A Call to Arms by Alan Dean Foster
“Truly do not patronize me.” The interfacer added something in rapid-fire Hivistahm. What little of it the translator could cope with shocked Caldaq. The response was extreme and unnatural for a Hivistahm, much less for a trained technician.
As if conscious of his reaction and knowing that the final decision was his to make, she looked straight at her captain.
“Kill it,” she said bluntly, “and this system leave alone.”
“Dream and recover.” Chief-of-Medicine muttered orders to a specialist, then led the group out of the room. Like everyone else, Caldaq carried his own confusing thoughts away with him.
In the examination chamber Will Dulac was doing his best to participate in a kind of signaling game with a pair of intent technicians. They chatted back and forth, the techs having to wait for their translators to deal with the guttural alien tongue. Though Caldaq could not interpret the native’s expressions, it seemed to him that it was relaxed and at ease, perhaps even enjoying itself.
“On one hand we have the testimony of the interfacer,” he said to his Seconds, “and on the other this reality.” He gestured at the scene on the other side of the transparent wall where Will was doing whatever the pair of techs asked of him. Elsewhere a S’van was taking readings and two O’o’yan were checking instrumentation. At the rear of the chamber a Lepar was doing some routine cleaning. The scene verged on the bucolic.
“It is impossible for me to shake off the feeling that we stand on the brink of some great revelation. I cannot, I will not abandon that to the frenzied recommendation of a single injured specialist.”
Soliwik observed the examination in progress. “The native insists its people are inherently pacifistic and will have no part in resisting the inroads of the Amplitur. Yet despite repeated declarations of its own peaceful nature it has shown the ability to react to specific stimuli with both physical and mental violence.”
“Perhaps that is a key. It does not act; it reacts. If we could somehow convey the extent and depth of the Amplitur threat, perhaps it would react usefully to that.”
“Usefully to what degree?” Caldaq wondered.
“I do not know,” Soliwik hesitated, turned to look at him. “My captain, I have been in service all my life. I have witnessed much and heard more. But I have never in all my experience seen anything akin to what occurred earlier today in this chamber.”
“I am no scientist, no technician. I am a fighter and a leader of fighters. But I know the interfacer suffered something. Whatever it was shocked her values as well as her mind. Did you hear how readily and insistently she said to kill the specimen? That is unlike a Hivistahm. Truly,” she added in a slight attempt at levity.
Caldaq indicated acknowledgment, looked down to his left. “T’var? You have been unnaturally subdued through all this.”
The S’van spoke carefully. “At present I find myself ambivalent on the matter, but I’d tend to side with you, Captain. Aside from the morality of ‘disposing’ of an intelligent specimen, I still feel we have much to learn from it. There’s value in all knowledge, and where this species is concerned we still have a dearth of it. We can’t simply depart and leave our work here unfinished, even if these people prove ultimately to be useless to the Weave. I could not be party to ambiguous flight.”
“Clearly Soliwik is right when she says there’s a capacity for violence here. The Hivistahm do not have it. The Lepar do not have it. My people do not have it. That is a resource as much to be desired in a new species as rare metals or great ships. What we have to ascertain is how much of what the native says is contradicted by its reactions and whether or not there’s anything in that apparent contradiction which we can usefully exploit.”
“We need to find out if there’s a way to induce these creatures to fight on behalf of the Weave instead of among themselves. The potential for combat is certainly present; if not in this specimen, then possibly in others.” He eyed Caldaq speculatively.
“I should even venture to say that this potential matches or exceeds anything the Massood are capable of.”
Caldaq did not bristle at his Second’s observation. Some of his troops might have reacted more strongly, but he did not. Perhaps it was a consequence of his unique temperament.
“Second-of-Medicine’s comments pose a problem. She suggests that if this capability is indeed present, it may not be consciously controllable by the native individual. If it cannot be controlled, I do not see how effective use cannot be made of it.”
“Her observations may be clouded by personal experience,” T’var responded. “Indeed, it would be unnatural if they were not.”
“If this potential can only be unleashed when the native is surprised or asleep, then it is useless.” Soliwik rested a hand on the transparent wall. “Most of you were focused on the interfacer’s reactions when the episode occurred. I kept my attention on the native. I saw no overt signs of violence, nothing to suggest it was defending itself in its sleep. A few slight twitches and a jerking of one leg. There was nothing to suggest, from a physical standpoint at least, that it was aware of what it was doing. As you know, the native confirmed all this upon awakening.”
Caldaq considered. “We must find out what it is capable of when awake, defensive mechanisms and reactions that engage only when it is unconscious are clearly of no use to us.” He sniffed, sucking air and uttering a whistling exclamation.
“We are not leaving this place until we know if there is anything of use here or not. Studies will continue. We must summarize and analyze what we have learned about his species and proceed accordingly. It is self-evident they are capable of violence against themselves. That does not concern me. It is an aberration for others to dissect.”
“In contrast our mission is entirely practical, and it is to practical ends we must be devoted.” He reached down to put a hand on T’var’s shoulder. The S’van was surprised by the physical contact.
“I leave it to you, Second, to see to it that the scientific staff concentrates on practical matters and does not drift into the Underspace of pure research. We need results I can act upon, not more theory.” He straightened and stared into the chamber, regarding the native thoughtfully.
“We have debated this matter among ourselves. Let us discuss it with the specimen.”
T’var was uncertain. “It may find the subject provocative.”
“That is what I am hoping.”
Caldaq’s hopes were not fulfilled. Not only was the native not provoked, it demonstrated a distinct reluctance to discuss the matter at all. It showed more interest in the plants which brightened the relaxation lounge to which they had all moved.
Passing crew glanced only occasionally in the direction of the little group. A pair of Lepar ignored them as they cleaned the bubble that protruded into another part of the ship. The benches on which they sat were made of curving plastic. Different heights accommodated the backsides and legs of different species so that a S’van might sit comfortably in the company of a Massood.
T’var was remonstrating with the indifferent native. “We’ve explained that few Weave races are suited to combat, the Massood and Chirinaldo foremost among these. Our efforts against the Amplitur are severely restricted by this limitation. Neither the Massood nor the Chirinaldo have high rates of reproduction. Efforts have been made to increase these but…”
“If you’re looking for someone to breed soldiers for you then you’d better look elsewhere,” Will told him.
T’var’s expression was submerged in the depths of that great black beard. “I offer apologies if I’ve offended.”
Will sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just that in spite of what you think we’re not suited for what you want. I realize that our history might suggest otherwise, but we’re getting better at peace. We’ve been working toward it for thousands of years and we’re almost there. People have started to realize it’s simply not practical, in an age of weapons of mass destruction, to go on fighting one another. There can’t be
“The last thing we need, the last thing we’d want to do, is export our failures. I don’t know why we’ve fought throughout our history. You’ve said it’s not normal, and if it was up to me I’d agree with you. I can’t give you any explanations. It’s just the way we developed.”
“As a species matures toward civilization the normal sequence of events requires that individuals band together to cooperate against natural forces.” T’var ran thick, stubby fingers down the weft of a nearby broadleaf plant. “Your people seem to have done exactly the opposite. We would like to know why.”
“So would we,” said Will feelingly.
“Some of our specialists have suggested that your abnormal development may be related to your extraordinarily active geology. On all other sentient-inhabited worlds the species has evolved on a single large landmass. This is conducive to cooperation and joint development. We find your planet as fractured as your society.”
“You may be right about that,” said Will. “You may be right about everything… except us being ready to participate in your war. Besides, didn’t you tell me that the hallmark of a truly advanced, mature civilization is one that has given up large-scale conflict?”
“And so we all had, until the advent of the Amplitur.” Soliwik leaned forward earnestly. “Don’t you think we tried talk and intelligent debate before taking up arms against them? You must realize that neutrality is a concept alien to the Amplitur. You are a part of their Purpose, living and developing under their suzerainty, or you are opposed to them.”
“You must believe this.” Cat eyes burned into his. “You will not be given the luxury of avoiding a choice. If you decline to join with us, the Amplitur will eventually find your world. They will not permit you to decline.”
Will was quiet for a long moment. “Why us? Why are we suddenly so damn important to you? We have so many problems of our own, we’re so different, as you’ve repeatedly pointed out. We don’t know anything about starships or interstellar drives. Of what use could we possibly be to you in a galaxy-wide conflict?”
“Allow me an apparent misconception to correct,” said Second-of-Medicine. “You apparently believe that interstellar conflict consists of great armadas of heavily armed vessels dueling in deep space. A physical impossibility this is. Ships traveling in Underspace cannot be tracked. Ships moving in normal space are separated by vast distances and unless locked in near atmospheric orbits are too far apart from one another to engage with on-board weaponry.”
“Nor is there by destroying a ship much to be gained, even if a target could from fleeing into Underspace be prevented.”
“The war is to convince and persuade, not destroy,” said Soliwik. “Most fighting takes place on the surfaces of contested worlds. Care is taken to spare the local ecology and civilization insofar as is possible. The objective is to destroy the Amplitur, not the worlds on which they hold dominion.”
Will leaned back against the sculpted foam of the bench.
“You’re still trying to tell me that after a thousand years of combat and the development of advanced weapons and ships capable of traveling between star systems, both sides do most of their fighting hand to hand?”
“It’s not practical to fight in space,” said T’var. “There’s nothing in space to fight for. Do you begin to see why species with a proclivity or at least tolerance for combat are so sought after by both sides? Of course, the Amplitur have an advantage we can’t match, both for reasons of morality and science. They can modify certain species the better to fulfill their requirements.”
Will frowned. “Modify?”
“Biologically alter.” T’var gazed hard at the native. “Naturally each species is convinced everything they do is of their own free will and volition. Despite continuing efforts we have been unable to convince any of them otherwise. How do you convince a sentient that it has been genetically reengineered if it has been re-engineered to believe otherwise?”
“The Amplitur themselves do not participate in combat. If not for their allied races, some of whom, it must be admitted, joined them voluntarily, we could end this war in a few years.”
Will was shaken by the images thus called up, but not sufficiently to alter his convictions. “I sympathize with your situation. I really do. I just don’t know how else to put this except to say it.”
“Humans don’t like to fight, we’ve been forced into it, whether because of stupidity or history or geology or whatever, but we don’t like it. We now realize how wrong it is and we’ve been trying hard not to do it anymore. You’ve said that it’s aberrant, uncivilized behavior. We’re coming to realize that, starting to mature, as you put it. I don’t think anything you can say is going to change people’s minds.”
“There must be a way to test this.” Soliwik turned away from her translator so that her thoughts would not be conveyed to the native.
Caldaq indicated agreement, looked at Will. “You may be right. Please be patient with us if we strike you as overly insistent. Remember that we have come a long way and it will be difficult for us if we have to return disappointed.” He did not mention the other intelligence they had previously encountered, which had enthusiastically agreed to ally itself with the Weave.
“If the truth of what you claim can be proven, then we will depart unobtrusively. However, you must understand that, given our position, we cannot leave until what you say has been verified beyond a doubt.”
“That seems fair enough.” Will eyed the alien commander. “What kind of proof would be sufficient for you?”
“I am sure that as an intelligent individual it is clear to you that it is impossible to pass judgment on an entire species based on the actions of a single specimen. We must acquire a larger, representative sampling of the population and put the same questions and tests to them that we have put to you. We need to see how they will react, speak, perform in specified situations.”
Will considered. This was becoming as complicated as one of his Uncle Dan’s bourrèes. “I take it you’d like me to help you find some people?”
T’var nodded. “I think it’s self-evident that we can get this over with a lot faster if you’d agree to serve as intermediary for us.”
“Why should I help you?”
“Because,” said T’var, “the sooner we’ve obtained and tested our sample, the sooner we’ll depart forever if your analysis of your kind’s reactions proves correct.”
“All right. I’ll do what I can. It’s going to sound crazy to most people but I’ll try. One thing, though: no professional soldiers, no military personnel. No people who have been trained to fight other people. You want a representative sample of the general population; that’s what I’ll try and get for you.”
“Agreed.” Caldaq’s ears bent forward and his upper lip curled back.
“There’s just one problem,” Will told them. “I have no idea how I’m going to get anybody to cooperate.”
“You have,” Soliwik pointed out.
Will looked at her. “Not enthusiastically, if you’ll remember. And you found me alone and isolated.”
“You mean,” said a puzzled Second-of-Medicine, “you will have difficulty finding people who will agree to help? On a mature world individuals would naturally wish to cooperate.”
“I told you: this isn’t a mature world. But you won’t take my word for it, you want to test other people. Fine. I just have to figure out how to convince some of them to go along.”
“Based on what we have learned of your civilization,” said Caldaq, “it clearly would not be effective for us to appear in a town and make the request ourselves.”
“No. That’s why you need me.” Will looked thoughtful. “I might be able to find a few people willing to meet aliens, talk with aliens. The possibility of contact has been in the news for so long that some people are probably ready for it. But locating people willing to come to your ship and subm
“If it is a true test of your people’s potential to be,” said Second-of-Medicine, “you should adequate specimens everywhere be able to find.”
“Easy for you to say. You have your own definition of civilization. I don’t think it fits ours. If you’re right, though, I suppose I should be able to sail my boat inshore right here and find the people you need. What if I can’t?”
“Then we will have to find another way of running the necessary tests,” said Soliwik.
Will chose not to ask what the alternatives might be. Instead he muttered aloud, “If I had some way of convincing people instead of just asking them to trust me…” He looked at his audience. “You don’t just ask Humans to do something extraordinary for you. It’s customary to offer something in return for services rendered.”
“That is an operative part of most civilizations. The idea of ‘paying’ a sentient to serve as a test subject is not.” Caldaq turned to his colleagues. “That is not to say that under the present circumstances it is unworkable. The transfer of Weave technology is not an option. What else might be acceptable?”
“I’d like to keep away from counterfeiting. If the work wasn’t perfect it could lead to trouble. Precious stones would be acceptable but most people would think they were fakes.” Will looked at the captain. “How about gold? It doesn’t matter what shape it takes. Just so long as it’s the real thing.”
After brief discussion the request was put to the scientific staff. Initial dismay gave way to relief when it was found that the necessary element was present in extractable quantities in the planet’s seawater. The same method which had been used to camouflage the shuttle could be modified to extract gold instead of calcium.
This will all find its way into a grand symphony some day, Will kept telling himself. He would title it “Contact.” Now if they would only continue to provide him with samples of their own music…