“War in Reverse” • by Rhys Hughes

 

 

The planet known as Epsilon Eridani Five is an extreme example of an economy that fails to adequately service the infatuations of its inhabitants, and among the spacefarers of that sector of the galaxy it is famous for this reason alone. But at the same time, it provides us with an interesting lesson in how a simple solution can sometimes solve a complex problem.

I refer to the fact that the planet was dedicated to war as a science, an art, a game, and every inhabitant lived only for battle. The sides had been chosen long ago, in the dim recesses of previous centuries, when the planet was first settled, and every individual had no doubts about which clan they belonged to, and total warfare had continued incessantly since.

But the planet was low on natural resources. It had few ores for smelting, a shortage of crystals, a lack of useful chemicals. Although the technology of war kept improving, the lack of practical methods for producing superior armaments meant that potentially ground-breaking weapons never saw action. Factories fell into disrepair, the warriors into dejection.

The inhabitants of that world had one advantage over those who reside on most other planets. They had a sense of honour that was impervious to sabotage. A meeting was arranged between representatives of all the clans. They agreed to a scheme that would save the situation and they parted knowing that none would violate the oath by paying lip service to it while working to secure a sly victory. All were utterly bound by the accord.

The pact also promised to protect the surface of Epsilon Eridani Five from further devastation. It was already a blasted doomscape of melted rocks, glassy plains and radioactive lakes. The clan leaders had pledged to halt progress, turn around, and begin the long journey back down to basics, a reverse escalation of military technology. Instead of improving their weapons year after year, the idea was to diminish their sophistication.

The scheme was implemented very gradually, in order that warriors would not feel deprived. The power of lasers was reduced by tiny degrees, the force of explosives was attenuated by a few joules, the range of missiles lessened by one or two kilometres per annum. War continued as happily as before but there was a release of pressure on the economy.

Generations passed and the warriors themselves changed in order to be in closer symbiosis with their weapons. Blasters were heavier than lasers and thus the fighters became larger in the arms, and when blasters were replaced by old-fashioned artillery pieces, the warriors developed ear flaps that could shut and protect their hearing from noise damage.

Nothing interrupted the games, but strategy and tactics altered to take into account the new (or old) circumstances of battle. With less powerful weapons it is tempting to speculate on whether there were fewer civilian casualties, but on Epsilon Eridani Five there are no civilians. Everyone fights and does so for pure joy, whether or not they are aware of the greater significance of what they do in historical terms. Tribal loyalty is supreme.

This remains the only planet in the inhabited galaxy where war is fought in reverse. Centuries have passed and still the technology is being reversed. Offers by commercial spacefarers to provide them with imports of metals, crystals and chemicals so that they might return to improving their weapons have been met with a stubborn refusal. The oath is kept.

And now it is no longer even possible to communicate with them by radio link. They have apparently regressed to a point before the invention of wireless transmission. They must be fighting each other with muzzle-loading rifles and gunpowder-packed cannons. Where will it end? It is intriguing to speculate on answers to this question. War is one of the fundamentals of life. Those who live on Epsilon Eridani Five are voyaging backwards to the very origins of war. It is a fascinating sociological experiment.

One day, enterprising spacefarers will carry tourists to the surface of that world so that they may delight in the edifying spectacle of robots hitting each other with clubs. The planet may no longer present a blasted appearance. When those clubs are discarded in favour of claws and fangs, it will be clear that the final destination has been reached. The end.

How Epsilon Eridani Five came to be inhabited only by robots is another tale for another time. How those advanced robots devolved into beasts is more interesting to me at the present time. I close my eyes and see the victor standing over the twisted remains of his opponent and he is pounding on his chest with his fists, his metal hands on his metal torso producing drum notes that will echo dramatically around the shattered valley.

 

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Rhys Hughes was born in Wales but has lived in many different countries and currently lives in India. He began writing at an early age and his first book, Worming the Harpy, was published in 1995. Since that time he has published more than fifty other books and his work has been translated into ten languages. He recently completed an ambitious project that involved writing exactly 1000 linked short stories. He is currently working on a novel and several new collections of prose and verse.

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