A Call to Arms

by Alan Dean Foster

  Sometimes he wondered how the Turlog might have evolved had it developed a more flexible body. As it was, they were highly dependent on sophisticated instrumentation to help them carry out the most menial personal tasks. Nor did he care for the Turlog’s quarters, feebly lit by faint reddish light.

  But it was quiet there. He could relax, isolated from the numbing details of command, and talk via translator with the one member of his crew who never gave him trouble.

  Sometimes he even received a reply.

  Discouragement and ennui finally gave way to excitement and expectation among the crew when the ship reached a small world circling a star of medium age, which was home not merely to intelligence but to a real civilization.

  Orbital observations revealed that while they had not yet acquired the ability to travel through Underspace, or indeed even between the worlds of their own system, the inhabitants had achieved a level of technology amenable to formal contact. There was ample evidence of the presence of aircraft and other sophisticated means of surface transportation. Furthermore, the natives responded to the eventual appearance of a shuttle above one of their principal urban centers with an appealing mix of curiosity and shyness.

  Contact was made with the leaders of the new species and formalities exchanged, whereupon S’van and Wais specialists landed to pursue further contact in person. Caldaq did not go, nor did Soliwik. Newly contacted peoples often became uneasy in the presence of the physically imposing Massood. They were much more at ease dealing with graceful Wais and short S’van. So T’var acted in his stead, daily apprising his captain of developments below.

  Caldaq’s concerns were exacerbated by the ever anxious Hivistahm. The contact party was virtually helpless without any Massood to protect them, though the S’van could fight if absolutely necessary. Their versatility was another of their admirable traits. If the natives were intent on deception, T’var could probably manage a successful retreat.

  His fears were groundless. The natives quickly demonstrated their maturity and friendship. Soon representatives were routinely shuttling back and form between the surface and the ship, where they marveled at the achievements of the Weave and listened somberly to the history of its confrontation with the Amplitur.

  Such information was not restricted to the local elite, but was disseminated by domestic means of communication to the populace at large. Caldaq’s people spent a good deal of time educating and explaining. They were rewarded when the natives decided unanimously to join with the Weave and support the fight against the Purpose. Their enthusiasm was exhilarating and gratifying. The long voyage had not been in vain. Caldaq grew emotional.

  The natives possessed good mechanical and learning skills. Upon the introduction of Weave technology and training they would be able to make a significant contribution to the war effort. Fighters they were not, but that would have been too much to hope for.

  There was a considerable outpouring of honest affection when it came time for the ship to finally depart. T’var left their new allies with the promise that Weave ships would soon be calling in large numbers. The natives looked forward to receiving such visitations as soon as possible. Their eagerness to help was touching. It was also only sensible, of course, since if they failed to join the Weave they would eventually find themselves dominated by the Amplitur.

  Acquisition of a new, intelligent ally was enough to render the expedition a complete success and justify its expense. They would return to applause and commendation. All those good things that Soliwik had told him could come from such a journey now seemed within his grasp.

  But it was not yet time for Caldaq to enjoy them. Their mission was not completed. Eleven more systems remained to be scanned and examined before they could begin the long Underspace journey homeward.

  With success already assured, the atmosphere on board improved noticeably. The Hivistahm grumbled less and ceased provoking the Lepar. The S’van relaxed, and even the bored Massood were cheered. The latter looked forward to returning to combat, promoted and acclaimed.

  They had reached the limit delineated by navigation, a region of few stars and sterile worlds, when to everyone’s surprise and delight instrumentation detected what might be communications signals.

  There was nothing remarkable about them. They possessed no extraordinary range or power. Very typically stratified electromagnetic pulses. Nothing to suggest true civilization, of course. That would have been too much to hope for. But they did hint that another world had been located on which electronic means of communication had been developed.

  As soon as they arrived masking procedures were initiated and the ship established itself in a safe orbit several planetary diameters out. Initial anticipation fell rapidly when no indications of space-traversing capability were noted.

  Everyone was tired, Caldaq knew. Many besides the Hivistahm now spent much time thinking of home, and a predictable but nonetheless very real letdown had followed the discovery and cementing of an alliance with the inhabitants of the world previously visited. Surely any species they encountered subsequently could not be as helpful or friendly. He was tired himself. Despite his twice-daily workouts on the ship’s track, he felt himself steadily losing the muscle tone so carefully established through years of training.

  This world could be similar to the last one, but that was too much to hope for. More probably it was less advanced. In any event he knew he was unlikely to see the surface. Formal contact, should the locals prove advanced enough to handle it, would be managed by the S’van. The prevailing attitude on board as survey preparations were begun was one of hopeful boredom.

  Preliminary observations produced at least one astonishing discovery: the principal landmass of the planet had disintegrated. For once, the geologists had something to be excited about.

  Debate as to whether intelligence could even evolve in such a bizarre setting was resolved for a time by initial data which was, disappointingly, predictable and unsurprising. Urban centers and extensive agriculture were present, as were communications relay satellites. Only the distribution of population centers seemed slightly unnatural. More to study the remarkable geology of the planet than the works of its inhabitants, it was decided to add a diagonal circumnavigation to the standard equatorial and polar.

  As observation proceeded, further deviations from the anticipated norm were noted. Caldaq was informed of the presence of unusually large population concentrations in regions where, at least from orbit, there appeared no reason for them to exist. Similarly, areas that should have attracted heavy settlement were practically deserted.

  Such exceptions were to be expected. The developmental history of each species was different from that of every other. Land use was a subject for a follow-up expedition equipped to carry out advanced studies. Certainly this world, with its unique topography, would draw considerable attention from the specialists.

  The level of technological sophistication achieved by the locals and whether it might exceed that of the Weave’s recently acquired new allies quickly became a matter for debate. A certain amount of wagering on the question took place among the Massood, who were prone to that particular amusement. The Hivistahm considered gambling a waste of time, the Lepar did not understand it, and the Wais regarded it with tolerance. The S’van never participated because they might win.

  Additional observations resulted in another finding no one could have imagined.

  “It certainly is odd,” said T’var. All three Seconds were present at the staff-study meeting.

  The Hivistahm chief-of-study whistled into his translator while the others present adjusted their ear-mounted receivers.

  “S’van understatement. So far we have documented at least fifteen distinct patterns.”

  Soliwik’s nose twitched rapidly. “I see nothing remarkable in that. There are a number of worlds on which that many dialects are spoken.”

  “These are not dialects,” Chief-of-Study insisted. Light flashed off her metallic green skin. S
he wore no personal adornment to the meeting save the ubiquitous eyeshades favored by her kind, tinted to spare her sensitive pupils. “Each a distinct language is, as distinct in some cases as S’van from Hivistahm or Massoodis.”

  Caldaq had come to the meeting prepared to listen to the usual statistical recitation. Now, on top of the planet’s impossible geology, there was this. He found himself scratching nervously at his left flank as he straightened his tall frame in the high-backed chair.

  “You’re quite certain they are not dialects?”

  “Absolutely,” said the S’van second-of-study. “Not only have we examined the relevant recordings thoroughly and repeated computer analysis of our findings run, we believe even more individual languages may be encountered as our observations continue.”

  Caldaq swallowed. “Surely there could not be more than fifteen.”

  “There should not that many be.” Chief-of-Study shifted in her seat. “The largest number of distinct languages developed by any known intelligent race is six, by the Wais. The idea of fifteen or more being spoken on one world is incomprehensible. Yet our observations to that conclusion inevitably lead.”

  “Well, we are not here to study languages.” Caldaq regarded the crammed agenda screen in front of him. “The universe is a vast place where any number of sociological aberrations may be expected to be encountered eventually. Perhaps even a world where more than the usual number of languages are in use.”

  “The Massood have always done nicely with one and its accompanying dialects. Possibly not all these you have recorded are used for general communication. Perhaps some are devoted to specialties. A language for science, another for commerce. Although I am no linguistic historian, I believe there is some precedence for that.” He looked up. “What say the Wais?”

  “We are baffled.” Translator-Chief gazed superciliously back at her commander. Bracelets clinked melodiously on her wrists, and her flowing cape was decorated with innumerable personal insignia and designs. All of exquisite taste, of course.

  “Your notion, Captain, that certain languages may be used for specialized purposes may prove correct. But initial analysis by my colleagues and I seems to suggest otherwise.” Familiar with the unintentional air of superiority the Wais sometimes affected when imparting information, Caldaq was able to ignore it.

  “Admittedly, these are preliminary conclusions, but they are based on the many precedents present in our computer. At least five of the languages recorded thus far are utterly different in structure from the rest and from each other, yet sufficiently complex in content to constitute an efficient means of communication unto themselves. Among the remaining ten there are recognizable relational patterns and soundings, too many for each to constitute a separate language of specialization. In addition there are unexpected cross-references between otherwise utterly dissimilar tongues.”

  “Despite which you think there may be even more?” murmured Caldaq.

  The Wais stared back at him. “Even as we sit here my colleagues are recording suggestions of such. The only way we will know for certain is to initiate a far more intense examination of the population.”

  “There are clamorings in other departments,” said T’var, “for exactly that.”

  “Each new world prompts a similar ritual.” Caldaq tried not to sound irritable. The whiskers on the right side of his snout flicked upward. “We will do only that which is necessary and we will follow procedure.” He scanned the Hivistahm present.

  “Enough of primitive babblings. Have we learned anything more about this world’s unusual appearance?”

  Chief-of-Geophysics adjusted her eyeshades. “It is tectonically far more active than it ought to be. The extraordinary physical environment may to a nonstandard ecology rise have given.” She hesitated. “We have the presence of active volcanoes noted. There is also evidence of unpredictable violent movements within the crust and mantle.”

  “On an inhabited world,” T’var murmured aloud. “Incredible! How do they cope emotionally?”

  Caldaq motioned for his Second to be silent, gestured for Chief-of-Geophysics to continue.

  “The single large landmass surrounded by water and small islands that is the norm elsewhere has been replaced on this world by something else, something very different. One can easily note this through a port, without special equipment. This world a treasure house of geologic abnormalities is, such as high mountains on the edges of landmasses instead of near the centers.”

  “Initially it was thought that perhaps the central landmass had by cometary impact been shattered, but further study a tectonic explanation suggests. The proximity of a moon much too large to be orbiting so small a world another likely influence is.”

  Chief-of-Study bobbed her head. “Of course, it is far too soon on a matter of such controversy final judgments to render. When contacted, it may be that the inhabitants themselves will some light on their unique environment be able to shed.”

  Caldaq assented with both ears.

  “We’ll know more when the remote returns. I know we should complete all three observational passes first, but I think we can bend procedure that much.” He adopted a warning tone. “Staff will do the programming, as always, but according to prior preop. No department gets more space than normally allotted.” He noted the objection gesture from Chief-of-Geophysics and responded. “On later flights we can assign time according to need, but not on this first one.”

  “I realize there is much knowledge to be gained here, but that cannot be allowed to obscure our objective. Our first task is to make contact with the inhabitants. It would be overwhelming to make contact with not one but two potential allies on a single expeditionary journey, even if neither has advanced far enough to have independently achieved Underspace capability.”

  “I will not tolerate any interstaff squabbling over time assignments. Everyone has their job to do, myself included.” He eyed Chief-of-Study. “I am depending on the Hivistahm to follow procedure precisely, as always.” She blinked acknowledgment.

  Caldaq leaned back in his chair. “No matter what is suspected or theorized, I will not allow the linguists and geologists to assume preference over, say, the botanists or hydrologists or anyone else. We have just begun the study of this place and it is too soon to try and predict what discoveries may prove to be the ones of greatest importance. Am I understood?”

  Everyone present touched a finger or claw to their translator receiver to indicate that he was. He gave the order primarily for the benefit of the Hivistahm, who tended to be argumentative. The Wais and the S’van would simply comply.

  The meeting was at an end.

  Fifteen languages, separate and distinct. His head twitched to the left as he tried to embrace the concept. What species needed fifteen languages in order to communicate effectively? It made no more sense than this world’s shattered topography.

  Hopefully the first remote would return with an explanation. The ship carried several of the small, self-contained atmospheric vehicles, each capable of extended flight through calm or turbulent weather, each able to carry out detailed observations of a planetary surface.

  The presence of low-flying aircraft had been noted during the early orbits, but the remote would simply avoid them, going about its business without contact. It would scan one, perhaps two of the distinct landmasses and then return to the ship. After careful study of its recordings they could decide how, when, and where to send down a shuttle to initiate contact. With luck, the natives might even have more to contribute than an unnatural diversity of languages.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  They woke him in the middle of his rest period. He had no answers for Jaruselka as he slid off the high sleeping platform and dressed rapidly below her. Not that he was especially alarmed or nervous. A Massood did everything hurriedly. He washed his eyes and groomed himself as best he could.

  T’var was waiting in the corridor. He apologized as soon as the captain emerged. Calda
q contained himself. The call had not interrupted anything since Jaruselka would not come into heat for another half time period, but he was still upset. Sleep was important to the Massood because they expended so much nervous energy simply by being awake. They could not go long without it.

  As they took the lift to Command Central he used his remote to order a meal. Food could temporarily substitute for lack of rest. Sensing his mood, off-shift personnel hastened out of his path. Running to keep up with his captain, T’var began to pant hard. Caldaq finally took notice and shortened his stride, shamed by the oversight.

  “This had better be important,” he muttered irritably.

  “Would I wake you if it wasn’t?” The S’van sounded hurt, a specialty of theirs.

  “You mean, if you did not think it was. That is not the same thing.” Caldaq was in no mood for S’van subterfuges, verbal or otherwise. “Explain.”

  “It’s the survey remote.”

  “Back already?” Caldaq’s lips drew away from his teeth. “Too soon. Did someone decide there was not as much to see as they thought?”

  “No. It’s not that.”

  They stepped off the lift at Command. Caldaq noted immediately the unusual agitation of the Hivistahm staff, an uneasiness mirrored by their S’van and Massood counterparts. O’o’yan line techs fluttered among their larger colleagues like so many arthropod nectarsippers.

  “What then?”

  “It didn’t come back at all.”

  Caldaq halted. So intent were the technicians and specialists on their conversation that they had yet to notice the approach of their captain and Second.

  “What do you mean, it did not come back?” Designed to function under difficult, unpredictable conditions on unexplored worlds, survey remotes contained inbuilt multiple backup systems and redundancies. They were supposed to be fail-proof. That, however, was a specification, not an immutable tact.