A Call to Arms

by Alan Dean Foster

  “We’re out of danger now. Just crossed over the southwest massif. Soon we’ll be at Base Central. They’ve got a bed with your name on it reserved at the hospital.”

  Caldaq saw that his friend was surrounded by smaller figures, heard him speaking in a strange language. The man looked back at him, switched his translator to Massood.

  “Kantarians. Even though we secured their village some of them wanted to come with us. They want to help. I’ve been told that’s something of a breakthrough. You know, Caldaq, if it wasn’t for you we’d still be fighting among ourselves back on Earth instead of helping out people like these.”

  Caldaq found he was able to turn his head, saw the way the sum, diminutive natives hung close to the taller, bulkier shape of the Human. They were approximately the same size as Hivistahm or Lepar.

  It was strange to see them crowding around Will Dulac, him smiling down at them even though they might not understand the expression, listening to them converse in elfin tones before the Human shooed them out. Their attitude had been almost worshipful.

  But that was wrong, all wrong. Sentients needed to respect one another as equals.

  “Nice folk, the Kantarians.” Will shut the door and walked back to Caldaq’s pallet. The battle sled lurched slightly and the Commander’s eyes widened. Will hastened to reassure him.

  “Just weather. You know what the weather’s like hereabouts.”

  “Horrible,” Caldaq muttered. “Rain all the time, dampness everywhere.”

  “Our people don’t mind it. S’van researchers say it has to do with the variety of weather we get on our own world. Apparently it’s considerably less stable than anywhere else. From what I’ve heard I think we’d find the weather on the other Weave worlds pretty boring. I guess we can make ourselves at home just about anywhere.”

  “How could any civilized being think of this awful place as a home?”

  “The Kantarians do.”

  “They are not civilized.”

  “Neither are we, remember? Maybe that’s why we’re getting along so well with them.”

  Caldaq thought about that when he awoke in his comfortable bed in the main hospital at Base Central, his pain much subdued. The Hivistahm tech who happened to be checking on him clicked its teeth in delight when the Commander opened his eyes.

  “How long?” Caldaq asked immediately.

  “Ten days almost, Commander.” The tech was checking readouts on nearby monitors.

  On command the bed raised him to a sitting position. He saw that he was in a private cubicle as befitted his rank.

  “Is there a Human officer, Will Dulac, on base? I realize you would not know, but if you could initiate inquiries it would be appreciated.”

  “Truly there is for that no need, Commander.” He handed Caldaq a pill which the Massood obediently swallowed. “Everyone knows of the Human Dulac.”

  “They do?”

  “Naturally, since regional commander he is.”

  “ ‘Regional commander.’ ” To Caldaq the notion seemed as alien as an Amplitur probe.

  “Truly. Many battles have the Humans won since they arrived here in force. They are in the process of pushing the Crigolit main body back over the continental divide. It is rumored that Human infiltration squads are already swift strikes conducting on supply lines and depots in the foothills of the eastern slopes.”

  “Do you know of my own group? Southern sector forces Two and Three?”

  “Those who survived the battle in which you wounded were are alongside the Humans fighting. They to go back volunteered, I understand.” The Hivistahm whistled. “Truly strange are the ways of those who capable of combat are. Is it true your people fight better in the company of Humans?”

  “Not that I have noticed.”

  The technician hardly heard him. “Time it is to wait expectantly. Some say that the Humans will push the Crigolit, Mazvec, and Amplitur off Kantaria by year end.”

  “Not possible,” Caldaq mumbled. “The enemy is too firmly established on this world, too well entrenched. Their lines of supply are secure and…”

  Extraordinarily, the technician interrupted him. It was unheard of for a Hivistahm to interrupt a Massood.

  “None of that to these Humans matters. It is understandable, as they not civilized are. I have the recordings seen. Visualize the most ferocious, hostile land-dwelling creature imaginable and then intelligence give it. Truly there you have a Human. Although,” the tech added after a moment’s hesitation, “some of their music nice is.” Double eyelids blinked in the smooth flat light of the hospital room. The tech’s cleansuit bristled with specialty insignia.

  “Tell me something.”

  “If I can, Commander.” The tech checked his chronometer and Caldaq noted the length of his claws, which were extreme for a Hivistahm. Perhaps they served some practical function.

  “What think you of Human beings?”

  “I personally?”

  “Truly,” Caldaq said in Hivistahm.

  The technician was forced to pause. Hivistahm much preferred to render opinions in a group. But after a moment’s thought he said, “I have for them little use myself. Of true culture or the higher civilized disciplines they know little, despite their protestations to the contrary. I admire their tenacity and their fighting abilities even as I personally abhorrent find them. But I am for their presence glad as it means I am to fight myself not required.” He shuddered visibly. “Humans fight and die for the Hivistahm and the Hivistahm worlds.”

  “They fight for their own purposes,” Caldaq corrected him.

  “Their passion for odd sorts of remuneration well known is.” The technician clicked its claws together. “It only their uncivilized status confirms. It does not trouble me that they fight for such reasons. It matters only that in fighting they the rest of us shield and defend.”

  “No, I meant how do you feel about them on a personal level.”

  “I have few Humans myself met,” said the tech thoughtfully. “Those I have encountered are invariably grateful for any good treatment they receive, as though it were some sort of exceptional bonus instead of an inalienable right. They have of civilized behavior but a poor grasp and thus regard what is natural as unusual.”

  “Personally? I have to know them personally no desire. Were you to place me in a room with one I think that I should quickly start kicking the door in an effort to flee. But in this environment”—and he indicated the surrounding medical complex—“I am with my own kind most of the time. I have the support of the group or of S’van or O’o’yan. Even Yula and Massood. I am among Humans not isolated.”

  “Then it doesn’t trouble you?”

  “What does not trouble me?” said the technician.

  “That the Humans are doing so much of the fighting and are having so much success at it. That fighting is the thing they do best.”

  Bulbous eyes peered querulously down at him. “Truly it pleases me, as it pleases all Hivistahm.”

  The door slid aside silently to admit an O’o’yan tech; a shorter, slimmer version of the Hivistahm. It differed from the one Caldaq had been conversing with primarily in coloring and skull structure as well as attitude.

  “Truly I must to other work now attend, Commander. You should rest. If you will do that, then I believe I can recommend that you from this facility in a day or two be discharged.”

  “My thanks,” Caldaq said in a passable Hivistahm. The technician’s Massood had been quite good, but then a medical tech on Kantaria would spend most of its time working on wounded soldiers and would be expected to know the language of the injured. Despite that, he had yet to see a Hivistahm speaking English. When working on injured Humans they invariably utilized their translators. Because they had yet to master a new allied tongue, or because they saw it as a way to maintain a certain distance between themselves and their new patients?

  This technician had already said he had admiration but no love for Humankind. The O’o’yan could be expe
cted to express similar sentiments. From all Caldaq had heard and seen only the Massood were able to share certain feelings and emotions with their Human colleagues. The S’van pretended well, but in this they could not fool an experienced observer like Caldaq. They had no more love for Humanity than did the Hivistahm.

  It gave him something to ponder as he lay on the pallet recovering his strength. He discussed his concerns, quietly and casually, with the many who came to attend to his needs. They included fellow Massood officers glad to learn of his survival as well as numerous Hivistahm, O’o’yan, and S’van technicians. He asked all of them the same questions, even the Lepar who cleaned his room.

  One who did not come again was Will Dulac. He was among those directing the relentless assault on the central Crigolit positions in the eastern mountains. Caldaq contented himself with those who took the time to visit with him.

  He was remonstrating with two unit commanders who had arrived to pay their respects to the hero of Takicohn Valley. To them had gone the pleasure of informing Caldaq of the honor that was to be bestowed on him. He protested as vigorously as he was able, insisting that he deserved no such recognition. He had lost the battle. To his way of thinking, a glorious retreat was unworthy of commendation.

  They joked about it, pointing out that he was too weak to refuse, and read the text of the award that would be entered in his family records for all to venerate. Thus frustrated, he availed himself of the opportunity to unburden himself of the fears that had been festering in his mind as he lay in the hospital.

  “We must stop using Human soldiers.” He tried to employ the command accent to the fullest, to convey to these two fellow officers the depth of his feeling.

  Clearly his words had an effect. His visitors exchanged a puzzled look before the one called Huswemak eyed him uncertainly.

  “Why?” he inquired. “They are the best fighters we have ever had. Already they have turned many battles in our favor. Here they have saved a campaign we were losing. I myself have seen them throw themselves on heavily fortified positions heedless of their own safety in order to rescue Massood troops.”

  “That is not why they fight in what appears to us to be a reckless manner. There is nothing of the altruistic about them.” Caldaq shifted on the bed.

  “It took me a long while to realize this. I knew a Hivistahm third-of-study who tried to explain it to me but like you, I could not see. I was blinded by the prospect of Human aid.”

  “Could not see what?” inquired the other officer, struggling not to sound patronizing. Clearly the Honored Commander was still suffering the aftereffects of his life-threatening injuries.

  “That Humankind is potentially as dangerous to us as to the Amplitur.”

  “You must be very tired, Caldaq,” said Huswemak soothingly. He started to rise.

  “I am quite clearheaded,” Caldaq replied tersely.

  Thus admonished, the officer had no choice but to sit down again. “The Humans hit our enemies as hard as they can. If one is given access to their thoughts they make it clear that they despise the Amplitur and what they stand for. I fail to see how that makes them a threat to us.” Huswemak wondered if the psytechs had cleared Caldaq for release. It was widely known that he had suffered severely from the loss of his mate a year earlier.

  “Humans are dangerous,” Caldaq was telling them.

  “Dangerous to the Amplitur and Crigolit.” Arenont’s lips rippled with amusement. “I myself have seen an injured Human take on a Molitar in the field and defeat it. You would not believe such a thing possible if you did not witness it for yourself.” She turned to her colleague. “Perhaps it would be advisable for us to call for a physician.”

  “I tell you there is nothing wrong with my mind!” Caldaq’s nose and whiskers quivered.

  “But you have been through a terrible time.” Huswemak rose. “The mind as well as the body can suffer from trauma.”

  Caldaq used the bed to straighten himself. “Listen to me! I was of the same mind as you. I once thought as you did.”

  “You are famed among the people for your uniquely non-Massood ability to pause and ponder.” Arenont gestured deferentially. “Is it not possible that you have recently had too much time to think? This is a problem which often afflicts the S’van.” The two officers stood by the door, which parted silently to allow them egress.

  “Out of respect we will pass along your comments.”

  “To the medical staff?” Caldaq shot back sardonically. Clearly his concerns had made no impression on them whatsoever.

  “To relevant parties,” replied Huswemak softly.

  When they had gone Caldaq lowered the pallet and lay staring at the pale blue ceiling. Useless to share his worries with others. They would not believe. They chose not to believe.

  He remembered something Arenont had said. Perhaps the S’van would be more open-minded. Having little presence on the battlefield they would be less likely to be overawed by Human achievements. Skeptical they might be, but they would listen. The S’van always listened. If he could at least set some among them to thinking…

  On the day he was to be discharged he received a visit from a Hivistahm physician. This in itself was expected, but the physician’s identity was not.

  It was she who had been the interfacer on his ship: the one who had been devastated by Will Dulac’s reaction to the artificial mind probe.

  Though he was far from expert at judging Hivistahm health it was clear that the past years had not been kind to her. Too many prosthetic scales dotted her neck and the graceful, elongated head. Her eyeshades were thick and dark, unfashionably unadorned.

  She was elegantly clad in the pale green uniform of a full physician. Insignia of rank gleamed on her shoulders. Before entering she sampled the air of the room, an instinctive Hivistahm reaction.

  “Honored Commander Caldaq: Do you know me?”

  “I do.” He stood by the edge of the pallet which had nurtured him back to health. “I did not know you were on Kantaria.”

  “I have not here long been. Truly one does not have to be to of your exploits hear.”

  “It seems I am to be exalted for a grand failure. I am not pleased.” His upper lip curled. “Have they sent one who knew me to decide whether I am sane enough to return to my work?”

  “Sarcasm better suits the S’van,” she commented. “I have heard of what you have been saying. I know quite sane you are.”

  “If anyone should, it ought to be you. And Third-of-Study, if you remember him.”

  “Well I recall. He spoke, I was silent. I needed to heal.” She came close and stared up at him. “I know firsthand the truth of what you have been saying.”

  Caldaq looked down at her. “Because of what happened to you on the ship?”

  “Truly that, and other things. I have had time to study, to observe.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Then perhaps between the two of us we may yet convince others of the danger. I intend to take this matter as far as possible. To the Military Council, if need be. The support of a non-Massood, and a physician at that, will be very welcome. You will help me?”

  “I will do no such thing,” she replied.

  “But you agree with me.” Caldaq was stunned. “It was you who once insisted we kill the man Will Dulac and flee his system. Or have you forgotten?”

  “Truly I have not. But help you I will not. It would not matter anyway.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Of course you do not. You are a soldier, a fighter. But for the very reasons you enumerate it is too late now things to change. Perhaps at the beginning, when first we these people on their homeworld encountered, a case might have been made for granting them the isolation they requested. But now they have integrated themselves too fully into our forces, have made themselves to the war effort invaluable. Your fellow Massood have told you that. The other species, my own people, will with Humankind have nothing to do, but they revere them for what they have accomplished on behalf of
the Weave.”

  “Attitudes can be changed. Why won’t you help me?”

  “Because despite my personal fears and concerns, or yours, there is no avoiding the feel that the Humans a difference in the fighting have made. They have a status quo shattered which for hundreds of years existed. Truly they the new figure in the equation are.”

  “We fought well without the aid of Humans. It can be so again,” Caldaq insisted.

  “I have what you propose already tried. Quietly, in the manner of my kind. I have cultivated important contacts, have gained the interest of those who have the attention of Council members. I have shown them the records of my own personal experience, despite the feet that I relive that pain time and again. Truly a nuisance of myself I made.”

  “That was when I was of something not generally known informed, something perhaps unknown even to members of the General Council.”

  “Critical information would not be kept from the General Council,” Caldaq protested.

  The physician indicated humor. “You a fine soldier are, Caldaq of the Massood. Among your people you would qualify as a deep thinker. But you are not Hivistahm, not S’van. Innocence is a trait to be encouraged among fighters.”

  “The truth is that the war we were losing.”

  “No,” Caldaq objected. “Both sides won victories and sustained losses.”

  “Truly, but in subtle ways it had been clear to the Military Council for some time that the Amplitur winning were. Defeat could greatly prolonged be, but not prevented. Tout a minor victory here, play down a major defeat elsewhere. In this manner was kept from the general population this knowledge.”

  “Understand that this was as much a revelation to me as it must be to you now. Only when I chose the matter of intimate Human involvement in the resistance to pursue was it decided that I should to a carefully masked reality be exposed.”

  “It was made clear to me in nonmilitary terms that during the last hundred years the Weave had begun to lose the war. With their singleness of purpose and ability to mentally manipulate their allies the Amplitur an advantage had which the acrimonious members of the Weave could not hope to counter. That advantage had at last begun to tell.”