"Alan Dean Foster - Damned 1 - Call to Arms" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

the war was over, only a minimum of genetic reengineering would be necessary to insure their eternal
happiness.
It was terrible, though, that intelligent beings on both sides had to die to bring that about.

The instrument arc that clung to the CommanderтАЩs forebody above the eyes provided a steady flow of
information about the ongoing battle. Had the flagship been positioned a few more planetary diameters in,
it might have been possible to see the small flashes of light which signified the presence of warships
dropping troop shuttles to the surface of the Sspari homeworld. Ships of the Purpose would phase out of
normal space to be confronted by the Sspari defense forces, there would follow a brief exchange of
immensely powerful weaponry, and then one ship or the other would retreat back into Underspace. The
idea of combat in Underspace, at supralight speeds, was naturally absurd. You could hardly do battle
when your presumed target outpaced both weapons and tracking devices. So combat took place in orbit
around contested worlds, when ships materialized back into real space. If damaged, one could retreat
back into Underspace and safety, so long as there was power to do so. Such encounters were a matter
of guesswork and seconds.

Real combat took place on the ground, where heavy weapons could not be used lest they fatally damage
the very environment an attacker was seeking to control. The trick was to remain safely in real space long
enough to land or reinforce troops. It was this that the Sspari were striving so strenuously to prevent. Let
the attacking ground forces gain control of the Sspari centers of communication and technology, and
there would no longer be reason to fight. The Amplitur had found they could leave the business of
policing any postcataclysm fanatics to the local people themselves, once their allegiance to the Purpose
had been secured.

One had to admit that for such an unprepossessing folk, the Sspari had fought long and hard. All for
nothing. The fleet of the Peoples had reached the Sspari home system. The Sspari had tried to stop them
near an impressive three-ringed gas giant, where the fleet had phased out of Underspace. Now they had
been pushed back to their homeworld.

The Commander observed it through the towering transparent wall. A lovely world, all brown and green.
Soon the command staff would be able to view it in person. One-who-Decides was honored to direct
this final assault force. Mottled orange hide rippled fluidly. It was always an emotional moment when a
new species was brought to the Purpose.

At first there would be sadness among the Sspari for those who had perished. But the Amplitur were the
kindliest of victors. They required no reparations, desired no vengeance. They wished only that which
they had sought from the beginning of the unfortunate conflict: understanding.

Peace would be struck, whereupon the Sspari would find themselves living exactly as they had prior to
the war, with the exception that instead of wasting their time striving for individual racial achievement they
would now be contributing to the much vaster and more satisfying ends of the Purpose. This often
produced an outburst of rage among the population, when they realized that their leaders had led them
into battle and sacrifice for nothing.

The Amplitur and their allies would do their best to prevent such a bloodbath from occurring. For now,
though, there was a final battle to be won. The information arriving from the ships darting in and out of
real space indicated that it should not take much longer.

So it came as something of a shock when Suem of the Korath and CoтАЩoi of the Crigolit swung up in
front of the Commander on a sickle of their own. It was CoтАЩoi who reported through the translator that