XVI

A slim, wiry man was the general; tall and gangly as a scarecrow, rough as recycled metal. From his considerable Human height he gazed condescendingly down at the clumsy, slow-moving being before him. It could advance but gingerly on its four squat legs. The ropy tentacles that extended outward from either side of the peculiar, four-sided mouth were not strong enough to raise the soft-bodied creature’s own forebody off the floor, not even once. Though he knew the truth was otherwise, it was impossible to watch the thing’s progress without interpreting its painful approach as an act of supplication.

The general took a bite of the enhanced chocolate wafer he held and regarded his visitor. “Excuse me if I stare. I’ve never seen an Amplitur before. In the flesh.”

“Straight-go-Wise is pleased to satisfy your curiosity.” A tentacle gestured delicately. “I am in charge of dismantling the military infrastructure on this world.” Fascinated, he watched the Human eat.

“Thanks to you the Crigolit seem to be as efficient in defeat as they were in war. You’ve been very helpful.”

“We hew to our word.” The translator bungled the initial translation and the general had to wait for its second effort. Meanwhile the Amplitur admired the clean lines of the biped’s uniform, stark beneath the floridly expressive face. “We are doing all we can to cooperate.”

“I know. I couldn’t have asked for better cooperation.” The general leaned back in his seat. “You know, I never understood why you started this war in the first place. It’s one thing to try and promulgate a philosophy, quite another to fight a war over it.”

“I sometimes wonder myself. Remember that this all began many, many hundreds of years ago.” The Amplitur was as relaxed as it could be in the presence of a Human. “Perhaps you yourself may on occasion have wondered what might result if all intelligence could be brought together to focus on a single matter?”

“Never happen,” the general declared curtly. “So I never wondered about it. Intelligence is too diverse. By that reckoning it’s something of a miracle that the Weave stuck together long enough to defeat you. But I don’t have to tell you that. You know now that you were wrong in your original assumptions.”

A tentacle fluttered. “Perhaps our error lay not in our assumptions but in our methodology.”

“Oh?” The general’s eyes narrowed. Owing to his manner of speech, he sometimes sounded shallow, but he had a sharp, inquisitive mind. “Then you haven’t entirely given up on your ‘Purpose’?”

“When we surrendered we agreed to war no longer against the Weave, and to forgo trying to forcefully convince others of our beliefs. Nothing was said about abandoning them ourselves, or not providing information to those who seek it voluntarily.”

“That’s interesting.” The Human stared boredly at the ceiling.

The Amplitur regarded him out of great, golden eyes. “You seem preoccupied.”

The general lowered his gaze. “A little. Like most of my friends, I’ve spent my whole life in the Service. This may be my last active assignment. I’m too young for formal retirement and I don’t know what I’m going to do next. Is it like that with you?”

“Rarely. We usually know what we are going to do next.”

“Well, you’re lucky. I have a cousin who owns a plant that manufactures shoes. He’s invited me to come in with him.”

“I have heard that for Humans choosing the direction of one’s life can be an ordeal. We have no such problems. I am sure you will be content in your choice. Fortunately, there will soon no longer be any need anywhere for large military forces. Peace and tranquillity will everywhere reign. There will be no more fighting. A good thing.”

“Yes, a good thing,” the general echoed in lackluster fashion.

The Amplitur felt a surge of hope, which, of course, it strove to dampen. There was little reason for concern, since it was doubtful the Human could properly interpret the flush of bright yellow that appeared in several places on the puffy body, but Straight-go-Wise believed in caution.

By now it was clear that the Human was inclined to continue the conversation. Straight was equally eager to satisfy the biped’s curiosity.

The Board was polite. Being Wais they could not be otherwise. But they were more polite than usual. It was a bad sign.

Restraining her impatience, she’d followed accepted procedures and had eventually been granted an audience. Because of her exalted scholarly status, the five senior academicians listened sympathetically to her application, but despite her best efforts they refused to countenance anything she had to say.

“Even if what you tell us is true,” commented Grand Aumemenaht, “what can we do about it? Throughout the Great War the Wais were never more than peripherally associated with actual conflict. It should be the same in peacetime.” Trills and whistles of concurrence emanated from her colleagues.

“Rightly true.” The senior seated next to her preened his feathers as he spoke. Though elderly, he was still capable of mating.

Lalelelang’s crest erected. “I am telling you that if we do not deal with this problem now, then we will have to deal with it after it has spread. Even to us.”

“What you hypothesize cannot spread to the Wais.” Grand Prewowalong sang confidence from between two exquisitely mounted sprays of fresh flowers. Behind the Board the elegant spirals of Famed Hotutidad’s purple, green, and gold oil-suspension mural flowed in unceasingly pleasing patterns.

“We must at least make minimal preparations,” Lalelelang insisted.

“For what?” Grand Aumemenaht extended both wings and stretched, the quills quivering emphatically. “We cannot alarm the government on the basis of a theory. You have no proof of anything. Only suppositions.”

“The proof is there for anyone not afraid to look.” She was careful not to phrase her rejoinder in the form of an accusation, which would have been discourteous. “Exchangeable media is available to anyone with the resources to access. I am not making this up. The Humans are already beginning to fight among themselves. How long before it severely diminishes them, or spreads to involve other members of the Weave?

“Don’t you see? The Amplitur hope to achieve through peace what they could not in war.”

“The Amplitur,” declared Grand Nauvenlileng, “hope to achieve contentment. This laudable goal they approach with admirable and measured determination. Throughout the millennium we have fought each other, they have never been known to lie. What matters what the Humans do to themselves? If, as you claim it might, their internal dissension should spread to involve other peoples, the Weave will deal with it at that time. Until then they are, as Humans always are, better left alone.”

“If the Amplitur can adapt to peace, so can the Humans,” Grand Prewowalong added.

“The Amplitur are civilized,” she argued.

“As always, scholar Lalelelang, your theories are interesting but hardly conclusive.” Grand Aumemenaht spoke affectionately. “You are a valuable asset to the university. Do not let yourself drift into iconoclasm and destroy what you have accomplished. How many other experts in your field concur with your findings?”

Her beak clicked. “There are no other experts in my field. Not at the level at which I am currently working.”

“Precisely my point. You are a lone voice, one mated to worry. Return to your research, Exalted Scholar Lalelelang, and do not poison your life with concern for the future course of Human events. The victorious Weave has everything under control.”

“Humans under control. A quaint idea,” she murmured, but under her breath.

“Their confusion is understandable.” Grand Nauvenlileng spoke with the quiet ardor of one who believes his qualifications impregnable. “Such occasional internal flare-ups are to be expected. They will burn bright but brief, only to fade as Humans settle into the kind of mature civilization that has heretofore been denied them. Just as the Weave encouraged them to become great warriors, so we will help them to appreciate the benefits of permanent peace.”

“It will not be easy,” agreed Grand Aumemenaht, “but everyone is convinced it can be done.”

“That might have been possible if it had been implemented when contact was first made,” Lalelelang argued, “but not now. Not anymore. We’ve encouraged their natural attributes for too long.”

“They will find their niche within the grander orbit of Weave civilization, as have all species.”

“If the, Weave holds together. It was created for a specific purpose: to fight the Amplitur. Now that there is no reason to do so, will we retain close contact with the Massood? Will the Massood who privately despise the S’van continue to treat with them?”

“If naught else, inertia will preserve the Weave,” said Grand Partouceceht. “A thousand years of association is not so easily dissolved.”

Aumemenaht made a show of checking her official chronometer. “We have granted you more time than was scheduled. We have listened to your concerns; to your observations and theories. It is to be regretted, but others also have demands on our time.” It was a formal dismissal.

“If we do not make a start at dealing with this problem now, in a shorter while than you can imagine there won’t be any time to do so!”

At this extraordinary breach of courtesy several of the senior academicians regarded her with shock. Grand Nauvenlileng looked dazed.

Aumemenaht retained her composure. It was left to her to respond, which she did with as much equanimity as she could muster.

“It might strike some that you have been too long in the field, Exalted Scholar Lalelelang, and that you have through no fault of your own acquired certain aspects, certain overtones of a culture that is less than Wais. This is not unprecedented. It is known that you have suffered.

“I suggest, and take the liberty of suggesting on behalf of my colleagues—” Soft whistles of profound agreement came from the others “—that you consider taking some time to reintegrate yourself into the society from which you have been so long separated.”

Stunned by the extent of her transgression, Lalelelang hastened to deliver herself of an elaborate apologia of words and gestures. It appeared to mollify the Board, which was as understanding as it was unperceptive.

The result was that she left the meeting dissatisfied and discouraged. She had hoped for, though she had not really expected, something more. Having thus damaged her academic social standing and gained nothing in return, she sought solace in her triad.

Her sisters managed to succor her somewhat, but they could not reassure her. They did not subscribe to her outrageous hypotheses any more than had the Board. Better, they advised her, that she should listen to the wise advice of the seniors and throw herself into systematizing the vast body of knowledge she had accumulated in the course of her daring travels.

She thanked them but declared to their dismay that she would continue to keep to her own counsel.

Part of the problem, she knew, was that any normal Wais would find the entire subject distasteful. She could hardly blame her people for that. Nor were her theories likely to find a more enthusiastic welcome among the S’van, or the Hivistahm.

The coming cataclysm was inevitable. There was no mistake. Her theories predicted it. At least, she mused in frustration, she would not be around to experience it.

She was in her office when the visitor was declared. The announcing code implied that it was not a student or fellow academic. For a brief while she bustled with excitement, remembering a similar visit of not so very long ago.

When her visitor finally arrived and was admitted she was as surprised as she was disappointed.

The female S’van searched in vain for a place to sit. Short and thickset, she could not fit into the simple untenanted seat intended for the much slimmer Wais pelvis, nor did she have a hope of reaching the ledge beneath the window, which a much larger visitor had at one time occupied.

In one corner sat a large potted plant whose slim, multiple trunks reached the ceiling before sending out overarching, spatulate leaves. She balanced herself precariously on the rim of the container, stroking the short, neatly trimmed beard that was a hallmark of S’van females. The thick black curls both front and back were heavily pomaded with a substance that caused them to flash iridescent beneath the overhead lights. Her clothing was traditionally garish in tone, with none of the subtlety or nuance of Wais attire.

“What do you want with me?” Lalelelang’s S’van was smooth and accentless. Her disappointment could not completely suffocate her curiosity. “Do you represent an academic organization?”

“You could say that.” The S’van was typically direct. “My presence here is semiofficial, though as far as anyone outside this office is concerned, this is an informal meeting.

“The organization which I represent has a long-standing interest in your work. People have particularly been intrigued by some of your recent publications, in which you harangue like mad for one of your pet theories.” The visitor shifted her position on the planter. “It doesn’t look like you’re having much luck getting anyone to pay any attention to it.”

“Until now, it would seem.”

The S’van clicked her teeth. “You’re unusually direct for a Wais. I put that down to the amount of time you spent working closely with Humans. By the way, my name’s Ch’vis.”

“There is no question that I have been somewhat influenced by my studies,” Lalelelang replied. “If you would prefer to deal with traditional Wais politesse I can introduce you to several colleagues who are familiar with my research.”

“No, no. I think it’s better that I talk to you.” She scratched at the back of her neck, where thick black coils vanished down the collar of her jumpsuit. Lalelelang shuddered slightly. One of the differences between the humanoid S’van and Homo sapiens was that the latter had no manners, whereas the S’van had them but often chose to ignore them. The S’van were also one of the few intelligent species the Wais could physically look down upon, though the short, hirsute bipeds were much heavier in body.

“What about my work interests you enough to prompt a visit in person?” she inquired.

“Others have studied it in more depth than I, but the gist of it seems to be your claim that now that the war is over, unfocused Humans are going to go on the rampage: against the rest of the Weave, against each other, or both. You predict the rise of unmanageable conflict, to the general detriment of civilization.”

Lalelelang’s neck dipped slightly forward and she blinked one eye in an especially emphatic manner. “An unscholarly but not inaccurate summation.”

“The organization I represent is impressed with the research you’ve accumulated to back up your theories.”

“Is it?” Eyelashes fluttered. “What organization might that be?”

“Doesn’t really matter.” Ch’vis leaned back against the multiple stems of the domesticated plant. It flexed alarmingly, and she hastened to straighten. “Nice place to work. Pleasant view, quiet.”

“Are you offering me support?” Lalelelang asked.

“Call it mutual. You see, members of the group I work with have been observing Humankind pretty closely ever since they first joined in the war against the Amplitur. Some of our efforts parallel yours. Or did you think that your work was unique?”

She shuffled uncertainly on her work nest. “I know that it is not. I have had many contacts with non-Wais, off-world scholars with similar interests, but no such correspondence can be all-inclusive.”

The S’van responded with a double clicking of her front incisors only. “It’s not surprising that you wouldn’t know of us. We don’t seek publicity.”

“Then if you people concur with my conclusions, you must realize that assertive intervention is imperative.”

Ch’vis regarded her fingers. “Not necessarily. Many of us are of the mind that so long as Humankind’s destructive energies are directed internally, there’s no real danger to the Weave.”

“That is not a civilized approach.”

The S’van looked sharply at her. “Self-preservation takes precedence over civilized behavior. We agree with your analysis of Human nature. They’ve always fought and they always will fight. Contact with the Weave hasn’t and isn’t going to change that. So long as their conflict doesn’t spread to non-Human worlds, we think they should be permitted to pursue their traditional forms of ‘recreation’ without interference.

“At the same time we don’t ignore them completely because, as you correctly point out, we might need them again in some far distant, unforeseeable future to counter some unimaginable threat. So we try to manage them. Keep them aggressive but limit the damage. Let them slaughter one another but not allow them to weaken themselves beyond recovery.”

“Manage Humans? What a whimsical notion.”

“There are ways,” the S’van insisted diffidently. “We think it can be done successfully as well as unobtrusively. Since they were first contacted we’ve learned a great deal about them. They’re more malleable than you might think. Certainly the Wais, through no fault of your own, could not direct such an enterprise. We S’van, however, are a bit cleverer.”

“Devious and deceptive, you mean.”

Ch’vis screwed a stubby finger into her left ear. “Your mastery of my language is admirable, but not perfect. I must’ve misheard a word or two.”

Lalelelang eyed the S’van in disbelief. “So you could help them, but you’re not going to. You will allow them to war among themselves within parameters that you will magisterially specify, without regard to their welfare.”

“Without our intervention they’d eventually destroy themselves altogether,” Ch’vis argued. “That much of your research we accept implicitly. They were on the verge of doing so when the Weave first contacted them. Recall your Human history. They had actually gone as far as employing nuclear weapons against one another.”

“An isolated incident that was not repeated.”

The S’van sniffed. “Fortunate, but hardly indicative of a permanent change of behavior. If the Weave had not involved them they would probably have obliterated themselves by now.” The visitor’s attitude lightened. “Besides, where’s the harm? They like to fight. We’ll limit them but let them. Humankind has no proper civilization. They’re a resource, to be managed. Help them to eschew their aggressive tendencies and you destroy that resource.” She slipped off the planter and adjusted the folds of her suit.

“Why come all this way to tell me this?” Lalelelang wanted to know.

“Your reputation extends beyond Mahmahar, and you make a lot of noise. Meanwhile your work on Human-non-Human social interaction under combat conditions is pioneering. We think it deserves your full attention. You really need to concentrate on it instead of venting loud opinions on that which is already being brought under control.”

She fought to control her instinctive quivering. “Ch’vis, are you threatening me?”

“Dear me, no!” The S’van threw up both hands in mock alarm. “How can you conceive of something so uncivilized? We are merely, as fellow researchers, suggesting that you narrow your field of endeavor and concentrate on the sub-specialty in which your work is unparalleled.” She waddled toward the doorway.

“We have extensive modeling facilities. We’ve plotted numerous possible futures for Humankind and we’re pretty confident that the one we’ve chosen will be best not only for the entire Weave but for them as well.”

“Do you expect me to stand by and do nothing?”

“We don’t expect anything of you, Exalted Scholar Lalelelang. I was not told to expect anything of you. I’ve made no demands here today, issued no ultimatums. It’s a sign of the respect in which we hold you and your independent achievements that I was ordered to come here and deliver to you this information.”

“To induce me to retreat behind a veil of silence, you mean.”

“It’s hard to convey bitterness in my language, but you do it very well,” said Ch’vis admiringly. “It doesn’t become you, and it’s not necessary. Sometime I hope to show you our models. Then you’d understand what we’re doing is for the best, for everyone.”

“The S’van have never been noted for their altruism.”

“Nor have the Wais. We all have our own interests. Believe me, in this instance they coincide. You’re a scholar, and a most remarkable one. Scholars are notoriously impractical individuals.” She reached to activate the door.

“Wait! Are there other organizations like yours? Among the Hivistahm, perhaps, or the O’o’yan?”

Ch’vis considered. “Interesting thought. Not to our knowledge. As you more than anyone should know, the intimate study of Humankind is not a popular subject.” She thumbed the door control, and the barrier slid aside. “We’d like to share information with you, historian. We can help each other.”

“But not Humankind,” Lalelelang shot back.

“Your attitude will change. It might as well, since there isn’t anything you can do about this. It has support from quarters that would startle you.”

With that Ch’vis excused herself. Not elaborately and floridly as a Wais would have, but in S’van fashion, with a click of bright square teeth and a parting joke.

Lalelelang stared at the portal. If the S’van were as aware of the problem as she was but wouldn’t do anything to try and solve it, what chance did she have? More than that, they didn’t want the problem solved. They just wanted to keep it under control. That was not only unfair to Humankind, it was dangerous. Nor did she share their optimism about managing Human aggressiveness. That was something that needed to be permanently modified, not administered, if Humans were ever to be granted full Weave membership and take their rightful and hard-earned place in the mainstream of galactic civilization. Only then could it be certain that they would no longer be a threat to themselves or to any other species.

But if the Weave remained indifferent to granting that membership, and a powerful S’van faction was arrayed against her, what hope did she have of making any progress?

She would have to seek the aid of an organization of her own, one powerful and shrewd enough to somehow contravene the efforts of the devious S’van. Everything would have to be carried out in a manner that would not alert Ch’vis and her colleagues. Lalelelang knew of only one such group that might have the requisite resources and determination.

Certainly they were powerful. The matter of their shrewdness was still open to question.