by David Brin
So what I’m really deciding is whether to tell Sylvie, “Okay, let’s hear your plan.” If I say yes, I had better be ready to go.
Veah, but go where?
There was only one answer, of course. Up to the mountains, to report to Athaclena and Robert all he had learned. That meant getting out of Port Helenia, as well as this jail.
“The Soro tell a story,” Gailet said in a low voice. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed almost relaxed as he rubbed her shoulder. “They tell about a certain Paha warrior, back when the Paha were still being uplifted. Would you like to hear it?”
Puzzled Fiben nodded. “Sure, tell me about it, Gailet.”
“Okay. Well, you’ve surely heard of the Paha. They’re tough fighters, loyal to their Soro patrons. Back then they were coming along nicely in the tests given by the Uplift Institute. So one day the Soro decide to give ’em some responsibility. Sent a group of them to guard an emissary to the Seven Spin Clans.”
“Seven Spin… Uh, they’re a machine civilization, right?”
“Yes. But they aren’t outlaws. They’re one of the few machine cultures who’ve joined Galactic society as honorary members. They keep mostly out of the way by sticking to high-density spiral arm areas, useless to both oxygen and hydrogen- breathers.”
What’s she getting at? Fiben wondered.
“Anyway, the Soro Ambassador is dickering with the high muckity mucks of the Seven Spinners when this Paha scout detects something out at the edge of the local system and goes to investigate.
“Well, as luck would have it, he comes upon the scene to find one of the Seven Spinners’ cargo vessels under attack by rogue machines.”
“Berserkers? Planet busters?”
Gailet shuddered. “You read too much science fiction, Fiben. No, just outlaw robots looking for loot. Anyway, when our Paha scout gets no answer to his calls for instructions, he decides to take some initiative. He dives right in, guns blazing.”
“Let me guess, he saved the cargo ship.”
She nodded. “Sent the rogues flying. The Seven Spinners were grateful, too. The reward turned a questionable business deal into a profit for the Soro.”
“So he was a hero.”
Gailet shook her head. “No. He went home in disgrace, for acting on his own without guidance.”
“Crazy Eatees,” Fiben muttered.
“No, Fiben.” She touched his knee. “It’s an important point. Encouraging initiative in a new client race is fine, but during sensitive Galactic-level negotiations? Do you trust a bright child with a fusion power plant?”
Fiben understood what Gailet was driving at. The two of them were being oifered a deal that sounded very sweet for Earth — on the surface, at least. The Suzerain of Propriety was offering to finance a major Ceremony of Acceptance for neo-chimps. The Gubru would end their policy of obstructing humanity’s patron status and cease all hostilities against Terra. All the Suzerain seemed to want in exchange was for Fiben and Gailet to tell the Five Galaxies, by hyperspacial shunt, what great guys the Gubru were.
It sounded like a face-saving gesture for the Suzerain of Propriety, and a major coup for Earthkind.
But, Fiben wondered, did he and Gailet have the right to make such a decision? Might there be ramifications beyond what they could figure out for themselves? Potentially deadly ramifications?
The Suzerain of Propriety had told them that there were reasons why they weren’t allowed to consult with human leaders, out on the island detention camps. Its rivalry with the other Suzerains was reaching a critical phase, and they might not approve of how much it was planning on giving away. The Suzerain of Propriety needed surprise in order to outmaneuver them and present a fait accompli.
Something struck Fiben as odd about that logic. But then, aliens were alien by definition. He couldn’t imagine any Terran-based society operating in such a way.
So was Gailet telling him that they should pull out of the ceremony? Fine! As far as Fiben was concerned, she could decide. After all, they only had to say no … respectfully, of course.
Gailet said. “The story doesn’t end there.”
“There’s more?”
“Oh, yes. A few years later the Seven Spin Clans came forward with evidence that the Paha warrior really had made every effort to call back for instructions before beginning his intervention, but subspace conditions had prevented any*mes-sage from getting through.”
“So that made all the difference to the Soro! In one case he was taking responsibility he didn’t merit. In the other he was only doing the best he could!
“The scout was exonerated, posthumously, and his heirs were granted advanced Uplift rights.”
There was a long silence. Neither of them spoke as Fiben thought carefully. Suddenly it was all clear to him.
It’s the effort that counts. That’s what she means. It’d be unforgivable to cooperate with the Suzerain without at least trying to consult with our patrons. I might fail, probably will fail, but I must try.
“Let’s take a look at that knot again.” He bent over, brought his eye close to the message capsule. Again the lines of text appeared, along with the pulsing red spot. Fiben looked right at the expectant blob and thought hard.
I agree to this.
The patch changed color at once, signifying his assent. Now what? Fiben wondered as he sat back.
His answer came a moment later, when the door opened quietly. Sylvie entered, wearing the same ankle-length dress as before. She sat down in front of them.
“Surveillance is off. I’m feeding the cameras a tape loop. It ought to work for at least an hour before their computer gets suspicious.”
Fiben plucked the disk out of Gailet’s fur and she held out her hand for it. “Give me a minute,” Gailet whispered, and hurried over to her personal datawell to drop the capsule inside. “No offense, Sylvie, but the wording needs improvement. Fiben can initial my changes.”
“I’m not offended. I knew you’d have to fix it up. I just wanted it to be clear enough for you two to understand what I was offering.”
It was all happening so fast. And yet Fiben felt the adrenaline already starting to sing in his veins. “So I’m going?”
“We’re going,” Sylvie corrected. “You and me. I’ve got supplies stashed, disguises, and a route out of town.”
“Are you with the underground, then?”
She shook her head. “I’d like to join, of course, but this is strictly my own show. I … I’m doing this for a price.”
“What is it you want?”
Sylvie shook her head, indicating she would wait for Gailet to return. “If you two agree to take the chance, I’ll go back outside and call in the night guard. I picked him out carefully and worked hard to get Irongrip to assign him duty tonight.”
“What’s so special about that guy?”
“Maybe you noticed, that Probationer looks a lot like you, Fiben, and he’s got a similar build. Close enough to fool the spy-comps in the dark for a while, I’d guess.”
So that was why that chen at the gate had looked so familiar! Fiben speculated concisely. “Drug him. Leave him with Gailet while I sneak out in his clothes, using his pass.”
“There’s a lot mo’re to it, believe me.” Sylvie looked nervous, exhausted. “But you get the general idea. He and I both go off shift in twenty minutes. So it’s got to be before then.”
Gailet returned. She handed the pellet to Fiben. He held it up to one eye and read the revised text carefully, not because he planned to criticize Gailet’s work, but so he would be able to recite it word for word if he ever did make it back to Athaclena and Robert.
Gailet had entirely rewritten the message.
STATEMENT OF INTENT: RECORDED BY FIBEN BOLGER, A-CHIM-AB-HUMAN, CLIENT CITIZEN OF THE TERRAGENS FEDERATION AND RESERVE LIEUTENANT, GARTH COLONIAL DEFENSE FORCE.
I ACKNOWLEDGE THE COURTESY I HAVE BEEN SHOWN DURING MY IMPRISONMENT, AND AM COGNIZANT OF THE KIND ATTENTION GIVEN ME BY THE EXALTED AND RESPEC
TED SUZERAINS OF THE GREAT CLAN OF THE GUBRU. NEVERTHELESS, I FIND THAT MY DUTY AS A COMBATANT IN THE PRESENT WAR BETWEEN MY LINE AND THAT OF THE GUBRU COMPELS ME TO RESPECTFULLY REFUSE FURTHER CONFINEMENT, HOWEVER COURTEOUS.
IN ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE, I IN NO WAY SPURN THE HONOR GRANTED ME BY THE EXALTED SUZERAIN, IN CONSIDERING ME FOR THE STATUS OF RACE-REPRESENTATIVE. BY CONTINUING HONORABLE RESISTANCE TO THE GUBRU OCCUPATION OF GARTH, I HOPE THAT I AM BEHAVING AS SUCH A CLIENT-SOPHONT SHOULD, IN PROPER OBEDIENCE TO THE WILL OF MY PATRONS.
I ACT NOW IN THE TRADITIONS OF GALACTIC SOCIETY., AS BEST I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND THEM.
Yeah. Fiben had learned enough under Gailet’s tutelage to see how much better this version was. He registered his assent again, and once more the recording spot changed color. Fiben handed the disk back to Gailet.
What matters is that we try, he told himself, knowing how forlorn this venture certainly was.
“Now.” Gailet turned to Sylvie. “What is this fee you spoke of? What is it you want?”
Sylvie bit her lip. She faced Gailet, but pointed at Fiben. “Him,” she said quickly. “I want you to share him with me.”
“What?” Fiben started to get up, but Gailet shushed him with a quick gesture. “Explain,” she asked Sylvie.
Sylvie shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what kind of marriage arrangement the two of you had.”
“We don’t have any!” Fiben said, hotly. “And what business—”
“Shut up, Fiben,” Gailet told him evenly. “That’s right, Sylvie. We have no agreement, group or monogamous. So what’s this all about? What is it you want from him?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sylvie glanced over at Fiben. “Whatever his Uplift rating was before, he’s now effectively a white card. Look at his amazing war record, and the way he foiled the Eatees against all odds, not once but twice, in Port Helenia. Any of those’d be enough to advance him from blue status.
“And now the Suzerain’s invited him to be a race-representative. That kind of attention sticks. It’ll hold whoever wins the war, you know that, Dr. Jones.”
Sylvie summarized. “He’s a white card. I’m a green. I also happen to like his style. It’s that simple.”
Me? A Goodall-damned whitie? Fiben burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. It was just dawning on him what Sylvie was driving at.
“Whoever wins,” Sylvie went on, quietly ignoring him. “Whether it’s Earth or the Gubru, I want my child to ride the crest of Uplift and be protected by the Board. My child is going to have a destiny. I’ll have grandchildren, and a piece of tomorrow.”
Sylvie obviously felt passionately about this. But Fiben was in no mood to be sympathetic. Of all the metaphysical claptrap! he thought. And she wasn’t even telling this to him. Sylvie was talking to Gailet, appealing to her! “Hey, don’t I have anything to say about this?” he protested.
“Of course not, silly,” Gailet replied, shaking her head. “You’re a chen. A male chim will screw a goat, or a leaf, if nothing better is available.”
An exaggeration, but a stereotype based on enough truth to make Fiben blush. “But—”
“Sylvie’s attractive and approaching pink. What do you expect you’ll do once you get free, if all of us have agreed in advance that your duty and pleasure coincide?” Gailet shifted. “No, this is not your decision. Now for the last time be quiet, Fiben.”
Gailet turned back to ask Sylvie a new question, but at that moment Fiben could not even hear the words. The roaring in his ears drowned out every other sound. All he could think of at that moment was the drummer, poor Igor Patterson. No. Oh, Goodall, protect me!
“… males work that way.”
“Yes, of course. But I figure you have a bond with him, whether it’s formal or not. Theory is fine, but anyone can tell he’s got an honor-streak a mile thick. He might prove obstinate unless he knew it was all right with you.”
Is this how females think of us chens, down deep? Fiben pondered. He remembered secondary school “health” classes, when the young male chims would be taken off to attend lectures about procreative rights and see films about VD. Like the other boy-chims, he used to wonder what the chimmies were learning at those times. Do the schools teach them this cold-blooded type of logic? Or do they learn it the hard way? From us?
“I do not own him.” Gailet shrugged. “If you are right, nobody will ever have that sort of claim on him… nobody but the Uplift Board, poor fellow.” She frowned. “All I demand of you is that you get him to the mountains safely. He doesn’t touch you till then, understood? You get your fee when he’s safe with the guerrillas.”
A male human would not put up with this, Fiben pondered bitterly. But then, male humans weren’t unfinished, client-level creatures who would “screw a goat, or a leaf, if nothing better was available,” were they?
Sylvie nodded in agreement. She extended her hand. Gailet took it. They shared a long look, then separated.
Sylvie stood up. “I’ll knock before I come in. It’ll be about ten minutes.” When she looked at Fiben her expression was satisfied, as if she had done very well in a business arrangement. “Be ready to leave by then,” she said, and turned to go.
When she had left, Fiben finally found Iris voice. “You assume too much with all your glib theories, Gailet. What the hell makes you so sure—”
“I’m not sure of anything!” she snapped back. And the confused, hurt look on her face stunned Fiben more than anything else that had happened that evening.
Gailet passed a hand in front of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Fiben. Just do as you think best. Only please don’t get offended. None of us can really afford pride right now. Anyway, Sylvie’s not asking all that much, on the scale of things, is she?”
Fiben read the suppressed tension in Gailet’s eyes, and his outrage leaked away. It was replaced by concern for her. “Are… are you sure you’ll be okay?”
She shrugged. “I guess so. The Suzerain’ll probably find me another partner. I’ll do my best to delay things as long as I can.”
Fiben bit his lip. “We’ll get word back to you from the humans, I promise.”
Her expression told him that she held out little hope. But she smiled. “You do that, Fiben.” She reached up and touched the side of his face gently. “You know,” she whispered. “I really will miss you.”
The moment passed. She withdrew her hand and her expression was serious once more. “Now you’d better gather whatever you want to take with you. Meanwhile, there are a few things I suggest you ought to tell your general. You’ll try to remember, Fiben?”
“Yeah, sure.” But for one instant he mourned, wondering if he would ever again see the gentleness that had shone so briefly in her eyes. All business once more, she followed him around the room as he gathered food and clothing. She was still talking a few minutes later when there came a knock on the door.
64
Gailet
In the darkness, after they had left, she sat on her mattress with a blanket oyer her head, hugging her knees and rocking slowly to the tempo of her loneliness.
Her darkness was not entirely solitary. Far better if it had been, in fact. Gailet sensed the sleeping chen near her, wrapped in Fiben’s bedclothes, softly exhaling faint fumes from the drug that had rendered him unconscious. The Probie guard would not awaken for many hours yet. Gailet figured this quiet time probably would not last as long as his slumber.
No, she was not quite alone. But Gailet Jones had never felt quite so cut off, so isolated.
Poor Fiben, she thought. Maybe Sylvie’s right about him. Certainly he is one of the best chens I’ll ever meet. And yet… She shook her head. And yet, he only saw part of the way through this plot. And I could not even tell him the rest. Not without revealing what I knew to hidden listeners.
She wasn’t sure whether Sylvie was sincere or not. Gailet never had been much good at judging people. But I’ll bet gametes to zygotes Sylvie never fooled the Gubru surveillance.
Gailet sniffed at
the very idea — that one little chimmie could have bollixed the Eatees’ monitors in such a way that they would not have instantly noticed it. No, this was all far too easy. It was arranged.
By whom? Why?
Did it really matter?
We never had any choice, of course. Fiben had to accept the offer.
Gailet wondered if she would ever see him again. If this were just another sapiency test ordered by the Suzerain of Propriety, then Fiben might very well be back tomorrow, credited with one more “appropriate response”… appropriate for an especially advanced neo-chimpanzee, at the vanguard of his client-level race.
She shuddered. Until tonight she had never considered j the implications, but Sylvie had made it all too clear. Even if j they were brought together again, it would never be the } same for her and Fiben. If her white card had been a barrier between them before, his would almost certainly be a yawning chasm.
Anyway, Gailet had begun to suspect that this wasn’t just another test, arranged by the Suzerain of Propriety. And if not, then some faction of the Gubru had to be responsible for tonight’s escapade. Perhaps one of the other Suzerains, or …
Gailet shook her head again. She did not know enough even to guess. There wasn’t sufficient data. Or maybe she was just too blind/stupid to see the pattern.
A play was unfolding all around them, and at every stage it seemed there was no choice which way to turn. Fiben had to go tonight, whether the offer of escape was a trap or not. She had to stay and wrestle with vagaries beyond her grasp. That was her written fate.
This sensation of being manipulated, with no real power over her own destiny, was a familiar one to Gailet, even if Fiben was only beginning to get used to it. For Gailet it had been a lifelong companion.
Some of the old-time religions of Earth had included the concept of predetermination — a belief that all events were foreordained since the very first act of creation, and that so-called free will was nothing more than an illusion.