The Damned Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  Both his mother’s warmth and his father’s radiant pride struck Ranji as so genuine that for a moment he nearly forgot everything that had happened to him in the previous months. Once more solid reality dissolved into an unsettling speculative mist. Once again his identity fled the realm of verifiable knowledge for distant, uncertain biological shores.

  He found he could not look long in his parents’ direction. Not while the great question remained unresolved. Were they innocents or collaborators, empathetic dupes or cold-blooded agents of the Amplitur? How much of what they did and said was of their own volition and how much at the prompting of Amplitur “suggestion”? Was their “love” for him and his siblings anything other than the consequence of careful calculation? Would he ever know?

  Modern technology could pinpoint the location and dimensions of black holes and quasars, antimatter accretions and Underspace … but where was love? How did he find it? By intuition, research, simple triangulation, what?

  Cynsa’s hugs and laughter provoked no such introspective agonies. At the heart-wrenchingly familiar family compound he played with her incessantly, luxuriating in her innocence and ignorance. She didn’t care who or what she was, only that her beloved elder brother was home for a while.

  But she was growing, developing the same acute reflexes and lanky form as her brothers. Ranji knew that her innocence could not be preserved indefinitely, any more than had his own.

  He’d been home more than a month when the authorities asked him to speak at the commencement exercises for the next group of graduating fighters. It was impossible for him to refuse.

  Now he looked out across a sea of young Ashregan faces. Twice as many as in his original group bore the telltale marks of Amplitur genetic manipulation. He wanted to cry out to them, to hold each and every one close while explicating the appalling details of alien duplicity. Their upturned gazes were focused on him, eager and expectant. The Amplitur had stolen their birthright and crippled their capacity for independent thought. To stand there on the podium and look down at them was almost more than he could bear.

  As his silence persisted murmurs arose from the other speakers and dignitaries seated behind him. His trauma, those in the know explained knowledgeably. It will pass.

  He forced his lips to move and sensed sounds emerging from his throat, but it was as if another person was speaking. He, Ranji-aar, was completely detached. The cool, robotic presentation garnered more approval from the captive audience than it deserved. Any who found it disappointing were too polite to voice their opinions.

  Only recently he had been as young as those now raptly and unquestioningly listening to him. He could pity, but not condemn. The great lie of their condition was not of their choice.

  He had returned to seek truth and dispel lies. Now he saw that this was neither the time nor place to try and depose something half so elusive. They would surely lock him up or worse, seek the advice of an Amplitur “specialist.” In the confusion that would invariably result, he would be quietly disappeared.

  Though the knowledge he carried threatened to choke him, somehow he made it to the end of his speech, reciting the prepared text as mechanically as any artificial diaphragm. The prophylactic distance between himself and his audience vanished when he was asked to answer a few questions.

  Had he been blind he still could have told the pure Ashregan in the audience from the modified Humans by the nature and emphasis of their queries. His perception had been altered by experience and revelation. Never again would he mistake an Ashregan for a Human or vice versa. He had become irrevocably attuned to the differences.

  He was careful to reply as an Ashregan, muting the Humanity he had acquired on Omaphil. The audience hall would be a bad place in which to arouse suspicions. It was not without some relief that he allowed himself to slip back into the familiar mannerisms of his childhood, to be nothing more than a young warrior, even a young hero, surrounded by friends and relations.

  Afterward it was impossible to forget the many faces that came up to congratulate or greet him personally, impossible not to see beyond shining eyes and obscenely swollen cheek ridges to the bastardized DNA beyond. Buried within those coils, at least, was the real truth.

  Raised as Ashregan, they would be sent to slay Humans. Returned to Humanity, they would exert twice the effort to kill the Ashregan who had betrayed them before they were born. That, too, was truth, one he didn’t much care for. Even at his young age he had learned that it was not in the nature of truth to be likable.

  Only the fact that confusion nearly outweighed his anger enabled him to keep his emotions in check. While he was certain he could no longer be what he had been, neither did he yet know if he was truly capable of being what he was. Whether out in public or at home with his family he was careful of what he said and how he acted lest it occur to someone that he might be acting “Human.”

  As it mounted, the fury he felt only served to further confirm his Humanity.

  New graduates not only replaced his battlegroup’s few losses but nearly doubled it in strength. He and his fellow Unifers received this statistic and more during a meeting with senior Ashregan officials. In vain he searched the assembled for the revered figure of his teacher Kouuad. That was an individual he would very much like to have questioned. How much did he know? How ignorant had the venerable, fatherly Kouuad been of his students’ biological history?

  Perhaps, Ranji thought, he was not present precisely because he was privy to such knowledge.

  Soratii-eev nudged him. They were being addressed by an officer of considerable reputation and rank.

  “You have rested long enough. The Purpose needs again what only you can give.

  “Your sorties on Eirrosad and Koba have been but preliminaries for what is to come, tests in which you and your troops have succeeded admirably. Having accomplished all that was hoped for you, it is time for you to lead a historic assault against the enemies of reason.” Ranji and his friends shuffled expectantly in their seats.

  “What’s our target this time?” asked Cossinza-iiv from the corner.

  The speaker yielded the podium to another officer. “Eirrosad and Koba are disputed worlds. It is in such places that the forces of the Purpose and those of the Weave have contested for supremacy for the past hundred years.” He paused for emphasis. “Thanks to your recent accomplishments the decision has been made at the highest levels to carry the attack directly to the enemy in a manner not attempted for some time.”

  Producing a wand, he used it to generate the image of an alien star system, complete to moons and asteroid belt. An occasional comet sped through the three-dimensional construction to vanish in odd corners of the room. The attentive listeners ignored such cosmic distractions.

  Sharpening focus, the speaker drew their attention to the fourth world out from the slightly pale sun. It exhibited the familiar single large landmass haloed by clouds and ocean.

  “This is Ulaluable.” Since his translator was not programmed to react to proper names the officer had to pronounce it slowly for his audience. “Not a large world nor one particularly rich in natural resources, though it has its share. It occupies an important position beyond what the Weave would refer to as its frontline, if such archaisms had any meaning in space.” As he manipulated the wand controls illuminated portions of the projection punctuated his speech.

  “It possesses fewer than the usual complement of islands, a benign climate, many highlands, and modest mountain ranges. There are highly productive farmlands. Since it was first settled Ulaluable has been a significant contributor to the enemy resistance. Naturally it is well defended.” Pinpoints of light sprang to life on the planetary surface.

  Birachii squinted at the projection. “Mighty extensive troop distribution for a contested world. Where are our forces concentrated? In the opposite hemisphere?”

  The officer caused the globe projection to rotate a hundred and eighty degrees. The scattering of indicator lights on the other side of t
he landmass was not significantly different from what they had already observed.

  “Ulaluable is not a contested world.” Only after the resultant buzz of startled conversation began to fade did he add, “It is in fact a highly developed, thoroughly civilized world, long ago settled and largely colonized by Wais, though there is also a substantial minority Hivistahm population.”

  “Which means there’s no way we can carry out a landing there.” Cossinza gestured at the rotating globe. “The defenses of a settled world would cut us to bits as soon as we touched down.”

  The officer turned to her. “Though Ulaluable is highly developed, its largely agricultural nature and intermittent mountainous topography offer unpopulated expanses where a determined landing force might successfully establish itself before the planetary defenses could muster a reaction. Certainly the population does not expect an attack.”

  “With good reason,” Soratii noted. “Who makes up the defending garrison?”

  “It is largely Massood, with the usual Hivistahm technical support teams. There are some Humans present but according to the best available intelligence their numbers are small.” The speaker regarded his audience earnestly.

  “Much time has been devoted to the gathering of requisite intelligence. There are many reasons besides its topography why Ulaluable lends itself to unexpected attack. Most of its major power facilities lie exposed in the foothills and mountains. Several important communications centers have been constructed nearby. If these could be overrun before the defenders could bring reinforcements to bear, it would give an invading force not only a tactical advantage but considerable leverage in any subsequent negotiations.

  “One reason why something like this has not previously been attempted is because the usual Ashregan-Crigolit-led strike force could not advance from objective to objective quickly enough to make it viable. The enemy’s confidence springs from identical knowledge. Your special teams have demonstrated the ability to attack with speed. With your people in the vanguard our tacticians believe a successful invasion of Ulaluable can be carried out. The local Wais population is of course incapable of offering any resistance.” He hesitated.

  “I do not think I need speak of the effect such a defeat would have on Weave morale.”

  The initial speaker regarded them solemnly. “If more of your kind were available we would consider attacking an even more important enemy world. Ulaluable was chosen specifically because of its perceived vulnerabilities. We value you all greatly and have no intention of sacrificing you on behalf of a gesture.

  “Because of the unique nature of this expedition participation is not compulsory. No opprobrium will attach to any who choose demurral.” Silence greeted his words. Wishing badly to say a great deal, Ranji could only keep still. The elder officer gestured approvingly. “I believed and hoped that would be your response.”

  His slightly junior colleague surveyed his expectant audience. “You will have the best backup available. Experienced Ashregan, Crigolit, and Mazvec troops drawn from other theaters of conflict will fully support your strikes. We are depending on you to provide speed and decisiveness, not overwhelming firepower.

  “If it appears that despite all our careful planning the gambit is doomed to failure, you will be brought out immediately, irrespective of risk to evacuating personnel.”

  “Even if it means losing a ship,” added the senior officer. “The High Command holds your troops in that much regard.”

  “We don’t think you will fail.” Certainly, Ranji thought, both speakers sounded confident. “If we did, this venture would not have reached the planning stage, much less advanced this far beyond it.”

  Like his companions, the proposal left Ranji somewhat dazed. It was so unexpected because it was utterly unlike the strategy of patient attrition the Amplitur had favored for a thousand years. They were adapting to new circumstances with a speed that left him breathless. How the Weave would react to such tactics remained to be seen.

  He and his kind, he knew, were to constitute the centerpiece of such innovations.

  The senior officer broke the ensuing silence. “Not incidentally, you are all being promoted. Every one of you, every member of your respective groups. Such honor is not unprecedented, but it is unusual. The High Command takes pride in you and your accomplishments.” He sought out a particular individual.

  “You, Ranji-aar, are hereby raised to Field Unifer.”

  Cossinza gasped softly. Soratii sat motionless. If he was upset at being jumped in rank he did not show it. Ranji didn’t think it would bother him. Since the days of the trials they had become good friends, respectful of each other’s abilities and opinions.

  To be given command was the last thing he wanted, yet to refuse the honor was unthinkable. Doing so would expose him to relentless scrutiny. From now on it would be impossible for him to hang back and hide on the battlefield. Not only would he be unable to avoid the killing, he would be forced to direct it.

  At least, he told himself, as commanding officer he would better be able to insure Saguio’s safety. Aware that everyone was expecting some sort of response from him he said, “When are we to depart?”

  “Preparations require another five days,” the officer told him. “That should give everyone ample time to prepare, and to spend more time with mates and offspring. Rest, delight, and immerse yourselves in the Purpose.”

  The meeting was at an end.

  “You will take care of yourself.”

  His father stood alongside him in the back of the family compound as together they contemplated the sunset. Ranji wanted to scream questions and accusations. Instead he stood silently, trying to sort the emotions that gnawed at his insides.

  “And you will look after your brother.”

  Ranji heard himself replying. “Yes, Father.”

  Grainfields stretched from the rear of the residential square to a bilious orange horizon. This time of year they lay fallow, their unrelenting flatness interrupted only by the stark silhouette of an isolated, twisted kekuna tree.

  As the dorsal arc of Cossuut’s sun sank out of sight, the two turned to walk back to the house. “You know, Ranji, you’ve been acting rather strange since you’ve been home.”

  “Have I?” Clods of recently turned earth gave him something to focus on. Some he kicked to bits, others he spared. As he would soon be expected to do with friends in battle.

  “Your mother and I don’t understand. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  His father’s concern proved nothing one way or the other, Ranji knew. Once again he was made aware of the damning ignorance that jailed his spirit. Mind-dupe or calculating agent? A glance at the old man proved unenlightening as ever.

  “I’m sorry if I strike you as unnaturally introspective, Father. You should know that combat tends to dull the senses.”

  “No; there’s something else.”

  Halting, Ranji forced a narrow Ashregan smile. “I’ll take care of myself, and Saguio as well. Rest assured on that.” There at least was a promise he could make with assurance.

  It wouldn’t do to leave his father questioning. The old man might seek answers from local officials or, worse, from the Amplitur stationed on Cossuut. Embarrassing queries might find their way back to him, even on distant Ulaluable. He knew that only continued caution would preserve his secret.

  Leave-taking gave him no difficulty until it came time to say good-bye to his sister. That guileless innocent cried as she hugged him close. He could feel the growing strength in her, strength the Amplitur intended to put to dreadful misuse, and somewhat to his surprise he found that he was crying, too. The outpouring of emotion must have eased his father’s concerns, because the old man made his farewells quickly, propounding no more unanswerable questions.

  Sensing that it was for the last time, Ranji looked back as the transport vehicle carried him and Saguio away from the house, away from the grainfields in which he’d played as a youth, away from the residential complex an
d the only home he’d ever known.

  Because in that final moment he had to make a decision in order to keep his sanity, he’d decided that his parents were innocent, as captive of Amplitur machination as he and his brother. He reached that conclusion on the basis of more than twenty years of love and affection, understanding and nurturance. His mother and father had to be ignorant of the biological truth because every Ashregan lived in fear of the terrible, dreaded Human beings. Surely no amount of Amplitur suggestion could have so thoroughly overcome that deep-seated terror for such an extended period of time. Yes, surely they were dupes, tools of the Amplitur, as innocent in their own way as his baby sister. They had to be because he wanted it to be so.

  How would they look at him if the truth were to be revealed?

  The transport accelerated, plunging into the onrushing night.

  The speech of the three Wais administrators was so rapid, convoluted, and inflected that it was almost impossible for the translators the non-Wais wore to render it comprehensible. Despite their agitated discursion, the trio of ornithorps retained their composure. To have exhibited exasperation in the presence of other species would have been, well, unrefined.

  “What reason can you have to call us here, away from our daily work?” The Wais who spoke sported a fringed neckpiece of breathtaking elegance which served not only as a testament to her importance but was ravishingly beautiful in its own right. The feathers which protruded from her flowing attire were of exquisite color and expertly groomed, as were those of her two male companions.

  The instant his translator finished, the S’van replied. “Evidence has recently come to light which suggests that the enemy is planning something extraordinary.”

  “Of what concern, pray tell, might Amplitur military intrigues be to us?” Concerned that in her haste to reach the meeting on time it might have slipped a finger-length too low, the administrator gently fluffed her neckpiece.

  The S’van withheld the comments which automatically came to mind when one found oneself dealing with the Wais. “We have word that they are planning to mount an attack on one of the primary Weave worlds.”