Viscous Circle by Piers Anthony

We are governed solely by convention and our nature."
    "Then how can I consult with the Band military—" He broke off, realizing there was no such thing. How could he have thought there was? "Or obtain appointment to whatever organization is supposed to preserve Bands from extinction?" he asked, frustrated.
    "You must appoint yourself, and recruit anyone you can," Proft said. "That is how any cause is served. Whoever has the interest expresses it and seeks the support of others with similar interest."
    "But I have no authority! Not even memory!"
    "These are irrelevant concepts."
    "But there has to be some—structure. Some organization. For example, who appointed you to your educational position?"
    "I appointed myself," Proft said.
    Rondl assimilated this. No central administration at all? "Do you mean that I can just go out and ask Bands to work with me—and they will?"
    "Those who so choose. Those who have the will. It depends on how persuasive you are."
    "But there are so many things that just had to be organized! Who set up trade relations with the Bellatrixians?"
    "Some time ago, when the Bellatrixians came to proffer their trade, a self-formed group labored diligently to grasp the concept, and was so successful that it arranged all the benefits we have derived from that connection, including the construction of these convenient reflective walls for this institution. This was done by one Band who had strong motivation and perception; he is a hero to our memory now. Wonr the Trader."
    What would be Rondl's reputation, if he did something like this? Rondl the Warrior? Warmonger? Well, why not?
    Yet that seemed foolish vanity, for one with no memory. "I can hardly persuade myself. I seek to join an existing apparatus."
    "Apparatus?" Cirl asked.
    "You perceive the problem," Proft said. "If you wish, I will invite you to address my classes. Perhaps some individuals will join you."
    Another general flash of news came: more Solarian ships had been spied, hurtling toward System Band at sublight velocity. In a few days they would arrive.
    "They must have a major Mattermission station set up in this vicinity," Rondl flashed. "It would take hundreds of years for them to move from Sol to Band at sublight velocity."
    "You have an amazing knowledge of Spherical space," Proft observed.
    "I do, for an amnesiac." But he could not take time to dwell on that at the moment. "I think I had better accept your offer, and talk to your students. Give me time to organize my case, and I will see what can be done."
    Rondl and Cirl retired to consult. "I must try to summarize the problem and offer a viable mode of action," he said. "But the problem of definitions seems overwhelming. If I start in defining combat, counterintelligence, and military discipline, I'll never get to the subject."
    "Combat? Counterintelligence?" she asked.
    "You see? I can no more communicate such concepts to you than you can communicate the correct mode of lovemaking to me."
    She assimilated that. "Perhaps I could —"
    "You could?" Suddenly this was more interesting.
    "If I could find a way to inform you, maybe you could find a way to inform others of your concepts."
    "I'm not sure that follows. Still—"
    "Sometimes it is easier if others do it."
    "But we have to do it!" Suddenly he was not sure they were talking about the same thing. But assuming the subject was love, he did not want to commit himself to making love with some other female, while Cirl—no!
    "Like a story of others. Others make war, whatever that is. And love."
    Oh. A story, rather than an actual—yes! Rondl realized that she was offering him something similar to what he had sought before: a look at another couple in action. "A story of others," he agreed, relieved. "Call him One, call her Two. What is it they do?"
    Cirl considered, still finding this difficult. "One wished to—to express himself to Two, and she was willing to receive the expression. More than willing! So