A Call to Arms Read online

  The next day his Second showed them the ship, which was unusually spacious. So were their personal facilities. It was better than he’d imagined, even though he’d expected something of the sort since the ship had been specially modified for extended cruising. Everything was new and contemporary, as Brun had promised.

  As Soliwik made the introductions, Caldaq took particular care to try and memorize the names or identification vowels of as many of the crew they encountered as possible.

  Most prominently there were the members of the Massood combat group, some of whom he was able to identify from family suffixes. Others were strangers to him. It was difficult not to linger among them, enjoying the relaxed conversation and swapping stories.

  As soon as possible, he made contact with his Chirinaldo fire-control team. A mated pair, they were pleasant and ponderous, their high, squeaky voices incongruous as ever. They were much too nice to be in control of the ship’s awesome defensive weaponry, a Chirinaldo specialty. Communicating through standard electronic translators, they spoke cheerily of their ability to obliterate other vessels and the hundreds of sentients aboard the instant he should deem it necessary.

  Because of their size their movements were restricted to limited areas of the ship. Their perspective on life and death was intriguing. Conversation with a Chirinaldo was always full of unexpected surprises and revelations. In the rare event of combat between vessels, their talents would be invaluable. They could command multiple weapons with unmatched skill.

  Their counterparts among the Amplitur’s allies were the Molitar, who were even bigger and stronger but not, it was joked among the Weave, nearly as bright.

  Dainty O’o’yan bustled past, monitoring instrumentation and readouts, their slim bodies and hands working as fast as those of a Massood but with far greater dexterity. They were friendly and even attractive, harmless in stature and appearance, but a little strange. Some of their low-level conversation was difficult even for a Wais to understand, and they preferred to associate almost exclusively with the larger, more sophisticated Hivistahm, whom they closely resembled.

  When encountered, the ultrapolite Wais greeted him exquisitely. Of all the crew thus far encountered only they moved about the ship in perfect contentment. Like everyone else, Caldaq knew the apocryphal tales of battered worlds from which survivors emerged filthy and tattered… except for the Wais, who drifted through war and peace alike attended by invisible, undetectable cleaning facilities.

  They spoke perfect Massood, of course, though he personally found their intonation too proper. It was a relief to leave them and encounter some of the Hivistahm.

  Theirs was the biggest contingent on board, and it was they who were largely responsible for the day-to-day operation of the ship. Though a good deal shorter than the Massood, they were considerably taller than the average O’o’yan or S’van.

  Soliwik had left them for a few moments. Now she returned to inform them that their departure from orbit was imminent… contingent upon his consent, of course. He indicated that she should proceed, confident that with S’van in charge of navigation and Hivistahm engineers overseeing the Drive everything would go well. He returned to his conversation.

  With their slightly bulging slitted eyes and bright green skins the Hivistahm were physically colorful. Their appearance belied their somber personalities. They had long, narrow snouts, much longer than those of the Massood but full of equally sharp if narrower teeth. Slim arms and stronger legs were good for running but not jumping. Hard, scaly skin gleamed iridescently where not hidden by thin, superstrong attire. Pleated pockets overflowed with tools and devices designed to perform arcane tasks. A typical Hivistahm tech would spend most of its time grumbling. Not complaining but simply muttering under its breath, worrying and dreaming of home as it perfectly executed this or that delicate task.

  Superb technicians, they never balked at taking orders from others. Not even from the S’van, whose attitude they found far too frivolous for their liking. Of all the races that comprised the Weave, the Hivistahm were perhaps the most dedicated to defeating the Amplitur, more so even than the Massood. They shared a racial dread of being integrated into the mysterious Purpose that went beyond actual understanding of what it would entail.

  Among the Weave it was said that a warship crewed by S’van and Massood might achieve more in battle, might execute the more brilliant maneuver or achieve the greater result, but that one largely run by Hivistahm would always return home.

  And then there were the Lepar. As usual, the only amphibious intelligences in the Weave were difficult to locate, working as they did in the cramped, less attractive sections of the ship where energy and heat and water and air blended into the technological brew that kept everything running.

  They found several, including the officer in charge, lazing in a water bubble, keeping themselves moist. To Caldaq they looked competent enough. He didn’t particularly like the Lepar, nor did he know anyone who did. Their presence was useful because they could tolerate extremes of temperature and oxygen deprivation that would kill a Massood or Hivistahm or S’van. In an emergency their work might prove vital.

  Their build was stocky without being graceful, wide blunt faces flanked by external feathery gills. Eyes were tiny and black and their skin was slimy and of a dark unpleasant cast. They were as ugly, he thought, as they were necessary.

  They greeted him in badly broken Massood, a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to eschew the use of translators. The Lepar were always trying to do what they could not. Speak other languages with the fluency of the Wais, run a ship as efficiently as a Hivistahm, even fight like the Massood. In the end they could only do the little they could.

  Their intense, small-eyed stares caused him to turn away in embarrassment at their condition. They wore little clothing, a necessity given their natural bodily slime and half-aquatic existence. Among the known intelligences, only the Lepar possessed long tails, a source of some amusement and many jokes among the other evolved species.

  Caldaq reminded himself that regardless of his personal feelings, as captain he could not even appear to look down on members of another Weave race. After all, the Lepar did much of the most dangerous work on board, and all of the dirtiest, and they carried out their unenviable duties quietly and without complaint. Unlike the Hivistahm, for example. Their contribution was as important as that of any other species.

  Turning back to face them, he found himself wondering not for the first time what thoughts they debated in their highly guttural, unelegant language. Wondering what might lie behind those tiny, dull black eyes.

  He excused himself as soon as possible, which appeared to suit them fine. They showed no especial need to be loved or even liked by the other races. All they wanted was to be left alone to do their jobs. This worked out well, since it was also what everyone else on the ship wanted for them.

  Actually, out of the entire crew the presence of a Massood combat group was probably the least necessary, since in the event of hostilities the ship’s long-range weaponry as directed by the Chirinaldo should be more than sufficient to handle any awkwardness. But he was glad of their presence if only for the company of his own kind.

  Soliwik commanded them, and was in fact only Caldaq’s second where matters of combat were concerned. The actual running of the ship was managed by two S’van.

  This did not trouble either officer. There might have been friction between a Massood and Hivistahm, or Massood and O’o’yan, but not between Massood and S’van. It was almost impossible to get mad at a S’van. Arguments were easily defused by a casual joke, an offhanded comment. The S’van had raised compensatory humor to a high art, and an infectious one at that.

  Caldaq wondered if it was an ingrained skill or one the species had developed to insure its survival. For despite their brilliance and their successes at colonization of new worlds they could have easily been destroyed by, say, the Massood or even the Hivistahm.

  Such thoughts reminde
d him of Soliwik’s remark, that he was going to be too busy settling arguments among the crew to worry about personal matters.

  The ship, at least, would give him no problems. It was a technological wonder, incorporating all the latest developments in Weave science. Since it had not been designed as a true warship, there was a great deal more room to devote to activities of a pleasurable nature.

  A good deal of effort, for example, had gone into providing the Hivistahm with the cool, dark, humid living environment they favored, while not, as was sometimes the case, forcing the S’van to share it with them. And while there was always room for smaller species like the O’o’yan, the Massood often found their quarters cramped and constricted because of space limitations. Not on this vessel.

  It made it easier to keep them on a combat footing. That was necessary because while they did not expect to run into the Amplitur or any of their allies, they likewise had no idea what else they might run into. So while there was no reason to anticipate combat, neither was there on board a total absence of tension.

  He soon discovered that there was much to keep him occupied, especially once they had entered Underspace. Even so, he found time to socialize with his fellow Massood. He and Jaruselka had time to themselves apart from their duties, and he was delighted to see that his mate and Soliwik had formed an instant friendship. It was particularly comforting on a long voyage for an unlittered female to have the companionship of an elder who had given birth.

  It took a great deal of pressure off him.

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  There were frequent discussions of routines and objectives, with a Wais always present to clarify and explain nuances that might escape the electronic translators. One thing that did not have to be debated was course. Destinations had been determined by the astronomers of the Weave long before the ship had been readied for departure. Isolating suns likely to have planets was difficult enough. Trying to determine from aboard a ship in Underspace which were likely to support life was an impossibility.

  There were many reasons why this was so, not the least of them being that the presence of an oxynitro atmosphere was not necessarily a prerequisite for the development of intelligence, the heliox-breathing Chirinaldo being the most prominent exception to the usual but far from absolute atmospheric rule. Then there were the amphibious Lepar, and another intelligent but not yet mature species who extracted all their oxygen directly from water.

  Nor could the possibility of encountering even more exotic sentient types be ruled out. Among the allies of the Amplitur, for example, was a race of methane-breathers. So every system that boasted planets had to be closely inspected, lest a potentially useful… or dangerous… world be overlooked.

  He rarely showed the uncertainty he felt. It was not easy being less experienced than many of those he was expected to command. But being Massood, he appeared naturally jumpy and nervous to others, and so it was impossible for any but members of his own kind to tell when he was feeling uneasy. The extremities of a Massood were in constant motion: twitching, curling, quivering. Movements were jerky and swift, not smooth like those of a Hivistahm or languorous in the manner of the Wais.

  There was no hesitancy in the orders he issued, however, and the ship sped on through Underspace devoid of troubles mechanical or psychological.

  Upon reaching a new system and emerging into real space, a well-defined procedure was followed. Whether the subject to be studied was a gas giant, a moon thereof, or a smaller independent world, the ship would assume an orbit a safe several planetary diameters out. Masking would be engaged so that they could not be observed from the surface. The process bent light around the ship. In the unlikely event its location was crossed by astronomers or other observers on the ground it would not occlude any stars, thereby preventing detection.

  Usually it was only necessary to execute a single slow equatorial and a backup circumpolar to establish that a world was uninhabited. The presence of nonintelligent life could be duly noted and recorded from orbit, much to the dismay of Hivistahm biologists eager to examine and collect specimens from every new ecosystem.

  Caldaq sympathized with his scientific staff, but time could not be allotted to pure research. There were too many systems to be searched. The sum total of all such studies would be rendered meaningless by a final Amplitur victory. Their assignment was to seek out potential help, however limited. To find out potential allies. Not to learn.

  There were times when he questioned the work himself. Not because he was not doing what he’d been trained to do, which was fight, but because he was afraid he might not be doing his work well enough. In combat it was easy to determine if one was performing. His present assignment provided no such simple hallmarks from which to judge accomplishment.

  It was the same with running. He moved his legs, fought gravity, and the clock charted the degree of his success. Much more difficult to decide if he was, for example, settling arguments properly.

  There was constant trouble between the Hivistahm and the Lepar. It was in the nature of the Hivistahm to criticize, and they were particularly rough on the slow amphibians. Though patient, the Lepar would take such abuse only so long before reacting. Then there would be a fight, with the bulkier, stronger Lepar unable to get a grip on the slighter but far more agile Hivistahm. This only raised the Lepar’s level of frustration.

  Caldaq found himself spending much of his time mediating such confrontations, which nearly always ended harmlessly if noisily. The skills he was forced to call upon differed greatly from those demanded of a fighter. He was much more comfortable in the role of combatant than referee, especially when members of another race were involved.

  The usual result was that the Hivistahm would trot off muttering and whistling to itself while the Lepar would sulk back to join its fellows as if nothing had happened, leaving their commander to wonder if his intervention had done any good at all. At least when dealing with Massood you always knew where you stood following an argument.

  Whenever his sense of inadequacy or insecurity grew too great to internalize, Jaruselka was always there to comfort and reassure him, and Soliwik to offer sound, practical advice. He could also turn to his other seconds, the S’van T’var and Z’mam.

  That was one thing about the S’van: If you wanted them to be your true friends, all you had to do was plead ignorance or confusion and ask for their advice. They loved to give advice. Some postulated it was a physiological necessity for them, like inhaling. It was bearable only because the advice was usually sound.

  The troubles the expedition experienced fell well within the range of the anticipated. Things were going as smoothly, Caldaq thought, as even an experienced captain could have wished.

  They surveyed many dead worlds but also a surprising number that supported some form of life. One system of seven planets consisted of two outer gas giants, two inner seared rocks, and three worlds in between, all of which harbored life: an unprecedented occurrence.

  The Hivistahm and S’van scientists all but mutinied in their desire to examine the remarkable trio, frantic to compare evolution on one world with its neighbor, to measure similarities and differences. Once again Caldaq was required to deny their requests.

  Each of the three worlds was studied from orbit, and then it was time to move on. The grumbling of the scientists continued in Underspace, but the volume of complaints soon subsided. Everyone knew it was useless to argue with a Massood. Had a S’van been in charge there at least might have been some intelligent debate on the issue.

  Their reaction was not lost on Caldaq, whose admiration for Regional Commander Brim’s abilities rose another notch.

  The science staff’s disappointment was forgotten when the next system they entered proved to be home not merely to life but to intelligent life.

  The newfound species resembled the Hivistahm physically, but they were far too immature to be of any use in the battle against the Amplitur. They were living in tribal groups, primi
tive hunter-gatherers stuck at the spear-and-axe level of technology. Contact revealed a language primitive enough for the Wais to decipher in a couple of days.

  The natives treated the visitors as gods, refusing to accept that they were as mortal as themselves. It was conceded by the Hivistahm that these people would require several millennia of maturation on their own before they would be able to help in any way, a pronouncement rendered with more Hivistahm solemnity than usual.

  The ship continued on, burrowing through Underspace to check one world after another, following the complex course programmed into the ship’s navigation system by the very best of the Weave’s astronomers. Frustration levels among the crew waxed and waned with clocklike regularity, leading Caldaq to believe a psychologist should have been appointed captain rather than a fighter.

  The only member of the crew who never gave him any trouble was Pasüakilion.

  On those occasions when he felt the need to get away from everyone else, including Jaruselka and Soliwik, he would go and visit the Turlog in its dimly lit artificial burrow. Squatting in a corner, it would regard him with one eye from the tip of its supportive stalk while the other concentrated on another task entirely. Though it appeared to be ignoring him, Caldaq knew the alien was devoting as much attention to him as it was to its studies.

  An inflexible, crustaceanlike exoskeleton gave Pasüakilion little range of motion. The large, clumsy claws were hard put to operate the simplest switches and controls. Special amplifiers magnified as well as translated the scratchy Turlog voice. Compared to Pasüakilion, the clumsiest Lepar on the ship was the very picture of grace.

  It had admitted him without greeting, neither rude nor accommodating. Caldaq responded to the subsequent silence with measured words delivered in an unchallenging tone. He was rewarded by a response, however unenthusiastically delivered. He could not tell how much of its attention the Turlog was devoting to his visit and how much to its reading, but at least Pasüakilion responded. Its usual reaction was on the order of abyssal indifference.