by Simon Hawke
"We did nothing because they had done nothing," Tali had said. "Now they have offended. Now they are dead."
Cause and effect. The tribal etiquette implacably and ruthlessly administered. Even with their telepathy, when they picked up the shapechanger's intent to kill us, that hadn't been enough. They had needed the initiation of the act itself before they could bring themselves to do anything about it. Cause and effect. Simple.
But maybe it wasn't that simple. Perhaps it was the result of their telepathy. At some earlier point in their development, they had to have confronted the philosophical problem of when a crime became a crime-when you thought about doing it, when you planned to do it, or when you actually started to execute it. Perhaps they never actually thought of it in quite that way or in those terms, but it was something that they must have had to deal with.
Higgins's theory about their "primary" and "secondary" brains was not necessarily literally true. Of course, there would be no way of telling that for sure unless a Nomad was scanned or autopsied, but if nothing else, the theory served as an excellent analogy for the way their minds functioned as compared to ours. If they didn't actually have two brains, perhaps they had a bifurcated one that functioned as if it were two separate organs. In principle, their brain function could be similar to right brain/left brain dominance in humans, where in humans the right brain was the concrete-logical and the left brain was the intuitive-creative, only it seemed that the Nomads had essentially divided brain function, as if there were two discrete channels that were complimentary, but that could also function independently.
"That which speaks and that which touches souls," as Tali had put it, trying to find words in my language to convey an idea they probably never even had to think about before because they took it for granted.
In a telepathic society, the need to preserve privacy and limit intimacy had to be intense. Even nature had conspired to impose limits on the Nomads. The males vastly outnumbered the females and they were rarely telepathic. They needed the females to link them in their soul-touching within the tal-ken. And beyond that, there were the customs and traditions of the Nomads, slightly different from tribe to tribe, but essentially the same in principle. Though there were certain things they probably couldn't avoid picking up, especially if someone was thinking very "loudly," Nomads didn't go around arbitrarily reading other people's minds, just as in human society you don't go around arbitrarily grabbing people and having sex with them. And if you do, the society has laws to deal with the likes of you.
The arrival of humans, and ambimorphs, presented the Nomads with some fairly serious problems. Humans, not being telepathic, were very sloppy with their thoughts. We thought the Nomads were savages. They thought we were unconscionably crude. We started to build permanent settlements as opposed to seasonal ones and we constructed factories that screwed up the ecology and it did not even occur to us to ask permission. Not that it would've made any difference if the Nomads had refused.
The ambimorphs, on the other hand, had followed their natural instinct to blend in with their environment, which might have been a great deal more acceptable if they hadn't done what their survival instincts made them do-telepathically invade the Nomads' minds and try to turn them inside out in an effort to find out everything about them, so that their shapechanging deception could be complete. To a Nomad, this was even more insufferable than the barbarity of humans. They had shut down. Or at least they had shut down that part of themselves which they considered most intimate, what Higgins called their secondary brains, in effect allowing the ambimorphs to go only so far and no further. And the ambimorphs apparently never realized that they had only skimmed the surface and never gotten to the part that really counts.
It all raised a number of fascinating questions. How did the Nomads manage to shut out the ambimorphs? And could they continue to shut out the ambimorphs if the ambimorphs discovered that they were only reading the surface level? And then there was the most fascinating question of them all-how were the Nomads able to infallibly identify ambimorphs for what they were-"the false ones"-without the shapechangers catching on?
Part of the answer had to do with circumstances. Ambimorphs did not often try to pass as Nomads. They had arrived on Purgatory by passing as humans. In the controlled environment of the Purgatory settlements, it would have been difficult for them to breed unnoticed, so they had found safer places to breed out in the wild high country. While they were developing, it was easier for them to take on the aspect of the various small creatures indigenous to the high country and the desert. In this manner, they survived until they matured and became large enough to take on human form and infiltrate the human settlements, which was their main priority. Until recently, there had been no reason for them to infiltrate the Nomad tribes. They were at war with us, not with the Nomads. However, it had apparently occurred to them that if they could exert a controlling influence upon the Nomads, they could conceivably turn them against the human settlements, and so some of them had started trying to infiltrate the tribes in Nomad form.
Only it wasn't working. Because the males so vastly outnumbered the females in the Nomad tribes, the ambimorphs naturally attempted to infiltrate the tribes by taking on the form of Nomad males, hoping to get lost in the numbers. But while they had no trouble getting in, they had trouble staying there for any length of time, because the moment they tried to do anything, they were taken out. So long as they remained within the tribe as young, unmated Nomad males, the Nomads accepted them and didn't bother them. But the moment they tried to do anything to exert any influence within the tribe, the shapechangers ran into a dead end.
They could not take on the form of Nomad females because every Nomad female was known by every other male and female within the tribe and the only way to supplant one of them would be to kill the original and take her place. Much easier said than done, especially when your quarry can read your mind without your knowing it. And males did not have any voice in a matriarchal tribal leadership. If the ambimorph imposters tried to press the issue, they were immediately challenged by other young Nomad males and killed. The manner in which it was done made it appear as if it were a perfectly normal part of tribal life-unmated, young males frequently challenged one another in an attempt to prove themselves in the eyes of females who might consider them as potential mates and these ritual combats were always to the death. A bit extreme, perhaps, but males were a surplus commodity and the weaker ones were expendable. It improved the tribal gene pool. These ritual combats between unmated males invariably resulted in the defeat of ambimorphs trying to pass as Nomads, because they were at a marked disadvantage. They could not take on any other form without revealing themselves for what they were and their telepathy did not avail them in trying to win these fights, because there was always at least one female watching the contest and she would telepathically anticipate the next move the ambimorph imposter would make and communicate it to the Nomad male it was fighting via the secondary brain. And the ambimorphs never realized what was going on.
The shapechangers had not yet managed to catch on that they were being systematically "weeded out" of the tribes in this manner. But it was only a matter of time before they'd figure it out and the Nomads knew that. For the time being, some of the ambimorphs were trying out the strategy of taking on the form of Nomad gods, taking their cues from the representational art and ritual dances of the tribes, but when it became clear that that wasn't working either, it would have to occur to the ambimorphs that something was going on that they didn't know about. They had never before encountered a species that could recognize them in any guise and they were confused. But eventually they'd figure it out. The Nomads knew they would not be. able to remain neutral any longer. They had to take sides.
Why us? Because we were the logical choice. They knew their odds of coming out ahead were far greater if they came in on our side than if they helped the ambimorphs.
"It makes perfect sense," said Breck. "For one thing,
the shapechangers never asked for their help, they tried to compel it. Bad mistake. They were even more invasive than we were. We only came in and took some of their land. The shapechangers tried to take their identities. But beyond that, if the Nomads were to fight with the ambimorphs against us, they'd be much more vulnerable because they couldn't shapechange and they'd have damn little defense against our weapons. On the other hand, we'd cut just about any deal with them if it would help us against the ambimorphs, including pulling out of Purgatory and probably providing them with some technological support and weapons systems. That way, they could not only use any weapons we gave them against the ambimorphs remaining here, they could also turn them against us if we ever tried to double-cross them. Trusting us is still a risk for them, but it's a calculated one. And it looks as if we need them a lot more than they need us. I'd say they've thought it out quite well and made the best possible decision. They learn quickly."
The sun was getting high as we walked up the mountain trail. I felt exposed and uncomfortable in my hand-me-down Nomad hides. Even though they had belonged to a very young male in Tyla's tal-ken, they were way too big for me. The proportions were all wrong. Nomad males were truly massive in the chest and shoulders. Their arms and legs were longer and thicker than ours. They were generally size extra extra large. A child's hides would have been too small and the only other alternative would have been to wear female clothing, which would have looked even sillier on me than the outsize hides. I looked like some sort of futuristic barbarian with my weapons strapped on over my hides. A futuristic barbarian who could have done without the cold drafts finding their way into my ensemble.
There were about two dozen Nomad males with us, along with four females, including Tali and Tyla. All were armed with their long spears and stone axes. Breck and I carried our plasma pistols and semiautos, with as many extra magazines loaded with frags and stunners and as many plasma charge paks as we could carry. I noticed that several of the males had curious-looking bundles of woven scrub branches tied to their backs and my curiosity finally got the better of me. I asked Higgins what they were and immediately wished I hadn't.
'Torches," he said.
"Torches? But it isn't even midday yet," I said. "How far is this place?"
"We're almost there," said Higgins.
'Then why the torches?"
"Because it's underground."
"What?"
"Underground. In a cavern."
There was a tight feeling in my chest and it suddenly seemed difficult to breathe. Underground. In a cavern. It all came back to me with a sickening feeling of deja vu, that cavern on Draconis 9 where I had hung over a bottomless chasm, clinging by my fingertips to a pile of loose rock while a murderous crystal hunter had blazed away at me. The cavern where Stone had died, buried under tons of rock and shimmering crystal.
I glanced at Breck, walking several yards ahead of me on the mountain trail. I wondered what it must be like to have never felt afraid in your entire life, to be literally incapable of feeling fear. Breck had told me once that Special Service commandos were fascinated by fear because it was an emotion they could never feel. A good way to get a hybreed commando to stand you to a drink or two was to tell him about some time in your life when you'd been paralyzed with fear or terrified half out of your mind. Breck was no exception. He read horror fiction voraciously, trying to analyze and understand what it was that frightened people. He enjoyed discussing people's nightmares with them and he was fond of tuning into reruns of Psychodrome adventures where the players had been scared to death, in some cases literally. I once asked him what he felt when he plugged in and vicariously experienced someone else's fear and he had told me that he had vicariously felt some of fear's physical symptoms-the strange tightness in the chest brought on by stress, the racing pulse, the quickened respiration, the clammy skin, the knot in the pit of the stomach-but he was never able to get out of it that essential psychological trauma that was the essential fear experience. He never knew what it was to panic. He had been designed not to and someone else's fear experience simply didn't translate. He had worked out an intellectual understanding of it, but he could go no further. He couldn't feel it. I envied him that. I told him so once and he said, "You shouldn't." When I asked him why, he said that the ability to feel fear also brought with it an ability to feel an incredible euphoria that came in the aftermath of surviving a terrifying experience.
"It's apparently much more than simply experiencing an adrenaline rush," he told me. "As I understand it, it's a sensation of incredible vitality. It's been described to me as a thrill that has no equal, an intoxicating joy at having confronted your own mortality, of laying it all on the line and surviving." He shrugged. "I wish to hell I knew what that was like. I've laid it all on the line more-times than I can count and I've felt no worse, no better. No one experience seems more memorable than any other and none has left me feeling thrilled. They were merely situations in which I might have died and didn't. People envy my being able to take these things in stride. They call it courage." He shook his head. "They're quite wrong, you know. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is the ability to confront one's fear and go on in spite of it. You can be courageous, O'Toole. I can only be fearless."
The distinction had seemed a subtle one to me at the time, but I understood it better than ever now. In spite of all his wry jibes and ironic taunts, Breck actually respected me because I was a coward.
"What was it Shakespeare wrote about a coward dying a thousand times and a hero dying only once?" he had said. And then he'd smiled. "Hell, dying once is not so hard. Dying a thousand times? Now that takes guts."
At the moment, my guts were tying themselves in knots. The Nomads carrying the bundled torches on their backs had unshouldered their burdens and were passing them around. I looked up at the rock wall rising above us. It was honeycombed with caves. Apparently, we'd reached our destination. In a manner of speaking, it was all downhill from here.
"How did they find out about this place?" I asked Higgins.
"Simple," he responded, tapping his forehead with his index finger. "They learned about it from the ambimorphs who had tried to infiltrate the tribe. And this also happens to be the site where some of the god manifestations had occurred. The ambimorphs wanted the tribes to think that this was sacred ground. They paid lip service to the myth while they actually read the shapechangers' minds and found out what was really going on here."
"I wish they could teach us that trick," Breck said. He looked at me and grinned. "Well, what do you say, O'Toole? You ready to bag yourself an ambimorph?"
Bag was the word, all right. A lot of thought had been given to how we were supposed to contain an ambimorph once we managed to catch one. The assumption was that we would use stunners to immobilize the target, then literally bag it in a self-sealing plasteel polymer container. The plasteel polymer was flexible and microporous, so it would stretch and still retain a very high tensile strength. Presumably, the creature would be able to breathe inside it. Presumably, the shapechanger would not be able to break it or somehow seep through the microscopic pores. We were assured that based on what we knew of ambimorphs, that wasn't very likely. But then, we didn't know much about ambimorphs, so what the hell did that mean? We didn't even know if stunners would be effective against them. Presumably-there was that word again-if the ambimorph was in human form, or the form of any creature against which stunners had previously proved effective, then they would work. They had not seemed to work all that well on "Jarrett." It seemed to me that Coles and his xenobiologist advisors were presuming a great deal, but then nobody asked me. They just sent me and Breck out with some hardware that was supposed to knock out an ambimorph and a hi-tech sandwich bag that was supposed to keep it from escaping and we were supposed to take care of the rest. They didn't bother with the pesky little details.
"I don't suppose anyone has any idea of how many am-bimorphs we're liable to run into in there?" I said.
"Oh
, I imagine that there'll be a few," said Breck, gazing thoughtfully at the cavern mouths. Huge, gaping mouths with stalactite teeth, waiting to swallow us up.
"How the hell are we going to keep from shooting at each other in there?" I said, feeling the cold dampness on my back as fear sweated through my pores.
"The females," Breck replied.
"What?" I said.
"Tyla and the others are going to link us all telepathically," Higgins explained.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
"Afraid?" said Higgins.
I stared at him. "Aren't you?"
"I'm scared spitless," he said. "But I wouldn't miss this for the world. No scientist has ever had a chance to observe a live ambimorph. No one has ever seen one in its natural state and I'm going to be the first to actually see them breeding! It's an incredible opportunity!"
I shook my head. "Yeah, to get killed," I said. "I'll never understand scientists."
"You don't want to go in there, do you?" Higgins said.
I snorted. "Whatever gives you that idea?"
"But you're going to do it anyway."
I sighed. "Higgins, I. can't begin to tell you how much I want not to go in there," I said. "But you're right, I'm going to do it anyway. And you're going to ask me why and I'm going to tell you I don't know and you're going to suggest that maybe I'm not all that different from a scientist such as yourself. Only it isn't the same thing. You're scared, but you're going to do it because your enthusiasm, your scientific curiosity, outweighs your fear. With me, believe me, nothing outweighs my fear. I'm so goddamned scared that I may start to cry at any moment, but much as I don't want to do this, I've got to. I have no choice."
"Why?" said Higgins.
"To be perfectly honest with you, I don't really know. Because it's my job, I guess. Because Breck is going to do it and I can't let him go in there alone."
"But he isn't going to be alone," said Higgins. "And Breck is a hybreed. He's incapable of feeling fear."