This cycle of war had continued between the two city-states for nearly two hundred years.
"I see," said Kino as they exited the exhibit. She looked at Hermes wryly.
"Surely those mummies in the wasteland weren’t soldiers in the war?" he said. "Kino said there were... children among them."
"No, we cremate our dead," said the curator. "Our adversary does the same.”
Before Hermes could ask what they were, Kino pointed to a plaque at the very end of the exhibit and said, "Curator, according to this, this exhibit ends fifteen years ago. Your city today looks very prosperous and peaceful. In fact, it's been a long time since I've visited a place so peaceful, with citizens that are alive, communicative, and not attempting to slaughter each other."
The curator's eyebrows rose gracefully. "An odd way to put it, but you're right. For the last fifteen years, we've known a stability we'd never thought we'd achieve. People have been able to pursue their work, raise their families, and live free of fear. I suppose you could tell that much just looking into the faces of the people."
"What happened fifteen years ago?"
"We stopped fighting each other. We ended the old war." There was a definite hint of pride in her voice.
Rightfully proud, Kino thought, if it is true. "That sounds miraculous. How were you able to do if?"
The curator's gray eyes fixed on Kino as if reading her, then she said simply, "That's covered in the next exhibit, Kino. But there's not much time left before the museum closes. How long are you staying?"
"We're leaving the day after tomorrow. Does that matter?"
"Then you will have the answer to your question tomorrow. Are you free all day?"
"Certainly. Right, Hermes? You don't have plans, do you?"
"Who, me? I don't have plans; that's your deal. What will we be looking at that takes all day?" asked Hermes.
"The New War," replied the curator.
"What?" exclaimed Hermes, with obvious distaste. "I don't want to see a war! New, old, or middle-aged. I thought you said you'd ended the war."
"I should be more specific. We call it 'war,' but we do not kill each other. We fight without shedding each other's blood. If you watch, you will understand how we made peace and how we have been able to maintain it."
The next morning, Kino woke at dawn. She cleaned and practiced with her guns. As she ate breakfast in the hotel cafe, she noticed that the street outside seemed unusually noisy. Looking out through the front window, she saw a parade of hovercraft passing up the broad avenue. She was the only guest, and the wait staff seemed to have disappeared, so since there was no one to ask about the procession in the street, she finished her breakfast, collected Hermes, and returned to the museum as promised.
"Tell me, curator," Kino said when the woman had greeted them, "what's happening today in the street? Is it some sort of parade?"
"That question will be quickly answered," the curator told her, then introduced them to a young soldier – Corporal Yasuo – who was to serve as their guide. He took them not to a new exhibit within the museum, but into the center of the city. There, in the town square, they found about three dozen gray hovercraft of various sizes lined up in ranks. About half of them were equipped with rows of guns on both sides of the open decks- all machine guns with ammunition belts fed into them. Besides the driver or pilot, there seemed to be enough soldiers aboard each craft to man the guns twice over.
Kino was puzzled, for the ammunition certainly looked real.
Four gigantic, unarmed barges hovered overhead, each easily three times as large as the sparsely manned craft. There was also a single elegantly decorated craft that looked as if it were populated with dignitaries. The rest of the transports were labeled "Spectators" and seemed to contain rank-and-file citizens.
Corporal Yasuo invited Kino and Hermes aboard one of these "airboats." As the onlookers applauded, she drove the motorcycle up a ramp and onto the vehicle.
"Where are we going?" she asked their guide. "To the wasteland?"
"No. Far beyond that, to a place midway between Veldeval and Relsumia."
The war- and pleasure-craft took off from the town square with great fanfare and set off in a long caravan across the brown wasteland, crossing over the northern mountain range before they stopped at the southern edge of a high plateau. The armed craft arrayed themselves in neat ranks and waited.
Watching from her spectator airboat, Kino was about to ask what they were waiting for, when another row of hovercraft appeared in a cleft at the other side of the plateau and also organized themselves in ranks.
Even from this distance – about a half-mile – Kino could see that the craft were also well-armed and that the gunners' uniforms looked different from the kilts that the Veldevalian soldiers wore.
"That is the Relsumia defense force," Yasuo said and added, "late as usual."
"Defense?" repeated Hermes.
"Veldeval won the last engagement. So, they're considered the defensive force."
"Then your weapons aren't real?" asked Hermes.
"What – you use paint balls or flags?"
Yasuo laughed. "What an interesting idea. But no, the weapons are quite real. You're about to see them in use. Don't worry, though," he added pertly. "We are completely safe. In fact, everyone is completely safe. Not one soldier on either side will die. This is not the war of our fathers."
"How long are you going to just sit here and stare at each other?" Hermes asked.
"Until the sun reaches its zenith." Corporal Yasuo pointed to the sky where the sun was, even now, climbing to its highest point.
To Kino, the bright disk seemed to click into place in the firmament, like the minute hand of a clock. Then the New War began.
From both groups of combatants, the armed craft emerged, forming two parallel lines – one from each city – in the center of the plateau. The Veldevalian craft with its elegant trappings hove red at the western end of the formation. On it stood a man dressed like a priest, his multicolored robes brushing the deck of his carrier. He spoke, and his voice was amplified for all to hear.
"The One Hundred and Eighty-Fifth War between Relsumia and Veldeval will now commence! The rules are the same as always. No amendments have been posted in the preceding five years."
His hovercraft began to move in a northeasterly direction, and the two rows of combatants followed after like mechanical sheep.
"We're going too. Hang on tight," Yasuo told his passengers.
They rose up with the other spectator vehicles and pursued the armed forces. Moving more briskly, they overtook the two columns and the priest, flew ahead for a little bit, passed over a small hill, and then stopped, hovering in the air.
"See that?" The soldier pointed.
It was a small village, an oasis of simple wattle and daub huts, built willy-nilly on the shore of a small lake. There were no roads, merely footpaths leading in and out and a round the duster of rough buildings.
A number of people were moving about the village. They wore simple clothes and carried or used simple tools. Some scratched at vegetable plots; a few tended a herd of goats. They seemed not to notice the hover vehicles in the air nearby, which considering the noise the craft made, surprised Kino.
"This is a local tribe, the Tatana people," Yasuo explained.
The words had no sooner left his mouth than the priest's vehicle crested the hill and bore down on the village. It flew due north, straight over the collection of cottages and dumped a quantity of red dust as it went, effectively drawing a giant red line across the center of the ramshackle town.
A number of Tatana reacted with obvious shock, rushing out of their houses, leaving their tasks. Some poked at the red dust with whatever tools they were carrying; others looked up as if to locate its source.
"Now the 'war’ begins. We have the western side, and the eastern side is Relsumia's 'battlefield.’"
Kino felt cold to the core. She turned her head to the southwest to see the twin columns of warcraft speeding toward the village. They fanned out gracefully, and the gunners began to fire.
Kino could only watch in icy horror as the shrill rattle of the machine gum filled the air and the bullets struck those who had come to examine the red dust. The warcraft floated just high enough to avoid touching the huts beneath them, shooting any Tatana people in the open, regardless of age.
A young man came running out of his house and went down in a blossom of crimson. The next shots leveled his house. A woman and four children scrambled from the debris into the street. They fell like a row of ducks picked out of the sky.
Suddenly the village was full of terrified people – men, women, children –even infants. All were mowed down indiscriminately, children killed by the same bullets that murdered the mothers and fathers who desperately tried to shield them.
Kino thought none of them would fight back when, from out of hiding, a man ran at the lowest Veldevalian hovercraft, a thick spear in his hands. His mouth was open in a howl of rage and anguish that Kino heard echo in her own heart. But the vehicle he sought to attack spun around, its gunners firing a quick burst. The man fell in mid-stride, his body tom nearly in two by the fierce barrage.
"Oh, score!" shouted Yasuo, pumping his fist in the air. Then he laughed, embarrassed. “Ah, excuse me. The gunner was my brother. He's always been good at 'war.'"
Seeing Kino's narrowed eyes, he added, "Should we fly a bit lower? You'll be able to see better."
Kino shook her head. "Here is fine, thank you," she said through clenched teeth.
The corporal nodded. "Wise. It wouldn't do to have our guest hit by a stray bullet." He turned his eyes back to the battlefield then and listened happily to the chatter of machine gun fire.
Now they shot the Tatana who had escaped into the grove of fruit trees near their oasis. The red line went through the heart of the grove, and each armed force was very careful to shoot only on its side of the line. Soon most of the trees had been leveled, and bodies were visible between the fallen trunks.