The Damned Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  He wondered what Caldaq was really thinking. So he asked.

  “I am trained to captain a ship. That is what I would wish to be doing.”

  “And I’d much rather be spending my days composing. Circumstances have forced both of us out of our chosen professions.”

  Caldaq was quiet for a while. Then, “It is interesting to observe the change in the attitudes of primitive peoples when they are finally exposed to the immensity of the galaxy and the issues that rend civilizations. Perhaps it would be helpful for you to see what is happening firsthand.”

  Will was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  The Commander eyed him intently, his nose nearly motionless. “How would you like to go to Vasarih?”

  Leave Earth? Watch the homeworld fall behind, lost in the immensity of space? Hundreds of recruits had done it. Could he not do as well? It would mean leaving his music behind, too, if only temporarily. And what inspiration, what cosmic themes might he encounter on such a journey?

  “Your point is well taken.”

  “You can go out with the next group of recruits.” Caldaq looked pleased.

  XIX

  He closed up the catamaran as best he could; disconnecting the solar chargers and batteries, reefing the sails tight, making certain both anchors were secure and leaving a note for the persistently inquisitive: “Gone ashore for a few days. Back soon.” Hopefully that would convince any passersby that the boat had not been abandoned and that its owner was nearby and in good health. In any event, the cat would not be subject to the attention here it would have received up at Cancún or over in the BVIs.

  Vatoloi came to assure him that he would monitor the craft personally.

  The shuttle trip out was unexceptional, akin to riding a large plane in mildly turbulent weather. A sense of steady acceleration was accompanied by occasional slips and bumps. In contrast, the journey through what the S’van captain referred to as Underspace was actually boring. There was no sense of movement or motion, no feeling of speed.

  There were several hundred recruits on board, all babbling and chatting excitedly. They had already seen enough at the base to make the journey itself seem anticlimactic. Though they hailed from dozens of different countries they had no difficulty making themselves understood, since the translators each had been issued had much less trouble with Spanish and English than they did with high Hivistahm or S’van.

  Wais circulated smoothly among them, answering questions and reassuring the suddenly uncertain. Poor farmers from Guatemala, teachers and students, European tourists conversed eagerly, excitedly, discussing a future none could have conceived of months earlier.

  Training sessions and orientation meetings were conducted at regular intervals. Will attended a few, came away discouraged by the military emphasis even though he knew full well that was the sole reason for the presence of Humans on board the vessel.

  They paused first at a world called Motar. It was a measure of the respect his friends had for him that they had assigned to him a S’van aide, instead of the usual Hivistahm or O’o’yan. J’hai cheerfully explained the reason for the stop.

  “This is where your people are receiving their primary battlefield training. The Motarians are extremely intelligent but their rate of reproduction is quite low. It’s a wonder, actually, that they’ve been able to sustain their species at all. They’re mammalian but resemble the S’van more than your kind, except that they’re quite hairless and extremely corpulent.” He barked amusedly.

  “Though small in numbers they are supportive members of the Weave. They offer us their world, which boasts a great variety of terrain. It makes an excellent training ground. Nor are Humans the only peoples who receive instruction here.” He glanced out a port. “It won’t take long to offload your people.”

  Once again the huge vessel fell into Underspace. It took considerably less time to make the journey to Vasarih. For Will it hammered home how far Earth was from the body of galactic civilization.

  Approaching Vasarih, however, was a far more serious matter than entering orbit around Motar.

  “I’m told you have some familiarity with combat tactics?” J’hai murmured to him. Will indicated that he did. “Then you’ll understand our caution. We must plan according to what we know of Amplitur assault patterns. The captain must select a section of space not frequented by enemy vessels lest one lock on as we emerge and fire upon us. By the same token the Amplitur can’t gamble on challenging a superior force. It’s all very much a matter of supposition and chance. Guesswork must be precise. Jumping in and out of Underspace is more than a matter of pushing a button. It takes time for drives and engineering to accommodate the requisite mathematics.”

  “It’s been explained to me,” Will told him. “Though I’m still not clear on why ships don’t spend time in normal space destroying targets on the ground.”

  “All important bases on the surface are hardened. Nuclear devices destroy that which both sides seek to preserve, and surface-based weaponry can find and destroy a ship before the ship can locate the mobile base. Starships are too valuable to expend attacking ground targets. They’re needed to move troops and supplies between worlds. Even for an advanced civilization a ship such as this one is a complex and expensive undertaking, not to be risked lightly.

  “Remember also that the Amplitur seek to convert people, not exterminate them. A world won through the use of nuclear devices is usually not a world worth absorbing. Better to beat your enemy off with as few casualties as possible.”

  “Has the Weave ever done that?” Will asked him. “Pushed the Amplitur and their allies off a world they controlled?”

  “We’ve had our victories. Why, we inflicted a major defeat on them only two hundred years ago.”

  The confession failed to startle Will. He’d heard enough about the ancient conflict to grasp its vast dimensions.

  “Subsequently the Amplitur regrouped and reorganized. Neither side has made a real gain since then. Each of us periodically acquires new allies, develops new weapons systems, but the balance of power is not significantly altered.” J’hai glanced up at him. “We’re hoping that your kind might make an impact.”

  Sorry to disappoint you, Will thought as he settled himself into the shuttle seat. J’hai ensconced himself in the one opposite.

  “Which side are the native Vasarih on?”

  “Ours.” J’hai swiveled his seat to face the Human. “A few have gone over to the Amplitur side, though most want nothing to do with them. It’s not always a matter of free choice on their part. You know that the Amplitur are capable of influencing thoughts?”

  “I’ve been told.” A cold chill tickled Will’s spine. He wondered what it would be like to experience an Amplitur mind probe, to feel his own thoughts twisted like putty, bending to Amplitur suggestion. “Then there are Amplitur on Vasarih?”

  “Wherever there’s conflict with the Weave there are Amplitur observing, directing, controlling. Never in great numbers. But there are always a few around to offer ‘advice’ to their minions.”

  “As the Turlog advise the Weave?”

  “It’s nothing like that. The Turlog are allies. They provide suggestions and analysis. They wouldn’t have anything to do with mind control even if they were capable of it, which they’re not.”

  Control takes many forms, Will mused. Aloud he asked, “Who’s doing the fighting here for the Amplitur?”

  “Mostly Crigolit. There’s also a Molitar contingent. You may see one or two among the prisoners. Big, impressive fighters though not the most intelligent. Ideal for Amplitur purposes. Both species have been allied with the Amplitur for so long no one knows if they were manipulated into the alliance or if they joined voluntarily. Not that it matters. Once allied, a race cannot break free.

  “There may also be some Ashregan serving as point fighters.” He looked sideways at Will as the shuttle disengaged from the mother ship. “Have you ever seen an Ashregan?”

  “No. Why?”


  “Just wondering.” Warning sirens sounded. “We’re preparing to drop. We may go straight in, or there may be an enemy warship in the vicinity and we’ll have to duck back into Underspace. If you feel a surge in the engines, you’ll know.”

  It seemed to Will that they hung there forever, suspended in the big ship’s gravity field like shrimp in a gumbo.

  Then the darkness outside the ports gave way to dazzling light as the shuttle plunged like a stone toward the surface. Reflections from clouds, sea, and land created a pinwheel of color outside.

  Just above a moderate storm the shuttle slowed and leveled off. A straining Will could see little but cloud; dense, impenetrable cumulus formed fairy towers that framed their descent.

  As the shuttle continued to drop, land began to show through breaks in the cloud cover. Land and sea. Nothing to suggest that this world was a center of violent conflict between two great civilizations. J’hai was talking to him.

  “The level of Vasarih technology is several orders below that of your own people. Contacts between urban areas are still infrequent. Since the major cities are all situated on the coastline most of the fighting has been conducted in a region known locally as the southern plains. The Amplitur wish the destruction of population centers no more than do we.

  “The Weave discovered this world slightly before the Amplitur, therefore the majority of Vasarih are allied with us. They assist in the conflict to the best of their limited abilities, mostly with simple ground support such as food and the like.

  “We’ll be setting down close to the northwestern section of the contested area, in mountainous terrain. Local Vasarih fortunate enough not to have been caught in the cross fire have long since moved away. We have a major base there, dug into the foothills. That’s where you’ll have the chance to talk with your own kind.”

  “Fine,” Will replied in S’van, startled to realize that circumstances were making him into something of a linguist.

  J’hai glanced forward. “We monitor constantly during descent. You’d be surprised how much simpler it is to shoot down a vessel from the ground than from out in space. The vessel which brought us here has long since returned to the safety of Underspace.

  “War is much more of a mental than a physical contest. In that we can be a help to the Massood. It’s participation in actual combat that we and the Hivistahm and the rest cannot stomach.” Behind the dense black beard the S’van’s expression was unreadable.

  “I’m personally glad I don’t have to get any closer to the fighting than this.”

  “What are you?” Will realized he’d simply accepted J’hai’s presence without ever inquiring about his companion’s profession.

  “Military intelligence, if that’s not a contradiction in terms. I thought you knew.”

  “No. They just told me I’d have a guide.”

  They came in low over mountains so rugged that Will’s breath twice caught in his throat. The strip of land on which they touched down terminated in a sheer granite cliff which unexpectedly parted to admit the compact craft.

  Once inside the immense excavated cavern the warning lights dimmed, and Will was able to release himself from his seat. A dull thump echoed through the vessel.

  “Attack.” J’hai eyed the ceiling. “I expect we had a seeker on our tail. Must’ve blown up outside. Someone will be spending the afternoon cleaning up gravel.”

  A perspiring Will followed the S’van outside and into a bustling underground world. Aliens and vehicles were moving in all directions, intent upon unknown tasks. Their individualized attire was spotted and slashed with colorful insignia, some of which Will recognized, much of which he did not. Massood and Hivistahm, O’o’yan and Lepar were familiar to him, but there were also several physical types he had never encountered before. J’hai provided names and translator settings. Will fingered the unit that dangled from his neck.

  As they made their way through the complex he searched anxiously for a recognizable Human face, saw none.

  “Not many are assigned here,” J’hai explained. “Most are out in the field, where their unique talents can best be utilized.”

  “But there are plenty of Massood here.” Will pointed out a trio of the tall fighters.

  “Their presence is a function of numbers. The Massood populate a dozen worlds. Only a very few of your kind have been trained.”

  “I was told I’d see Humans here.”

  “So you will, and soon,” J’hai assured him. “I said they’re out in the field. That’s where we’re going.”

  “Into combat?”

  J’hai looked up at him. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To see how your people were reacting to actual fighting? If that’s what you wish then you’ll have to take the risk of being shot at. I have no sympathy for your reluctance. Only my specialized psychological training allows me to accompany you beyond this point. Consider my situation for a moment. I am neither Human nor Massood.

  “We won’t be going to the front lines. Training or no, I couldn’t handle that. If you want to change your mind we can depart on the next shuttle.” J’hai sounded hopeful.

  “No,” said Will, dashing the S’van’s hopes. “I hate war also, but I came here to see how the people who were recruited are doing. I’m not leaving until I’ve done that.”

  “Very well.” J’hai made a disconsolate joke in his own language which had Will grinning. You could always depend on the S’van to leaven a tense situation with humor. “Your people operate from a forward base which is not far from here. It’s located astride the route the Crigolit are using to advance westward toward an important Vasarih town. Humans were pressed into the fighting there to see how their presence might affect the outcome.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “I don’t know, having been away from here for some time myself. We’ll find out when we get there.” He was subdued. “Hopefully we’ll arrive during a quiet period.”

  Will found himself envying the S’van and Hivistahm and all the other peace-loving races of the Weave. All he had to do was convince them to see Humans in the same civilized light.

  They left the base via a smaller exit, traveling in an armored ground-repulsion vehicle that skimmed along several meters above the rocky ground. The mountains shrank behind them. Soon they were traveling down a winding gully through semi-desert terrain. A Chirinaldo weapons master bulked large in the weapons emplacement atop the machine, which in addition to its two passengers was ferrying medical supplies to the combat zone.

  “The gully offers cover against long-range Crigolit detectors,” J’hai explained. “This vehicle is too small to carry masking equipment. Aerial surveillance is limited to what both sides can keep in the air. Both sides put up orbiting observation satellites which are destroyed with great regularity.”

  The gully was beginning to narrow uncomfortably when they entered a smaller version of the main base. Weaponry was much in evidence and the proportion of Massood among the inhabitants considerably higher. But there was still no sign of fellow Humans.

  One made her presence known soon after they disembarked, pausing only long enough to exchange a few words with the massive Chirinaldo as it was recharging its heliox-breather. Two silver stripes crossed her uniform, running from the top of her left shoulder across her chest to disappear beneath her right arm. Her skin was dark brown, her eyes and hair jet black. Will had expected someone tough, not beautiful. On reflection he conceded that the two were not necessarily mutually exclusive.

  “I was told you were bringing an important visitor.” She stared at Will while addressing the S’van.

  “This is William Dulac.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “So you the legendary Dulac.” Legendary, Will thought bemusedly. I write music. I’m a composer, not a legend.

  She compounded his initial surprise by simultaneously shaking his hand and leaning forward to kiss him hard and strong full on the lips. Though he’d been anticipating a more formal greeting he professed
no objections.

  “I’m Captain Echevarria, Maria Echevarria.” Her English was as heavily accented as her enthusiasm and energy were contagious. “Muy good to meet you, Señor Dulac. Everyone in this place know your name.”

  He felt a sudden overpowering urge to climb back into the vehicle and demand to be returned to the main base, thence to the ship and to Earth. This was what he had come for, and now that he’d found it, it wasn’t at all what he’d expected or hoped for. His confidence level underwent a sudden drop, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to probe further.

  “You’re a captain?” he found himself mumbling, unable to take his eyes from her.

  “Sí. Isn’t that amazing?”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Mexico City. I originally went to the Coast to try and make some dinero, you know? My English pretty good, verdad?” Before he could reply she snapped something in S’van to his guide, who replied in kind and gratefully excused himself. Will looked after him as she slid an arm into his and dragged him away.

  “It good to be able to do this once in a while. Can’ do it in the ranks and still maintain order.”

  “So you’re a captain.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Not with her pressed tightly against him. She was warm, but not soft.

  “Sort of. We hav’ to make up our own ranks. They not much on rank here. Suppervis … supervisorial positions, they call ’em. So I’m a supervisor-captain. Done pretty good for myself.”

  The corridor was busy with Hivistahm and O’o’yan and Massood. He even saw a solitary Bir’rimor, but no Humans.

  “Where’s everybody else? And please don’t call me a legend.”

  “You keedding?” She slid her arm free and lengthened her stride. “You start all of this, you give those of us who are here this chance. If not for you, none of us would be here. We’d be back on Earth, doin’ whatever we’d been doin’ when the recruiters found us.” She startled him by spitting derisively into a corner.

  “You were in the Mexican army?” he ventured, utterly overwhelmed by her ebullience.