"We feel wellness at your decision." The Amplitur replied simultaneously, gratified by the unanimous acceptance of the foregone conclusion.
16
Hidden deep within difficult, highly vegetated terrain, the forces which had withdrawn in hasty but orderly fashion from the interior of the mountain fortress were barely able to monitor the Weave attack when it finally arrived. Those limited Ashregan, Crigolit, and allied troops who had been left behind to mount a semblance of a defense fought long and hard before they were overwhelmed by the ferocity of the assault, bravely sacrificing themselves in the cause of the Purpose. The Amplitur could not have hoped for better results.
Holding alertly at their assigned position, Ranji's group was aware of what was taking place only through infrequent and cautious internal communications. They were too far away to hear the rumbling explosions which issued with pernicious regularity from the interior of the tabletop mountain as its conquerors obliterated stores, equipment, and defenders with equal glee.
Soon squads of attackers were regrouping atop the jungle-clad butte. Espying fleeing enemy, small teams shot off in pursuit, intent upon running down and destroying every potential survivor before they could reach the distant safety of their planetary headquarters.
Ranji considered the Ashregan, Crigolit, and others who had accepted death in the service of a feint. It frightened him to know that there was a time when he might have done so with equal enthusiasm.
Now all he saw was the extinction of brave individuals whose deaths in no way enriched the universe. There was something inherently obscene in the notion of dying for a strategic advantage. For example, from what he had seen Humans who would readily sacrifice themselves in defense of their world or even a friend were much less likely to do so to preserve an abstraction.
Like the Purpose, he told himself.
He was finding it increasingly difficult to believe in much of anything.
The Amplitur, of course, did not readily sacrifice them selves for the cause. Though it was ostensibly because of their limited numbers, Ranji more and more had come to think of this as a convenient rationalization. The notion stuck in his conviction and would not be moved.
For reasons unknown, swept up in events he could not control in that uneasy time and place, he found himself thinking frequently of the Lepar.
Then the word was passed that it was time to strike, and' his only thoughts were for survival.
Seemingly from behind every tree and rocky pinnacle the squads of Ashregan and Crigolit slammed into the conquerors of the mountain, most of whom were for the first time in several days just starting to relax. Their timing could not have been better had prognostication been other than a prehistoric fancy.
Innumerable firefights erupted in the terrain between the mountain and south-flowing rivers, consuming frantic members of varying species with inchoate impartiality. Humans and Massood frantically rushed to gather wits and weapons with which to defend them selves.
So furiously did they strike back that in places the counterattack was stopped cold, the attackers annihilated despite the advantage of surprise. Elsewhere it was Humans and Massood who were devastated, unable to mount an adequate defense or flee to safety.
Ranji fought to defend himself and, surreptitiously, his brother. It troubled him that he, likely Human himself, was compelled by circumstance to kill other Humans. Letting the natural killing reflex take over allowed him to ignore his initial inhibitions. This surprised him when it should not have. After all, Humans had been exterminating each other without compunction for thousands of years.
Saguio, Soratii-eev, Birachii, and the others charged into combat armored with the blissful balm of ignorance, unaware they had been called upon to slaughter their own kind, a task they executed with unalloyed vigor.
As for Ranji, under the pretext of essaying strategy he strove to avoid as much actual combat as possible. Cognizant of his recent experiences, those operating under his command considered his reticence prudent. He did manage to fire his weapon frequently, with an inaccuracy those who happened to be momentarily caught in his sights found laudable. Innocent succulents and trees suffered the consequences of his anguish.
Spread out over a huge section of swampy terrain, the conflagration would have struck an onlooker as natural rather than artificial in origin, as if some immense blaze had suddenly erupted in the heart of the tabletop mountain and spread to the surrounding forest. Indistinguishable as to source, plumes of smoke rose from burning vegetation, from burning machines, from burning bodies.
Amid heat and smoke and dense vegetation it was difficult for Ranji to tell Crigolit from Ashregan, Ashregan from Massood, Humans from his friends. Only differing armor and equipment types offered ready means for identification. One had to think fast and shoot faster if one expected to survive. He sought solace in delay and tried not to think.
By keeping his personal floater as close as possible to the ground he managed to avoid the bulk of aerial combat. It was while working his way slowly through a grove of massive, heavily buttressed trees that he came upon the two corpses.
They were Human, one of each gender. Great blackened gaps showed in their light field armor where energy weapons had struck home. Their own rifles lay nearby, punctuation marks bestriding lost lives. The right side of the man's skull was missing. Though cauterization was extensive Ranji could still see part of the brain, drying in the air like a wrinkled gray melon. The man lay crumpled on his side, his companion on her back. Her skin was pale, and he was very glad she did not much remind him of the woman he had known on Omaphil.
This close to the mountain the soil was more than firm enough to support his floater. He landed in hopes of learning what he could.
Close inspection of the corpses told him little he did not already know. He bent over the man. If he peered hard enough into the gaping cranial cavity, would he be able to see a small bundle of nerves, the nodule that Hivistahm and Human surgeons had assured him was alien to every unaltered Human mind? Since he sensed he would not his examination was cursory at best.
Rising, he resumed his seat on the floater and sent it forward, angling slowly through the grove. Every channel of his communicator was alive with orders and exchanges. Around him the jungle boomed and hissed like a gigantic reptile caught in the throes of violent death. He did not look back.
There was nothing he could do. If he tried to surrender to the opposition under battlefield conditions he would likely be shot on sight. The bulky, securely attached cephaloprostheses which had restored his Ashregan appearance could not be removed without the aid of a fully equipped surgery.
Thoughts of surrender passed quickly. That was not why he had returned to his friends.
He cruised slowly through environs becoming unnatural. Repeated clarion calls over his communicator heralded successive triumphs for the Purpose. Dull instinct dragged him along while his field equipment kept him alive, armor-shell protecting epidermal shell concealing . . . what?
Hammered at multiple points along their line of advance, the fatigued attackers were gradually cut into smaller and smaller groups. Expectations of glory gave way to concern for survival. Without orders, without direction, they began to retreat, fleeing back toward the meandering river they had so exultantly crossed the day before. Supplies from Granville and Shatenka's joint command did not even have the chance to arrive before the retreat began, and could not in any event have prevented the disaster.
The faithful of the Purpose took many prisoners that day. When it became clear that the assault had been turned, the Amplitur sent a powerful combined battlegroup in pursuit of the survivors. Many of Ranji's friends participated.
They swept beyond the rivers and overran the forward Weave firebase from which the attack had been mounted, taking control of its minimally manned weapons systems and natural defenses and bringing a great swath of previously Weave-controlled territory under Amplitur control. The opportunities for rescue of those surviving Humans and Massood who ha
d been scattered throughout the endless jungle were reduced from modest to nil. Indeed, Granville was forced to request reinforcements simply to hold his own position.
Carson, Moreno, and Selinsing did not even have the consolation of knowing that their deaths had contributed to a gallant failure. It was an ignominious rout. Caught between impenetrable canopy and a fast-moving Crigolit floater, Selinsing's slider disintegrated under a hail of enemy fife. Carson was shot down over the main river, while Moreno died trying to escape the captured fortress, which was rapidly turned into a sandstone tomb by counterattacking Ashregan and their backups.
Many who were not killed fighting went down in the jungle on disabled vehicles, like so many exhausted birds unable to complete an especially difficult migration. Some were rescued by daring outfliers who ignored Granville's orders to stand clear. Others were caught and slain or captured by the pursuing enemy.
Colonel Nehemiah Chin might have escaped to face court-martial. Instead he chose to use the concentrated firepower of his command sled to cover the retreat of less heavily armed regular troops. Those who escaped might live again to fight another day, whereas his military career was already finished.
The great gamble had not paid off. Having acquired a debt he knew he could not pay, he saw no reason to return.
It was most ironic because everything he and his co-conspirators had hoped for had come to pass. They simply had not credited the enemy with the wherewithal to mount an effective response, an oversight which he spent much of the time remaining to him regretting.
Death brought peace to Colonel Chin, but not contentment.
For the Weave forces on Eirrosad the debacle was total. Plans for pressing the enemy on other fronts were abandoned as reinforcements were hurriedly rushed to defend what remained of Granville's shrunken sector. Overall strategy suffered a severe and embarrassing retrenchment. Chin's Catastrophe, as it came to be known, forced Weave tacticians to abandon an optimistic status quo in favor of a policy of anxious defense. Meanwhile, the dead commander's dour superiors reaped a harvest of recriminations.
It was as serious a battlefield defeat as Weave forces had suffered in some time. The effects were felt beyond Eirrosad, reverberating throughout the chain of command all the way up to the Grand Military Council itself.
As for the Amplitur, they did not throw up their tentacles in triumph and husk hosannas to the Purpose. It was not in their nature to celebrate death, even that of those who would destroy them. Revelry was left to the Crigolit and Ashregan, the Molitar and Mazvec. The Amplitur would celebrate only when the Purpose was fulfilled, be it a hundred years in the future, a thousand, an eon.
That did not mean they did not find gratification in the accomplishment.
For their brilliant tactical maneuver High-manyfold-Leaving and Place-bereft-Inward received quiet praise and new assignments. Of rest there would be none. There would be plenty of time for the Amplitur to rest once the Purpose had been fulfilled. Until that far distant day there was still too much for them to do and too few of them to do it.
The news from Eirrosad had depressed everyone at Weave Command on Omaphil. Conversation and spirits alike were muted. Even the normally jocose S'van were subdued.
Two Humans, a pair of Massood, and three S'van clustered in a high-ceilinged chamber afire with images of suns and ships. Rising and descending on invisible supports, they studied and analyzed the three-dimensional representation of their particular quadrant of the galaxy, not so much reading the map as voyaging through it.
One of the S'van waved the small wandlike device he carried. Representations of starships swirled and reposi-tioned themselves according to his directions. In the enclosed chamber his translator boomed.
"We've already overextended ourselves in our attempt to take Eirrosad. It weakens our inner spatial defenses and exposes us along this entire line. I say it's time to consider pulling back. A strategic retrenchment does not a retreat make."
"We cannot," argued a Massood floating high above him. "If we give up Eirrosad, it will make it extremely hard to advance into the next important enemy sector . . . here." Her wand stirred galactic soup.
"That's true. Our next big thrust will be made much easier . . .if we can hold Eirrosad," another of the S'van said pointedly.
"Would you concede the Amplitur the same sort of, advantage we seek for ourselves?" she riposted. "There are no other habitable worlds in its immediate vicinity."
"It's premature to speak of concessions." One of the Human officers descended to the same level as the S'van. "Our situation on Eirrosad's been damaged but not devastated. We may not be in a position to mount any attacks for a while, but I think we can hold on to what we have."
"I don't doubt that." The S'van put both hands behind his back, thrusting his thick beard forward. "My concern is that by continuing to support forces on Eirrosad we weaken ourselves elsewhere. It's well known that Humans dislike looking over their shoulders, lest they see something that displeases them. In warfare ignorance is not bliss; it's lethal stupidity."
"Look," said the other Human sharply, "I'll grant that you guys are brilliant tacticians, but you're as cautious as any of the species who don't carry guns. If it wasn't for us and the Massood, you wouldn't advance anywhere. You'd just sit around on your hairy butts waiting for the Amplitur to hit you at their leisure."
As Human and S'van glared at each other from perspectives that differed as much as their respective heights, one of the Massood hastened to change the subject.
"On a related matter, it seems clear that the decision to return the altered Human-Ashregan to his friends was a mistake."
"We can't be certain of that yet." The Human who replied sounded slightly defensive.
The more belligerent of the two S'van grinned. "Ignorance in this case is embarrassing."
The senior S'van had yet to say anything. It was a marvel to him that individual members of the contentious species of the Weave could cooperate long enough to have a discussion, much less fight an interstellar war. If the Amplitur could but see how truly fragile was the structure of the Weave, how fractious and argumentative its members, they would surely press their millennia-old assault even harder.
"That incident is history," the S'van commented. "Not every experiment produces the results one hopes for. Time spent on recriminations is divisive and wasteful."
"We don't know what the subject's present condition is.
Just because he hasn't contacted us yet doesn't mean he's never going to." It was the Human's turn to be defensive.
"It's perfectly understandable that you stretch reason out of compassion for one of your own. Had S'van been the subjects of genetic manipulation by the Amplitur we would be equally concerned."
As was typical of his kind, the Human refused to be swayed by mere logic. "We don't know for certain that his Ashregan conditioning has reasserted itself. We don't know for a fact that the work our people did with him here on Omaphil was unsuccessful." He hesitated. "Majority opinion holds that he's probably dead, because he was returned to the region where our recent losses occurred. Prior to our reversal of fortunes there, enemy casualties are known to have been heavy. It's reasonable to assume he was among them. Until then he may very well have been trying to decondition his colleagues, which was his avowed intention in returning."
"Probably we will never know," said the other Massood.
"Truly I would like to."
Everyone looked up as a new figure drifted in to join them. Access to the map chamber while conferencing was in progress was supposedly forbidden, but First-of-Surgery had been granted clearances usually denied even to senior officers.
The darkling enclosure was alien to him, so very different from his normal brightly lit surroundings. Furthermore, it was occupied by intimidating Humans and Massood. He instinctively stood close to the S'van.
"I know you." The younger Human officer frowned slightly in remembrance. "You oversaw the whole experiment."
"A
s you truly remember, you may also recall that I most strenuously argued against the unfortunate subject Ranji-aar to his friends returning, but was by the military overruled." He met and held the Human's stare, something none but a Turlog could manage for long.
"At the time we felt we had no choice," said the other Human.
First-of-Surgery eyed him frostily. "Of course you a choice had. You could to myself and other specialists have listened. But your actions were, from what I have seen and studied, of military thinking typical. You around you gather experts and analysts. Not to their opinions listen to, but to an intellectual blanket create to from criticism shield yourselves. Behind this barrier you carry on as before, deluded that you of the help you have acquired made use. Now you have for this shortsightedness on Eirrosad paid the price."
"Now just a minute," said the other Human. "Are you suggesting that the return of this individual to his former friends and associates had something to do with our recent defeat on that world?"
"I suggest nothing. I infer nothing. It is only that when the unexpected itself repeats, is piqued my interest in relational hypotheses."
"It has been determined that the Eirrosad disaster was the fault of a single renegade Human colonel who deliberately excluded from his decision-making process all tactical advice except that which arose from a select inner circle." The other Human spoke with assurance.
"An all too common fault." The Human turned sharply on the S'van who'd made the comment, but could discern nothing in the way of expression behind an all-obscuring black beard.
"It distresses me to bad news bring atop bad news." First-of-Surgery clicked his teeth softly. "Facts have an awkward way of lives of their own assuming."
"Go ahead," the nearest Human grumbled. "We've heard little else these past few days. A little more won't make any difference." The surgeon's translator rendered the primate's guttural barkings into barbaric but comprehensible Hivistahm. This maceration of his elegant language did not irritate him. As a physician he had a better understanding than most of Human cultural failings.
The False Mirror Page 20
