Foster, Alan Dean - The Damned 2 - the false Mirror

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Author: Alan Dean Foster

Title: The False Mirror

Series: Book 2, The Damned

Series No:

Original copyright year: 1992

Genre: Science Fiction

Date of e-text: 04/29/2001

Prepared by:

Last Revised: / /

Revised by:

Version: 1.0

Comments: Please correct any errors you find in this

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update the txt file’s version number and redistribute.

***************************************************

By Alan Dean Foster : Published by Ballantine Books:

The Icenggger Trilogy

ICERIGGER

MISSION TO MOULOKIN

THE DELUGE DRIVERS

The Adventures of Flinx of the Commonwealth

FOR LOVE OF MOTHER‑NOT

THE TAR‑AIYM KRANG

ORPHAN STAR

THE END OF THE MATTER

FLINX IN FLUX

MID‑FLINX

BLOODHYPE

THE HOWLING STONES

The Damned

Book One: A CALL TO ARMS

Book Two: THE FALSE MIRROR

Book Three: THE SPOILS OF WAR

THE BLACK HOLE CACHALOT

DARK STAR THE METROGNOME and Other Stories

MIDWORLD NOR CRYSTALTEARS

SENTENCED TO PRISM SPLINTER OF THE MIND'S EYE

STAR TREK@ LOGS ONE‑TEN VOYAGE TO THE CITY OF THE

DEAD

WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE . . . ... WHO NEEDS

ENEMIES?

MAD AMOS PARALLELITIES

PHYLOGENESIS DIRGE*

* forthcoming

Books published by The Ballantine Publishing Group are available at quantity

discounts on bulk purchases for premium, educational, fund‑raising, and special

sales use. For details, please call 1‑500‑733‑3000.

***************************************************

Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized.

If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the

publisher as "unsold or destroyed" and neither the author

I nor the publisher may have received payment for it

A Del Rey® Book

Published by Ballantine Books

Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New

York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of

Canada Limited, Toronto.

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http://www.randomhouse.com

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 91-73136

ISBN 0-345-37575-0

Printed in Canada

First Hardcover Edition: April 1992

First Mass Market Edition: June 1993

10 9 8 7

Cover by ?

***************************************************

For Harry E. Fischer,

Able-bodied seaman and fellow voyager.

***************************************************

Chapter One

By the time he was twelve years old, Ranji knew he liked to kill. His parents,

naturally, encouraged him.

By the tinge of the Trials he had added four years of experience, education, and

maturity to a great deal of additional height, weight, and strength. With these

came confidence in his abilities, a soft-spoken assurance much admired and

valued by the rest of the soldier-trainees in his age group.

There was no jealousy among them, that being an alien concept shared by the

multitude of monsters whose ultimate goal was the destruction of civilization.

Why would anyone be jealous of him? Were they not all striving for the sane end,

seeking enthusiastically the same results? Achievement among friends was to be

applauded, not en-vied. Who would not wish to have a soldier more skilled in the

arts of combat than oneself fighting on his flank?

So each trainee strove to outdo his or her competitors while simultaneously

urging them to greater achievement.

Until the monsters arrived on the scene, civilization had been advancing

steadily across the cosmos, spreading organization where hitherto had been only

chaos. The pace had been slow but gratifyingly inexorable. Occasional setbacks

were accepted and taken in stride until ground lost could, as it inevitably was,

be regained.

'Then a thousand or so years ago the alliance of monsters had been encountered,

and everything had changed.

Many were unpleasant to contemplate physically as well as intellectually, while

others differed little in appearance from Ranji's own kind. The worst were

utterly unpredictable, savage and cunning beyond belief, possessed of a feral

intelligence that made them awful to encounter on the battlefield.

With such as these in the vanguard, the alliance of mon-sters had wreaked

considerable havoc. But their recent advances had been halted, the situation

stabilized. Soon the civilized peoples would begin pushing them back, rescuing

as they advanced those poor, benighted populations who had suffered for

centuries under the monsters' domin-ion.

Ranji and his friends knew this to be inevitable. Their own training both as

soldiers and civilized citizens proved it so. No matter how strong, the forces

of chaos could never overcome and defeat those of civilization. Not as long as

determined fighters like Ranji-aar and his compan-ions continued to rise through

the ranks to take their place at the forefront of civilization's defense.

While there was no place in true society for jealousy, room was allowed for

pardonable pride. In the fifteen-to-seventeen-year-old cluster, he and his

trainee squad re-peatedly graded out at or near the top of their class. In fact,

on all of Cossuut only one other squad regularly posted scores matching those of

Ranji's. That was a group from Kizzmat Township, which lay just on the other

side of the Massmari mountains, near the junction of the rivers Nerse and

Joutoula. Near enough for a friendly rivalry of reputations to have been

invented by the media. As grad-uation exercises progressed, both squads

qualified easily for the planetary finals in their age group.

His mother and father took quiet pride in the effortless qualification of their

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son and his friends, as they had in all his achievements. Their delight was

perhaps magnified somewhat by the fact that neither of them had been a sol-dier.

Ranji's father worked in a factory which produced nanotronic components, while

his mother was a teacher. Certainly her tutoring abilities contributed to

Ranji's success. as well as to that of his younger brother, Saguio, and his baby

sister, Cynsa.

Though jealousy was unknown among the trainees, it was still a good thing that

Ranji was not the best at every thing. His friend Birachii-uun was stronger,

Cossinza-iiv much faster. But in Ranji was found the best combination of warrior

attributes, a fact which was reflected in his in-dividual scores. Certainly he

was the smartest of his com-panions.

Though only sixteen, he was often nominated to serve as leader during important

exercises. This was almost unheard of. Strategy leaders were inevitably chosen

from the ranks of seniors: seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds. Fully conscious of

such honors, he carried them well. Coupled with exceptional organizational

skills, his drive and deter-mination rarely disappointed those who placed their

faith in him. His ability was a fact his peers recognized and applauded.

He took pleasure in his accomplishments because he saw how much they pleased his

parents. To him, appro-bation meant little. He was interested only in the job at

hand, and in doing it well. For that reason he looked for-ward eagerly to the

coming graduation finals.

Until those were passed there was always the chance of failing, of not being

awarded full soldier status. Even accomplished students like Ranji had been

known to crack under the pressure. No opprobrium attached to such individuals.

They simply served the war effort in some other fashion more suited to their

actual skills.

Ranji was calm and ready. He had no intention of fail-ing. He could not fail.

Not only did he want, like any healthy member of his species, to be a soldier:

he head to be. He knew, sensed, felt, that he'd been born to it. To kill and

chance being killed in the defense of civilization. To fight the enemy for real,

not merely in simulations.

He always tried to approach the schooling simulations in that state of mind,

striving to convince himself that he was not participating in simple tests but

was actually engaging in combat against the monsters; killing for real,

destroying them one after another to protect his civiliza-tion, his friends, his

world.

Not to mention revenging his real mother and father.

Along with the parents of most of his friends, they had perished when the

monsters had invaded and destroyed Houcilat. He, his brother, and his sister had

been adopted and raised on Cossuut.

He had studied the history of the incident from an early age, and the details

had long ago burned themselves into his memory. How the monsters had swept down

without warning to ravage and obliterate every structure, every vestige .of

civilization in their lust for destruction. How they had seared the planet's

surface so badly that it could no longer support higher life. And most

meritoriously, how a few shuttles had darted gallantly through the withering

enemy fire to rescue what survivors they could, including himself and his

siblings, and carry them to the safety of waiting starships and an eventual life

of comparative peace on Cossuut.

His teachers had put off explaining his history to him until he was old enough

to comprehend, if not to under-stand. Only when he asked for the information was

it supplied. As he studied, and learned, he developed the determination which

had characterized him throughout his adolescence.

He carried the horrific images of vanished Houcilat with him into every test,

every trial. They added resolve to his efforts, enabling him to rise above even

those of his mates, whose histories were no less tragic than his own.

There were twenty-five of them, the same number as in an actual commissioned

attack squad. They had practiced together, trained together since childhood,

defeating one school team after another. Now the culmination of those untiring

efforts was at hand. Some of his friends were apprehensive, others uncertain. As

for Ranji, he burned with anticipation.

Suddenly there were no more teams to defeat, no more bedazzled opponents to

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overwhelm and intimidate. Ranji and his friends had reached the summit of

achievement: the planetary finals for their age cluster. Of the hundreds of

squads that had entered in hopes of being declared un-disputed strategic

champions, only the team from Kizzmat Township stood in the way of Ranji and his

friends. Mys-terious, enigmatic Kizzmat, from over the Massmari mountains.

Kizzmat, who in defeating one competitor af-ter another had demonstrated skills

and swiftness equal to Ranji's own.

He was not worried. No matter their opponents' record, Ranji and his friends

never took them lightly. Such cau-tion, along with many other talents, was the

legacy of their class-level supervisor.

Instructor Kouuad was shorter than he seemed to be. Extensive combat experience

and many honors gave him stature. Indeed, it was unusual for so experienced a

soldier to be assigned to teach younger age levels. From the time they were old

enough to understand such things, Ranji and his companions were conscious of

their great luck in hav-ing Kouuad as their teacher.

Kouuad-iel-an's field career had been brought to an early and untimely end by a

severe injury which not even the best physicians had been able to completely

repair. It was rumored that he had suffered the damage in hand-to-hand combat,

with one of the most vicious of the monsters them-selves. His fellow teachers

held him in some awe. The effect of his reputation on his pupils was profound.

It was mentioned that access to such an extraordinary instructor gave the

trainees of Ciilpaan an unfair advantage over the others in their age cluster.

All such protests were disallowed by the officials. It was the trainees who took

the tests, not their teacher. As for Ranji and his friends, they were more than

willing to credit Kouuad for much of their success.

"I warn you now," the venerable soldier told them. one morning when they had

assembled for practice. "Hitherto you have run over, around, and through your

opposition.

But this is no mere township exercise approaching. These are your cluster's

planetary finals. Career success can be guaranteed in a few days. The trainees

of Kizzmat know this. You need to ponder it as well.

"Remember that their record is as proud as yours. They will not go down easily.

I have seen recordings of them in action. They are tougher and more resourceful

than any group you have yet confronted." Kouuad paced back and forth in front of

the large-screen simulator.

"Do not let your successes go to your heads. Everything you have achieved in

your lives to date is history. All your accomplishments lie in the past. Only

this forthcoming confrontation matters. Everything else is dust. That is as true

of real combat as of simulated.

`.Realize, too, that even as I speak thus to you, they are receiving similar

advice, they will be equally well pre-pared. " He stopped and smiled proudly,

squinting through aged eyes that had seen too much death.

"You have met every challenge thrown at you. All that remains is your cluster

championship for all Cossuut. Bear in mind that beyond this lies actual combat

against the monsters. If you can advance that day in your minds and approach

this competition as if actual warfare were in-volved, I think you will do well.

Realize that you compete not for pride or prize, but to preserve civilization."

Amusement suffused his expression.

"There is nothing wrong with winning a prize, though. The record of your

performance, both individually and as a group, will become a matter of

permanence. You want that record to be approving. -

"Don't worry, honored teacher," said an enthusiastic Bielon. "We intend to win."

Murmurs of agreement rose from those around her.

"What about the Kizzmatis' methods?" came a ques-tion from the back row.

" Yes," said another. "How do they differ from what we have encountered so far?

"Strategically we do not know what to expect, " Kouuad explained. "Their tactics

are unpredictable. That has been one of their greatest strengths, as it has been

one of yours. They are famous improvisers, swift and decisive. Those of you who

are squad leaders will therefore accrue addi-tional burdens in the field. The

rest of you must obey your leaders' instructions implicitly. There will be no

time for animated, lengthy tactical debate in this competition. Things will

happen quickly. The Kizzmati are fast." He stared hard at them. "I am counting

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on you to be faster."

He was silent for a long moment. "These are the plan-etary finals. There will be

no opprobrium attached to losing, no disgrace in defeat. To finish second among

thousands is the grandest of accomplishments."

"We're not coming in second!" someone shouted from the back. Kouuad tilted his

head slightly and smiled anew.

"You have already exceeded the achievements of the majority of your

contemporaries. Despite the knowledge that the greatest prize of all is within

your grasp, you should not forget that." He checked his chronometer.

"I have nothing more to teach you. I suggest you all go home and try to get a

good night's sleep. Tomorrow morn-ing we leave for the competition site in the

Joultasik foot-hills. "

A buzz of conversation rose from Ranji's friends. Until then they had not been

told where the competition was to be held. Secrecy insured that neither side

would be able to spy in advance on the competition matrix and thus gain an

unfair advantage over the competition.

Ranji was pleased. The Joultasik would provide varia-tions in terrain, and he

usually performed best in multiple environments.

"What do you think our chances are?" he asked his father that night. They sat at

the dining table; mother and father at opposite angles, Ranji, his brother, and

his baby sister at the foot of the triangle.

"You're gonna kill 'em, wipe 'em out, massacre 'em! Just like you have all the

others! " Bereft of weaponry, Saguio waved an eating utensil instead. Ranji gave

his younger sibling a tolerant look.

"I want you to fight hard, but also to be careful, dear. I don't want you or any

of your friends to get hurt." His mother was refilling their glasses with cold

fruit juice. "The Kizzmatis' reputation rivals your own. They're go-ing to be

hard to beat."

"I know, Mother."

"You'll kick the crap out of 'em. " Saguio tried to speak and shovel food in at

the same time.

Ranji regarded his sibling fondly. If anything, Saguio was going to be a little

taller, a little stronger than his older brother. But not smarter. Testing had

already been extensive enough to show that. Still, he was going to be a credit

to his family line.

Not his present family, Ranji reminded himself darkly. The one that had been

brutally extinguished by the monsters. They would win tomorrow. All he had to do

was picture the Kizzmatis as monsters.

"We will, Saguio."

His father gestured with his glass. "Beware overconfi-dence, Ranji. Never chance

overconfidence. Not because it might cost you tomorrow, but because it will

certainly cost you in combat. I don't care if you win tomorrow or not. Just

reaching the finals is a supreme achievement. Where I don't want you to lose is

on the real battlefield. "

"Don't worry, Father. I would never go into battle over-confident against the

monsters." He picked at his food. "It's striking how close in appearance they

are to us. Many times I've sat studying the files and wondered if I was looking

at my own kind, until the differences became ap-parent. "

"Physical similarities mean nothing," his mother said softly. She touched her

forehead, then her chest. "Here and here they are radically different from us,

programmed to kill, to have no mercy, to destroy civilization wherever they find

it. They cannot build; they can only destroy."

"That is why they must be stopped." His father grunted. "If you and your friends

can contribute to that, you will gain the gratitude not only of your own kind

but of all civilized beings everywhere."

“Tear 'em up tomorrow, Ranj," his brother growled.

"I'll do my best, Sagui.”

"You always have." His mother turned to Cynsa, who had begun squealing and

pounding on the table. Ranji's baby sister was a terror. He smiled to himself.

When she matured she'd probably be a tougher fighter than either him or his

brother. All three of them would do their adop-tive parents as well as their

original lineage proud.

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