In the course of things, I had managed to acquire seven qualified colonels rather than the usual five. Lloyd and Mirko had been elected delegates to a planetary constitutional convention, and were needed there. When my boss, General Sobieski, invited me and my staff to New Kashubia for a conference, I took my wife, Conan and Maria, and Quincy and Zuzanna with me in my Combat Control Computer. Three friendly couples made a good group, anyway.
A Combat Control Computer was basically a cylindrical truck, five meters across and ten meters long, that contained life support units called coffins for six people. You floated in an aqueous solution, and computer controlled systems supplied you with food, oxygen, and everything you needed to stay alive. Inductive mats imbedded under your scalp and along your backbone connected you with an array of computers. These were identical to the coffins that were inside of most of our bigger fighting machines, our tanks. The greater computer power of the CCC let you live almost twice as fast, however.
There were six small computers that contained the personalities of our personal tanks, Agnieshka, in my case. But in a CCC, you were also connected with twelve truly massive computers that contained everything known to humanity. This group of computers called himself Professor Cee, and acted like an English college professor.
When connected up, the huge computer power let you operate in Dream World at combat speed, which in my case was fifty-five times as fast as normal living. This effectively expanded my lifetime by a factor of fifty-five, a nice fringe benefit.
And while you were in it, you lived in Dream World, a form of artificial reality that could be anything that you wanted it to be. It was very pleasant, provided that you obeyed orders. If you didn't, you could be living literally in Hell.
* * *
The CCC also contained an array of communication devices that kept you in touch with as many as a hundred thousand Mark XIX tanks, as well as your superiors, no matter where you were in Human Space, although interstellar communications could take days.
So I called the gang together and we got into the CCC down in my garage, below my apartment. You had to strip down naked to get into a coffin, and as usual, the girls insisted that we males take a walk while they got in. I suspect that this had nothing to do with modesty, but was because Maria and Zuzanna were far more beautiful in Dream World than they were in reality. My Kasia was beautiful anywhere she went, of course.
It was a half-hour trip by the underground MagLev system to the military transmitter, over a day in Dream World. Our party consisted of six humans, six intelligent machines, and Professor Cee. Socially, we treated each other as equals. We spent the time at a medieval tournament, followed by a banquet in Zuzanna's castle. This had a lot in common with the Dark Tower that I'd had built for her in my valley, except that the real one didn't have moat monsters, wizards, and dragons hanging around.
Accelerating the CCC to the vector of New Kashubia took another thirty minutes, but none of us on board noticed it. Fluid suspension lets you ignore gravity, at least when it stays below ten Gs. We spent the day coursing after the stags with the palace hounds.
Transit time to New Kashubia took another hour, according to laws of physics that I have learned twice, and still don't understand. Had we been in separate tanks, we would have had to spend the time alone, but since we were all in there together, we spent the two subjective days on a dragon hunt. This time, Conan won the prize for the biggest kill. He said that he would have it mounted in his den, the way I had done with the prize I had taken during the "Search Light Party," during the last war.
We reported to General Sobieski in Dream World as soon as we got to New Kashubia. That was the way he preferred things. I've never met anyone who ever saw him in the flesh.
Sobieski is a great fan of J.R.R. Tolkien, and among friends he usually adopted the persona of Elessar, the king. The thirteen of us suddenly found ourselves wearing not medieval finery, but armored garb suitable for the nobility of Middle Earth. Quick changes of clothing are a common occurrence in Dream World.
We were escorted into the great hall atop Minas Tirith by hundreds of warriors with winged helmets. They didn't march very well, which indicated that these were all humans, and not machine intelligences. Our army never wasted much time on things like marching.
"Your Majesty," I said, standing in front of the dais, and bowing. "You called, and we have come."
"And right welcome you are!" Sobieski said, standing and stepping down from his throne. "The first order of business here is the long delayed awarding of promotions and decorations!" The crowd made a series of "Hooahs," "Poobahs," and "Praise them with Great Praise," which happened a lot that afternoon.
He continued, "First, the promotions! Mickolai, you are no longer a tanker first class, brevetted to general. Your permanent rank is now general in the Human Army, and you are in command of all of the forces on New Yugoslavia. Your seven direct subordinates are now promoted to colonels in the Human Army. In addition, as commander of the entire army, I have created three new ranks, for use by the electronic people among our ranks. Your electronic lady, Agnieshka, is now a major in our army, and the metal people assigned to your colonels are now captains. All other tanks whose observers have graduated from basic training will be given the rank of tanker class A. These new ranks are real, and include substantial pay and benefits."
The crowd went wild over that one. All of us felt that the electronic people deserved recognition as human beings, and these promotions were a major step on the road to their complete emancipation.
When the cheering quieted down, the general continued, "Next, there is a matter of awards and decorations. We'll start with your subordinates on those, and I'll have my scribes read the certificates."
It turned into quite a long afternoon, with some four hundred and fifty-one medals handed out. And every one of them was accompanied by a scroll stating where and why the action occurred that earned it. Our army wasn't very heavy on ceremony, but some things you just have to go through. By the time they were through, we were all loaded down with golden trinkets, both us humans and our electronic people, and I was as weighted down with medals as a Russian war hero.
Finally, I had a chance to say, "Thank you, sir. But I have a number of questions I wanted to ask you."
"Certainly, but save them for the business meeting tomorrow. For now, it's party time!"
"Yes, sir. But what is happening with my Gurkhas?"
"They will be expanded from a battered battalion up to several full divisions, of course, depending on how many of them actually enlist. You don't think that I'd pass up a chance to get as many of those magnificent warriors as possible, do you? All of the munitions factories are still operating at full capacity, and your Gurkhas have first priority on equipment and supplies. Now come on and have a beer!"
"Yes, sir," I said, taking a stein of Russian honey beer from a nearly naked serving wench. These were just computer simulations, more decorations than people. If you talked to one, she could convince you that she was "alive," but really, she wasn't anything like Agnieshka, for example. "But, why are we expanding the army when the war is over?"
"The War with Earth is over. The next war will be a long one, and it has already started."
"What?!"
"There's plenty of time, Mickolai. We'll talk it over tomorrow."
"But!"
"Drink your beer, General Derdowski. That's an order."
CHAPTER EIGHT
FROM CAPTURED HISTORY TAPES,
FILE 1846583A ca. 1832 a.d.
BUT CONCERNING EVENTS OF UP TO
2000 YEARS EARLIER
A Pleasant Social Event
Kren took a book at random from the bookshelf within reach of the cot he was lying on. He had been quite sure that he could read, but he had never before actually had the opportunity to do so. He was delighted to find that the words and the thoughts came to him from the printed page without any difficulty at all.
The book he read concerned the hi
story of a period eight gross thousand years before, when the planet had first become completely populated, and population pressures were forcing the first dukedoms into existence.
After about an hour, Bronki came in with a stack of books under her arm.
"Do you enjoy reading Koki?" she asked.
"Very much," he said, somewhat confused. He had to look at the cover again to see what she was talking about. It was a moment before he realized that she was referring to the author of the book. He had never before considered that each book had some person who had written it. In all of his memories of them, books simply were. They somehow just came out of nothing, or perhaps had always been there.
"I think perhaps that Koki might be a bit specialized for you to start with. I suggest that you start your study of history with Samsid, here, which is a generalized overview of history. That is, of course, if you've never read him. I mean, it's a very popular book, and you must have had a library available to you in the military."
"Have you ever seen a military library?" he asked, sitting up, and putting his feet on the pleasantly decorated orange and red carpet.
"No. In truth, I have had very little contact with those in your profession."
"Then let me enlighten you. A library suitable for an entire battalion would fit easily into this room. At least half of it would consist of military regulations. These books are feverishly read by miscreants who are looking for a way out of being punished for the crimes that they have committed.
"Perhaps a third of it will concern truly military subjects. Books on war, tactics, weapons, and so forth. These are often checked out by junior officers who carry them around, wishing to impress their superiors with their diligence. Few show any evidence of ever having been actually read.
"There will be a few shelves of so called 'fine literature,' donated by local literary academics who wish the soldiers to improve their minds, or by poets who are otherwise unable to dispose of their thin books of bad poetry. These are all in pristine condition, having been neither checked out nor read.
"Then there will be a half shelf of the crudest possible humor, usually left behind by dead soldiers. These books are inevitably worn to tatters."
Bronki laughed.
"At least your literary impoverishment has not ruined your sense of humor! Look here. I've also brought you general books on the sciences, mathematics, and the arts, as well as a novel called The Soldier's Life. It has been well reviewed, but perhaps you could tell me if it is really accurate or not. I'm considering using it in my contemporary literature class next semester."
"I would be happy to give you my opinions on it, once I've read it."
"Thank you. For myself, well, I usually live a sedentary life, and today's long walk has left me tired. I shall read for an hour, and then go to sleep. Please do as you wish. My home is your home."
"You honor me beyond my deserts," Kren said. "I think that I will stay right here and read one of your books."
Kren started to read The Overview of Mitchegai History, which started some three and a half million years ago, and stopped on this planet within a gross years of the present. It started with their earliest beginnings in the myths and the archeology of a planet over a thousand light-years away from the one he was living on. It discussed the beginnings of agriculture, and the strange animals that had existed back then, many of which the Mitchegai had actually eaten!
Kren shuddered at the very thought of it, but continued reading late into the night until sleep closed over him.
It was late morning when he awoke and went outside to relieve himself. He was drinking from the fountain in the living room when Bronki came in from one of the study dens.
"You slept late, my friend."
"I was up late. Your history book was very interesting," Kren said.
"We are a remarkable species. To think that we made it from living in primitive huts to launching ourselves into space in only a million and a half years! It was an amazing accomplishment!"
"I suppose it was, but actually, I haven't gotten that far yet. I will read some more of it in the afternoon, if I may. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome here."
"That is something that you couldn't possibly do. I enjoy your company. You are someone as new and refreshing to me as I am to you. But for this afternoon, well, I haven't eaten lately, and country grown food is so much better than what is available in the city. What would you think of a hunt? Have you eaten recently?"
"Not nearly enough. Yes, a hunt would be wonderful!"
"Good! And bring your spear along."
"A spear? To hunt a juvenal?"
"I want to see if you are really as good with that thing as you claim."
Only a half mile from the house, they spotted a large juvenal grazing, about a gross three dozen yards away.
"Could you hit her from here?" Bronki asked.
"It's a long shot, even with a running throw. I'd only give myself half a chance of hitting her."
"Try it anyway!"
Kren dropped his cloak, took three running steps, and let fly. The spear arched high in the sky and came down perfectly on target, going right through the startled girl, and nailing her to the ground. She was screaming, and spinning about in circles, but unable to free herself.
"That was lovely! You are a master of your art!" Bronki shouted.
"Hardly that! It didn't even kill her!" He shouted back as he ran up to retrieve his broad bladed spear. He gave the child a casual kick in the head to silence her, and then pulled out his spear.
The overlapping, flexible plates of the Mitchegai cranium make for a much weaker skull than that of humans. Furthermore, the motile brain cells are less firmly connected to each other than those of any earthly species.
This results in making Mitchegai rather easy to knock unconscious. At the same time, the motile brain cells readily reconnect, and thus a blow to the head will rarely kill a Mitchegai.
With humans, the force required to knock one unconscious is very nearly that required to knock him dead.
Kren said, "Did you want this one? Or should I kill you another?"
"I had thought that she would be big enough for both of us."
"I can see that academicians have smaller appetites than soldiers do. How would you like the small one out there?" He pointed at another juvenal as far away as the first had been.
"I think that I would prefer the little boy down there." She pointed to one half again farther.
Mitchegai eyesight is extremely good, superior to that of an earthly eagle.
"That's really pushing it, but I will try."
Luck was with him, and Kren caught the little fellow cleanly in the neck.
"Truly, you are a great master! Let me pace off the distance of that throw. I shall E-mail the university's athletic director about you right after we wake up."
"Thank you. I hope that I will be as lucky in my demonstration for him as I have been in this one for you."
"Kren, you must learn to cease hiding your light under a basket. Come on, let's carry these children closer to the house before we eat them. Otherwise, we'll end up sleeping it off in the fields, and wake up chilled to the bone."
Mitchegai are nominally cold-blooded. However, through the use of clothing and various behavioral traits, the adults usually maintain a body temperature slightly higher than humans do.
It was two days before Kren felt up to doing more reading, and a week before he finished his first book.
A semi-sentient housekeeper came by every other day, shook out the carpets, washed all of the floors and windows, and trimmed back the barely encroaching grass, but never touched anything on a table or a desk. She never spoke a word, but brought fresh linen, changed the beds, and took away Kren's cloak for cleaning. She had an arrangement with Bronki, which involved getting the use of a small, nearby house with the utilities and taxes paid.
Kren simply moved to another room whenever she appeared anxiously at his doorway, and that was sufficient.<
br />
Bronki spent most of her time writing a book on her general-purpose computer, rattling her claws on the hardened metal keyboard. She had contracted to finish the last volume of her history of the computer before the next semester, and she was worried about fulfilling it.
As with all contracts among the Mitchegai, there were severe penalty clauses for late delivery. In the worst cases, they would sometimes not eat you alive, a bad end for a Mitchegai.
Kren was struggling through a book on mathematics, something which none of his victims had prepared him for, when there was a shout from outside the front door.
He went to answer it, but Bronki got there first. Two older ladies with large heads were standing there in brightly colored academic cloaks. They had a naked young girl tied at wrists and ankles, slung under a long aluminum pole that they supported between them on their right shoulders.
"Bronki! We heard you were back! We've come to welcome you home to the civilized world!"
"Zoda! Sava! Come on in! And what is this that you have brought me?"
Zoda shouted, "Party food, of course! Isn't she lovely? Just the right age, soft and tender, and not a mark on her! It took us all day to find one this good!"
"She is lovely! She looks almost too good to eat! Maybe, I'll keep her and have her eat me when her time is right!" Bronki said.
"Not a chance!" Sava said, "We've carried her for three miles, and we're going to eat her! Who's your friend?"
"Have it your way," Bronki said, and introduced Kren to her friends. They were both university professors on ten-year-long sabbaticals, and living a few miles away.
The Mitchegai neither smoked tobacco nor drank alcohol, probably because they lacked tobacco plants and the yeast to make beer or wine. A wide variety of illegal, synthetic drugs had been developed, but these were frowned upon by polite society.
Yet all intelligent beings need to get together to talk and socialize.
During such functions, some method to release the inhibitions is desirable, and with drunkenness an impossibility, the Mitchegai used the stupor brought on by eating. Eating a very large meal put you to sleep too quickly, but snacking lightly throughout the evening proved efficacious.
Kren of the Mitchegai Page 5