You know, Caldaq, if it wasn’t for you we’d still be fighting among ourselves back on Earth instead of helping out people like these.” Caldaq found he was able to turn his head, saw the way the sum, diminutive natives hung close to the taller, bulkier shape of the Human. I’ve been told that’s something of a breakthrough. Even though we secured their village some of them wanted to come with us. The man looked back at him, switched his translator to Massood. They’ve got a bed with your name on it reserved at the hospital.”Ĭaldaq saw that his friend was surrounded by smaller figures, heard him speaking in a strange language. The dream passed, was followed by another. Such Human peculiarities had saved his life. Why write about the dead when one could write about the living? Yet mankind seemed to glory in it. It was a morbid racial affectation no other Weave species shared. They painted, wrote, composed music, and sculpted death. I’ll utilize Massood tonalities so the result won’t make you wince.” Humans spoke of their dead with an enthusiasm other races reserved exclusively for the living, Caldaq knew. ”If you wouldn’t object, I’d like to compose a little memorial piece for her. It was quiet in the room for a long while before Will spoke again.
I didn’t know.” ”Here, on this world,” Caldaq was murmuring. If you’ll tell me where Jaruselka’s stationed I’ll be sure to…” ”Dead. Something happens inside the Human system in a combat situation that makes you feel more alive, more aware, than at any other time. There’s something natural about it, something easy. More and more are coming around to that way of thinking all the time. I know plenty of other artists who feel the same way. I’m here to fight, and to interpret this conflict musically. You’ve been stuck on Kantaria for quite a while, haven’t you?” ”I’m not confused anymore, old friend. The debate on that is unending, you know.” ”No, I did not know,” Caldaq whispered weakly. Maybe that’s what being Human is all about. My body and mind may be at war, but my soul’s at peace. And all the internal conflicts, the uncertainties, are gone now. You orchestrate your forces and plan your strategy. ”Organizing an attack isn’t so different from organizing a symphony. Except for the technology this isn’t as different as I thought it would be. When I was a kid my grandfather used to take me hunting in the bayous. Write about your experiences, paint what you see, compose what you feel. ”I wanted to do more in the same vein, so I thought I should get out and experience what was happening and not just sit in a room watching recordings. There was talk of a Pulitzer, but I don’t care about that anymore.” I ended up with a six-movement symphony, over an hour’s worth of music. I sent it to my agent and it turned into a huge hit on Earth. The music came pouring out, fully orchestrated. ”It turned out to be the easiest, least stressful composition of my life. I replied that I didn’t think I could do that, but that I would try.” He paused. ”I was asked by a S’van to compose some Human music to accompany images which had been recorded of the fighting on Vasarih. ”What happened?” asked the disembodied voice he thought he recognized as his own. ”Until I did it was tearing me apart, to the point where I couldn’t work, couldn’t compose, could hardly think.” Gave in, rather.” Will smiled that strange Human smile. You said always that you wanted to be civilized like the other Weave races, that you wanted more than anything else to keep your people out of the war and the fighting.” ”I did. I thought participation in the resistance against the Amplitur was against everything you stood for. In the distance and through the mist of medication he thought he heard himself speaking. Like the eviscerated entrails of some glassine beast, transparent tubes recycled and replenished his bodily fluids as he dreamed. Each jolt and roar was an individual nightmare, muted only by suspension in the medical pallet. He dreamed he saw Will Dulac storming among the other soldiers, raging and bellowing orders as they fought off repeated attacks. He dreamed that their sled was attacked twice on the long flight back to the coast and Weave regional headquarters.
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