Weems

By Will Wright

The Gathering has a crisis. A plague is killing millions. If there'd been a Weem on the planet, it never would have gotten out of hand. But all the Weems live on Trope along with a race of brutal warriors the Gathering has used to subject many planets. Unfortunately, these Tropan brutes see Weems as their personal medical corps and won't let any leave the planet. Now it's up to Elan, a Xin fighter pilot and her flight group to get a Weem off Trope.
If only the humans didn't keep getting in the way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Will Wright
• Release date: Jul 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005666057

Will Wright

Dr. Will Wright is Professor Emeritus of Sociology at Colorado State University. Before joining the faculty at CSU-P in 1986, he taught at several universities including the University of California, Northwestern University, Wesleyan University, and the University of Arizona. Dr. Wright, who was formerly the chair of the sociology department, has written four major books The Wild West: The Mythical Cowboy and Social Theory, Sage Publications, 2001, Wild Knowledge: Science, Language, and Social Life in a Fragile Environment, University of Minnesota Press, 1992, The Social Logic of Health, (with new Introduction) Wesleyan University Press, 1994, (First edition: Rutgers University Press, 1982), Sixguns and Society: A Structural Study of the Western, University of California Press, 1975. Dr. Wright’s Sixguns and Society is widely considered a classic in its field and despite its publication over 30 years ago remains in print and in the library of every serious student of the Western movie. His work on Westerns is widely cited internationally and his theoretical analysis of the genre is summarized in detail in a number of prominent texts on film and society. Dr. Wright’s scholarly articles on theory, popular culture, and film have appeared in a variety of academic journals including Journal of Popular Film and Television, War, Literature and the Arts, Contemporary Sociology, The Social Text, and New Society. He has also contributed a number of chapters to edited books.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Warrior Madonna

A breath of wind

An empire in the balance

(From an English paraphrase of the Kneulian epic, E-lan and the Weem)

Monkey pilots.

E-lan pretended she did not hear. Humans, having such poor hearing, assumed that other species could not detect their whispers. Perhaps they assumed that Xin pilots would not know any earth languages. Humans made a lot of stupid assumptions. That’s why they were so easy to conquer.

Doesn’t seem so bad in here, said E-kip. She showed no sign of hearing the human insult. E-lan didn’t think E-kip bothered to learn English during the subjugation of Earth. Group seconds concerned themselves with pilots, ships and tactics. Group leaders weren’t so fortunate.

At least it holds atmosphere, E-lan agreed. I’ve never seen a jump station this chewed up before.

I figured most of the damage would be inside, said E-kip. Trope like to do their fighting on foot.

I am Ensign Geller, to be here welcoming you, said a gangly human in poor common speech. Our fleets had liberated the station that is this one. We are now the species of host. I am looking for your needed things.

E-lan was pretty certain she could speak Ensign Geller’s earth language better than he was speaking common. From the look of the human, he probably spoke English or German.

But they humans would expect all Xin to speak their languages.

I am Group Leader E-lan, she said in common, but slowly, so the human would understand. This is Group Second E-kip. We thank you for your hospitality.

The ensign smiled. There senior officers meeting set, he said.

At what point?

The Ensign looked up in the air and to his left. E-lan had seen other humans do this when they were trying to do simple calculations. Let’s see, mumbled the human in English. Eight PM is 14 hours after six AM divided by twenty four. He was moving his fingers. Was he using them to count? The hosts had set the meeting in earth time without bothering to convert that to common.

Point 58… and a third, he said.

Humans had 10 hand digits like the Gathering founders, but they still counted time in base 12.

They’d had nearly 11 years to adjust since their subjugation. Shouldn’t they be using common speech and measures by now?

I will showing quarters of yours, yes now?

E-kip, who had been studying the battle damage in the main room as a way to avoid paying attention to the human, shifted her attention and looked him in the eye.

Yes, now, she said. The human rocked back from her gaze. E-kip was just taller than the human’s knee but there was a fierceness there that she normally reserved for disciplining wayward pilots. Much of E-kip’s fur had gone from blue to purple, but she was still just as intimidating as she’d been on E-lan’s first day fourteen years ago.

Following me, then Xin pilots, said the Ensign. He led them to a station tube and summoned a car. Would a station car be safe in a jump station this badly damaged? The human showed no hesitation stepping in. Was that confidence, courage or ignorance? E-lan suspected it was ignorance but she followed the Ensign inside. The back wall of the car was blackened, like it had been hit with a weapon. E-kip studied the wall, looking for fissures.

We damage repairing have much to do, said the Ensign. Trope and human bodies are taken gone. Dead of ours the many but honored. Good to repay Trope. Trope are they evil.

E-lan didn’t think the human meant to form his last sentence as a question, but he should have. Were Trope evil? A year earlier, Xin pilots and Trope marines were fighting side by side to expand the Gathering. She still didn’t think of them as evil, but a human would. Trope were not gentle when they conquered a planet. She’d killed many humans in the subjugation of earth, but she didn’t sense animosity from the human against the Xin. A pilot shoots from a distance and usually doesn’t see her enemy die. A marine wears the enemy’s blood until the battle is over.

You are female, both of you? asked the human.

Of course, barked E-kip.

None there are males within your group?

E-kip shook her head and turned her attention to the blackened wall.

Knowing we are Xin pilots female they are, said the Ensign, but male most are fighters human, but females too are there.

If we provided ground troops, E-lan explained, then our males would fight, but we are a small people and the Gathering has no need of Xin ground troops when it has Trope – had Trope. Even without the Trope, there are many species that make more effective ground fighters than Xin. Xin make good pilots, so that’s how we serve the Gathering. Females among our species have faster reflexes, so all of our pilots are female.

E-lan didn’t think Ensign Geller was able to follow every word she said. He was irritating her and she’d spoken faster than she’d intended. Still, he smiled and nodded his head to show that he understood.

The station car stopped and opened into a lobby. E-kip proceeded E-lan to test the atmosphere. It was a natural impulse for a group second to protect her leader, though E-lan didn’t think there was much they could do if the atmospheric seals were broken. Space was an implacable enemy to small bubbles of living gasses like a damaged jump station. Why was there so much damage to the outside of the structure?

The way is this, said the human, gesturing to his right. E-lan and E-kip followed the human through the lobby and down a corridor.

Are all the corridors intact and sealed? asked E-lan.

Now yes, said the Ensign.

So I may walk to the senior officer’s meeting?

The human nodded. It would take half an hour, he said in English, then translated, two points requiring it.

They came to a door and the human palmed it once and hit the control for new access authorization. E-lan and E-kip both palmed the sensor and were recognized for access. The door opened to a main room with doors to smaller rooms lining the walls. Elan counted twenty-six rooms. There would be two pilots to each room. It wasn’t the most spacious accommodation, but it was acceptable.

No mead, E-kip grumbled. E-lan wasn’t surprised. Humans were either slow to learn traditions or they just didn’t care. The human went to one of the two food kiosks, one on each side of the main room.

Mead, you are wanting? he asked. Group leader E-len is wanting mead too?

E-kip’s ears stood erect in rage, but E-lan flashed Her a hand signal to stand down. She didn’t think the human intentionally mispronounced her name.

Yes, she told the Ensign.

Mead, two, said the Ensign to the kiosk. Two standard mugs of mead appeared in the kiosk. E-lan knew they’d be room temperature but didn’t complain. Just because the human was uneducated, did not mean she should be rude. She waited for the human to speak the words of hospitality. He said nothing.

I accept you kindness gratefully, said E-lan, using the proper response to the unspoken welcome. She sipped the mead and tried to not notice the temperature.

The human handed her a clicker. Here with this I am coming, he said. Things you are needing me getting or doing, he added.

E-kip hadn’t sipped her mead, but the human didn’t seem to notice. He started towards the door.

A question, said E-kip, in a calm voice that didn’t reflect what E-lan knew her group second felt.

The human turned and nodded.

What compliment of ships did the Trope have outside the station to oppose you? she asked.

Three fighters, said the human.

How many cruisers? asked E-kip.

Cruisers none, said the human. Three fighters and inside marines jump station waiting.

Thank you, said E-kip pleasantly.

The human nodded, palmed the door and left.

E-kip waited until the human’s footsteps were no longer audible, though with human hearing that wasn’t really necessary. Three fighters! she barked. You and I could have cleared them off without so much as a scratch on the station.

E-lan nodded agreement and sipped her over-warm mead.

Chapter 2

E-kip settled the pilots into their billets. They weren’t a difficult group; most of them were veterans. Some, like E-kip had even served under E-lan’s mother. Group leaders got the credit for the work of seconds and veterans. It wasn’t fair, but it had always been that way. E-lan’s fighter group was among the best in the Gathering. At least she knew enough to personally credit those responsible.

E-lan took out her reader to study her briefing. The pilots had their readers out too, but they were using them to communicate with loved ones back home. E-lan would have liked to spend this time with A-mat and the twins. Consistent with Xin tradition, E-lan’s daughter took the first, third and fourth letter of her name from her mother and the second letter from her father. Conversely, her son took his second letter from her and the rest from his father. It was a tradition that confused many off-worlders, but made perfect sense to Xin. E-man and A-lat never complained about how little they heard from their mother. Xin children understood about duty.

E-lan skipped over the reason for the conflict. She already knew about the Weems and the crisis on Fetra IV. She went to the battle reports to find out why the jump station was so damaged.

On day 135, Jump station Trope was attacked by 500 Earth cruisers and a compliment of 750,000 Earth marines. Three Trope fighters were destroyed and 72 Trope marines were killed. The Earth force lost 1243 marines in the action and 875 marines were wounded. There were no prisoners.

Dieke or Brini marines probably could have taken the station with half that many casualties, but Earth was five days closer to the target than the next nearest jump station. The people of Fetra IV couldn’t afford the delay.

E-lan was surprised the humans didn’t lose more.

There was nothing in the report about why the station was damaged. If it had been one large destruction, she might have attributed it to one of the Trope fighters crashing into the station with weapons armed. Instead, the station was pockmarked.

Why were there no answers here? E-lan was going to hand her reader to E-kip to show her the report, but the group second was on her reader with her son.

Most Xin females have twins, a male and a female. Since the days of gathering, a Xin female stayed on planet and trained until her twins were born and weaned. Then she would hand the children over to the father and join her flight group. After that, there was little time for mothering.

E-kip’s daughter died before she could produce her twins. The son was a farmer back on Xin and had just become a grandfather. E-kip and her son were as close as her pilot duties allowed.

E-lan loved her children, though she seldom spent time with them. How would she react if E-man or A-lat died? Was it bitterness that what made E-kip so hard on new pilots or was she just trying to save their lives? E-lan watched E-kip cooing to her son in the old language.

It wasn’t bitterness.

E-lan scanned the complement for the operation. More than half of the marines were human, though there were good Dieke and Brini units as well. Dieke were best at administration. Most of the Gathering’s senior staff was Dieke. Brini were more technical. They were both large and rugged species by non-Trope standards, but when there were Trope available for front line work, Dieke and Brini usually found themselves in support positions.

There were Kneulians in the manifest. In her mother’s day, the free Kneulians held off several assaults from the Gathering before negotiating their capitulation. They were the only species E-lan knew of to get terms from the Gathering other than unconditional surrender. Now they were pacifists. Two of their great festival ships accompanied the Dieke delegation. They weren’t there just for entertainment. The Gathering expected heavy casualties. Morale needed boosting in fights with high losses.

They’d be needed. The best battle-hardened ground troops in this expedition were on the other side.

Human Cruisers also outnumbered all the cruisers from other worlds combined. It was the largest fleet that E-lan had seen in her lifetime, but it was also heavily human.

At least all the fighter groups were Xin.

E-lan’s reader chimed to remind her that it was point 56. If she was going to walk to the senior staff meeting, she’d better start now. She interfaced her reader with the station again, asking where she should report. A map flashed up on her reader.

I’m going to the meeting, she told E-kip.

The group second acknowledged her.

My best to A-kar, E-lan added. E-kip looked embarrassed, but she nodded.

Why should an old pilot looked embarrassed for loving her son? Though all pilots loved their children, many acted ashamed to admit it. E-lan shook her head. It was a question for the poets.

E-lan followed the map through the station. A few of the patched areas did not look stable and she quickened her pace to the next air-lock. The corridors were probably safe. If there had been any breeches, they would have shown on her reader, but she still wished the Brini had taken the station instead of the humans.

The map terminated at a conference room with a capacity of 600. It was too small to hold all the senior officers in this expedition. Two other Xin group leaders were entering and E-lan followed. The room was full of Xin group leaders with a dozen interaction screens at the front.

Putting us all in the same cage, grumbled one of the group leaders she entered with.

E-lan!

A group leader, purple with age called to her. At first, E-lan didn’t recognize E-zis. She hadn’t seen the great pilot since she’d finished training. E-zis rarely flew anymore.

E-lan, said the older pilot, there is a table near the screens on the left. I want you to sit with me there.

Xin had little internal government. Because it was the home world of the Gathering’s pilots, Imperial legates ran most of the planets internal affairs. It did have a leader, though and that was E-zis.

I am honored, E-zis, said E-lan. She felt the urge to flatter the great pilot, but resisted. E-lan’s mother had known E-zis and she knew the great one hated flattery.

E-zis put a hand on E-lan’s shoulder. You have done well, she said. Your mother would have been proud.

E-lan felt a rush of emotions that she pushed back in order to appear strong. E-zis shook her head and smiled. Suddenly E-lan felt silly hiding her emotions.

I would like her to have been proud of me, she said.

The two pilots made there way to the screen table where they joined E-bak. E-bak, though not as old as E-zis, was still a generation older than E-lan. She had been the first to pilot to use the gunlock maneuver to evade enemy fire. Sitting at this table, E-lan felt both young and insignificant.

E-bak greeted both E-zis and she with a courteous nod of the head. E-lan responded in kind, though she felt like a child in a fantasy game doing so.

Do not feel out of place, said E-zis softly. Your record is well known now.

The largest of the screens came to life, followed by the screens below it, one of which showed E-lan, E-bak and E-zis. On the large screen was Admiral Krag, a Dieke and supreme military commander of the Gathering. Next to him was a Brini general that E-lan had met only once, but E-lan was fairly certain she was called Foayare. There were three humans with them, two in uniform, and one civilian.

Be seated, said Admiral Krag.

The Xin sat immediately and were silent. On the screens showing the cruiser officers and marines, each Brini and Dieke sat as well but many of the humans continued to mill about and even carry on conversations.

Be seated and be quiet! shouted one of the human officers with the Admiral. Even then, human obedience was not immediate. How could officers who did not follow orders, expect their own orders to be followed?

Information, not in your briefing, said the Admiral, ignoring the humans who were still speaking and other humans who were making hissing sounds for some reason, our best estimates from Fetra IV is that 4 to 5 million are dying from the plague each standard day.

The humans stopped talking.

We also have reports, said the Admiral, that somewhere between four hundred and a thousand off-world technicians have been invited, and taken residence on Trope.

The Brini general stood, and the admiral nodded to her. These are Brini technicians, said the general. They are part of a dissident group advocating independence from the Gathering. Their numbers have always been insignificant on Brini, but they are skilled. They will be able to repair and maintain the Trope guns.

E-lan looked over at E-zis who looked as distressed as she felt. The Trope were excellent warriors, but careless in maintaining their equipment. They weren’t lazy; they just placed a higher priority on close-order combat. Guns that could fire beyond the stratosphere, didn’t interest them. E-lan had been estimating a 60% failure rate among the surface-to-air batteries. If the Brini technicians reduced the failure rate significantly, it would be bad news for the fighters.

For both reasons, said the Admiral, we must attack soon. I want you all to remember; we are not trying to eliminate or subjugate the Trope. We lack the force necessary to carry out that mission. Our mission is to rescue and extract the Weem. In order to accomplish this, the land to air batteries must be disabled or destroyed. All cruisers must maintain altitude above the range of…

’Scuse me Admiral, said one of the humans in uniform said in a lazy form of common speech. Me and my boys have been wonderin’ just why we need to ship 10 to 12 hundred poets to a plague planet.

Admiral Krag stared at the human in uniform. Maybe the Admiral would kill the human. E-lan hoped so; these people needed to learn discipline.

That information, General Pine, is in the briefing.

Yeah, said the General. Well that briefing wasn’t so brief, if you get my meaning. Maybe you could go over the high spots for me.

Thousands of Xin, Brini and Dieki officers watched as the Supreme Commander of the Gathering answered human questions on material the humans could have read themselves. Admiral Krag explained that Weem heal was through giving time. In the case of a plague, a Weem needs to cure only one person and a vaccine can be prepared from that person’s fluids. A single Weem arriving thirty days ago on Fetra IV would have saved millions of lives.

The Trope, who share a planet with the Weem, refused to allow one to go to Fetra IV. According to the Trope, Weem healing was now their exclusive resource.

Remember, said the Admiral, The Trope are excellent shots and tenacious ground fighters. This is a rescue mission. We are not here to fight any Tropes that we can avoid. The cruisers must stay above the range of surface-to-air batteries, the fighters protect the transports, and the transports load the Weem quickly and leave immediately.

After the screens went blank, E-zis stood. Your assignments are on your readers. The mission has three phases. First, we eliminate Trope fighter patrols; second we protect the cruisers and finally escort the transports. Go, brief your groups, and be at your assignments at point ten tomorrow. We embark at point 12.

E-lan was silent as she left the conference room with the other group leaders. She listened to the other conversations around her.

Why so many humans?

It must be something political.

Why wasn’t E-zis at that table with Admiral Krag?

I have a bad feeling about this mission.

E-lan walked back to her billet. It gave her a chance to work off her frustration. A good group leader doesn’t disturb her group’s focus with unhelpful emotions.

She managed to brief her group calmly, covering in two points the material the humans needed six points to understand. She tried her best to cover her reservations concerning the human participation until it came time for questions and answers. There was only one from E-kip.

Can we kill the humans in their sleep and put reliable people in their cruisers?

The group pilots laughed, but E-kip never cracked a smile.

Chapter 3

The assault corporal started to salute until he saw the M on 37’s uniform. He sneered instead.

If Colonel M37 wanted to make an issue of it, he could have the man up on charges. He might even get the man beaten, but it wouldn’t make any difference. Regardless of rank, assault troops held medicals in contempt.

Weem-sitters they were called. Medicals weren’t real marines. When 37 was assigned to the medicals, he lost his girlfriend and most of his childhood friends. Even his own grandfather didn’t talk to him for a while.

He ended up marrying the daughter of a retired medical captain. Assault officers didn’t reach retirement as a rule unless they were so disabled that they couldn’t commit suicide and had no friends to kill them.

Of course there was Grandfather. He was too old for active assault duties, but he was a trainer, a non-combat position that actually garnered respect on Trope.

Colonel! shouted private 6 as he stood to attention. 6 was a medical, and like all medicals, especially the young ones, hoped to be transferred to assault. The first duty of 37’s day was always to deny the hundreds of transfer requests he found on his desk each morning. It wasn’t that he was unsympathetic, just realistic. If he approved a request, the paperwork would move over to the assault command headquarters. Within an hour of receipt, 37 would get an abusive communication from some junior officer and the request would be denied.

If 37 had the power to move people to assault, he’d transfer himself.

37’s door read, Executive Officer, Medical Corp. That’s me, he thought. The second man in an outfit no-one wants to be in. As he walked in, a lieutenant handed him a reader.

Reports from last night, Colonel.

Thank you, 6.

It wasn’t such a coincidence that his sentry and his lieutenant were both named 6. There were five 6’s in Medical HQ. Before 37’s father was born, the most common name on the planet was Steel. It was just as confusing then. The brass in general staff decided that since most Tropes named their children one of a dozen common names that numbers would be more efficient. Each new birth was assigned a number based on the number of babies born in their province in a given moon sector. In a couple of the more rural provinces a designation higher than 5 was unusual. 37’s full name was Colonel M37, year 187, moon sector 4, Kern Province, son of 12.

Grandfather had a name. He was one of the few living Trope to have one. Grandfather’s name was Trorn son of Steel. 37 would have liked to have been named Trorn.

Lieutenant 6 was still standing by 37’s desk. 37 hadn’t dismissed him, but that wasn’t why he was there. 6 was his aide, so he had unrestricted access. He had no need to fill out the forms 37 got from enlisted men each morning.

37 looked up from the report and 6 snapped to attention. Sir, he barked. I request a transfer to assault, Sir!

37 shook his head. Request denied.

Their morning routine complete, 6 relaxed. He could be as hard as any Trope when he needed to be, but he was usually more genial. That, and unusual cognitive and organizational aptitudes landed him in medical.

So, said 37, why humans, do you think?

6 shook his head. They have the closest home world, but I still don’t understand it Colonel. Why use them for ground troops? They’re a good sized species, but they’re slow and not very tough.

And they don’t taste good, added 37.

Cooked or raw, 6 agreed.

Both Trope knew a bit about humans. 6 had been a private and 37 a lieutenant when they took part in the Earth subjugation. They saw very little fighting. Mostly they were restraining the Weems from healing injured humans. The Weems in their care lost very little time in that action. The assault unit they were assigned to assist didn’t take many casualties. 6 came up with the ideas of stuffing the local cotton fiber into Weem ears to keep them from hearing the human cries. It didn’t solve the problem completely, but it made the Weems easier to handle. At least they didn’t have any subjects go infant.

The cotton cut down on poetry production which made E and R upset, but 37 didn’t worry too much about that. Medicals might be despised by Assault, Air Defense and maybe even Technical, but everyone looked down on Export and Records.

Sir, said 6, do you think the enemy will try to lure Weems away with wounded humans?

There is no enemy, 37 reminded his aide. We’re still in the Gathering. This is just an internal dispute. That was the official line anyway. A lieutenant might get away with talking about the Gathering as outsiders, but a Colonel had to be more careful.

Right, Sir. Sorry. It’s just that the little ones seemed drawn to the humans.

The Weem are drawn to the sick and the wounded, 6, and especially, the dying. We left a lot of dying humans on those fields.

They were pretty easy to kill, said the lieutenant, it was fun to watch them die slowly.

37 wasn’t sure if 6 really felt that way, or if he was just trying to sound like he belonged in assault. 37 had twenty-three years in Medical, and in spite of what they said in Assault, that involved more than just the care and feeding of Weems. He was trained to alleviate suffering. Two decades of that took a lot of the joy out of imposing torture and cruelty.

37 began pacing. His office wasn’t very big, but he could get three good strides in each way. The humans, he said, have been traveling a lot since they achieved full status.

Before that, said 6. I hear they’ve been smuggling banned exports out and restricted imports in since the end of initial occupation. The Brini complain about human spies stealing technology.

6 was good at hearing things, and he remembered everything he heard. That wasn’t considered an important trait in Assault, but for an officer in Medical, it came in handy.

So they aren’t submissive.

They don’t know their place, said 6.

Trope was about to be invaded for disobeying a direct order from the Gathering. If the humans didn’t know their place, they weren’t the only ones. 37 wouldn’t dare say such a thing out loud; he didn’t even feel comfortable thinking it. Thinking like that came from having traits useful in Medical. Twenty years ago, he would have had such sensitivity surgically removed if he could. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Let’s think microbial for a moment, 6

Yes sir.

There are organisms that attack the host violently. You beat them back, control their mutation, create your antidote or vaccine, and they’re never a problem again.

Yes sir, said 6. Then there are symbiotic organisms that enhance the host and thrive in their environment, or parasites that slowly devour the host.

Then, said 37.

Mitochondria?

I wonder, said 37. Humans are not the strongest; not the swiftest, not the most intelligent, but they may be… the most ambitious. The glide snake can’t outfight the peah rat, so he swallows it.

You think humans are swallowing the Gathering?

I don’t know. 37 stopped his pacing and picked up his reader. I need to do some research. If the shield holds, we might have the time to find out.

If the shield doesn’t hold?

We do our duty. We heal the wounded and protect our charges.

6 flashed his ripping teeth, looking every bit an Assault officer. If a human tries to get near our Weems, I’ll see to it he regrets it. I don’t care how bad he tastes.

Chapter 4

Among the lessons E-lan learned from her mother was that a pilot, even a group leader, is a tactician, not a strategist. If you try to take in the whole battle from your little fighter, you might miss the little thing you needed to see right in front of you.

E-lan concentrated on the little things, making certain her pilots knew their primary and contingency assignments, checking their telemetry and synchronization