The Uplift War u-3

by David Brin

  But then something would crystallize, and Gailet would make clear to him some tradition or principle that displayed uncanny subtlety and hard-won wisdom, developed over hundreds of millions of years.

  It was getting to the point where he didn’t even know what to think anymore. “I gotta get some air,” he told her. “I’m going for a walk.” He stepped over to the coatrack and grabbed his parka. “See you in an hour or so.”

  He rapped on the door. It slid open. He stepped through and closed it behind him without looking back.

  “Need an escort, Fiben?”

  The chimmie, Sylvie, .picked up a datawell and scribbled an entry. She wore a simple, ankle-length dress with long sleeves. To look at her now, it was hard to imagine her up on the dance mound at the Ape’s Grape, driving crowds of chens to the verge of mob violence. Her smile was hesitant, almost timid. And it occurred to Fiben that there was something unaccountably nervous about her tonight.

  “What if I said no?” he asked. Before Sylvie could look alarmed he grinned. “Just kidding. Sure, Sylvie. Give me Rover Twelve. He’s a friendly old globe, and he doesn’t spook the natives too much.”

  “Watch robot RVG-12. Logged as escort to Fiben Bolger for release outside,” she said into the datawell. A door opened down the hallway behind her, and out floated a remote vigilance globe, a simple version of a battle robot, whose sole mission was to accompany a prisoner and see that he did not escape.

  “Have a nice walk, Fiben.”

  He winked at Sylvie and affected an airy burr. “Now, lass, what other kind is there, for a prisoner?”

  The last one, Fiben answered himself. The one leading to the gallows. But he waved gaily. “C’mon, Rover.” The front door hissed as it slid back to let him emerge into a blustery autumn afternoon.

  Much had changed since their capture. The conditions of their imprisonment grew gentler as he and Gailet seemed to become more important to the Suzerain of Propriety’s inscrutable plan. I still hate this place, Fiben thought as he descended concrete steps and made his way through an unkempt garden toward the outer gate. Sophisticated surveillance robots rotated slowly at the corners of the high wall. Near the portal, Fiben came upon the chim guards.

  Irongrip was not present, fortunately, but the other Probationers on duty were hardly friendlier. For although the Gubru still paid their wages, it seemed their masters had recently deserted their cause. There had been no overturning of the Uplift program on Garth, no sudden reversal of the eugenics pyramid. The Suzerain tried to find fault in the way neo-chimps are being uplifted, Fiben knew. But it must’ve failed. Otherwise, why would it be grooming a blue card and a white card, like me and Gailet, for their ceremony?

  In fact, the use of Probationers as auxiliaries had sort of backfired on the invaders. The chim population resented it.

  No words passed between Fiben and the zipsuited guards. The ritual was well understood. He ignored them, and they dawdled just as long as they dared without giving him an excuse to complain. Once, when the claviger delayed too long with the keys, Fiben had simply turned around and marched back inside. He did not even have to say a word to Sylvie. Next watch, those guards were gone. Fiben never saw them again.

  This time, just on impulse, Fiben broke tradition and spoke. “Nice weather, ain’t it?”

  The taller of the two Probationers looked up in surprise. Something about the zipsuited chen suddenly struck Fiben as eerily familiar, although he was certain he had never met him before. “What, are you kidding?” The guard glanced up at rumbling cumulonimbus clouds. A cold front was moving in, and rain could not be far off.

  “Yeah,” Fiben grinned. “I’m kidding. Actually, it’s too sunny for my tastes.”

  The guard gave Fiben a sour look and stepped aside. The gate squeaked open, and Fiben slipped out onto a back street lined by ivy-decked walls. Neither he nor Gailet had ever seen any of their neighbors. Presumably local chims kept a low profile around Irongrip’s crew and the watchful alien robots.

  He whistled as he walked toward the bay, trying to ignore the hovering watch globe following just a meter above and behind him. The first time he had been allowed out this way, Fiben avoided the populated areas of Port Helenia, sticking to back alleys and the now almost abandoned industrial zone. Nowadays he still kept away from the main shopping and business areas, where crowds would gather and stare, but he no longer felt he had to avoid people completely.

  — Early on he had seen other chims accompanied by watch globes. At first he thought they were prisoners like himself. Chens and chimmies in work clothes stepped aside and gave the guarded chims wide berth, as they did him.

  Then he noticed the differences. Those other escorted chims wore fine clothes and walked with a haughty bearing. Their watch globes’ eye facets and weaponry faced outward, rather than upon the ones they guarded. Quislings, Fiben realized. He was pleased to see the faces many chim citizens cast at these high-level collaborators when their backs were turned — looks of sullen, ill-concealed disdain.

  After that, in his quarters, he had stenciled the proud letters P-R-I-S-O-N-E-R on the back of his parka. From then on, the stares that followed him were less cold. They were curious, perhaps even respectful.

  The globe was not programmed to let him speak to people. Once, when a chimmie dropped a folded piece of paper in his path, Fiben tested the machine’s tolerance by bending over to pick it up …

  He awoke sometime later in the globe’s grasp, on his way back to prison. It was several days before he was allowed out again.

  No matter. It had been worth it. Word of the episode spread. Now, chens and chimmies nodded as he passed storefronts and long ration lines. Some even signed little messages of encouragement in hand talk.

  They haven’t twisted us, Fiben thought proudly. A few traitors hardly mattered. What counted was the behavior of a people, as a whole. Fiben.remembered reading how, during the most horrible of Earth’s old, pre-Contact world wars, the citizens of the little nation of Denmark resisted every effort of the Nazi conquerors to dehumanize them. Instead they behaved with startling unity and decency. It was a story well worth emulating.

  We’ll hold out, he replied in sign language. Terra remembers, and will come for us.

  He clung to the hope, no matter how hard it became. As he learned the subtleties of Galactic law from Gailet, he came to realize that even if peace broke out all across the spiral arms, it might not be enough to eject the invaders. There were tricks a clan as ancient as the Gubru knew, ways to invalidate a weaker clan’s lease on a planet like Garth. It was apparent one faction of the avian enemy wanted to end Earth’s tenancy here and take it over for themselves.

  Fiben knew that the Suzerain of Propriety had searched in vain for evidence the Earthlings were mishandling the ecological recovery on Garth. Now, after the way the occupation forces had bollixed decades of hard work, they dared not raise that issue.

  The Suzerain had also spent months hunting for elusive “Garthlings.” If the mysterious pre-sentients had proven real, a claim on them would have justified every dime spent here. Finally, they saw through Uthacalthing’s practical joke, but that did not end their efforts.

  All along, ever since the invasion, the Gubru had tried to find fault with the way neo-chimpanzees were being uplifted. And just because they seemed to have accepted the status of advanced chims like Gailet, that did not mean they had given up completely.

  There was this business of the damned Ceremony of Acceptance — whose implications still escaped Fiben no matter how hard Gailet tried to make them clear to him.

  He hardly noticed the chims on the streets as his feet kicked windblown leaves and snatches of Gailet’s explanations came back to him.

  “… client species pass through phases, each marked by ceremonies sanctioned by the Galactic Uplift Institute… These ceremonies are expensive, and can be blocked by political maneuvering… For the Gubru to offer to pay for and support a ceremony for the clients ofwolfling humans is mo
re than unprecedented… And the Suzerain also offers to commit all its folk to a new policy ending hostilities with Earth…

  “… Of course, there is a catch…”

  Oh, Fiben could well imagine there would be a catch!

  He shook his head, as if to drive all the words out of it. There was something unnatural about Gailet. Uplift was all very well and good, and she might be a peerless example of neo-chimpdom, but it just wasn’t natural to think and talk so much without giving the brain some off-time to air out!

  He came at last to a place by the docks where fishing boats lay tied up against the coming storm. Seabirds chirped and dove, trying to catch a last meal in the time remaining before the water became too choppy. One of them ventured too close to Fiben and was rewarded with a warning shock from “Rover,” the watch robot. The bird — no more a biological cousin to the avian invaders than Fiben was — squawked in anger and took off toward the west.

  Fiben took a seat on the end of the pier. From his pocket he removed half a sandwich he had put there earlier in the day. He munched quietly, watching the clouds and the water. For the moment, at least, he was able to stop thinking, stop worrying. And no words echoed in his head.

  Right then all it would have taken to make him happy would have been a banana and a beer, and freedom.

  An hour or so later, “Rover” began buzzing insistently. The watch robot maneuvered to a position interposing itself between him and the water, bobbing insistently.

  With a sign Fiben got up and dusted himself off. He walked back along the dock and soon was headed past drifts of leaves toward his urban prison. Very few chims were still about on the windy streets.

  The guard with the oddly familiar face frowned at him when Fiben arrived at the gate, but there was no delay passing him through. It’s always been easier gettiri into jail than gettin’ out, Fiben thought.

  Sylvie was still on duty at her desk. “Did you have a nice walk, Fiben?”

  “Hm. You ought to come along sometime. We could stop at the Park and I’d show you my Cheetah imitation.” He gave her an amiable wink.

  “I’ve already seen it, remember? Pretty unimpressive, as I recall.” But Sylvie’s tone did not match her banter. She seemed tense. “Go on in, Fiben. I’ll put Rover away.”

  “Yeah, well.” The door hissed open. “Good night, Sylvie.”

  Gailet was seated on a plush throw rug in front of the weather wall — now tuned to show a scene of steamy savannah heat. She looked up from the book on her lap and took off her reading glasses. “Hello. Feeling better?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Sorry about earlier. I guess I just had a bad case of cabin fever. I’ll knuckle down and get back to work now.”

  “No need. We’re done for today.” She patted the rug. “Why don’t you come over and give me back a scratch? Then I’ll reciprocate.”

  Fiben did not have to be asked twice. One thing he had to grant Gailet, she was a truly fine grooming partner. He shrugged out of his parka and came over to sit behind her. She laid one hand idly on his knee while he began combing his fingers through her hair. Soon her eyes were closed. Her. breath came in soft, low sighs.

  It was frustrating trying to define the relationship he had with Gailet. They were not lovers. For most chimmies, that was only possible or practical during certain parts of their bodily cycles, anyway. And Gailet had made it clear that hers was a very private sense of sexuality, more like a human female’s. Fiben understood this and had put no pressure on her.

  Trouble was, he just could not get her out of his mind.

  He reminded himself not to confuse his sex drive with other things. I may be obsessed with her, but I’m not crazy. Lovemaking with this chimmie would require a level of bonding he wasn’t sure he was ready to think about.

  As he worked his way through the fur at the back of Gailet’s neck he encountered knots of tension. “Say, you’re really tight! What’s the matter? Have th’ damn Gu—”

  The fingers on his knee dug in sharply, though Gailet did not move otherwise. Fiben thought quickly and changed what he had been about to say.

  “… g-guards been making moves on you? Have those Probationers been getting fresh?”

  “And what if they had? What would you do about it, march out there and defend my honor?” She laughed. But he felt her relief, expressed through her body. Something was going on. He had never seen Gailet so worked up.

  As he scratched her back, his fingers encountered an object embedded in the fur… something round, thin, disk-like. “I think there’s a knot of hair, back there,” Gailet said quickly as he started to pull it free. “Be careful, Fiben.”

  “Uh, okay.” He bent over. “Um, you’re right. It’s a knot all right. I’m gonna have to work this out with my teeth.”

  Her back trembled and her aroma was sweaty as he brought his face close. Just as I thought. A message capsule! As his eye came even with it, a tiny holographic projector came alight. The beam entered his iris and automatically adjusted to focus on his retina.

  There were just a few, simple lines of text. What he read, however, made him blink in surprise. It was a document written in his own name!

  STATEMENT OF WHY I AM DOING THIS: RECORDED BY LUTENANT FIBEN BOLGER, NEOCHIMPANZEE.

  ALTHOUGH IVE BEEN WELL TREATED SINCE BEING CAPTURED, AND I APPRECIATE THE KIND ATTENTION IVE BEEN GIVEN, IM AFRAID I JUST HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE. THERES STILL A WAR GOING ON, AND ITS MY DUTY TO ESCAPE IF I CAN.

  IN TRYING TO ESCAPE I DONT MEAN ANY INSULT TO THE SUZERAIN OF PROPRIETY OR THE CLAN OF THE GUBRU. ITS JUST THAT IM LOYAL TO THE HUMANS AND MY CLAN. THAT MAKES THIS SOMETHING I JUST HAVE TO DO.

  Below the text was an area that pulsed redly, as if expectantly. Fiben blinked. He pulled back a little and the message disappeared.

  Of course he knew about records such as this. All he had to do was look at the red spot, and earnestly will it, and the disk would record his assent, along with his retinal pattern.

  The document would be at least as binding as a signature on some piece of paper.

  Escape! The very thought made Fiben’s heart race faster. But… how?

  He had not failed to notice that the record mentioned only his name. If Gailet had intended to go with him, she surely would have included herself.

  And even if it were possible, would it be the right thing to do? He had apparently been chosen by the Suzerain of Propriety to be Gailet’s partner in an enterprise as complex and potentially hazardous as any in the history of their race. How could Fiben desert her at a time like this?

  He brought his eye close and read the message again, thinking furiously.

  When did Gailet ever have a chance to write this? Was she in contact with elements of the Resistance somehow?

  Also, something about the text struck Fiben as wrong. It wasn’t just the misspellings and less than erudite grammar. Just at a glance, Fiben could think of several improvements the statement badly needed if it was to do any good at all.

  Of course. Someone other than Gailet must have written it, and she was just passing it on for him to read!

  “Sylvie came in a while ago,” Gailet said. “We groomed each other. She had trouble with the same knot.”

  Sylvie! So. No wonder the chimmie had been so nervous, earlier.

  Fiben considered carefully, trying to reassemble a puzzle. Sylvie must have planted the disk on Gailet… No, she must have worn it herself, let Gailet read it, and then transferred it to Gailet’s fur with her permission.

  “Maybe I was wrong about Sylvie,” Gailet continued. “She strikes me as a rather nice chimmie after all. I’m not sure how dependable she is, but my guess is she’s pretty solid, down deep.”

  What was Gailet telling him now? That this wasn’t her idea at all but Sylvie’s? Gailet would have had to consider the other chimmie’s proposition without being able to speak aloud at all. She would not even be able to give Fiben any advice. Not out in the open, at least.

  “It’s a tough
knot,” Fiben said, leaving a patch of wet fur as he sat back. “I’ll try again in a minute.”

  “That’s all right. Take your time. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

  He combed through another area, near her right shoulder, but Fiben’s thoughts were far from there.

  Come on, think, he chided himself.

  But it was all so damn murky! The Suzerain’s fancy test equipment must have been on the fritz when the technicians selected him as an “advanced” neo-chimp. At that moment Fiben felt far from being anyone’s sterling example of a sapient being.

  Okay, he concentrated. So I’m being offered a chance to escape. First off, is it valid?

  For one thing, Sylvie could be a plant. Her offer could be a trap.

  But that didn’t make any sense! For one thing, Fiben had never given his parole, never agreed not to run away, if he ever got the chance. In fact, as a Terragens officer it was his duty to do so, especially if he could do it politely, satisfying Galactic punctilio.

  Actually, accepting the ofFer might be considered the correct answer. If this’were yet another Gubru test, his proper response might be to say yes. It could satisfy the inscrutable ETs… show them he understood a client’s duties.

  Then again, the offer might be for real. Fiben remembered Sylvie’s agitation earlier. She had been very friendly toward him the last few weeks, in ways a chen would hate to think were just playacting.

  Okay. But if it’s for real, how does she plan to pull it off?

  There was only one way to find out, and that was by asking her. Certainly, any escape would have to involve fooling the surveillance system. Perhaps there was a way to do that, but Sylvie would only be able to use it one time. Once he and Gailet started asking open questions aloud, the decision would already have to be made.