The Uplift War u-3

by David Brin

  “The flitter didn’t clear th’ peak, up there.” She gestured at the fog-shrouded heights to the south. “Must’ve hit th’ rocks a dozen times, to fall this far.

  “Shall… shall we leave a couple chims, sir? A … a burial detail?”

  Robert scuffed the ground. “No. Mark it. Map it. I’ll ask Athaclena if we should photograph it later, for evidence.

  “Meanwhile, let Garth take what she needs from them. I…”

  He turned away. The chims weren’t the only ones finding words hard right now. With a nod he set the party going again. As he clambered higher, Robert’s thoughts burned. There had to be a way to hurt the enemy worse than they had so far!

  Days ago, on a dark, moonless night, he had watched while twelve selected chims sailed down onto a Gubru encampment, riding the winds on homemade, virtually invisible paper gliders. They had swooped in, dropped their nitro and gas bombs, and slipped away by starlight before the enemy even knew anything was happening.

  There had been noise and smoke, uproar and squawking confusion, and no way at all to tell how effective the raid was. Nevertheless, he remembered how he had hated watching from the sidelines. He was a trained pilot, more qualified than any of these mountain chims for a mission like that!

  But Athaclena had given firm instructions to which the neo-chimps all adhered. Robert’s ass was sacred.

  It’s my own damn fault, he thought as he scrambled through a dense thicket. By making Athaclena his formal consort, he had given her that added status she had needed to run this small insurrection… and some degree of authority over him, as well. No longer could he do as he damn well pleased.

  So, she was his wife now, in a fashion. Some marriage, he thought. While Athaclena kept adjusting her appearance to look more human, that only served to remind him of what she couldn’t do, frustrating Robert. No doubt that was one reason why interspecies consortions were rare!

  I wonder what Megan thinks of the news … 7 wonder if our messenger ever got through.

  “Hssst!”

  He looked quickly to his right. Elsie stood balanced on a tree branch. She pointed upslope, to where an opening in the fog exposed a view of high clouds skimming like glass-bottomed boats on invisible pressure layers in the deep blue sky. Underneath the clouds could be seen the tree-fringed slope of a mountain. Narrow curls of smoke spiraled upward from shrouded places on its flanks.

  “Mount Fossey,” Elsie said, concisely. And Robert knew, at once, why the chims felt this might be a safe place… safe enough even for their precious gorillas.

  Only a few semi-active volcanoes lay along the rim of the Sea of Cilmar. Still, all through the Mulun there were places where the ground occasionally trembled. And at rare intervals lava poured forth. The range was still growing.

  Mount Fossey hissed. Vapor condensed in shaggy, serpentine shapes above geothermal vents, where pools of hot water steamed and intermittently burst forth in frothing geysers. The ubiquitous transfer vines came together here from all directions, twisting into great cables as they snaked up the flanks of the semi-dormant volcano. Here they held market in shady, smoky pools, where trace elements that had percolated through narrow trails of hot stone finally entered the forest economy.

  “I should’ve guessed.” Robert laughed. Of course the Gubru would be unlikely to detect anything here. A few unclothed anthropoids on these slopes would be nothing amid all this heat, spume, and chemical potpourris. If the invaders ever did come to check, the gorillas and their guardians could just melt into the surrounding jungle and return after the interlopers left.

  “Whose idea was this?” he asked as they approached under the shade of a high forest canopy. The smell of sulfur grew stronger.

  “Th’ gen’ral thought of it,” Elsie answered.

  Figures. Robert didn’t feel resentful. Athaclena was bright, even for a Tymbrimi, and he knew he himself wasn’t much above human average, if that. “Why wasn’t I told about it?”

  Elsie looked uncomfortable. “Um, you never asked, ser. You were busy with your experiments, findin’ out about the optical fibers and the enemy’s detection trick. And …”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “And?” he insisted.

  She shrugged. “And we weren’t sure you wouldn’t ever get dosed with th’ gas, sooner or later. If that happened you’d have to report to town for antidote. You’d be asked questions — and maybe psi-scanned.”

  Robert closed his eyes. Opened them. Nodded. “Okay. For a moment there I wondered if you trusted me.”

  “Ser!”

  “Never mind.” He waved. Athaclena’s decision had been proper, logical — once again. He wanted to think about it as little as possible.

  “Let’s go see the gorillas.”

  * * *

  They sat about in small family groups and were easily distinguished at a distance — much larger, darker, and hairier than their neo-chimpanzee cousins. Their big, peaked faces — as black as obsidian — bore expressions of peaceful concentration as they ate their meals, or groomed each other, or worked at the main task that had been assigned them, weaving cloth for the war.

  Shuttles flew across broad wooden looms, carrying homespun weft over warped strands, snicking and clicking to a rhythm matched by the great apes’ rumbling song. The ratcheting and the low, atonal grunting followed Robert as he and his party moved toward the center of the refuge.

  Now and then a weaver would stop work, putting her shuttle aside to wave her hands in a flurry of motion, making conversation with a neighbor. Robert knew sign-talk well enough to follow some of the gossip, but the gorillas seemed to speak with a dialect that was quite different from that used by infant chims. It was simple speech, yes, but also elegant in its own way, with a gentle style that was all their own.

  Clearly, these were not just big chims but a completely different race, another path taken. A separate route to sentience.

  The gorilla groups each seemed to consist of a number of adult females, their young, a few juveniles, and one hulking silver-backed adult male. The patriarch’s fur was always gray along his spine and ribs. The top of his head was peaked and imposing. Uplift engineering had altered the neo-gorilla’s stance, but the bigger males still had to use at least one knuckle when they walked. Their huge chests and shoulders made them too top-heavy still to move bipedally.

  In contrast, the lithe gorilla children moved easily on two legs. Their foreheads were rounded, smooth, without the severe sloping and bony brow ridges that would later give them such deceptively fierce countenances. Robert found it interesting how much alike infants of all three races looked — gorillas, chims, and humans. Only later in life did the dramatic’ differences of inheritance and destiny become fully apparent.

  Neoteny, Robert thought. It was a classic, pre-Contact theory that had proven more valid than not — one proposing that part of the secret of sapiency was to remain as childlike as possible, for as long as possible. For instance, human beings retained the faces, the adaptability, and (when it was not snuffed out) the insatiable curiosity of young anthropoids, even well into adulthood.

  Was this trait an accident? One which enabled pre-sentient Homo habilis to make the supposedly impossible leap — uplifting himself to starfaring intelligence by his own bootstraps? Or was it a gift from those mysterious beings some thought must have once meddled in human genes, the long-hypothesized missing patrons of humanity?

  All that was conjecture, but one thing was clear. Other Earthly mammals largely lost all interest in learning and play after puberty. But humans, dolphins — and now, more and more with each generation, neo-chimpanzees — retained that fascination with the world with which they entered it.

  Someday grown gorillas might also share this trait. Already these members of an altered tribe were brighter and remained curious longer than their fallow Earthly kin. Someday their descendants, too, might live out their life spans forever young.

  If the Galactics ever allow it, that is.

&
nbsp; Infant gorillas wandered about freely, poking their noses into everything. They were never slapped or chastised, only pushed gently aside when they got in the way, usually with a pat and a chuffed vocalization of affection. As he passed one group, Robert even caught a glimpse of a gray-flanked male mounting one of his females up in the bushes. Three youngsters crawled over the male’s broad back, prying at his massive arms. He ignored them, simply closing his eyes and hunkering down — doing his duty by his species.

  More infants scurried through breaking foliage to tumble in front of Robert. From their mouths hung strips of some plastic material that they chewed into frayed tatters. Two of the children stared up at him in something like awe. But the last one, less shy than the others, waved its hands in eager, if sloppy signs. Robert smiled and picked the little fellow up.

  Higher on the hillside, above the chain of fog-shrouded hot springs, Robert saw other brown shapes moving through the trees. “Younger males,” Elsie explained. “And bulls too old to hold a patriarchy. Back before the invasion, the planners at th’ Howletts Center were trying to decide whether to intervene in their family system. It’s their way, yes, but it’s so hard on the poor males — a couple years’ pleasure and glory, but at the cost of loneliness most of the rest of their lives.” She shook her head. “We hadn’t made up our minds before the Gubru came. Now maybe we’ll never get the chance.”

  Robert refrained from commenting. He hated the restrictive treaties, but he still had trouble with what Elsie’s colleagues had been doing at the Howletts Center. It had been arrogance, to take the decision into their own hands. He could see no happy outcome to it.

  As they approached the hot springs, he saw chims moving about seriously on various errands. Here one peered into the mouth of a huge gorilla easily six times her mass, probing with a dental tool. There another patiently taught sign language to a class of ten gorilla children.

  “How many chims are here to take care of them?”

  “Dr. de Shriver from the Center, about a dozen of the chim techs that used to work with her, plus about twenty guards and volunteers from nearby settlements. It depends on when we sometimes take Villas off to help in the war.”

  “How do they feed them all?” Robert asked as they descended to the banks of one of the springs. Some of the chims from his party had arrived ahead of them and were already lounging by the humid bank, sipping at soup cups. A small nearby cave held a makeshift storage chamber where resident workers in aprons were ladling out more steaming mugs.

  “It’s a problem.” Elsie nodded. “The gorillas have finicky digestions, and it’s hard to get them the right balance of foods. Even in th’ restored ranges in Africa, a big silver-back needs up to sixty pounds of vegetation, fruit, an’ insects a day. Natural gorillas have to move around a lot to get that kind of forage, an’ we can’t allow that.”

  Robert lowered himself to the damp stones and released the gorilla infant, who scampered down to the poolside, still chewing his ragged strip of plastic. “It sounds like quite a quandary,” he said to Elsie.

  “Yeah. Fortunately, Dr. Schultz solved the problem just last year. I’m glad he had that satisfaction before he died.”

  Robert removed his moccasins. The water looked hot. He dipped a toe and pulled it back quickly. “Ouch! How did he do it?”

  “Um, beg your pardon?”

  “What was Schultz’s solution?”

  “Microbiology, ser.” She looked up suddenly, her eyes bright. “Ah, here they come with soup for us, too!”

  , Robert accepted a cup from a chimmie whose apron must have come from cloth woven on the gorillas’ looms. She walked with a limp. Robert wondered if she had been wounded in some of the fighting.

  “Thank you,” he said, appreciating the aroma. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. “Elsie, what d’you mean, microbiology?”

  She sipped delicately. “Intestinal bacteria. Symbionts. We all have ’em. Tiny critters that live in our guts, an’ in our mouths. They’re harmless partners, mostly. Help us digest our food in exchange for a free ride.”

  “Ah.” Of course Robert knew about bio-symbionts; any school kid did.

  “Dr. Schultz managed to come up with a suite of bugs that helps the Villas eat — and enjoy — a whole lot of native Garth vegetation. They—”

  She was interrupted by a high-pitched little cry, unlike anything an ape might produce. “Robert!” shrieked a piping voice.

  He looked up. Robert grinned. “April. Little April Wu. How are you, Sunshine?”

  The little girl was dressed like Sheena, the jungle girl. She rode on the left shoulder of an adolescent male gorilla whose black eyes were patiently gentle. April tipped forward and waved her hands in a quick series of signs. The gorilla let go of her legs and she climbed up to stand on his shoulder, holding his head for balance. Her guardian chuffed uncomplainingly.

  “Catch me, Robert!”

  Robert hurried to his feet. Before he could say anything to stop her, she sprang off, a sun-browned windmill that streamed blo›d hair. He caught her in a tangle of legs. For a moment, until he had a sure grip, his heart beat faster than it had in battle or in climbing mountains.

  He had known the little girl was being kept with the gorillas for safety. To his chagrin he realized how busy he had been since recovering “from his injuries. Too busy to think of this child, the only other human free in the mountains. “Hi, Pumpkin,” he said to her. “How’re you doing these days? Are you taking good care of the Villas?”

  She nodded seriously. “I’ve gotta take good care of th’Villas, Robert. We gotta be in charge, ’cause there’s just us.

  Robert gave her a close hug. At that moment he suddenly felt terribly lonely. He had not realized how badly he missed human company. “Yup. It’s just you and me up here,” he said softly.

  “You an’ me an’ Tymbimmie Athaclena,” she reminded him.

  He met her eyes. “Nevertheless, you’re doing what Dr. de Shriver asks, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “Dr. de Shriver’s nice. She says maybe I might get to go see Mommy and Daddy, sometime soon.”

  Robert winced. He would have to talk to de Shriver about deceiving the youngster. The chim in charge probably could not bear to tell the human child the truth, that she would be in their care for a long time to come. To send her to Port Helenia now would be to give away the secret of the gorillas, something even Athaclena was now determined to prevent.

  “Take me down there, Robert.” April demanded with a sweet smile. She pointed to a flat rock where the infant gorilla now capered before some of Robert’s group. The chims laughed indulgently at the little male’s antics. The satisfied, slightly smug tone in their voices was one Robert found understandable. A very young client race would naturally feel this way toward one even younger. The chims were very proprietary and parental toward the gorillas.

  Robert, in turn, felt a little like a father with an unpleasant task ahead of him, one who must somehow break it to his children that the puppy would not remain theirs for long.

  He carried April across to the other bank and set her down. The water temperature was much more bearable here. No, it was wonderful. He kicked off his moccasins and wriggled his toes in the tingling warmth.

  April and the baby gorilla flanked Robert, resting their elbows on his knees. Elsie sat by his side. It was a brief, peaceful scene. If a neo-dolphin were magically to appear in the water, spy-hopping into view with a wide grin, the tableau would have made a good family portrait.

  “Hey, what’s that you’ve got in your mouth?” He moved his hand toward the little gorilla, who quickly shied back out of reach. It regarded him with wide, curious eyes.

  “What’s he chewing on?” Robert asked Elsie.

  “It looks like a strip of plastic. But… but what’s it doing here? There isn’t supposed to be anything here that was manufactured on Garth.”

  “It’s not Garth-made,” someone said. They looked up. It was the chimmie who had served t
hem their soup. She smiled and wiped her hands on her apron before bending over to pick up the gorilla infant. It gave up the material without fuss. “All the little ones chew these strips. They tested safe, and we’re absolutely positive nothing about it screams Terran!’ to Gubru detectors.”

  Elsie and Robert exchanged a puzzled look. “How can you be so sure? What is the stuff?”

  She teased the little ape, waving the strip before its face until it chirped and grabbed it, popping the well-masticated piece back into its mouth.

  “Some of their parents brought shredded bits of it back from our first successful ambush, back at the Howletts Center. They said it ‘smelled good.’ Now the brats chew it all the time.”

  She grinned down at Elsie and Robert. “It’s that super-plastic fiber from the Gubru fighting vehicles. You know, that material that stops bullets flat?”

  Robert and Elsie stared.

  “Hey, Kongie. How about that?” The chimmie cooed at the little gorilla. “You clever little thing, you. Say, if you like chewing armor plating, how about taking on something really tasty next? How about a city? Maybe something simple, like New York?”

  The baby lowered the frayed, wet end long enough to yawn, a wide gaping of sharp, glistening teeth.

  The chimmie smiled. “Yum! Y’know, I think little Kongie likes the idea.”

  54

  Fiben

  “Hold still now,” Fiben told Gailet as he combed his fingers through her fur.

  He needn’t have said anything. For although Gailet was turned away, presenting her back to him, he knew her face bore a momentary expression of beatific joy as he groomed her. When she looked like that — calm, relaxed, happy with the delight of a simple, tactile pleasure — her normally stern countenance took on a glow, one that utterly transformed her somewhat ordinary features.

  It was only for a minute, unfortunately. A tiny, scurrying movement caught Fiben’s eye, and he pounced after it on instinct before it could vanish into her fine hair.