Glathriel, not Ambreza. A high-tech hex whose “humans” had built a massive and powerful civilization, one that, simply from its own laziness and indolence, outgrew its living space and decided that the lush farmlands of the Ambreza next door were necessary to its continued comforts. Rather than fight a losing battle, the Ambreza had cast about and, as usual when certain impossibilities were needed, found it in the North, among races so strange and alien that you could get them to whip things up for you if you had the right trade goods and they would never even consider that they were making up a weapon, in this case a brutal gas that was harmless to all except Type 41 humans.
In the final preparations, the humans had begun massing on the Ambreza border when, throughout the hex, the canisters of gas were loosed. The Ambreza may have been nontech, but they weren’t ignorant. Their own “peace” party in negotiations in Glathriel had triggered the gas releases electronically.
It was colorless, odorless, and quite effective. In some way even the Ambreza didn’t understand it worked on the cerebral cortex of the human brain, and, rather slowly, the humans had simply become increasingly less able to think, to reason. The great apes had been the model for the Type 41s, and, mentally at least, great apes they became. The gas didn’t dissipate, either; it stayed, and settled into the rocks, the soil, everything, affecting new generations. Most died; the rest became pets of the Ambreza in their expansion into Glathriel.
Brazil had changed all that the last time he was through. Inside the Well he had altered not the gas but, subtly, the Type 41 brains that were affected by it. During Mavra Chang’s exile in Glathriel they had been savages, yes, but thinking savages. Marquoz wondered what they were now.
There were five Ambreza, each wearing some sort of medallion that the Hakazit took to be a badge of office or rank. With them were several others, one of whom looked decidedly strange, Marquoz thought uneasily, a huge, looming shape of pure white with only two small black ovals.
He stopped a few meters from the party and stuck his white flag in the dirt. “I am Marquoz of Hakazit,” he told them in his most menacing tone.
“I am Thoth, Chamberlain of the Region,” one of the Ambreza responded. “My fellow Ambreza are from the central authorities. The others are representatives of the council force invited here, with
Marquoz was impressed. He’d heard of Gunit Sangh, although the Dahbi were half a world away. He seemed to recall that Sangh had once tried the same trick the Ambreza had pulled on Glathriel but had been screwed in the attempt.
“I’ll get to the point,” he said, not acknowledging the others. “We have no wish to harm any citizens or territories, yours included. We only wish to march through the areas under your jurisdiction, Ambreza and Glathriel, as quickly as possible on the way north.”
“You are welcome here, friends,” Thoth responded, “but Glathriel is a very fragile place. We should not wish large forces to go there. It could upset the ecological balance.”
“We must go there to go north, as you well know,” the Hakazit parried. “Ginzin is only passable along the northeast coast. Glathriel is necessary. We will do minimal damage.”
“Glathriel is not open,” the Ambreza maintained.
Marquoz felt his stomach tense slightly. He turned and pointed back up the hill. “As you know, up there is the start of fifteen thousand creatures just like me. Most conventional weapons simply will not harm us. I realize that you have some very sophisticated weaponry that would, particularly the rays, but be aware that we, too, are from a high-tech hex and have our own. We also have seven hundred additional allied troops of various forms, many aerial and a number poisonous. My race is bred as a warrior race. We are not concerned with casualties or arguments. If you refuse us, we will march anyway, using all weaponry within our command to facilitate our course. Should we be opposed we will destroy utterly and without mercy any and all, soldiers and civilians, plants and animals, that are in our path.”
“You say ‘we,’ ” Gunit Sangh put in, his voice through the translator sounding still nasty and threatening. “You are not of our world. Those are not your people. I tend to think that, if we overlooked the diplomatic courtesies and simply eliminated you right here and now, that army would have no fight left.”
Inwardly, that idea did nothing for his stomach, but he kept his impassive stance and tone. “You’re wrong. I have just come from arguing with my generals because the men are upset. They have marched here without killing anyone or anything and that makes them unhappy. They want to fight. Should anything happen to me at this moment, you would lose the only moderating force around. You all would die immediately, of course—and after that Ambreza would be just a memory. Right now two Jorgasnovarians are over principal population centers in Ambreza carrying bombs made from designs I furnished. These are ancient weapons from my old sector of space, fairly easy to make once I discovered that there was uranium in Hakazit. Each bomb is atomic. Each will destroy an entire city and poison the countryside for generations with radioactivity. We can effectively deal with any remaining forces you have here. Make up your mind now. Yes or no. I intend to give the order to march immediately. How they do it is determined by your answer now.”
The Ambreza looked shocked. One turned to another and whispered, “Is such a weapon possible?” The other nodded.
Thoth, hearing this, shivered a bit and turned back to Marquoz. “We must have some time to discuss this!” he argued. “Please, a few minutes, at least!”
“You have no time. Yes or no? I want your answer now,” he pressed cooly. He actually found himself feeling a bit sorry for the Ambreza; they were so damned politically naive. That was the hole card for this entire business, he knew. A world with a lot of political and military intrigue in its past would never be taken in so quickly.
“He is bluffing,” Gunit Sangh snapped. “We have a solid force here. Let us join with them at this point and make an end to this matter.”
Of course, Marquoz conceded to himself, there
The Ambreza, however, were done in. After a quick, whispered conference there were nods and Thoth turned to the strange white creature. “Commander, it is
Now Gunit Sangh unfolded himself. He was an impressive, vicious-looking creature, with three pairs of sticky tentacles and a face that said here was a thing that ate only living flesh. The tentacles showed sharp reflective shields of cartilage that obviously could cut like knives. The whole creature, close to three meters long, was in its own way as much a killing machine as the Hakazit—and unlike the Hakazit it looked very much in practice, not bluffing at all.
“I can do nothing if the host country forbids it,” Sangh spat. “But your untried army will have to face mine yet, off-worlder. You mark my words.
“Any time,” Marquoz responded as casually as he could manage. “And, in case you think
“Asam!” the Dahbi hissed. “Eating the two of you will be the most supreme pleasure of my very long life!” And, with that, to the amazement of both sides, Gunit Sangh seemed to change his color to a more milky white, becoming slightly glowing, less substantial. He folded himself back into his ghostly shape and, without another word, sank into the ground itself as if it were water.
Marquoz felt well satisfied even though the troops would be upset at still no battle. He had faced down the Ambreza and removed another potentially nasty threat, neutralized that big multiracial force, and snubbed the enemy commander all at one time. He was particularly happy to have met Colonel Asam by chance in Zone; otherwise, he would never have known about that story…
He turned, nodded to a subordinate, and green flares were lit and shot into the air. The army started to move. He and his aides stood there and let it march past, looking damned menacing and impressive. The Ambreza and allied forms got out of the way fast; most, he guessed, were heading to nearby communications tents to radio the news.
One of his Hakazit aides inched over to him as they tramped by, masking most other sounds.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Those bombs—superbombs or whatever. Was that for real?”
He drew himself up to full attention. “General, I would no more bluff than I would tell a lie,” he huffed, and
