It was still difficult for the High Command to countenance what they were hearing. Cipher specialists and other intelligence groups went to work, probing the depths of the communications as well as movement on the surface of Eil, around which the grand fleet had emerged. Fortifications were certainly present on the surface, but they were not active. Impossible as it seemed at first, specialists on board the grand fleet began to believe that the droning, repetitive communication might be genuine. Ampliturologists pointed out that if naught else it was supported by an important sociocultural precedent.
The Amplitur did not lie.
A bemused Lalelelang was searching the central assembly area for Straat-ien. All about her groups of Humans were screeching and howling, jumping wildly up and down while flailing joyfully at one another. Like everything else about their society, even their enjoyment was founded on violence. She kept to the fringes, hugging the wall lest she accidentally be crushed by the indiscriminate jubilation. She did not pay much attention to the activity, having observed and recorded it all before: what she was witnessing was a standard primate pack celebration.
She found him seated at the far side, contemplating the sweeping view of the Amplitur homeworld provided by a long, narrow port.
“What has happened? I have heard nothing about landings, or fighting. Meanwhile we sit in normal space, an easy target for the Amplitur’s ground-based defenses.”
Straat-ien turned to face her. “There isn’t going to be any fighting. No one believed it at first, but confirmation’s just come down from on high.”
“No fighting? What do you mean?” She kept her recorder going. As always, his facial contortions supplied fascinating insights into Human thought processes. She could not easily interpret his present expression, however. He seemed dazed as well as contemplative.
“It’s the Amplitur. They’ve surrendered.”
“Surrendered? But why? Have they suffered some noteworthy defeat elsewhere?”
“Nobody knows. Nobody knows much of anything, it seems. People still have a lot of questions. Meanwhile the Amplitur are allowing troops to land unopposed, and their orbital weaponry isn’t reacting to our presence. The theory that’s going around, and it’s only a theory, is that once they got a good look at the extent of the forces arrayed against them, they simply decided to cut their losses before they occurred.” He blinked at her. “Lalelelang, the Great War is over.”
Unable to reach the Human-scaled bench with her backside, she folded her legs beneath her body and squatted on the floor nearby.
All life had been circumscribed, if not defined, by the war. Generation upon generation had known nothing but the war, had been raised with its ponderous presence always dominating their consciousness. The origin of the conflict was ancient, commencing more than a thousand years ago with the first contact between the Weave and the Sspari. Could such a presence simply vanish?
“It’s over,” the Human colonel Straat-ien had said. How long before the real meaning of those words sank in? What would happen now?
“It hardly seems possible,” she trilled, for lack of anything more profound to say.
The Human shrugged. “Possible or not, it’s happened. According to the few reports I’ve been allowed to see, even as we sit here the enemy is turning over weapons, transports, communications facilities: everything. No more war. You don’t have to fight anymore.”
“The Wais have never fought,” she reminded him.
“You know what I mean,” he responded restively. “The Weave. It’ll probably fade away once the Amplitur have been completely disarmed. It came into existence specifically to counter them. Once they’ve been reduced and isolated, the Wais and the Hivistahm, the O’o’yan and the S’van and all the others will doubtless resume their individual paths.”
“I am not sure I agree with you. As a working organization the Weave has been around for so many centuries it may well linger long after the reason for its founding has passed.” Her head cocked sideways as she regarded him. “Tell me what you think, Nevan. Is this capitulation for real, or are the ever-inscrutable Amplitur planning something?”
“I think it’s some kind of trick, but Command is staffed by individuals a lot more perceptive than I am. Even if the Amplitur are trying to deceive us, they won’t fool the S’van.” He nodded in the direction of the gesticulating, hollering troops. “That’s why I think this celebration is premature. No one’s been ordered to stand down yet. But you can’t keep people from reacting to the news.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what the Amplitur can do without ships or weapons, and with Weave forces stationed on their worlds.”
“Let us suppose it is for real and that it indeed means the end of the war. What do you imagine will happen now?” she asked him.
“To what?”
“To you and your fellow Humans.”
“What? Oh, your theories.” He smiled confidently. “I suppose some of us will stay here to assist in disarming the enemy and dismantling their orbital weapons. A discreet number will be stationed on both Amplitur worlds to keep an eye on their activities. The same may take place on the principal worlds of the Crigolit, the Mazvec, the Ashregan, and the other Amplitur-allied fighters.
“Those troops not needed for such duties will as soon as is practical be released to return to their own homes. To Earth, to Asmaria, to Barnard’s and the rest.”
“And then?”
“I know what you’re thinking, Lalelelang, but I’m still convinced that you’re wrong. They’ll return to peacetime pursuits. Industry, the arts, education, agriculture: just living.”
“There are other species who do each of those things better than Humankind. If you venture to contend in such fields beyond the worlds you presently occupy you will find yourselves competing with the Hivistahm and O’o’yan in manufacture, the Wais in the arts, even the Lepar at simple labor.”
“I think you’ll be surprised at how well we can redirect our energies, Lalelelang.”
“As I have often stated before, nothing would please me more.” Inoffensive wide blue eyes bored into his own. “You, for example. Have you given any thought to what occupation you might follow outside the military?”
He blinked. “Not really, since I didn’t exactly expect the war to end today.”
“I am certain it is the same with every Human. These reactions will be interesting to observe.”
“You never rest, do you, Lalelelang?”
“I have dedicated myself to this work. Why would I want to rest?”
He smiled understandingly, but deep inside his soul there was a persistent wisp of unease that all his confidence could not banish.
As soon as the word was passed through Underspace to the worlds of the Weave and its meaning began to sink in, the outpouring of emotion on board the transport was repeated elsewhere many billion times over. On non-Human worlds it generated less flamboyant but equally enthusiastic reaction.
Once the Amplitur homeworlds and those of their allies had been secured, the Weave military embarked upon a studied but steady reduction in strength. Whole units were still needed not merely to keep watch over the former enemy but to supervise the destruction of immense quantities of war material. A whole new industry arose simply to see to the recycling of vast resources originally designed for war and destruction.
On the Human worlds, the returning troops were greeted with elaborate parades and mass outpourings of relief and affection. Massood fighters dispersed to Massoodai and their own colonies, to be welcomed back less ostentatiously into family and clan. Support personnel of the Hivistahm and S’van slipped easily back into normal, civilized life-styles. Benumbed Lepar quietly returned to their few worlds as if nothing of note had transpired, while the Wais saw the termination of the great conflict reflected in an outpouring of art that was at once suave and restrained.
On the worlds of those who had been allied to the Amplitur—the Crigolit and Ashregan, the Segunians and Copavi and T’returia—returning sold
iers mixed uneasily but hopefully into the general population. The first isolated instances of individuals casting off the tenets of the Purpose were recorded, though in the absence of an equally comforting alternative most continued to cling to that which had been the primary motivating force of their societies for many hundreds of years.
Lalelelang did not have the time or inclination to celebrate, nor did agitated outpourings of extreme emotion have a place in Wais society. She had returned to the somewhat guarded accolades of her colleagues, who were at once admiring of and unsettled by her work.
In sheer volume, however, it was breathtaking and unprecedented. Whatever another Wais personally thought of the distasteful, even morbid subject matter, it could not be ignored. She had accomplished all she had set out to do, which was reflected in the diffident but formidable honors that were bestowed upon her subsequent to her return. Never again could her academic standing be called into question.
She resumed presenting her seminars while attempting to prioritize the vast archive she had assembled. Without modern cataloging methods it would have been impossible just to digest the specifics, let alone provide for the thousands of critical cross-references. She was aided by the fact that there was no crush of scholars eager to delve into her discoveries. Her chosen field remained one in which fellow Wais were still reluctant to browse. In person, she was treated by colleagues and students alike much as they would have an award-winning artist possessed of a unique but unsettling viewpoint.
Exhibiting the utmost refinement in their choice of phrases and gestures, friends and acquaintances remarked that she appeared rather the worse for her experiences. There was no opprobrium attached to their observations. Nothing less could have been expected, considering what she had been through. Few could discuss combat in the abstract, much less envision what it must have been like to practically participate in it in the company of rampaging Humans, without suffering at least a modicum of digestive malaise. With the war over, her work would now truly be relegated to the realm of history.
She bore understandingly the affectations of those with whom she came in contact, suffering patiently even those whose obsequious attendance at her seminars was obviously nothing more than an attempt to curry academic favor. Otherwise she remained unchanged by her experiences, even to still neglecting to attend societal functions in the company of her triad sisters. She was too busy, she explained. Prior to her odyssey she had been too busy planning, and now she was too busy organizing. Her family and sisters despaired of improving her dismal social standing.
The longer she worked, the more she devoted herself to speculation and research, the less she saw of anything to disprove her original hypothesis.
There had been a brief period of social grace subsequent to the Amplitur surrender. That was already beginning to dissipate. Danger signs were cropping up on more than one Human world. They would not be recognized for what they were by anyone else, but to Lalelelang the historian their import was unmistakable.
A riot in Kendai City, on Edo. The rise of gang warfare on Columbia. Conflict on Barnard’s. And plenty of ongoing hostility on Earth itself, much but not all of it involving returning soldiers who were having the expected difficulties adjusting to a civilian, peacetime society.
To Lalelelang it was inevitable. What else could one expect from a species that had been encouraged by the Weave to devote all its energies for the past several hundred years to creating the most effective fighting force the galaxy had ever seen? What did the S’van and Hivistahm expect? They had made use of a patently uncivilized species. Now they expected it to react to a radical change of conditions in something approaching a civilized manner.
Men and women who had fought together tended to stay in contact by means of social clubs or traditional military service organizations. Such places were often the only readily comforting outlet for their confused emotions and suddenly restrained aggressions. Reading and interpreting these signs, she saw that the postwar explosion she feared was already building. If her theory was correct, then the question for all the civilized societies of the Weave including her own was not whether or not it could be forestalled, but if it could be contained.
The fact that there was no longer any obvious need or reason for other species to suppress their true feelings toward the smelly, discourteous, uncivilized Humans only threatened to compound the problem.
It was starting already.
XV
When the visitor was announced, she was sitting in her office, alternating her attention between two viewscreens, ignoring the bright sunshine that gilded the formal gardens outside. As she privatized her equipment she tried to organize her thoughts, only to find that it was not as simple as cataloging statistical information. Also, she was out of practice. Alien words and phrases trickled back to her slowly, rusty from long disuse.
She made sure the door to her office sealed behind her as she started down the corridor, heading for the official greeting center. It was a better place to meet. Her visitor would have found the connecting corridor too narrow, the ceiling too low.
Also, it would have been very upsetting for any Wais unfortunate enough to encounter him in such confined surroundings.
He waited alone in the greeting center, his legs crossed in front of him as he sat on the circular visitors’ bench. Droplets of liquid cycled in stately precession behind him, constrained and manipulated by magnetic fields programmed by the artist, the glistening fluid avoiding the sprays of exquisite kanda blossoms that thrust upward in graceful loops from the central planter.
She noted the restrained glances that he drew from passing pedestrians. That was hardly surprising. Mahmahar had been far from the front, insofar as an interstellar conflict could be said to have a front. It serviced no military facilities. Humans were a rare sight even in the capitol. Here, in an academic conurbation, they were all but unknown. So everyone contrived to investigate the extraordinary visitor without appearing to look at him. They also kept their distance.
Several were unable to restrain themselves and stared unashamedly, however, when she strode directly toward the intruder and extended a wingtip to meet his fingers. Conscious of their lapse of courtesy they hurried away, trying to conceal their own faces with fluffed wing feathers. Not all succeeded.
“It is good to see you once more, Colonel Nevan Straat-ien.”
Aware it could give offense to others nearby he was careful not to smile, not even for her. “It’s still just ‘Nevan’ to you, honored historian.” He indicated their surroundings. “I seem to have caused a bit of a ruckus.”
“This university might see one Human visitor a year,” she explained, “and it would be confined to administration. Your presence here has an effect comparable to that of one of your lions or tigers taking an unsupervised stroll through one of your schools for preadolescents. Be understanding of my colleagues. Fascination temporarily overwhelms their natural courtesy, not to mention the instinctive panic.”
“I might have expected a little more discernment from the inhabitants of an institution of higher learning.”
“Higher learning does not preclude the presence of lower minds. You’re getting all the understanding they think you deserve. Come to my office. Mind your head; the ceiling becomes lower.”
To the palpable shock of several of the mesmerized onlookers, she slipped the end of her right wing through the loop he formed with his left arm, having to stretch slightly to accomplish the maneuver. It was fortunate Straat-ien was of less than average Human height or she could not have managed it. He still towered over everyone in the room. More astonishing to the onlookers even than her obvious tolerance of the actual physical contact was the fact that she had initiated it.
A ledge ran beneath the window in her office, which overlooked the grounds outside. Pushing aside plants and other artifacts, he made himself as comfortable there as possible. It was either there or the floor, since his weight would have buckled her furniture.
�
�I’ve stayed in the military.”
“I can see that,” she murmured.
“I’ve never forgotten your theory. Couldn’t have tossed it aside had I wanted to. Ever since the Amplitur capitulation I’ve paid a lot of attention to the general news in addition to running some follow-up probes and checks of my own. I don’t much care for what they imply.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid you may be right.”
With a sweep of one perfumed wingtip she indicated her blank screens. “I, too, have seen nothing with which to contradict myself. But there is yet hope. The conflagrative index I designed has held steady for two months now. Perhaps it will not climb any higher.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She exhaled musically, her heavily lashed, limpid eyes finally rising to meet his. “No.”
“Neither do I. I can’t, being as familiar with your work as I am.” Rising, he removed a small instrument from his pocket and turned a slow circle, checking the compact device’s readouts as he did so. Satisfied, he resumed his seat on the ledge.
“I’ve been in regular contact with my extended family.” He did not need to explain. “They’ve all been made aware of your theories, but they’re divided on their validity. In any case, there’s not much they can do. As you know, we can’t influence our own kind, not even to act sensibly. We have been able to defuse several potentially unpleasant situations by making appropriate suggestions to non-Human participants. In both cases Massood were involved. That’s a bad precedent.
“Some of the people I’ve exchanged views with think that several hundred years of contact with the Weave would have bred this kind of unbridled aggression out of us if not for the war.”
“I feel the same,” she responded. “How can you ask a people to produce the ultimate soldiers one moment and engineers and agriculturalists the next? It is too much to request of a civilized species, let alone Humankind.” She was silent for a moment. “What news of the Amplitur? Are they truly defeated?”
The Damned Trilogy Page 90
