like to know what happened.”

  Will was thinking hard. “Where did they come down? I mean, where were they surveying? Over the U.S.?”

  “I do not know what that signifies. They were programmed to study two of the most highly developed landmasses: one just north of our present location, the other nearly on the opposite side of the planet.”

  The native was bobbing its head, no doubt attempting to communicate something via the gesture. Fortunately he enhanced the unsuccessful attempt verbally.

  “If they couldn’t or didn’t identify themselves, then they were probably shot down.”

  “ ‘Shot down.’ ” Will looked on as the alien conferred with the bird-creature, the Wais, in his own language. “You mean they were destroyed.”

  “Yeah, sure. Both of them probably entered sensitive airspace. What else would you expect?”

  “They were doing no harm. They were simply observing.”

  “But there was no way for the people on the ground to know that. What else would you expect them to do?”

  “Observe back. At least try to first ascertain if the drones had any hostile intention.”

  “Just being there unannounced could be interpreted as hostile.”

  “Why?” Caldaq leaned forward earnestly. “Why would their presence be so interpreted? They were unarmed, could cause no damage.”

  “I told you: There was no way the people on the ground could know that.”

  Despite the Wais’s reassurance Caldaq still wondered if the translators were functioning properly. He was talking with the native, but not communicating.

  “That is precisely why there was no reason to assume the drone presence was hostile, and—” He stopped. Clearly there was nothing to be gained from this line of questioning. It was something for the xenopsychs and the linguists to hammer out.

  “Your best guess, as an inhabitant of this world, is that the drones were destroyed by artificial means?”

  “Yes. Both of them probably went where they shouldn’t.” Will’s gaze shifted from the alien leader, Caldaq, to the Wais. “What is it you want here? To study us?”

  Caldaq shifted his legs slightly. The native had asked the question. He had only to explain.

  “I have told you that the galaxy is home to many intelligences. I am of the Massood. The Wais you know, and the Lepar you encountered in the water. Aboard our vessel there are also the Turlog, the Hivistahm, the O’o’yan, and the Chirinaldo. There are many others who together comprise the Weave.”

  “Then there are those who are not of the Weave. Those who are independent, and those who align themselves with the Amplitur.” He waited.

  The native stared at him, finally asked. “From the way you’ve been talking I take it there’s something unpleasant about these Amplitur?”

  Caldaq was pleased. Curiosity, technology, intelligence. All seemed present in this native. They would not leave here without making allies of these people.

  “To understand the Weave you must know about the Amplitur. And to understand the Amplitur you must know about the War.”

  Caldaq studied the native carefully
, watching for expressions and gestures. It did not move, did nothing to reveal what it might be thinking.

  At least it wasn’t smiling, the captain thought.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  With the aid of the Wais, Caldaq proceeded to explain the history of the conflict between the Weave and the Amplitur, the war that had absorbed the attention of a hundred intelligences for more than a thousand years. He spoke of the all-consuming Purpose which drove and motivated the Amplitur, of the struggle to remain independent of their manipulations and demands despite their unique ability to project their thoughts and desires into the minds of other sentients.

  He told of how they imposed their will on other species, if necessary through mental control, later by means of skilled genetic engineering. He explained that both sides in the conflict were searching constantly for additional peoples: the Amplitur to incorporate them into their Purpose, the Weave seeking help to combat the Amplitur’s encroachment.

  “It is rare to find a new species capable of contributing significantly to the resistance,” he said. “Rarer still to encounter one able to participate in the actual fighting.”

  “Why is that?” Will asked ingenuously.

  “The will to fight, to be able to take the life of another intelligent being however necessary it may be, to shed bodily fluids and cause physical harm is abhorrent to the majority of sentient races. It is regarded as anathema to the very idea of intelligence. I realize that you probably find the concept equally alien, but we search always in hope.”

  “The Weave is very strong, very powerful in many ways, but there are never enough to do the actual fighting. It is the same with the Amplitur, but they have been able to alter the genetic code of certain subject peoples to make them more aggressive.”

  It is not enough just to have better weapons. Computers and electronic predictors can accomplish much, but they cannot win a war. Individuals must do that.

  “My people, the Massood, are in the forefront of most combat. It has always been so. We are not fond of what we do, but we are very good at it. More so than any other Weave race. We have accepted this role because there are none who can replace us. The Wais, for example,” and he indicated the translator standing silently nearby, “are incapable of combat, as are the O’o’yan and the Yula and the Bir’rimor. The Hivistahm and the S’van can fight a little. The Turlog might but choose not to, and there are not enough of them to make a difference anyway.”

  “Besides the Massood only the Chirinaldo are considered true fighters, and because of their physical stature they are not truly effective in the close-quarter combat that is so important.”

  “Wait a minute.” Will sat up straight. “I wouldn’t think that in a conflict spanning millennia and whole areas of space there’d be much in the way of hand-to-hand fighting.”

  “War is an extreme form of debate.” Caldaq hoped that his translator was conveying these concepts correctly. “If you kill someone they cannot join with you.”

  “In this regard the Amplitur are even more restrained than the Weave. If they were to stand off a world and render its surface sterile, they would have defeated an enemy but sacrificed potential converts to their Purpose. They avoid wholesale loss of life whenever they can, though they have made at least two exceptions that I know of. Both times they perceived a greater threat than gain.”

  “As to your comment, combat in space is an extraordinarily difficult proposition. Ships move in and out of Underspace at unpredictable intervals. You cannot linger long in real space because both sides possess weapons capable of quickly obliterating the largest vessels. It is simpler, safer, and more effective to fight on the surface.”

  “It is a question of persuasion.” The Wais clacked its beak. “The Amplitur seek to integrate all intelligences into their Purpose, while we strive to convince their allies to rebel and join us in fighting against their former masters.”

  “The problem is that in many instances these subject peoples do not see the Amplitur accurately. Some regard them as teachers without really understanding what it is they are being taught. Some of their oldest allies, like the Crigolit and the Molitar, have been so thoroughly biologically reengineered they are no longer capable of independent thought as we think of it.”

  Will sat motionless for a long while before replying. “And that’s what you want here? You want us to join your Weave?”

  “That is what we hope for whenever we contact a new species,” Caldaq told him. “Your level of contribution would depend on your capabilities. These remain to be determined. For example, what we know of your technology thus far we find puzzling. Certain aspects seem unnaturally primitive while other obscure areas appear to have been highly developed. For example, you have many more orbital relay satellites than you must need, yet we detect no evidence of travel beyond your own world.”

  “We’ve been to the moon,” Will said almost defensively. “Robot probes have visited all the planets.”

  “We detected no evidence of this.”

  “It’s been pretty intermittent. There’ll be a flurry of interest in the space program, ours or the Russians’, and then interest will flag for a while.”

  “You do not advance steadily? There is no constant progression? ”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Caldaq eyed his translator, confused. “What do you mean when you speak of ‘you,’ and then ‘the Russians’?”

  “Well, we have our own space program here in the States. The Russians have theirs. So do the Europeans and the Japanese.”

  “I still do not understand.” Caldaq’s lips drew back in confusion. “Who are these ‘Russians’ and ‘Europeans’?”

  Will wondered what the problem was. “Different peoples.”

  The Wais interjected gently in lucid Massood. “I believe that the native may be referring to local tribes.”

  “Ah.” Caldaq’s heart sank. If despite their level of perceived technology these people were still living a tribal existence, they would be of absolutely no use to the Weave. “You speak of your tribes?”

  “We call them countries.”

  “Your various tribes… countries… each have their own programs of exploration and development and do not cooperate with one another?” Will sighed. “As a general rule, no.”

  More confusion. Caldaq looked yet again at the Wais. She responded with words and gestures.

  “This is a new species, given their unique multiplicity of languages nothing in the way of communication can be guaranteed. However, I have observed nothing to suggest we are failing to make ourselves understood.”

  Caldaq hissed softly. Another subject to be put aside for the specialists to ponder, another matter he would have to leave unresolved.

  “We seek you as allies. If you have indeed sent remote probes to the far reaches of your system, that would indicate you have capabilities we have as yet been unable to validate.”

  “Just because you didn’t see them,” Will said, “doesn’t mean we didn’t do it.”

  “Perhaps there may be other aspects of your technology we have yet to encounter,” Caldaq added hopefully. “The means by which the two drones were destroyed, for example. That would constitute an astonishing achievement for sentients not in conflict with the Amplitur or a neighboring species.”

  The conversation was interrupted by the emergence of the two soldiers from below. Will could only sit and wonder what they were talking about as they chattered animatedly in their own language.

  Before long he was moved to ask, “What did they find?”

  “More of the very sophisticated alongside the bafflingly primitive,” Caldaq informed him. “In that regard your craft appears typical of what we have observed elsewhere.”

  “Everything suggests that your species is at a critical stage of technological transition: one where great achievements have been made in isolated fields while in others the mundane is the accepted norm. For example, the devices you utilize to produce music
seem reasonably advanced, whereas those employed to generate light are extremely primitive metal filaments surrounded by glass.”

  “I take it you use something more advanced than incandescent bulbs.”

  “There are infinitely simpler and cleaner means of producing illumination.”

  “I’m sure. There are also infinitely simpler and cleaner means of living. It’s been fascinating to meet you, to know that there are other intelligent races out there, that we’re not alone. But if you’re still fighting wars then you’re not so very advanced after all, and I can tell you right now we don’t want anything to do with it.”

  “Like me, most of my friends abhor war. We’re more like the Wais over there than you. War’s an idea whose time has passed. Your allies are right: it’s not compatible with real intelligence. I don’t think we’re going to be able to help you. Certainly not against something like these Amplitur you describe. I don’t want anything messing with my head, and neither will anybody else with half a brain.”

  “I mean, look at me. You don’t see fangs and claws. We’re soft-bodied and not very big. Not real good soldier material, you bet. After five thousand years or so we’re just starting to get our global shit together. The last thing we need is to take off on some kind of interstellar crusade, we’ve got plenty of problems to solve right here.” He leaned forward intently.

  “Look, you say no one’s made contact with us before this because we’re way out on the fringes of everything. Can’t you just sort of forget, maybe, that you found us? Forget that you came here, and leave us alone? We don’t need to be dragged into some crazy galactic conflict, we’ve got literature to write and art and music to perfect and we sure as hell don’t know anything about how to fight an interstellar war. Can’t you just back off and leave us alone?”

  “There is no shame in being unable to fight,” Caldaq assured him. “As I have said, only we and the Chirinaldo are able to do so. But logistical support is vitally important. Without that the Massood could do little.”