XIV

On all the worlds of the Weave preparations were concluded, preparations that had been ongoing for some time. The vast net of troops and weapons, ships and supplies, was being drawn tight. It was a moment none among the select few who knew the ultimate objective of all the preparation had thought would come in their lifetime.

Though the ultimate goal remained secret to all but the uppermost ranks, it was clear even to the lowliest Lepar that something major was in the works. Too many ships and too great a volume of supplies were being sent to the same few assembly points: little-known, lightly populated worlds situated far from any ongoing conflict. A prodigious effort of logistics was under way.

As they gathered and waited, the thousands of soldiers speculated among themselves, wondering at the great mass of vessels and supplies drifting in organized orbit above them, waiting for assignment to Underspace transport. Massood came, with Hivistahm and O’o’yan technical support. The S’van were there, rendering a host of inconspicuously critical decisions.

And the Humans, of course. The most famous units, filled with veterans of many successful campaigns. Not even their officers could answer the continual queries of their curious troops except to say that they had been promised that all would soon be revealed to soldier and superior alike.

The movement of so great a force could not be kept a secret, but expensive probings bought a curious media few hard facts. One thing no one could hide: The level of excitement and tension among the Human participants was building to an explosive pitch.

It was a uniquely primate phenomenon. To the Massood and the rest such preparations were no cause for excitement. They did not look forward to combat as Humans did. They assembled and waited quietly, marveling at the amount of energy their Human counterparts expended in anticipation.

One or two remarked on the absence of any Turlog in the burgeoning battle force. This apparent oversight remained a curiosity, but not an obsessive one.

Throughout the buildup Colonel Nevan Straat-ien stayed in touch with other Core members, monitoring developments and sharing information until he, too, was assigned to a ship orbiting an outpost world whose lengthy name he did not recognize. Observing and analyzing, the historian Lalelelang traveled in his company together with her voluminous store of notes and recordings. When they had time they would discuss her theories and, not infrequently now, matters of wholly personal interest.

When word of the great battle group’s eventual target became official at Straat-ien’s level, as it inevitably had to, they still found it as difficult to accept as did those who had been living in ignorance of the possibility all along.

“The Amplitur homeworlds.” Lalelelang bobbed elegantly by way of emphasis. “Through you I knew they had been located, but I had no idea that the war had progressed so far.”

“No one did.”

Straat-ien regarded her approvingly. As near as he could tell she had been true to her word. Nothing of what she had learned of him and his relations had been communicated elsewhere, not even in the form of sealed storage.

What now of her theories? he found himself wondering. Suppositions that both of them expected to find a harmless place buried deep in volumes of research now looked to be put to the actual test. Or were they getting ahead of themselves? he wondered. Just because an assault had been planned on the Amplitur homeworlds didn’t mean it was going to succeed, didn’t mean that the end of the Great War was imminent. All it meant for certain was that a lot of warriors on both sides were about to embrace oblivion.

“When?” he heard her asking.

“That I haven’t been told yet. Have you stood on the uppermost observation platform late at night and looked up at the sky? There’s a ring around this planet. It looks like it might’ve been there for a billion years, but it’s recent and artificial. Nothing but transports being loaded and positioned for Underspace insertion, with new ones arriving and departing all the time. I’ve seen a lot of attack groups in my time, but nothing like this. There are hundreds of ships up there, and other fleets being assembled off other worlds. It’s the greatest logistical push the Weave has ever mounted.

“There’s plenty of room in Underspace, but coordinating the emergence so two or three ships don’t materialize in the same place is going to take some unprecedented preplanning. I’m glad I’m just a soldier.”

“To anyone but a Human, Nevan, that would be a contradiction in terms.” Both of them were quiet then, contemplating future possibilities that had unexpectedly and abruptly been brought forward by several hundred years.

The relentless preparations continued, as did fighting elsewhere. Despite the care taken to conceal the ultimate objective of the gathering fleets, it was doubted by those trained to ponder such matters that the Amplitur would be taken by surprise. They had always maintained an effective intelligence operation inside the Weave, and preparations on such a scale would inevitably draw more than the usual attention from their operatives.

Due to the diversion of so much Weave war material the enemy managed several small victories elsewhere, but if anything it was decided that this would make them even more wary. Still, the Weave High Command had hopes of achieving at least a modicum of surprise. If nothing else, the enemy would not know which of the twin worlds was to be struck first and would have to divide its defenses accordingly.

At the very least, if the Amplitur succeeded in staving off the attack, the use of forces drawn from elsewhere to defend their homeworlds should allow the Weave to roll up substantial triumphs in weakened systems. Weave tacticians were confident of the efficacy of their strategy even if they remained unsure of the actual outcome’s direction. Victory there would be: it was just that no one could predict where it would occur.

Along with hundreds of other officers, Straat-ien eventually received formal orders. The only Wais in a battle group of human soldiers, Lalelelang enthusiastically continued her work, recording and analyzing the troop buildup and departure. So familiar a sight had she become to the milling troops that they no longer remarked on her presence and she was able to move among them with greater freedom and ease than ever before.

From Vecilan, from Nojong III, from Aulebebunda and Didone and a dozen other minor worlds the grand fleets departed. Preparations continued in Underspace right up until the moment of emergence. Little was known of the surface features of the Amplitur homeworlds, but no one doubted that they would conform to the norm for populated, civilized planets: a single extensive landmass surrounded by oceans, with a few scattered islands dotting the continental shelf. Only Earth deviated from that pattern. Ail and Eil were not expected to provide any such surprises.

Depending on the degree of surprise the Weave would be able to achieve, the Amplitur defenses would react accordingly. Yet despite arduous preparations, no one on any of the attacking Command ships was prepared for that which greeted them subsequent to their actual emergence from Underspace.

It took the form of a general communication that was repeated endlessly, in a dozen major Weave languages. It rose from both Amplitur homeworlds and effectively offset every variation in the elaborate plan of attack.

Naturally it was at first thought to be a trick, an outrageous subterfuge designed to buy the defenders time to mobilize and focus their defenses. Several commanders were all for ignoring the broadcast and proceeding with operations as planned. But the intensity of the presentation, the lack of flux by defensive orbital weaponry, and the concomitant communications from Mazvec, Crigolit, and other non-Amplitur forces in the vicinity only reinforced the original message.

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 soldiers 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.