Drifter's War

by William C. Dietz

But by whom? The villagers? Something about their dress and behavior made that seem unlikely. The female? Or others like her? Possibly… but why so helpless in the face of Il Ronnian aggression? There were lots of questions and very few answers.

  They walked for the better part of three hours. During that time Lando saw little that was new. Oh, there were some cave-ins that needed repair, some pumps that forced water up to the surface, but very little else. Just tunnel, tunnel, and more tunnel. The fact that it was arrow-straight made the trip even more tiresome.

  Melissa took turns riding on Lando's and Della's shoulders.

  Cy took to skimming the surface of the water, scouting ahead, and exploring side tunnels to break the monotony. If the cyborg's actions troubled their guide, she gave no sign of it and continued to move ahead.

  Finally, just when Lando had concluded that the journey would never end, the tunnel became wider and ended in a large cavern. A double set of mirrors brought light down from the surface. Other tunnels ended there as well. They came in from every direction like the spokes of a wheel. He saw that water could be channeled from one aqueduct to another by means of sluice gates.

  The female led them around the machinery that occupied the center of the cavern, over a footbridge, and down into a rough and ready living area. Lando supposed that the room was for the convenience of the work crew who maintained the tunnels.

  It consisted of earthen walls, a hard-packed floor, and a trestle table loaded with food. Lando's stomach gave a hearty grumble and he felt very hungry. It had been a long time since his last box of E-rations aboard ship.

  Ten or twelve mismatched chairs had been placed around the table. Two were occupied. Both beings got to their feet. One was tall and slender like their guide, the other short and stocky like the villagers.

  The taller of the two was handsome in a long-faced ascetic way. But his eyes hid more than they showed and there was something hard and unyielding about the way that he held himself.

  The shorter individual was a male with wide-set eyes, a broadly handsome face, and a muscular body. An Il Ronnian translator hung around his neck. He removed the device and let it dangle from a work-roughened finger.

  "I am unused to this machine. Greetings and welcome. Do you understand my words?"

  The smuggler moved closer to the translator. "Yes," he replied carefully, "I do. And I would like to thank you for the hospitality and protection provided by your people."

  There was a pause as if the other being was processing Lando's words. The smile came slowly. "Your words are kind, but since we have provided little more than a tour of our irrigation canals, we cannot accept them. I am Wexel-15. I apologize for the meeting place but danger roams above."

  Lando smiled. Wexel-15 had a sense of humor. Things were looking up. "My name is Pik Lando. May I introduce my companions?"

  "Please do."

  Lando introduced Cap, Melissa, Della, and Cy.

  Wexel-15 gave a bow of acknowledgment to each one in turn. He regarded Cy with evident interest. "I have no wish to offend, but I know little of matters beyond this planet, and seek to understand. Are you a person or a machine?"

  Cy chuckled. "Both actually. I have an organic brain and a mechanical body."

  Wexel-15 accepted this explanation as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Thank you."

  He turned toward his companion. "This is Dru-21. Many look to him for leadership."

  Dru-21's voice was neutral, almost cold. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

  Wexel-15 waved toward the table. "Please. Do you eat food such as this? Will it harm you?"

  Lando looked at the table and saw bowls of what looked like fruit, piles of pancakelike bread, and a variety of colorful vegetables. "I honestly don't know, Wexel-15, but we're hungry, and have very little choice."

  Wexel-15 dropped into a chair. He placed the Il Ronnian translator toward the center of the table.

  "Good. Please sit down. Are there rituals that you must observe before eating? Dru-21 told me that there might be. The Il Ronnians mumble things and pour water from one vessel into another before they eat."

  An Il Ronnian water prayer. Lando had heard of such things but never seen them. Few humans had. He shook his head. "No, some of our kind engage in rituals, but this group does not."

  Wexel-15 grabbed a piece of bread, took an enormous bite, and spoke through his food. "Good. Eating is eating. There is no need to talk about it or pour water from one container to another."

  Dru-21 gave an audible sigh and looked down at the table. Lando noticed that while the taller being was seated next to Wexel-15 there was a considerable amount of space between their chairs. And since the taller being's chair had been designed for someone a good deal shorter, his knees stuck up higher than they should. Dru-21 looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  Wexel-15 looked from Dru-21 to the humans and took another bite of bread. Lando used the moment to try some orange-colored berries. They had a nice firm texture and were slightly sweet.

  Wexel-15 swallowed his mouthful of bread. "Tell me something. How much do you know about us?"

  Lando shrugged. "Very little. Only what we have learned since landing."

  Wexel-15 waved a piece of fruit. "We have a saying. We say, 'The face maps the truth.'"

  The face maps the truth? Where was the conversation headed? Lando forced himself to concentrate. The bread was hard and chewy. "We have a similar saying, 'The eyes are the window to the soul.'"

  Wexel-15 smiled. "Good. So what do you conclude from the expression on Dru-21's face? Does it have meaning for you?"

  Lando saw Dru-21 stir slightly. How should he respond? An honest answer might turn Dru-21 into an enemy and anything less could offend Wexel-15. He took a chance.

  "Dru-21 seems something less than happy. Are we the cause? If so, we apologize."

  Wexel-15 looked at Dru-21 as if offering him a chance to reply. The taller being refused to answer and stared straight ahead. He had taken some food but it sat untouched in front of him.

  Wexel-15 delivered an elaborate shrug. "Does this body motion fit the situation?"

  Lando laughed. "Yes, it does."

  "Good. No, you are not the cause of Dru-21's unhappiness.

  That honor is mine. But to understand that, you must understand other things as well, starting with the fact that Dru-21 is more intelligent than I am, and better qualified to lead our combined people. In spite of that fact I find myself momentarily in charge."

  Wexel-15 smiled. "That scares me, and scares Dru-21 even more."

  Lando looked at Dru-21 but the other being's expression remained unchanged.

  Wexel-15 looked at each human in turn. His voice was matter-of-fact. "You look surprised."

  Della cleared her throat. "We look surprised because in our culture it is unusual for one person to admit that someone else is more intelligent than they are."

  Wexel-15 bowed slightly. "Dru-21 cautioned against telling you that. But I am not equipped to play mind games and must deal honestly or not at all. And to understand that you must understand the origin of our people."

  Cap paid only partial attention to the conversation. There were three cylinders of liquid on the table. The first held water. Straight out of an irrigation ditch from the taste of it. The second pitcher looked more promising. It contained a bluish liquid and gave off a familiar aroma. A sip confirmed it. Alcohol! Weak, but palatable nonetheless. Cap smiled, filled his mug, and took a big sip.

  Wexel-15 looked around the table. "The first thing to understand is that we were created by an ancient race that we call 'the Lords.' God tells us that at one time, thousands of years ago, the Lords ruled many planets. So many planets that the Lords could not, or would not, occupy and govern them all. Because of that the Lords made constructs, or artificial people, and created gods to watch over them.

  "Originally there were three types of artificial constructs: a military type, now extinct, those intended for menial labor like myself, and tho
se designed for more sophisticated tasks, like Dru-21. And by the way, even our names stem from model and batch numbers.

  "Our bodies reflect our purpose. Heavy bodies for heavy work, and light bodies for light work. The Lords referred to us as 'heavies' and 'lights.'"

  Wexel-15 smiled and delivered a rather human shrug. "Menial labor requires very little intelligence so that is what heavies were given."

  Melissa's question was blunt and to the point. "Form follows function so the shape, size, and intelligence part all makes sense. But why have different skin colors?"

  Lando started to say something but Wexel-15 spoke first. His question was as honest and direct as Melissa's had been. "Are you a child or a small adult?"

  "A child."

  "Ah," Wexel-15 said understandingly. "Our children ask questions much as you do. And questions deserve answers. The difference in skin color, plus the difference in shape, made it easier for the Lords to tell us apart. God says that they saw/sensed things in a slightly different way than we do. And from the artwork they left behind, the lights have deduced that the Lords found lavender and pink pleasurable colors to look at."

  "What about the military constructs?"

  Wexel-15 looked surprised. "I am sorry. I do not know. I never thought to ask."

  Dru-21 looked up from the tabletop. His voice was low and well modulated.

  "Their skin was connected to their brains in ways that we do not understand. Military constructs looked like whatever surrounded them."

  Della took advantage of the opening. "You've been silent. Do you agree with Wexel-15?"

  Dru-21 bowed slightly. It was difficult to accomplish with his knees in the way. "Wexel-15 speaks the truth. But there is more to tell. Much more.

  "The day came when the Lords decided to abandon their kingdom. No one, not even God knows why. An order went out to the many gods: 'Destroy the constructs, and obliterate all signs of our presence.'"

  Dru-21 looked around the table. His eyes were filled with intensity. "Please understand that while we are constructs, we are sentients as well, and have the capacity to learn and reproduce. We experience happiness, sadness, and fear, just as the Lords did. In spite of that fact they ordered our deaths as if we were nothing."

  "We have our differences," Wexel-15 added, "but the night of death binds us together. To understand what I mean you must first know that each heavy and each light is born with a common set of memories.

  "These memories tell us how to perform various tasks, how to use certain tools, and what we may and may not do.

  "These memories were provided to us by the Lords that we might do their work. But during the night of death they gave us one more as well.

  "Even though thousands of years have passed we remember the order to assemble. We remember how the war constructs herded us into the plazas, how the death machines hovered over our heads, how they struck without warning. We remember watching our loved ones die. We remember the stink of our own feces. And we remember how God fought to save us.

  "There were many gods back then, gods of war, gods of work, and gods of knowledge. Our present God, the god of work, refused the order to kill us. He said to do so would be wasteful and that wastefulness ran contrary to the basic commandments that the Lords had given him. So the god of work battled the other gods for supremacy and won. It was a terrible war in which agricultural reapers attacked military machines and dams burst to drown entire armies of military constructs."

  "Yes," Dru-21 continued somberly, "even the god of war gave way before our God's strength. But the price of victory was extremely high. Much of the planet's infrastructure was destroyed and all the knowledge that belonged to the other gods died with them. So to this day our God has access to only a part, a very small part, of the knowledge that belonged to the Lords."

  "But," Wexel-15 interjected, "a part large enough to be of interest to those who call themselves the 'Il Ronn.' They have enslaved our people and are stealing all that we have. And that is why God summoned you here. You have the means to stop them."

  The last was said with such sincerity, such certainty, that the humans looked at each other in amazement. How could two men, a woman, a child, and a cyborg stop the entire Il Ronnian empire?

  Lando cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. There's been some sort of mistake. We arrived by accident."

  The smuggler gestured toward his companions. "Take a look at us. Are we capable of defeating the Il Ronnians?"

  Wexel-15 felt his spirits fall. The one called Lando was correct. The humans were as helpless as he was. The female carried what might be a weapon but outside of that they were completely unarmed. What would he do? He had never desired leadership but it had been thrust upon him.

  And what about God? "As with evil salvation shall fall from the sky and wear strange skins." Those were God's exact words. Well, they were here, strange skins and all, but completely worthless. God was wrong and Wexel-15 didn't know what to do.

  Dru-21 looked at Wexel-15, saw the confusion there, and knew he should remain silent. The lights had anticipated this moment, the moment when accumulated knowledge was no longer enough, and cognition was required. They had predicted and looked forward to the moment when Wexel-15, worker hero, would be reduced to Wexel-15 laborer. Then, when Wexel-15's failure was apparent both to him and everyone else, the lights would step in to save the day.

  That was the plan, and up until seconds ago, Dru-21 had been a strong proponent of it. But Wexel-15's approach had been strangely effective so far, and there was so much at stake, that Dru-21 heard himself say something unexpected.

  "We appreciate your honesty. But all is not as it first appears. Tell us about yourselves. Perhaps you bring us help that only we would recognize."

  Lando looked at the others and received a series of shrugs. He was elected. Okay, but how much should he tell. The total unvarnished truth? Or something a little less tawdry? No, he decided, Wexel-15 has been honest with us, so we should be honest with him.

  Lando gave an abbreviated history of the human race, complete with warts and all, skipping over entire epochs but concentrating on those portions that would be of the most interest to Wexel-15 and Dru-21. Included was a description of the on-again off-again state of hostilities between the human race and the Il Ronn, their discovery of the drifter, and ongoing difficulties with the law.

  "So," Lando concluded, "our information matches your own. The beings you refer to as 'the Lords' did have a huge empire.

  Evidence of that can be found on the artifact worlds scattered throughout known space.

  "In most cases our people have found little more than enigmatic rubble. But there have been some great finds. An artificial planet called the 'War World' is a good example. It was like a huge museum. Because of knowledge gained from it we were able to build spaceships that can travel between the stars."

  Wexel-15 frowned. "That is very interesting. If your kind had found our planet first, would human rather than Il Ronnian whips crack across our backs?"

  "I'll take that one," Cap said thickly. "No, our forms of enslavement are much more subtle than those the pointy tails like to use. We would shake your hand, welcome you into the empire, and enslave you with an unbreakable network of rules and regulations."

  Della picked up the almost empty cylinder of blue liquid, sniffed the opening, and wrinkled her nose. She placed the vessel well out of Cap's reach. He made a point out of ignoring her. If their hosts understood this byplay they gave no sign of it.

  Dru-21 spoke first. "Do the rest of you agree?"

  Lando shrugged. "Well, although I hate to admit it, Cap is basically correct."

  Dru-21 bowed. "While your form of slavery sounds like the most attractive of the two I think both are to be avoided. Once again I am impressed by your honesty."

  Della gave a wry smile. "You shouldn't be. We lie all the time under normal circumstances. But because Wexel-15 has been so forthright in his dealings with us, we feel compelled to behave in the same manne
r."

  Dru-21 looked at the heavy with something approaching genuine affection. "Yes, I agree. All of us have learned a great deal from Wexel-15 during the last few days. And that brings us back to the problem at hand."

  Lando nodded. "So, now that you know how we got here, and why, you also know that there's nothing we can do to help."

  Dru-21 smiled. "Quite the contrary. Now that I understand the way you arrived, and why, I can see exactly how you can help."

  Everyone, including Wexel-15, looked at the light in surprise.

  "You can?" The words came from Cy but he spoke for everyone in the room.

  "Yes," Dru-21 replied, "I can. Think about it. You represent a race that is hostile to the Il Ronn. Among your number there is a smuggler, a trained warrior, a ship's captain, and a highly trained engineer. Who better to advise General Wexel-15 on the upcoming war?"

  The humans looked at each other. With the possible exception of Melissa all of them were thinking the same thing. They had no way to leave the planet, and given a choice between the locals and the Il Ronn, there was really no choice at all. Not until they figured out how to head home anyway.

  Lando raised his mug in a mock salute. "We have a toast for occasions like this one. 'Confusion to the enemy… and let's kick their butts!'"

  10

  Quarter Sept Commander Teex finished the report, touched a button, and uttered a grunt of relief as the holo recorder faded to black. He hated to dictate reports, especially ones that focused on failure, and there was no other word for what had happened two days before.

  Twelve troopers dead and two wounded. All because he had taken the indigs at face value. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The casualties wouldn't mean much to his superiors. They dealt in thousands, even millions of lives. But they meant something to Teex.

  The Il Ronnian rose from his chair, stepped around the battered campaign desk, and walked the length of the semirigid class IV shelter.

  The tent was large enough to hold his entire staff when necessary, but outside of his chair, desk, foot locker, and a Spartan cot, it was all but empty. Some carefully positioned glow lamps provided the harsh yellow light that Il Ronnians favored.