Pandora’s Legions
by Christopher Anvil
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
TO BE SEEN IS TO BE HIT
Horsip went off to see his Planetary Integration staff, now working happily on plans for final integration of the planet Earth into the Integral Union, and Moffis went along. Horsip described the appalling number of wrecked and sabotaged ground-cars.
A precocious-looking individual, with large eye-correctors and thin hair on his hands, addressed Moffis in a peevish voice. “I fail to understand how it can be possible for the natives to approach the vehicles without being apprehended.”
Horsip put in quickly, “He means, why aren’t the humans seen?”
Moffis, whose furry face was glowing red, said fiercely, “Because it’s night, that’s why! They can’t be seen!”
“A simple solution. Carry the operation out in daytime.”
Moffis gritted his teeth. “We can’t. Every time a car slows down in the daytime, some sharpshooter half a drag away puts a dart through the tires.”
Moffis’ questioner stared at him. “Oh,” he said suddenly, looking relieved, “exaggeration-for-conversational-effect.”
“What?” demanded Moffis.
“How far the native’s gun could shoot with accuracy,” Horsip hastily interpreted. “He thought you meant it.”
“I did mean it,” said Moffis.
There was a sound of uneasy movement in the room. “Theoretically impossible,” said someone.
Moffis glared at him. “Would you care to come up and lie down behind a tire?”
BAEN BOOKS by CHRISTOPHER ANVIL
Pandora’s Legions
BAEN BOOKS BY ERIC FLINT
Joe’s World series:
The Philosophical Strangler
Forward the Mage (with Richard Roach)
(forthcoming)
Mother of Demons
1632
Rats, Bats, and Vats (with Dave Freer)
Pyramid Scheme (with Dave Freer)
The Shadow of the Lion
(with Mercedes Lackey and Dave Freer)
(forthcoming)
The Tyrant (forthcoming)
The Belisarius series, with David Drake:
An Oblique Approach
In the Heart of Darkness
Destiny’s Shield
Fortune’s Stroke
The Tide of Victory
By James H. Schmitz, edited by Eric Flint:
Telzey Amberdon
T’nT: Telzey & Trigger
Trigger & Friends
The Hub: Dangerous Territory
Agent of Vega & Other Stories
By Keith Laumer, edited by Eric Flint:
Retief!
Odyssey (forthcoming)
Part I: Pandora’s Planet
Klide Horsip, Planetary Integrator, prided himself on being much more than a jailer. Each advance of the Integral Union meant more occupied planets, and each one of these planets, like a single tiny component in a giant magnet, must be brought into line with the rest. This was Klide Horsip’s job, and he settled to it now with relish.
“Phase I is complete?” he insisted, emphasizing the word.
Brak Moffis, the Military Overseer, smiled ruefully, “Not quite as complete as it often is on these humanoid planets.”
“Then give me a brief summary of the details,” said Horsip. He cast a quick glance out the landing-boat’s window at the curve of the blue and green world below. “Looks promising enough.”
“Well,” said Moffis, “as far as that goes, it is. It’s a Centra-type planet, mean diameter about 0.8, with gravity, oxygen, and temperature ideally suited to human and humanoid life. The percentage of water surface is higher than on Centra—about seventy-five per cent—but it’s well distributed, and helps moderate the climate. There are plenty of minerals, including massive quantities of deep nickel-iron that hasn’t yet been touched.”
Horsip nodded. “And the inhabitants?”
“The usual types of plant and animal life—and, the humanoids.”
“Ah, we come to the main point. What stage were the humanoids in when you landed?”
Brak Moffis looked at Horsip and gave a wry smile. “Technologically,” said Moffis, “they were very near Centra 0.9, and in some areas higher.”
“You aren’t serious?”
The Military Overseer shook his head and looked away. “You wouldn’t ask me that if you’d been in on the invasion. Perhaps you’ve heard of Centralis II?”
“The hell-planet! Who hasn’t heard of it?” Horsip let his voice show impatience. “What of it?”
“Well,” said Moffis, “that gives us ground for comparison. This was worse. Thirty per cent of the Initial Landing Parties were vaporized the first day. Another fifty per cent had their sites eliminated by the second day, and were pinned to the earth that day or the day after. The whole second wave had to funnel through the remaining twenty per cent of sites in isolated regions, and of course that meant the natives retained effective control of the situation everywhere it counted. If you’ll imagine yourself wrestling one of the giant snakes of Goa, you’ll have a good idea of our position.” He raised a hand as Horsip, frowning, started to speak. “Let me summarize. Thirty per cent of our selected sites were eliminated, fifty per cent were in desperate straits, and the remaining twenty per cent were jampacked, overloaded, and only meant for secondary purposes in the first place. All this, mind you, despite the fact that the natives let off a couple of incomplete attacks on each other during the initial stages.”
“Hysteria?” scowled Horsip.
“Regional rivalries,” said Moffis.
“Well,” said Horsip, “give the censorship another silver nova for efficiency. All I ever heard of this was that it was proceeding ‘according to schedule.’ ”
“It was,” said Moffis, “but it wasn’t our schedule.”
“I see,” said Horsip, his face disapproving. “Well, what did you do?”
“Organized our established sites as fast as possible, and improvised new ones in chosen locations connecting the outer sites to form a defensive perimeter.”
“Defensive!”
“That was what it boiled down to.”
“What about the other sites—the fifty per cent under attack?”
“We supplied them as well as we could. When we were built up enough, we started a heavy thrust to split the enemy—I mean, native forces—and at the same time ordered a simultaneous break-out of the surrounded units toward common centers. The idea was to build up strong enough groups so they could fight their way to the perimeter.”
“You were actually giving up the original sites?” Horsip looked at the Military Overseer with an expression of offended disbelief.
Moffis looked back coldly. “I’m telling you all this in detail so you’ll understand it wasn’t the usual matter of slaughtering a molk in a stall, and so you’ll be ready in case you run into anything. I’m telling you we had a rough tossing around in the beginning. Maybe you’ll have a better idea when I tell you one of our northern groups of Initial Landing Parties ran into this routine:
“The natives vaporized the center of each site with a nuclear bomb, contained the troops remaining in each site with minimum forces, then switched a heavy reserve from one Landing Party to the next, slaughtering them one-after-the-other, in succession. This wasn’t brilliance on their part; this was their usual level of performance.”
Horsip swallowed and looked serious.
Moffis noted Horsip’s reaction and nodded. “I’m no more used to being on the defensive than you are, and I can assure you I didn’t enjoy a minute of it. But that’s what we were up against. We managed to recover just one large group—about eighteen per cent—of the original Landing Parties, then we pulled back into our perimeter under heavy attack. We had to bring the Fleet down into the atmosphere to get at their communications. At that the ships took losses of better than one-in-five despite the meteor guards. It was touch-and-go for three weeks, then we got the edge, and by the end of the month we had them hamstrung. Then we had some terrific fighting when we broke out of the defensive perimeter. But we won. At the end, we crushed them piecemeal.”
“How long did this take?” asked Horsip.
“A hundred and twenty-seven of the planet’s days,” said Moffis. “Their day is roughly the same length as a day on Centra.”
“I see,” said Horsip, “and ten to twelve days is considered average.”
“Averages don’t count with something worse than Centralis II.”
* * *
Horsip looked out at the planet, growing big as the landing-boat swung closer. As he watched, he saw a region of pits and craters, a part of the globe that looked as if an angry giant had beat on it with a sledge hammer. He turned away, as if to change the subject.
“What,” he asked, “do these humanoid natives look like?”
“A lot like us. They have a pair of anterior and a pair of posterior appendages, one head, eyes, ears, and nose. They walk upright, and have opposable thumbs on the anterior appendages.”
“Any significant marking-differences?”
Moffis swallowed. “A few.”
“Good,” said Horsip, relaxing a bit. “That will save us the trouble of marking them.” When Moffis remained quiet, Horsip turned impatiently. “Well, don’t just sit there. Enumerate them. What are the differences?”
“A bigger skull,” said Moffis, “with a larger brow and a less prominent nose. The females are practically hairless over the greater portion of their bodies, and so are the males, though in less degree.”
“Very good,” said Horsip, nodding approval. “What else?”