That started them arguing. I assured them of the Old Ones’ resolve. “Weapons powerful enough to destroy whole stars can set up chain reactions that can destroy much of the galaxy, perhaps the entire galaxy. That will not be permitted.”
“Who are you to make such threats?”
I smiled coldly. “In a sense, I am the ambassador from the Old Ones and the other ancient species of this galaxy. They have remained aloof from us because we are too young and too ignorant to be of interest to them. But now that we threaten the existence of the galaxy, they have no choice but to take notice of us—and take action.”
They did not want to believe me, but after long hours of debate and argument they began to accept what I told them. The sun sank behind the lofty trees and night came on. I kept them at the table, protected and warmed by a bubble of energy. I produced food and allowed them to leave the table briefly, knowing that there was no place in this continent-wide forest that they could escape to.
“No one returns to their own time and place until a peace agreement has been reached,” I said.
Days went by. They argued, they railed at each other, they hurled accusations and threats across the table. I reminded them that unless they began working toward peace I would begin shooting them. And I pointed to the loudest of the loudmouths.
“You’ll go first,” I said.
His eyes widened, but he stopped his insults and imprecations.
It was like a giant group-therapy session. It took time for them to air their true resentments, their real fears. They accused one another of all sorts of aggressions and atrocities, at first. But gradually, knowing that there was no alternative, knowing that they themselves were facing death, they began to get to the underlying causes of the war.
I knew that the real cause was the manipulations of the Creators. No matter what these humans and aliens agreed upon, the Creators could upset it in the blink of an eye. I realized that after I had finished with these politicians, I would have to face the Creators. Led by Aten, the Golden One.
I was surprised that he did not show himself here, even indirectly, disguised as one of the politicians. Probably he was content to let me work out a peace agreement, and then rip it to shreds before it could be implemented. He enjoyed playing with the human race that way, toying with us, tempting us and then degrading us when we reached for greatness. Like flies to wanton boys, I thought. Except that this fly has no intention of allowing any god to pull its wings off. Not now that I’ve learned how to use them.
Chapter 32
It took weeks. Seven weeks, plus two days. A hundred times or more I thought my imposed peace conference would see a murder across the conference table. A thousand times the politicians blustered at one another, hurled accusations, threats, turned to me and blistered the air with their rage, promising to flay me alive once they got back to their own worlds.
Each time I told them that no one would leave this time and place until they had agreed upon peace, with a treaty that they all endorsed, a treaty that bound them all to stop the war. And I warned them that if they could not end the war, they would become casualties themselves.
A dozen times they came close, only to have the agreement shattered on some objection, some grievance, some seemingly impossible demand.
But slowly, grudgingly, they inched toward the agreement that I demanded. I used no force, except the threat of execution. That was enough to keep them at their work. I fed them and allowed them to refresh themselves from time to time. I allowed them to sleep when they needed to, although that caused some complications because the Skorpis preferred to sleep in the daytime and the Tsihn and humans at night. The Arachnoids did not seem to sleep at all. But always I brought them back to that conference table, like dragging a puppy to the paper it is supposed to use when you are training it.
After fifty-one days they had the agreement on paper. They were exhausted, all of them, by the effort. But where they had started, fifty-one days earlier, as enemies and strangers across the table, now they knew each other, perhaps even respected each other. Even the incommunicative Arachnoids had used the translating machines I gave them to make certain that their needs and desires were addressed in the treaty.
They were about to sign the document when I made the final objection.
“There is one problem that the human members of this conference have not addressed,” I said from the head of the long table.
“What is that?” they demanded.
“Your armies. Your soldiers. What do you intend to do with them?”
The humans on both sides of the table glanced at one another. “Why, put them back in cryonic storage, of course. What else can we do with them?”
“Let them live,” I said.
“They don’t know how to live! They’ve been bred for soldiering and that’s all they know.”
“Find worlds that are not occupied and let them settle on them. You owe them that much.”
“They won’t know how to survive. The skills of farming and building and living peacefully have never been part of their training.”
“Then train them,” I said firmly. “Train them as you fly them out to these new worlds.”
“They would die off in a single generation,” a gruff-faced man pointed out. “They’re all sterile; bred that way, you know.”
“They can make children through cloning, the way you made them. And their children needn’t be sterile.”
“But if we sent the troops off to other planets, that would disarm us,” one of the women objected. “We would have no army to protect us in case of future need.”
“Let your own children train for soldiering,” I said. “Defend yourselves.”
“That’s a ghastly idea! My children, soldiers?”
I leaned on the table with both hands. “Only when your own children are soldiers will you understand that war is not something you play at. These men and women have fought for you and you’ve rewarded them with
“But they were bred for that! They don’t know anything except the army.”
“They know that they want to live. They know that they want more than the prospect of pain and blood and killing. They are human beings, just as human as you are. You must accept them as such.”
“It’s impossible,” someone muttered.
“Do you have any idea of what it would cost to settle our soldiers on new worlds?”
“Ask our own children to join the military?”
I said, “That is my demand for this peace treaty. It is not negotiable. You will release your soldiers from their slavery and allow them to lead peaceful lives.”
“That is simply not possible. It can’t be done.”
I replied, “It will be done, or you’ll spend the rest of your lives at this table.”
“Now, really!”
“You will learn, in some small way, what it’s like to have nothing to look forward to. You will stay here until you realize that this form of slavery is no longer to be tolerated.”
One of the Skorpis said, “If you humans are worried that you will have no one to protect you, we can be hired to serve as your army.
“The Tsihn have a long tradition of honoring military prowess,” said the largest reptilian. “We could certainly make military arrangements with the Commonwealth.” It turned its slitted eyes across the table. “Or with the Hegemony, once we have agreed to end the present war.”
Several of the humans objected to hiring mercenaries or placing their safety in the hands of aliens on the strength of diplomatic agreements. Others shuddered at the thought of having their own children put on military
