The Uplift War u-3

by David Brin

  Then, suddenly, there it was, the broken ruin of a once-sleek little ship of space.

  “I still do not see why we had to come back to the wreck,” Kault rasped. “We got away with sufficient dietary supplements to let us live off the land. When things calm down we can intern ourselves—”

  “Wait here,” Uthacalthing said, not caring that he interrupted the other. Thennanin weren’t fanatical about that sort of punctilio, thank Ifni. He slipped over the side of the boat and into the water. “There is no need that both of us risk approaching any closer. I will continue alone.”

  Uthacalthing knew his fellow castaway well enough to read Kault’s discomfort. Thennanin culture put great store in personal courage — especially since space travel terrified them so.

  “I will accompany you, Uthacalthing.” He moved to put the oar aside. “There may be dangers.”

  Uthacalthing stopped him with a raised hand. “Unnecessary, colleague and friend. Your physical form isn’t suited for this mire. And you may tip the boat. Just rest. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Very well, then.” Kault looked visibly relieved. “I shall await you here.”

  Uthacalthing stepped through the shallows, feeling for his footing in the tricky mud. He skirted the swirls of leaked ship-fluid and made toward the bank where the broken back of the yacht arched over the bog.

  It was hard work. He felt his body try to alter itself to better handle the effort of wading through the muck, but Uthacalthing suppressed the reaction. The glyph nuturunow helped him keep adaptations to a minimum. The distance just wasn’t worth the price the changes would cost him.

  His ruff expanded, partly to support nuturunow and partly as his corona felt among the weeds and grass for presences. It was doubtful anything here could harm him. The Bururalli had seen to that. Still, he probed the surrounding area as he waded, and caressed the empathy net of this marshy life-stew.

  The little creatures were all around him, all the basic, standard forms: sleek and spindly birds, scaled and horn-mouthed reptiloids, hairy or furry types which scuttled among the reeds. It had long been known that there were three classic ways for oxygen-breathing animals to cover themselves. When skin cells buckled outward it led to feathers. When they buckled inward there was hair. When they thickened, flat and hard, the animal had scales.

  All three had developed here, and in a typical pattern. Feathers were ideal for avians, who needed maximum insulation for minimum weight. Fur covered the warm-blooded creatures, who could not afford to lose heat.

  Of course, that was the only surface. Within, there was a nearly infinite number of ways to approach the problem of living. Each creature was unique, each world a wonderful experiment in diversity. A planet was supposed to be a great nursery, and deserved protection in that role. It was a belief both Uthacalthing and his companion shared.

  His people and Kault’s were enemies — not as the Gubru were to the humans of Garth, of course, but of a certain style — registered with the Institute for Civilized Warfare. There were many types of conflict, most of them dangerous and quite serious. Still, Uthacalthing liked this Thennanin, in a way. That was preferable. It was usually easier to pull a jest on someone you liked.

  His slick leggings shed the greasy water as he slogged up onto the mudbank. Uthacalthing checked for radiation, then stepped lightly toward the shattered yacht.

  Kault watched the Tymbrimi disappear around the flank of the broken ship. He sat still, as he had been bid, using the paddle occasionally to stroke against the sluggish current and keep away from the oozing spijls. Mucus bubbled from his breathing slits to drive out the stench.

  Throughout the Five Galaxies the Thennanin were known as tough fighters and doughty starfarers. But it was only on a living, breathing planet that Kault and his kind could relax. That was why their ships, so resembled worlds themselves, solid and durable. A scout craft made by his people would not have been swatted from the sky as this one had, by a mere terawatt laser! The Tymbrimi preferred speed and maneuverability over armor, but disasters such as this one seemed to bear out the Thennanin philosophy.

  The crash had left them with few options. Running the Gubru blockade would have been chancy at best, and the other alternative had been hiding out with the surviving human officials. Hardly choices one lingered over.

  Perhaps the crash had been the best possible branching for reality to take, after all. At least here there was the dirt and water, and they were amid life.

  Kault looked up when Uthacalthing reappeared around the corner of the wreck, carrying a small satchel. As the Tymbrimi envoy slipped into the water, Uthacalthing’s furry ruff was fully expanded. Kault had learned that it was not as efficient at dissipating excess heat as the Thennanin crest.

  Some groups within his clan took facts like these as evidence of intrinsic Thennanin superiority, but Kault belonged to a faction that was more charitable in outlook. Each lifeform had its niche in the evolving,Whole, they believed. Even the wild and unpredictable wolfling humans. Even-heretics.

  Uthacalthing’s corona fluffed out as he worked his way back to the boat, but it was not because he was overheated. He was Grafting a special glyph.

  Lurrunanu hovered under the bright sunshine. It coalesced in the field of his corona, gathered, strained forward eagerly, then catapulted over toward Kault, dancing over the big Thennanin’s crest as if in delighted curiosity.

  The Galactic appeared oblivious. He noticed nothing, and he could not be blamed for that. After all, the glyph was nothing. Nothing real.

  Kault helped Uthacalthing climb back aboard, grabbing his belt and pulling him into the rocky boat head first. “I recovered some extra dietary supplements and a few tools we might need,” Uthacalthing said in Galactic Seven as he rolled over. Kault steadied him.

  The satchel broke open and bottles rolled onto the fabric bottom. Lurrunanu still hovered above the Thennanin, awaiting the right moment. As Kault reached down to help collect the spilled items, the whirling glyph pounced!

  It struck the famed Thennanin obstinacy and rebounded. Kault’s bluff stolidity was too tough to penetrate. Under Uthacalthing’s prodding, lurrunanu leapt again, furiously hurling itself against the leathery creature’s crest at just the moment Kault picked up a bottle that was lighter than the others and handed it to Uthacalthing. But the alien’s obdurate skepticism sent the glyph reeling back once more.

  Uthacalthing tried a final time as he fumbled with the bottle and put it away, but this time lurrunanu simply shattered against the Thennanin’s impenetrable barrier of assumptions.

  “Are you all right?” Kault asked.

  “Ohv fine.” Uthacalthing’s ruff settled down and he exhaled in frustration. Somehow, he would have to find a way to excite Kault’s curiosity!

  Oh well, he thought. I never expected it to be easy. There will be time.

  Out there ahead of them lay several hundred kilometers of wildlands, then the Mountains of Mulun, and finally the Valley of the Sind before they could reach Port Helenia. Somewhere in that expanse Uthacalthing’s secret partner waited, ready to help execute a long, involved joke on Kault. Be patient, Uthacalthing told himself. The best jests do take time.

  He put the satchel under his makeshift seat and secured it with a length of twine. “Let us be off. I believe we’ll find good fishing by the far bank, and those trees will make for good shelter from the midday sun.”

  Kault rasped assent and picked up his oar. Together they worked their way through the marsh, leaving the derelict yacht behind them to settle slowly into the endurant mud.

  44

  Galactics

  In orbit above the planet the invasion force entered a new phase of operation.

  At the beginning, there had been the assault against a brief, surprisingly bitter, but almost pointless resistance. Then came the consolidation and plans for ritual and cleansing. All through this, the major preoccupation of the fleet had been defensive.

  The Five Galaxies were in a
turmoil. Any of a score of other alliances might have also seen an opportunity in seizing Garth. Or the Terran/Tymbrimi alliance — though hard beset elsewhere — might choose to counterattack here. The tactical computers calculated that the wolflings would be stupid to do so, but Earthlings were so unpredictable, one could never tell.

  Too much had been invested in this theater already. The clan of the Gooksyu-Gubru could not afford a loss here.

  So the battle fleet had arrayed itself. Ships kept watch over the five local layers of hyperspacBi over nearby transfer points, over the cometary time-drop nexi.

  News came of Earth’s travails, of the desperation of the Tymbrimi, and of the tricksters’ difficulties in acquiring allies among the lethargic Moderate clans. As the interval stretched it became clear that no threat would come from those directions.

  But some of the other great clans were busy. Those who were quick to see advantage. Some were engaged in futile searches for the missing dolphin ship. Others used the confusion as a convenient excuse to carry through on ancient grudges. Millennia-old agreements unraveled like gas clouds before sudden supernovae. Flame licked at the ancient social fabric of the Five Galaxies. From the Gubru Home Perch came new orders. As soon as ground-based defenses were completed, the greater part of the fleet must go on to other duties. The remaining force should be more than adequate to hold Garth against any reasonable threat.

  The Roost Masters did accompany the order with compensations. To the Suzerain of Beam and Talon they awarded a citation. To the Suzerain of Propriety they promised an improved Planetary Library for the expedition on Garth.

  The new Suzerain of Cost and Caution needed no compensation. The orders were victory in themselves for they manifested caution in their essence. The chief bureaucrat won molt points, badly needed in its competition with its more experienced peers.

  The naval units set forth for the nearest transfer point, confident that matters on Garth were well in beak and hand. The ground forces, however, watched the great battleships depart with slightly less certitude. Down on the planet’s surface there were portents of a minor resistance movement. The activity — as yet hardly more than a nuisance — had started among the chimpanzee population in the back country. As they were cousins and clients of men, their irritating and unbecoming behavior came as no surprise. The Gubru high command took precautions. Then they turned their attention to other matters.

  Certain items of information had come to the attention of the Triumvirate — data taken from an enemy source — information having to do with Planet Garth itself. The hint might turn out to be nothing at all. But if it were true the possibilities were vast!

  In any event, these things had to be looked into. Important advantages might be at stake. In this, all three Suzerains agreed completely. It was their first taste of true consensus together.

  A platoon of Talon Soldiers kept watch over the expedition making its way into the mountains. Slender avians in battle dress swooped just over the trees, the faint whine of their flight harnesses carrying softly down the narrow canyons. One hover tank cruised ahead on point and another guarded the convoy’s rear.

  The scientist investigators in their floater barges rode amidst this ample protection. The vehicles headed upland on low cushions of air. Perforce they avoided the rough, spiny ridgetops. There was no hurry, though. The rumor they chased was probably nothing at all, but the Suzerains insisted that it be checked out, just in case.

  Their goal came into sight late on the second day. It was a flattened area at the bottom of a narrow valley. A number of buildings had burned to the ground here, not too long ago.

  The hover tanks took positions at opposite ends of the scorched area. Then Gubru scientists and their Kwackoo client-assistants emerged from the barges. Standing back from the still stinking ruins, the avians chirped commands to whirring specimen robots, directing the search for clues. Less fastidious than their patrons, the fluffy white Kwackoo dove right into the wreckage, squawking excitedly as they sniffed and probed.

  One conclusion was clear immediately. The destruction had been deliberate. The wreckers had wanted to hide something under the smoke and ruin.

  Twilight came with subtropical suddenness. Soon the investigators were working uncomfortably under the glare of spotlights. At last the team commander ordered a halt. Full-scale studies would have to wait for morning.

  The specialists retired into their barges for the night, chattering about what they had already discovered. There were traces, hints of things exciting and not a little disturbing.

  Still, there would be ample time to do the work by day. The technicians closed their barges against the darkness. Six drone watchers rose to hover in silent, mechanical diligence, spinning patiently above the vehicles. Garth turned slowly under the starry night. Faint creakings and rustles told of the busy, serious work of the nocturnal forest creatures — hunting and being hunted. The watcher drones ignored them, rotating unperturbed. The night wore on.

  Not long before dawn, new shapes moved through the starlit lanes underneath the trees. The smaller local beasts sought cover and listened as the newcomers crept past, slowly, warily.

  The watcher drones noticed these new animals, too, and measured them against their programmed criteria. Harmless, came the judgment. Once again, they did nothing.

  45

  Athaclena

  “They’re sitting ducks,” Benjamin said from his vantage point on the western hillside.

  Athaclena glanced up at her chim aide-de-camp. For a moment she struggled with Benjamin’s metaphor. Perhaps he was referring to the enemy’s avian nature?

  “They appear to be complacent, if that is what you mean,” she said. “But they have reason. The Gubru rely upon battle robots more extensively than we Tymbrimi — We find them because they are expensive and overly predictable. Nevertheless, those drones can be formidable.”

  Benjamin nodded seriously. “I’ll remember that, ser.”

  Still, Athaclena sensed that he was unimpressed. He had helped plan this morning’s foray, coordinating with representatives of the Port Helenia resistance. Benjamin was blithely certain of its success.

  The town chims were to launch a predawn attack in the Vale of Sind just before action was scheduled to begin here. The official aim was to sow confusion among the enemy; and maybe do him some harm he would remember. Athaclena wasn’t certain that was really possible. But she had agreed to the venture anyway. She did not want the Gubru finding out too much from the ruins of the Howletts Center.

  Not yet.

  “They’ve set up camp under the ruins of the old main building,” Benjamin said. “Right where we expected them to plant themselves.”

  Athaclena looked at the chim’s solid-state night binoculars uncomfortably. “You are certain those devices aren’t detectable?”

  Benjamin nodded without looking up. “Yes’m. We laid instruments like these out on a hillside near a cruising gasbot, and its flightpath didn’t even ripple. We’ve narrowed down the list of materials the enemy’s able to sniff. Soon …”

  Benjamin stiffened. Athaclena felt his sudden- tension.

  “What is it?”

  The chen crouched forward. “I see shapes movin’ through the trees. It must be our guys gettin’ into position. Now we’ll find out if those battle robots are programmed the way you expected.”

  Distracted as he was, Benjamin did not offer to share the binoculars. So much for patron-client protocol, Athaclena thought. Not that it mattered. She preferred to reach out with her own senses.

  Down below she detected three different species of biped arranging themselves around the Gubru expedition. If Benjamin had spotted them they certainly had to be well within range of the enemy’s sensitive watch drones.

  And yet the robots did nothing! Seconds beat past, and the whirling drones did not fire on the shapes approaching under the trees. Nor did they alert their sleeping masters.

  She sighed in increased hope. The machines’ rest
raint was a crucial piece of information. The fact that they spun on silently told her volumes about what was happening not only here on Garth but elsewhere, beyond the flecked star-field that glittered overhead. It told her something about the state of the Five Galaxies as a whole.

  There is still law, Athaclena thought. The Gubru are constrained.

  Like many other fanatic clans, the Gubru Alliance was not pristine in its adherence to the codes of planetary/ecological management. Knowing the avians’ dour paranoia, she had figured that they would program their defense robots one way if the rules were still valid, and quite another if they had fallen.

  If chaos had completely taken over the Five Galaxies, the Gubru would have programmed their machines to sterilize hundreds of acres rather than allow any risk to their feathery frames.

  But if the Codes held, then the enemy did not yet dare break them. For those same rules might protect them, if the tide of war turned against their faction.

  Rule Nine Hundred and Twelve: Where possible, non-combatants must be spared. That held for noncombatant species, even more than individuals, especially on a catastrophe world such as Garth. Native forms were protected by billion-year-old tradition.

  “You are trapped by your own assumptions, you vile things,” she murmured in Galactic Seven. Obviously the Gubru had programmed their machines to watch for the trappings of sapiency — factory-produced weapons, clothing, machinery — never imagining that an enemy might assail their camp naked, indistinguishable from the animals of the forest!

  She smiled, thinking of Robert. This part had been his idea.

  Gray, antelucan translucence was spreading across the sky, gradually driving out the fainter stars. To Athaclena’s left their medic, the elderly chimmie Elayne Soo, looked at her all-metal watch. She tapped its lens significantly. Athaclena nodded, giving permission for matters to proceed.