by David Brin
He struggled to keep up with the others, but Uthacalthing’s change nodes already throbbed tiredly. It wasn’t just that Tymbrimi were more talented at adaptability than endurance. It was also a fault in his will. The others had purpose, even enthusiasm.
He had only duty to keep him going.
Kault stopped at the top of a rise, where the- looming mountains towered near and imposing. Already they were entering a forest of scrub trees that gained stature as they ascended. Uthacalthing looked up at the steep slopes ahead, already misted in what might be snow clouds, and hoped they would not have to climb much farther.
Kault’s massive hand closed around his as the Thennanin helped him up the final few meters. He waited patiently as Uthacalthing rested, breathing heavily through wide-open nostrils.
“I still can scarcely believe what I have been told,” Kault said. “Something about the Earthling’s story does not ring true, my colleague.”
“Tfunatu…” Uthacalthing switched to Anglic, which seemed to take less air. “What — what do you find hard to believe, Kault? Do you think Robert is lying?”
Kault waved his hands in front of himself. His ridgecrest inflated indignantly. “Certainly not! I only believe that the young fellow is naive.”
“Naive? In what way?” Uthacalthing could look up now without his vision splitting into two separate images in his cortex. Robert and Jo-Jo weren’t in sight. They must have gone on ahead.
“I mean that the Gubru are obviously up to much more than they claim. The deal they are offering — peace with Earth in exchange for tenancy on some Garthian islands and minor genetic purchase rights from neo-chimpanzee stock — such a deal seems barely worth the cost of an interstellar ceremony. It is my suspicion that they are after something else on the sly, my friend.”
“What do you think thsy want?”
Kault swung his almost neckless head left and right, as if looking to make sure no one else was within listening range. His voice dropped in both volume and timbre.
“I suspect that they intend to perform a snap-adoption.”
“Adoption? Oh… you mean—”
“Garthlings,” Kault finished for him. “This is why it is so fortunate your Earthling allies brought us this news. We can only hope that they will be able to provide transport, as they promised, or we will never be in time to prevent a terrible tragedy!”
Uthacalthing mourned all that he had lost. For Kault had raised a perplexing question, one well worth a well-crafted glyph of delicate wryness.
He had been successful, of course, beyond his wildest expectations. According to Robert, the Gubru had swallowed the “Garthling” myth “hook, line, and sinker.” At least for long enough to cause them harm and embarrassment.
Kault, too, had come to believe in the ghostly fable. But what was one to make of Kault’s claim that his own instruments verified the story?
Incredible.
And now, the Gubru seemed to be behaving as if they, too, had more to go on than the fabricated clues he had left. They, too, acted as if there were confirmation!
The old Uthacalthing would have crafted syulff-kuonn to commemorate such amazing turns. At this moment, though, all he felt was confused, and very tired.
A shout caused them both to turn. Uthacalthing squinted, wishing right then that he could trade some of his unwanted empathy sense for better eyesight.
Atop the next ridge he made out the form of Robert Oneagle. Seated atop the young human’s shoulders, Jo-Jo waved at them. And something else was there, too. A blue glimmering that seemed to spin next to the two Earth creatures and radiate all of the good will of a perfect prankster.
It was the beacon, the light that had led Uthacalthing ever onward, since the crash months before.
“What are they saying?” Kault asked. “I cannot quite make out the words.”
Neither could Uthacalthing. But he knew what the Ter-rans were saying. “I believe they are telling us that we don’t have very much farther to go,” he said with some relief. “They are saying that they have found our transport.”
The Thennanin’s breathing slits puffed in satisfaction. “Good. Now if only we can trust the Gubru to follow custom and proper truce behavior when we appear and offer correct diplomatic treatment to accredited envoys.”
Uthacalthing nodded. But as they began marching uphill together again, he knew that that was only one of their worries.
85
Athaclena
She tried to suppress her feelings. To the others, this was serious, even tragic.
But there was just no way to keep it in; her delight would not be contained. Subtle, ornate glyphs spun off from her waving tendrils and diffracted away through the trees, filling the glades with her hilarity. Athaclena’s eyes were at their widest divergence, and she covered her mouth with her hand so the dour chims would not see her human-style smile as well.
The portable holo unit had been set up on a ridgetop overlooking the Sind to the northwest in order to improve reception. It showed the scene being broadcast just then from Port Helenia. Under the truce, censorship had been lifted. And even without humans the capital had plenty of chim “newshounds” on the spot with mobile cameras to show all the debris in stunning detail.
“I can’t stand it,” Benjamin moaned. Elayne Soo muttered helplessly as she watched. “That tears it.”
The chimmie spoke volumes, indeed. For the holo-tank displayed what was left of the fancy wall the invaders had thrown around Port Helenia… now literally ripped down and torn to shreds. Stunned chim citizens milled about a scene that looked as if a cyclone had hit it. They stared around in amazement, picking through the shattered remnants. A few of those who were more exuberant than thoughtful threw pieces of fence material into the air jubilantly. Some even made chest-thumping motions in honor of the unstoppable wave that had crested there only minutes before, then surged onward into the town itself.
On most of the stations the voice-over was computer generated, but on Channel Two a chim announcer was able to speak over his excitement.
“At — at first we all thought it was a nightmare come true. You know… like an archetype out of an old TwenCen flatmovie. Nothing would stop them! They crashed through the Gubru barrier as if it was made of tish-tissue paper. I don’t know about anybody else, but at any moment I expected the biggest of them to go around grabbing our prettiest chimmies and drag them screaming all the way to the top of the Terragens Tower. …”
Athaclena clapped her hand tigher over her mouth in order to keep from laughing out loud. She fought for self-control, and she was not alone, for one of the chims — Fiben’s friend, Sylvie — let out a high chirp of laughter. Most of the others frowned at her in disapproval. After all, this was serious! But Athaclena met the chimmie’s eyes and recognized the light in them.
“But it — it appears that these creatures aren’t complete kongs, after all. They — after their demolishment of the fence, they don’t seem to have done much more damage in their s-sudden invasion of Port Helenia. Mostly, right now, they’re just milling around, opening doors, eating fruit, going wherever they want to. After all, where does a four-hundred-pound gar … oh, never mind.”
This time, another chim joined Sylvie. Athaclena’s vision blurred and she shook her head. The announcer went on.
“They seem completely unaffected by the Gubru’s psi-drones, which apparently aren’t tuned to their brain patterns…”
Actually, Athaclena and the mountain fighters had known for more than two days where the gorillas were headed. After their first frantic attempts to divert the powerful pre-sentients, they gave up the effort as useless. The gorillas politely pushed aside or stepped over anybody who got in their way. There had simply been no stopping them.
Not even April Wu. The little blond girl had apparently made up her mind to go and find her parents, and short of risking injury to her, there was no way anybody would be able to pry her off the shoulders of one of the giant, silver-backed males.
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Anyway, April had told the chims quite matter-of-factly, somebody had to go along and supervise the Villas, or they might get into trouble!
Athaclena remembered little April’s words as she looked at the mess the pre-sentients had made of the Gubru wall. I’d hate to see the trouble they could cause if they weren’t supervised!
Anyway, with the secret out, there was no reason the human child should not be reunited with her family. Nothing she said could hurt anybody now.
So much for the last secrecy of the Howletts Center Project. Now Athaclena might as well just toss away all the evidence she had so dutifully gathered, that first, fateful evening so many months ago. Soon the entire Five Galaxies would know about these creatures. And by some measures that was, indeed, a tragedy. And yet…
Athaclena remembered that day in early spring, when she had been so shocked and indignant to come upon the illegal Uplift experiment hidden in the forest. Now she could scarcely believe she had actually been like that. Was I really such a serious, officious little prig?
Now, syulff-kuonn was only the simplest, most serious of the glyphs she sparked off, casually, tirelessly, in joy over a simply marvelous joke. Even the chims could not help being affected by her profligate aura. Two more laughed when one of the channels showed an alien staff car, manned by squawking irate Kwackoo, in the process of being peeled back by gorillas who seemed passionately interested in how it would taste. Then another chim chuckled. The laughter spread.
Yes, she thought. It is a wonderful jest. To a Tymbrimi, the best jokes were those that caught the joker, as well as everybody else. And ihis fit the bill beautifully. It was, in truth, a religious experience. For her people believed in a Universe that was more than mere clockwork physics, more than even Ifni’s capricious flux of chance and luck.
It was when something like this happened — the Tymbrimi sages said — that one really knew that God, Himself, was still in charge.
Was I, then, also an agnostic before? How silly of me. Thank you then, Lord, and thank you too, father, for this miracle.
The scene shifted to the dock area, where milling chims danced in the streets and stroked the fur of their giant, patient cousins. In spite of the likely tragic consequences of all this, Athaclena and her warriors could not help but smile at the delight the brown-furred relations obviously took in each other. For now, at least, their pride was shared by all the chims of Port Helenia.
Even Lieutenant Lydia McCue and her wary corporal could not help but laugh when a gorilla baby danced past the cameras, wearing necklace made of broken Gubru psi-globes. They caught a glimpse of little April, riding in triumph through the streets, and the sight of a human child seemed to galvanize the crowds.
By now the glade was saturated with her glyphs. Athaclena turned and walked away, leaving the others to resonate in the wry joy. She moved up a forest trail until she came to a place with a clear view of the mountains to the west. There she stood, reaching and kenning with her tendrils.
It was there that a chim messenger found her. He hurried up and saluted before handing her a slip of paper. Athaclena thanked him and opened it, though she thought she already knew what it would say.
“With’tanna, Uthacalthing,” she said, softly. Her father was back in touch with the world again. For all of the events of the past few months, there was a solid, practical part of her, still, who was relieved to have this confirmation by radio.
She had had faith that Robert would succeed, of course. That was why she had not gone to Port Helenia with Fiben, or after that with the gorillas. What could she accomplish there, with her poor expertise, that her father could not do a thousand times better? If anyone could help turn their slim hopes into more and still greater miracles, it would be Uthacalthing.
No, her job was to remain here. For even in the event of miracles, the Infinite expected mortals to provide their own insurance.
She shaded her eyes. Although she had no hope of personally sighting a little aircraft against the bright clouds, she kept looking for a tiny dot that would be carrying all her love and all her prayers.
86
Galtactics
Gay pavilions dotted the manicured hillside, occasionally billowing and flapping in the gusting breeze. Quick robots hurried to pluck up any debris brought in by the wind. Others fetched and carried refreshments to the gathered dignitaries.
Galactics of many shapes and colors milled in small groups that merged and separated in an elegant pavane of diplomacy. Courteous bows and flattenings and tentacle wavings conveyed complex nuances of status and protocol. A knowledgeable observer might tell a great deal from such subtleties — .and there were many knowledgeable observers present on this day.
Informal exchanges abounded as well. Here a squat, bearlike Pila conversed in clipped, ultrasonic tones with a gangling Linten gardener. A little upslope, three Jophur ring-priests keened in harmonious complaint to an official from the War Institute over some alleged violation out among the starlanes.
It was often said that much more practical diplomacy was accomplished at these Uplift Ceremonies than at formal negotiation conferences. More than one new alliance might be made today, and more than one broken.
Only a few of the Galactic visitors spared more than passing attention to those being honored here today — a caravan of small, brown forms which had taken the entire morning to labor halfway up the mound, circling it four times along the way.
By now nearly a third of the neo-chimpanzee candidates had failed one test or another. Those rejected were already trooping back down the sloping path, in downcast ones and twos.
The remaining forty or so continued their ascent, symbolically reiterating the process of Uplift that had brought their race to this stage in its history, but ignored, for the most part, by the bright crowds on the slopes.
Not all of the observers were inattentive, of course. Near the pinnacle, the Commissioners from the Galactic Uplift Institute paid close attention to the results relayed up by each test station. And nearby, from beneath their own pavilion, a party of the neo-chimpanzees’ human patrons watched, glumly.
Looking somewhat lost and helpless, they had been brought out from Cilmar Island only this morning — a few mayors, professors, and a member of the local Uplift Board. The delegation had put forward a procedural protest over the irregular way the ceremony had come about. But when pressed, none of the humans actually claimed a right to cancel it altogether. The possible consequences were potentially just too drastic.
Besides, what if this were the real thing? Earth had been agitating to be allowed to hold just such a ceremony for neo-chimpanzees for two hundred years.
The human observers definitely looked unhappy. For they had no idea what to do, and few of the grand Galactic envoys present even deigned to acknowledge them amid the flurry of informal diplomacy.
On the opposite side of the Evaluators’ pavilion sat the elegant Sponsors’ Tent. Many Gubru and Kwackoo stood just outside, nervously hopping from time to time, watching every detail with unblinking, critical eyes.
Until moments ago, the Gubru Triumvirate had been visible also, two of them strutting about with their Molt colorings already starting to show and the third still obsti-
nately perched upon its pedestal.
Then one of them received a message, and all three disappeared into the tent for an urgent parlay. That had been some time ago. They still had not emerged.
The Suzerain of Cost and Caution fluttered and spat as it let the message drop to the floor.
“I protest! I protest this interference! This interference and intolerable betrayal!”
The Suzerain of Propriety stared down from its perch, totally at a loss. The Suzerain of Cost and Caution had proved to be a crafty opponent, but never had it been purposely obtuse. Obviously something had happened to upset it terribly.
Crouching Kwackoo servitors hurriedly plucked up the message pellet it had dropped, duplicated the capsule, and brought copies to the other
two Gubru lords. When the Suzerain of Propriety viewed the data, it could scarcely believe what it saw.
It was a solitary neo-chimpanzee, climbing the lower slopes of the towering Ceremonial Mound, passing rapidly through the automatic first-stage screens and gradually beginning to close the wide gap separating it from the official party, higher on the hillside.
The neo-chimp moved with an erect determination, a clearness of purpose that could be read in its very posture. Those of its con-specifics who had already failed — and who were spiraling slowly down the long trail again — first stared, then grinned and reached out to touch the newcomer’s robe as he passed. They offered words of encouragement.
“This was not, cannot have been rehearsed!” the Suzerain of Beam and Talon hissed. The military commander cried out, “It is an interloper, and I shall have it burned down!”
“You should not, must not, shall not!” the Suzerain of Propriety squawked back in anger. “There has not yet been a coalescence! No complete molting! You do not yet have a queen’s wisdom!
“Ceremonies are run, governed, ruled by traditions of honor! All members of a client race may approach and be tried, tested, evaluated!”
The third Gubru lord snapped its beak open and shut in agitation. Finally, the Suzerain of Cost and Caution fluffed its ragged feathers and agreed. “We would be charged reparations. The Institute officials might leave, depart, lay sanctions… The cost …” It turned away in a downy huff. “Let it proceed, then. For now. Alone, solitary, in isolation it can do no harm.”
But the Suzerain of Propriety was not so sure. Once, it had set great store in this particular client. When it seemed to have been stolen, the Suzerain of Propriety suffered a serious setback.
Now, however^ it realized the truth. The neo-chimp male had not been stolen and eliminated by its rivals, the other Suzerains. Instead, the chimp had actually escaped!