When at last he stood back from the consoles and his fellow soldiers she was sufficiently emboldened to step forward and ask, “How are we doing?”
An exhausted Nevan nearly replied as he would have to another Human, so exacting was her speech. As it was he bowdlerized his response only slightly.
“We’re beating the excreta out of them, kicking their chitonous butts all up and down the river. This sled’s right in the middle of it and that’s why we got hit so hard.” He squinted at a console. “The attack on their principal base of supply started slowly, but it’s picking up now. Before this is over we’ll push them out of this whole region.”
“Turn previous defeat into victory?” she opined undiplomatically.
He took no offense. “You bet your feathery crest. Look there.” He gestured toward the uppermost of a rectangle of small, oval screens.
The feed from the remote airborne eye was presently relaying a visual record of the assault on the target in question. As they watched, an enormous gout of flame erupted from somewhere on the ground and the eye briefly displayed blank sky as the drone dodged to avoid the aftershock. Other screens showed the telltale airstreaks of sliders and floaters engaging in low-level aerial combat.
Out there, she knew, dozens, perhaps hundreds of supposedly civilized, intelligent beings were in the process of being eviscerated, dismembered, killed. The muscular trembling resumed despite her most efficient and agile mental gymnastics. Everything had happened so fast. To make things worse, she was sure her medication was starting to wear off.
“You okay?” Nevan’s gaze and tone narrowed simultaneously.
“I will be fine. I told you not to worry about me.”
“That you did. Still, I don’t think you’ll miss anything critical if you decide to take a breather. Why don’t you spend a few minutes in the medical cubicle and give yourself a rest? You’ve earned it. A Massood would have earned it.”
She fought to keep a tremor from invading her reply. “Thank you for your concern, but if you don’t object, I would just as soon remain here. If I black out completely, I would appreciate it if you could move me to a corner where I am less likely to be trampled upon in the course of battle.”
He nodded approvingly. “You know, for a Wais you’re really something.”
“So another Human soldier told me not so very long ago. I am only doing my job. This is my life. You are my life. Or rather, your species is.”
A Massood tech seated nearby begged Nevan’s attention for a few moments. When he again had time for his charge, he told her, “Other Weave researchers have tried to make a career out of studying us, but to the best of my admittedly limited knowledge none of them have been able to do so under combat conditions. After a few cursory attempts they all give it up.”
“I suspect none of them were historians.”
“What does that give you that they didn’t have? A bigger picture?”
“Something of the sort is my goal,” she acknowledged. Such conversation helped to steady her nerves, except when he yelled. Not at her but at his colleagues. She still found the sound of the sharp, concussive human voice, its harsh syllables detonating against her finer sensibilities, disconcerting.
As the battle continued, Nevan forgot her afresh. Only later did he notice that she had disappeared. Perhaps she’d taken his suggestion and had chosen to get some rest. As tired as he was he worried that the Wais, with her far less resilient neuromuscular system, might be near collapse.
By nightfall the Crigolit and their allies were retreating all across the region, taking what equipment they could, fighting as they fled but fleeing nonetheless. Mopping up continued throughout the night, the methodical butchery of resisters and taking of prisoners proceeding according to time-honored precedents. During that time he saw her only once, ambling through a corridor intersection, her recorder operating as quietly as ever.
Conner confronted him the following afternoon.
They were standing on the badly marred surface of an enemy floater hangar near the southern edge of the captured enemy base. Below, Crigolit and a few Mazvec and Acarian prisoners were being assembled in a hastily erected temporary enclosure. They offered no resistance. Having been defeated, enemy prisoners were naturally passive, as were those representatives of the Weave who were taken by the other side. Only Humans regularly rebelled in captivity. It was one more puzzlement to the Amplitur.
There were no Amplitur among them. It was not certain any were on Chemadii, and if they were, they would remain traditionally distant from the scene of actual combat. To capture an Amplitur was a feat every soldier of the Weave aspired to. The fact that this had but rarely been done in the entire history of the war did not dissuade the dreamers from their individually vainglorious moments of hopeful anticipation.
As cleanup efforts continued, flames belched intermittently from ruined storage facilities and underground bunkers. The Crigolit base was extensive and had been heavily fortified and protected. Its loss would cripple enemy efforts far beyond the delta. Taking it more than made up for the destruction of the floating command module.
“What can I do for you, Sergeant?” Despite the fact that they were alone he was careful to maintain the appearance of a normal officer-noncom relationship. “Your squad come through okay?”
“One wounded, sir. The Massood took the brunt of this one. Many of them had friends or clan members on the delta module. That’s not what I need to talk to you about.”
Nevan kicked at a fragment of charred, twisted ceramic armor. “What then?”
“It’s that canary you’ve been squiring around.” Human soldiers had pet nicknames for all non-Human species, friend and foe alike. Even though they resembled emus far more than diminutive bright yellow songbirds, all Wais were “canaries,” just as the Massood were “rats” and the Amplitur “squids,” and so on into the depths of Human inventiveness. Such terms were rarely employed in the presence of the species so labeled, all of whom were nonetheless aware of this particular primate penchant. Most took no umbrage.
After all, they had their own distinctive, secret names for Humankind.
“What about her?” At present the Wais historian was back on board the sled, perusing her records and checking her equipment.
“She saw me.”
Nevan turned from his examination of the captured base. “What do you mean, she saw you?”
“During the fight for the sled I ran into a squad of retreating Massood. Five or six, as I recall. They were pretty well shot up, but not so bad that they couldn’t hold a position or serve as backup. They’d had a communal lapse of guts and were looking for a place to sit out some fire while they collected themselves. As you know, sir, at that time the hull had been breached and we needed every hand we could muster.”
“You’re saying they were running away?” Nevan watched a sled loaded with supplies and reinforcements set down delicately on the partly repaired landing platform.
“I wouldn’t go that far, sir. More like they were retreating in disorder. They were all field rank, not a subofficer in the bunch. I could see they still had plenty of fight left in them. They just needed someone to give them some direction.”
Nevan nodded slowly. “Which you decided to provide.”
“I made a suggestion. First to all of them collectively, which was hard, and then when I had their attention, to each one individually. That was easier. It went smoothly.” He glanced around, feigning indifference. They were still alone.
“That’s good. They all responded well?” The wind changed and both men turned away from it. Acrid smoke stung Nevan’s eyes.
Conner nodded. “Conditions made it kind of hard to concentrate, but I think I did pretty well. After the first two turned back that half persuaded the others. No problem there. The trouble is,” he added quietly, “that she saw the whole thing. I know she did, because when it was finished and I started to head back to my own station, she was looking right at me.”
; “So, what did she see?” Nevan was nonchalant. “One Human noncom talking to a bunch of Massood. You said they had no subofficer among them. That means you ranked them. What more natural then for you to give them orders, especially under combat conditions?”
“You don’t understand, sir.” Conner licked his lips. “She had that damn recorder of hers going. The whole time.”
That made Nevan look up sharply. “She recorded you persuading the Massood?”
The sergeant nodded. “Not that anything conclusive will show up on the recording. But I just know, I feel, that she felt something, suspected something. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but when she has time in the peace and quiet of a study somewhere to go over that piece of information in detail, to look closely at the visuals and listen to the audio, it just might strike her, sir, that there was something out of the ordinary taking place.
“I could sense it. She didn’t understand why the Massood were returning to combat, why they were listening to me like that.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you read her mind?”
“You know we can’t do that, sir.” Conner looked into the distance. “Like I said, maybe it’s all in my mind. But you know that we’re taught from adolescence, from as soon as we’re made aware of our talent, to err on the side of caution in order to protect ourselves, to protect the Core. You can’t blame me for that.” He shrugged. “You’re probably right, though. I’d know a lot more one way or the other if I had any experience interpreting Wais posture or expressions.”
“Few people have, except a few specialists. Everything the Wais do is elaborate and subtle.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that it was a difficult moment and I was, well, I was being very sensitive to everything going on around me. In combat you get jumpy.”
“Don’t get down on yourself, Sergeant. You were right to tell me.”
“I just thought, sir, that since you’re in charge of her, maybe you could sneak around the subject. Ask some questions, watch for reactions. Try to find out if she does suspect anything from the experience. You’d be a lot better at that sort of thing than I would.”
“Don’t count on it. How do you ask questions about something that’s not supposed to exist without bringing it up? Asking questions, no matter how vague, could be more dangerous than simply ignoring the whole business.”
“That’s just it, sir.” Conner turned his gaze back on his superior. “Can we ignore it?”
Nevan was quiet for a while. “Go back to your duties, Sergeant. Leave this to me. I’ll take it from here.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” The sergeant didn’t hesitate. “And if you make a decision that requires the problem be resolved, I’m available to help.” He didn’t need to elaborate.
The two men parted, Nevan heading toward the command sled, the sergeant jogging off in the direction of an armed group which was combing the rubble in search of survivors or resistance.
IX
Nevan remained at the captured Crigolit installation for several days, helping to coordinate consolidation strategy before he received orders to return to Base Attila and a certain amount of acclaim.
On the return journey he encountered Lalelelang in the control cabin. She was recording the activities of the sled crew, which consisted of Massood and one lone Hivistahm. Armor ports of transparent Bullerene showed swampy islets and open tropical ocean speeding past beneath the field-repaired craft.
She was squatting in typical Wais resting posture; legs folded beneath her, against a rear wall, as unobtrusive and out of the way as possible. He started to take a seat nearby, then changed his mind and sat down on the floor next to her. A Human lieutenant walked in, conversed with one of the Massood operators, and was turning to leave when he spotted the colonel sprawled on the deck, his back propped comfortably against the wall. The junior officer started to say something, thought better of it, and exited without comment.
“Well, did you get what you came for?”
The large beaked skull pivoted easily on the long supple neck to regard him out of oversized, alien blue eyes. Tight curlicues of iridescent gold and purple glitter framed each eye. The Wais were ever conscious of their appearance, even under unnatural conditions.
Lashes fluttered. “All that and more, Colonel Straat-ien. More than I could have hoped for.”
“I think we can drop the military appellation. Just call me Nevan.”
“Very well. And you may address me by the familiar phonemic syllable.”
“I’ll try to remember that, whatever it is. Ready for the next battle?”
“I must decide.” She dipped her head to examine the compact recorder that Nevan had yet to see absent from her wingtips, it being easier for a Wais to move its eyes close to a subject to be studied than to raise it up for a better look. “I have gathered so much material over the past days that I am considering returning home to examine what I have acquired.”
The importunate concern that Sergeant Conner had planted in Nevan’s mind like a permanent itch flared a little more brightly. It was impossible, of course. There was no way she could have divined any truths from watching Conner work on the Massood. Under leisurely examination the confrontation, should she choose to fixate on it, might strike her as odd, but it was an unimaginable jump from that to presuming heretofore unsuspected mental abilities on the part of any Human being. The incident flaunted no raised flags, nothing overt to provoke suspicion.
Still, Conner insisted he’d sensed something. She’d stared at him. Did that mean anything except that the sergeant was overcautious? Nevan was not heir to the same degree of paranoia that affected many Core members.
Only to a lesser degree.
Did she suspect anything at all? If so, given the Wais penchant for discretion, would he be able to detect it no matter how clever and carefully thought-out his queries?
“You really are fascinated by how we interact with other representatives of the Weave. The Massood, for example.”
“Particularly the Massood, since they are the only other intelligent Weave species that has overcome their conventional state of civilized behavior sufficiently to wield arms.”
“Have you come to any conclusions?” He smiled encouragingly. “Propounded any hypotheses?”
She didn’t reply immediately. Had there been something in his voice? He reminded himself that she was an expert in Human language and expression. He was going to have to tread as lightly with his questions as if walking on eggshells.
“I haven’t even begun to collate my research, much less postulate conclusions.”
He was unwilling to let it go at that. “Surely there must be some things that you’ve found of more interest than others? Some observations or revelations that have particularly intrigued you?”
“There always are.” He tensed a little, hoping it didn’t show. “You sitting down next to me, for example.”
He was able to relax. “How do you mean?”
“It demonstrates a degree of politeness and courtesy not normally associated with your kind. Being aware of how your stature intimidates all but the Massood and the Chirinaldo, you voluntarily chose to reduce your inherent physical advantage by taking a seat on the floor. Or did you think I would not notice?”
“I didn’t really think about it. It’s just that you’re my responsibility and it’s my duty to make you feel as comfortable while you’re here as possible.”
“Really? What a shame. I would have preferred to have ascribed your action to higher motives. I shall adjust my commentary accordingly.”
He felt as if he’d just been offered an easy opportunity to double his money and had instead chosen to throw it away on a particularly dumb bet.
“Anything else?” he inquired, with less interest than before. “What have you decided about how we interact with the Massood?”
“The relationship is less abrasive than I would have expected.” He thought she was being slightly defensive, but then wit
h a Wais you couldn’t tell.
“That’s all?” A Mazvec tracking weapon exploded somewhere nearby, momentarily jolting the high-speed sled. A fleeting strike from some distant enemy position, launched at extreme range more out of hope than expectation of doing any real damage.
“There is the undeniable fact that the Massood seem to fight with greater determination when they go into battle in the company of corresponding Human forces.”
“That’s not news. Why do you think that is?”
“Although it is a phenomenon which has been studied extensively, no one has yet produced a completely satisfactory explanation, including the Massood themselves. It has something do with the Human ability to forget civilization entirely and revert to a purely primal carnivore mode.” There was no hint of accusation or disapproval in her voice, he noted. Her approach was purely academic. She was simply reciting cold facts.
Without being prompted she added, “There was one incident among many in the recent conflict which stands out in my memory.”
He went cold as she accurately described the encounter between Conner and the retreating Massood squad.
“At the time, those Massood soldiers seemed quite determined to avoid battle. Yet with very few words one of your soldiers succeeded in convincing them to return to combat.”
“You recorded the encounter, of course,”
“Naturally.” Lashes bobbed, and the long feathery neck flexed expressively. “There is little I wished to record that I did not. Without wanting to appear boastful, I am not ashamed to say that I am good at what I do.”
Straat-ien feigned indifference. “That sort of thing happens all the time. The Massood often need a little psychological boost to help them overcome their natural ‘civilized’ reticence. It’s one of the services we Humans provide.”
“I do not doubt it. It is just that I hadn’t had the opportunity to witness such an encounter previously. I found it but one memorable incident among many. It puts me sadly in mind of all that I have yet to learn.” She blinked at him. “You remark on it at length. Do you find it in some way unusual?”
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