Two Molitar entered the room with the specimen between them. It was a male, clad in the laundered but torn uniform of one of the many native armies. Observing that it walked with a pronounced limp, Mature-absent-Leg’s sympathy was aroused. The native did not appear intimidated by its surroundings or its massive escort.
Repeat-close-Looker thought at the Molitar, who bowed slightly and left the room. The native evinced some confusion at their departure. Its puzzlement grew when a chair emerged from the floor near its feet together with a stand which held a basin of clear, cold water and samples of captured native food.
“Please sit down,” said Mature-absent-Leg. A translator picked up the whispery voice and conveyed it to the room by means of concealed speakers.
The native’s head jerked around. He pivoted slowly as he searched the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on the mildly reflective security screen that separated him from his interrogators.
“Why should I?”
A typically brusque and not unexpected native response, Mature-absent-Leg reflected. “Because there is no reason for you to stand. You must be tired.”
“I’m not tired,” the native snapped. When no response was forthcoming he sat down, clearly relieved to have the pressure off his damaged leg.
“I am going to let you see us now. Do not be shocked.” Mature-absent-Leg hazed a thought, in response to which Repeat-close-Looker deopaqued the screen.
The native’s reaction to the appearance of the Amplitur was guarded but calm.
“Do you know what we are?” the Commander asked, forming the sounds with its horny lips and soft interior mouthparts.
As it nodded affirmatively the native’s eyes narrowed. Perhaps an instinctive defense posture, Mature-absent-Leg thought.
“You’re Amplitur. Our friends have shown us pictures.”
“Along with much additional inaccurate information.” Mature-absent-Leg hoped that the translation was as reassuring and friendly as it had been programmed to be.
“You should feel honored. You are the first of your kind to meet us personally.”
“For real? Well then, have a look.” The native spread his arms and leaned back into the chair.
“We are already acquainted with your physiology, both external and internal.”
“You are not frightened?” Repeat-close-Looker inquired.
“No, I’m not frightened.” The native straightened slightly and both Amplitur could sense that it was lying. That, too, was expected. It was akin to the denial of reality the creatures exhibited in combat.
“You don’t look like much.” The native regarded them curiously. “Based on your reputations I thought you’d be a lot bigger.”
“Physical size is not much of a determinant in the grand scheme of things,” Repeat-close-Looker informed him.
“Maybe so, but I’d still rather wrassle one of you than a Molitar. Those are about the toughest guys you’ve got working for you.”
“The Molitar do not work for us.” Mature-absent-Leg shifted slightly on all four legs, the mottled orange skin rippling fluidly. “They are…”
“Yeah, I know, I know. They’re part of the Purpose. Everyone is part of your Purpose.” Lips parted to reveal white teeth. “Except the Massood, and the S’van, and a few of their friends. And us.”
“You can be an important component of the Purpose.” Mature-absent-Leg moved closer to the screen, the manipulative tips of the two tentacles on either side of its mouth spreading wide, flexing and contracting. “You can share fully in the beauty which has been revealed to us.”
“We’ve got plenty beauty of our own, thanks. We don’t want yours. Why don’t you squids just take a hike back to wherever it is you come from?”
“We would be reneging on our destiny were we to do that,” replied the Commander, ignoring the derogatory descriptive. “If there is any truth in what the S’van have told you, you realize we cannot.”
“Yeah, that’s what they said. But this is our solar system. If you insist on hanging around where you’re not wanted, we’re going to have to throw you out.”
Such primitive, feeble attempts at humor were the native’s way of maintaining its spirits, Mature-absent-Leg decided. Surely it must realize that it was imprisoned on an enemy warship somewhere in Underspace, possibly with no chance of ever seeing its own kind again. Once more the inherent denial of reality, which smacked of irrational mental focus. A trait which was useful nowhere except in combat, the Commander knew. Such contradictions would be eliminated once these creatures were brought into the Purpose. They would know a peace they had never known before.
The two Amplitur exchanged thoughts about procedure. This particular specimen was not one Mature-absent-Leg would have chosen, but they had to begin somewhere and presently this single male was all that was available.
Repeat-close-Looker reached out mindwise, probing with the intelligence and care for which it was renowned. Since the Commander was not participating directly but was only conscious of a colleague’s efforts, what happened next did not strike with its full force. When later asked to describe it in detail Mature-absent-Leg found it painful to contemplate, impossible to describe accurately.
Touching the native’s thoughts was like tapping into an over-pressurized container bloated with blind anger and hatred. On contact it exploded in a fiery wave, sweeping logic and reason and sensitivity before it, submerging any proximate suggestion of intelligence in a flood of concentrated pain and angst. It stank of mindless destruction and anarchy, of raw emotion and animal instinct.
Immediately upon contact the native’s eyes widened. It stared in shock at Repeat-close-Looker. That individual had already been rendered comatose. The prober lay on its right side where it had collapsed, tentacles curled tightly against its mouth, eye-stalks completely retracted. Nearby, Mature-absent-Leg still stood on shaky limbs; head throbbing, vision blurred, acutely aware that the full force of the native’s reaction had only brushed past.
The Commander stood as if paralyzed, thinking furiously as mind cleared and the initial pain lessened. Judging by the native’s confusion it was clear that its defense had not been a conscious one. In a way that made what had happened even more terrifying. It meant that not only was the native dangerous, its response was unpredictable and uncontrolled.
It turned to stare bewilderedly at Mature-absent-Leg. The Commander shivered helplessly under that stare for a long moment, until it began to realize that the native could not willingly project whatever was in its mind in the manner of the Amplitur. The shivering faded.
The unfortunate Repeat-close-Looker had somehow tapped into an unsuspected component of the native’s nervous system, something of a purely defensive and instinctive nature. It could not have been anticipated because nothing like it had ever been encountered before.
The native was standing now, gesturing at the motionless form of Repeat-close-Looker. “That son of a bitch was trying to get into my head. I felt it.” He looked up at Mature-absent-Leg. “That’s how you people work, right? You get inside people’s brains and screw things around until they have no choice but to believe in your Purpose. That’s what he was trying to do. Only he couldn’t. Something hurt him.” Realization dawned slowly, “I hurt him.”
The man’s confusion gave way to excitement. “It means you can’t get to us, you can’t twist us. And when you try to, something inside us fights back. Something you can’t handle.”
The native advanced until it was hammering both hands against the security screen. Though it knew the creature could not break through, Mature-absent-Leg unconsciously found itself retreating from the hairless, contorted visage. It sent out a quick, anxious projection. The door at the rear of the room opened to admit the two Molitar who had brought the native. Both had their weapons out.
The native spun to face them. What it did next was quite unexpected. It began to laugh, tears running down its scarred cheeks.
“You poor, dumb, backboneless SOBs, you c
an’t do it to us. You can’t do what you’ve been doing to everybody else. Wait till this gets out!”
Without warning it charged the two Molitar, heedless of the weapons they were carrying. For a horrible instant Mature-absent-Leg thought it had been reading his mind, quickly realized that could not be so. The natives had demonstrated nothing in the way of telepathic abilities.
As the nearest Molitar fired, the native threw itself forward. The shot passed above it to strike the security screen directly in front of the Commander, who flinched, eyestalks retracting instinctively. The blast did not touch him, the screen having been designed to dissipate far more intense energies.
The native’s foot struck his massive assailant square on one joint. The Molitar let out a penetrating howl and collapsed heavily. Meanwhile his companion grabbed the native by its right arm, wrenching hard, striking with the other. The native ducked the blow, curled impossibly tight in on itself, and uncoiled with a lightning strike to its captor’s eye. Blood fountained and the injured Molitar released its grasp.
In response to the Commander’s alarmed thoughts, armed Crigolit and Ashregan began pouring into the room.
“Kill the thing!” Mature-absent-Leg projected anxiously. “Kill it!”
Uncivilized, unworthy, embarrassing thoughts. But the Commander was still glad when the thing finally died, unable at the end to deflect energy beams with its bare hands. It lay motionless on the floor, smoke slowly rising from the multiple wounds that had been necessary to bring it down, a lump of dead protoplasm no more or less threatening than any other sack of bone and fluid from which the motivating force had been removed.
Fleeing the observation chamber as fast as he was able, Mature-absent-Leg made his way toward Command Central, using the time to ponder possible courses of action.
They could muster every available vessel and soldier in an attempt to overwhelm this world before its defenses could be made even more secure, but that would leave vulnerable worlds on which the Purpose presently held sway. Worse still, an assault formulated out of panic and in haste might well fail. The Amplitur had achieved all that they had through patience and careful planning.
Before launching an attack one must first come to understand the enemy. An in-depth study of the natives’ nervous system was an absolute prerequisite to any further combat. It was of paramount importance to secure additional live specimens.
The rest would be up to the Amplitur’s unsurpassed bioengineers. The nature of the creatures’ defense mechanism could be isolated, then analyzed and overcome or otherwise rendered harmless. Only then could these beings provide fertile ground for propagation of the Purpose. First it was vital to remove their lingering primitive characteristics, both mental and physical. The result would be a happy and content population.
To call the fleet staff’s initial reaction skeptical was to severely understate, but the recordings that had been made of the confrontational session ultimately convinced them. There was also the disquieting reality provided by the still comatose Repeat-close-Looker, whom physicians had as yet been unable to revive.
One of the fleet group commanders was tracing a diagrammatic cube of the recordings with a tentacle tip. “Look at this burst of cerebral activity here. What does it mean?”
“I cannot intuit these imports,” added another, its mastery of biologic theory notwithstanding.
The senior fleet specialist in alien neurology chose to venture an observation. “As Mature-absent-Leg has surmised, the native was as surprised by the presence of a defense mechanism as were its interrogators. I have reviewed the recordings and this seems inarguable. When Repeat-close-Looker was injured, Mature-absent-Leg and the native expressed equal astonishment.”
“Why evolve a mechanism to defend against something that does not exist on your homeworld?” wondered another member of the staff.
“Nature is sometimes capricious, but never wasteful.” The specialist unfurled its right tentacle. “The trait may have developed in response to other local conditions of which we as yet know nothing. I submit that this development is no more incredible than many other aspects of the bizarre world on which it has evolved.” Thoughts swirled and melded.
“In light of what we have learned during our brief confrontation here it is clear that we attacked without first securing adequate information about our opponent. Is it therefore surprising that we have subsequently had to endure the losses of the overconfident?”
“While currently stable, the longer the situation on the surface is stalemated, the stronger the enemy’s position becomes,” said a tactical specialist. “What we have encountered here is unprecedented. Therefore we must evolve a precedent.”
“Rendering uninhabitable the surface of the planet is not an option. These creatures can be the greatest force for the advancement of the Purpose since it was revealed to the Amplitur. I submit that we must withdraw until we have devised a more effective means for dealing with the particular difficulties they pose, while we are still in a strategic position to bring out the majority of our surviving forces.”
“To do so now,” disagreed another, “will greatly boost the determination and morale of the Weave.”
“Morale is a transitory intangible.” With that comment Mature-absent-Leg reasserted commander’s prerogative. “What is happening here is reality. Let us plan to deal foremost with the reality.”
“We have not encountered anything like these beings before. That does not mean we are incapable of coping with any special difficulties they present. It requires only the application of time and study, as do all complex problems.” Mature-absent-Leg directed a thought to the fleet specialist in alien neurology.
“You are convinced from your examination of the recordings executed during the interrogation procedure that the native had no understanding of what occurred when Repeat-close-Looker’s mind touched his?”
“There is nothing to indicate awareness. As you observed, it realized what Repeat-close-Looker was attempting, but it in no way indicated it had consciousness of a method of resistance.”
“Something lies buried within the native nervous system; something they themselves are unaware of. A cerebral twist, a specific gene: it is only a matter of isolating and identifying it, given time we may even bend it to our advantage. It is nothing more than a chemical puzzle to be solved.”
“It will make things difficult,” the military specialist commented, “if it becomes known among the peoples of the Weave that they have among them a new ally who happens to be immune to our particular kind of gentle persuasion.”
“We will deal with any awkwardness if and when it arises,” Mature-absent-Leg projected firmly.
The neurospecialist thought expansively. “I am not so certain that ‘immunity’ is the correct term. There is something in their system that reacts violently to mental probing. If they are not probed, the defense mechanism is not activated. Therefore there is no reason for panic. It requires only time and the application of suitable intelligence to solve this new problem.”
“It cannot be done in a combat situation,” another pointed out.
The inevitable question did not have to be formulated. Nor was there need for a vote. Decision unanimously followed understanding.
“We shall withdraw from this system.” Mature-absent-Leg’s eyestalks were fully extended. “Preferably after securing additional specimens for study. Should we fail to obtain the necessary sampling here, we shall obtain them elsewhere, at another time. Since we will be departing without having suffered defeat, the intangible effects of our withdrawal should be minimized.” This astute observation served to mollify the concerns of the military specialist.
“Upon full recovery, Repeat-close-Looker will be able to add to our knowledge of this matter and assist in future research.”
“That is assuming,” said the neurospecialist, “that the mind damage is not permanent.” The observation provoked uneasy thoughts mixed with sorrowful reflection.
“I
experience regrets for having had the specimen terminated,” thought the Commander.
“You reacted defensively,” said a group leader. “You did not know what had taken place nor what might follow, given such circumstances a relapse into instinctive self-preservation is not to be faulted.”
“Our consolation is that this dangerous reactive mechanism is involuntary in nature. It cannot be directed or you would have suffered the same fate as Repeat-close-Looker.”
“That is so,” agreed the Commander as the meeting dissolved. But despite that reassuring thought and the press of work ahead, Mature-absent-Leg was unable to expunge the pain of the disastrous interrogation session completely from his mind.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
It’s over.”
Will glanced up from his workdesk, ignoring the view out over the lagoon. While the Belizean reef was no longer the center of Weave activity on Earth, such activities having long since been usurped by several national capitals, it was still an important research center. As there was no longer any reason for concealment, the submerged complex had begun to build upward: slim, elegant towers rising into the tropical sky.
“What do you mean it’s over?”
“The battle for your world.” T’var might have been smiling behind his dense growth of facial hair. “We’ve won.”
Will knew he should have shouted, thrown his hands in the air, or otherwise reacted as billions of his fellow Humans no doubt already were. Instead he felt oddly calm.
“When did you get the news?”
“Just a few minutes ago. It arrived via closed transponder from a place called London.” His English had gotten quite good, Will thought. “They’re pulling out; the Crigolit, Ashregan, Molitar, Acaria, the Amplitur themselves. All of them, everywhere. Your Gobi and Great Plains, the Ukraine and Matto Grosso, even those bases they had managed to secure. Shuttles have been coming and going all morning. Our forces took several of them out before they could escape, and at least one warship that didn’t slip back into Underspace quickly enough.”
A Call to Arms Page 33
