by David Brin
The Suzerain spoke of their missing colleague, the military commander, who dared not, it seemed, come and face Propriety’s new color, its new supremacy.
A four-legged Kwackoo hurriedly approached, bowed, and delivered a message to its leader’s perch. Almost as an afterthought, a copy made its way to the Suzerain of Cost and Caution as well.
The news from the Pourmin transfer point was not surprising — echoes had been heard of great starships bearing down upon Garth in mighty numbers. After that debacle of an Uplift Ceremony, the new arrivals were only to be expected.
“Well?” The Suzerain of Propriety queried the several military officers who were present. “Does Beam and Talon plan a defense of this world, against all advice, all wisdom, and all honor?”
The officers, of course, did not know. They had deserted their warrior leader as the confusing, unhappy Molt-coalescence suddenly reversed direction.
The Suzerain of Propriety danced a dance of impatience. “You do me no good, do the clan no good, standing about in righteousness. Go back, seek out, return to your posts. Do your duties as he commands, but keep me informed of what he plans and does!”
Use of the male pronoun was deliberate. Though Molt was not yet complete, anyone could tell without dropping feathers which way the wind was blowing.
The officers bowed and rushed as one out of the pavilion.
93
Robert
Debris littered the now quiescent Ceremonial Mound. Stiff easterly winds riffled the lawnlike slopes, tugging at stringy rubbish blown in earlier from the distant mountains. Here and there, city chims poked through trash on the lower terraces, looking for souvenirs.
Higher up only a few pavilions still stood. Around these several dozen large black forms lazily groomed each other’s fur and gossiped with their hands, as if they had never had anything more momentous on their minds than who would mate with whom and what they would be fed next meal.
To Robert it seemed as if the gorillas were quite well satisfied with life. I envy them, he thought. In his case even a great victory did not bring an end to worry. Things were still quite dangerous on Garth. Perhaps even more so than two nights ago, when fate and coincidence intervened to surprise them all.
Life was troubling sometimes. All the time.
Robert returned his attention to his datawell and the letter the Uplift Institute officials had relayed to him only an hour before.
…Of course it’s very hard for an old women — especially one who, like me, has grown so used to having her own way — but I know I must acknowledge how mistaken I was about my own son. I have wronged you, and for that I am sorry.
In my own defense I can only say that outward appearances can be misleading, and you were outwardly such an aggravating boy. I suppose I should have had the sense to see underneath, to the strength you have shown during these months of crisis. But that just never occurred to me. Perhaps I was afraid of examining my own feelings too closely.
In any event, we’ll have much time to talk about this after peace comes. Let’s let it go now by saying that I am very proud of you. Your country and your clan owe you much, as does your grateful mother.
With affection,
Megan
How odd, Robert thought, that after so many years despairing of ever winning her approval, now he had it, and didn’t know how to deal with it. Ironically, he felt sympathy for his mother; it was obviously so very difficult for her to say these things at all. He made allowances for the cool tone of the words themselves.
All Garth saw Megan Oneagle as a gracious lady and fair administrator. Only her wandering husbands and Robert himself knew the other side, the one so utterly terrified by permanent obligation and issues of private loyalty. This was the first time in all his life that Robert recalled her apologizing for something really important, something involving family and intense emotions.
Blurring of vision made him close his eyes. Robert blamed the symptoms on the fringing fields of a lifting starship, whose keening engines could be heard all the way from the spaceport. He wiped his cheeks and watched the great liner — silvery and almost angelic in its serene beauty — rise and pass overhead on its leisurely way out to space and beyond.
“One more batch of fleeing rats,” he murmured.
Uthacalthing did not bother turning to look. He lay back on his elbows watching the gray waters. “The Galactic visitors have already had more entertainment than they bargained for, Robert. That Uplift Ceremony was plenty. To most of them, the prospect of a space battle and siege are much less enticing.”
“One of each has been quite enough for me,” Fiben Bolger added without opening his eyes. He lay a little downslope, his head on Gailet Jones’s lap. For the moment, she also had little to say, but concentrated on removing a few tangles from his fur, careful of his still livid black and blue bruises. Meanwhile, Jo-Jo groomed one of Fiben’s legs.
Well, he’s earned it, Robert thought. Although the Uplift Ceremony had been preempted by the gorillas, the test scores handed down by the Institute still held. If humanity managed to get out of its present troubles and could afford the expense of a new ceremony, two rustic colonials from Garth would lead the next procession ahead of all the sophisticated chims of Terra. Though Fiben himself seemed uninterested in the honor, Robert was proud of his friend.
A female chim wearing a simple frock approached up the trail. She bowed languidly in a brief nod to Uthacalthing and Robert. “Who wants the latest news?” Michaela Noddings asked.
“Not me!” Fiben grumped. “Tell th’ Universe t’go f—”
“Fiben,” Gailet chided gently. She looked up at Michaela. “I want to hear it.”
The chimmie sat and began working on Fiben’s other shoulder. Mollified, he closed his eyes again.
“Kault has heard from his people,” Michaela said. “The Thennanin are on their way here.”
“Already.” Robert whistled. “They aren’t wasting any time, are they?”
Michaela shook her head. “Kault’s folk have already contacted the Terragens Council to negotiate purchase of the fallow gorilla genetic base and to hire Earth experts as consul…”
! .,.::*: the Council holds out for a good price.”
“Hcj;gars can’t be choosers,” Gailet suggested. “According to some of the departing Galactic observers, Earth is in pretty desperate straits, as are the Tymbrimi. If this deal means we lose the Thennanin as enemies, and maybe win them as allies instead, it could be vital.”
At the price of losing gorillas — our cousins — as clients of our own. Robert mulled. On the night of the ceremony he had only seen the hilarious irony of it all, sharing that Tymbrimi way of viewing things with Uthacalthing. Now, though, it was harder not to count the cost in serious terms.
They were never really ours in the first place, he reminded himself. At least we’ll have a say in how they’re raised. And Uthacalthing says some Thennanin aren’t as bad as many.
“What about the Gubru?” he asked. “They agreed to make peace with Earth in exchange for acceptance of the ceremony.”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly the sort of ceremony they had in mind, was it?” Gailet answered. “What do you think, Ambassador Uthacalthing?”
The Tymbrimi’s tendrils waved lazily. All of yesterday and this morning he had been Grafting little glyphs of puzzle-like intricacy, far beyond Robert’s limited ability to kenn, as if he were delighting in the rediscovery of something he had lost.
“They will act in what they see to be their own self-interest, of course,” Uthacalthing said. “The question is whether they will have the sense to know what is good for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the Gubru apparently began this expedition with confused goals. Their Triumvirate reflected conflicting factions back home. The initial intent of their expedition here was to use the hostage population of Garth to pry secrets out of the Terragens Council. But then they learned that Earth is as ignorant as every
body else about what that infamous dolphin-ship of yours discovered.”
“Has there been any new word about the Streaker?” Robert interrupted.
Spiraling off a palanq glyph, Uthacalthing sighed. “The dolphins seem to have miraculously escaped a trap set for them by a dozen of the most fanatic patron lines — an astonishing feat by itself — and now the Streaker seems to be loose on the starlanes. The humiliated fanatics lost tremendous face, and so tensions have reached an even higher level than before. It is one more reason why the Gubru Roost Masters grow increasingly frightened.”
“So when the invaders found they couldn’t use hostages to coerce secrets out of Earth, the Suzerains searched for other ways to make some profit out of this expensive expedition,” Gailet surmised.
“Correct. But when the first Suzerain of Cost and Caution was killed it threw their leadership process out of balance. Instead of negotiating toward a consensus of policy, the three Suzerains engaged in unbridled competition for the top position in their Molt. I’m not sure that even now I understand all of the schemes that might have been involved. But the final one — the one they settled on at last — will cost them very dearly. Blatantly interfering with the proper outcome of an Uplift Ceremony is a grave matter.”
Robert saw Gailet wince in revulsion as she obviously recollected how she had been used. Without opening his eyes, Fiben reached out and took her hand. “Where does that leave us now?” Robert asked Uthacalthing.
“Both common sense and honor would demand the Gubru keep their bargain with Earth. It’s the only way out of a terrible bind.”
“But you don’t expect them to see it that way.”
“Would I remain confined here, on neutral ground, if I did? You and I, Robert, would be with Athaclena right now, dining on khoogra and other delicacies I’d cached away, and we would speak for hours of, oh, so many things. But that will not happen until the Gubru decide between logic and self-immolation.”
Robert felt a chill. “How bad could it get?” he asked in a low voice. The chims, too, listened quietly.
Uthacalthing looked around. He inhaled the sweet, chill air as if it were of fine vintage. “This is a lovely world,” he sighed. “And yet it has suffered horror. Sometimes, so-called civilization seems bent on destroying those very things which it is sworn to protect.”
94
Galactics
“After them!” cried the Suzerain of Beam and Talon. “Chase them! Pursue them!”
Talon Soldiers and their battle drones swooped down upon a small column of neo-chimpanzees, taking them by surprise. The hairy Earthlings turned to fight, firing their ill-sorted weapons upward at the stooping Gubru. Two small fireballs did erupt, emitting sprays of singed feathers, but for the most part resistance was useless. Soon, the Suzerain was stepping delicately among the blasted remains of trees and mammals. It cursed as its officers reported only chim bodies.
There had been stories of others, humans and Tymbrimi and, yes, thrice-cursed Thennanin. Had not one of them suddenly appeared out of the wilderness? They had to all be in league together! It had to be a plot!
Now there were constant messages, entreaties, demands that the admiral return to Port Helenia. That it join with the other commanders for a conclave, a meeting, a new struggle for consensus.
Consensus! the Suzerain of Beam and Talon spat on the trunk of a shattered tree. Already it could feel the ebbing of hormones, the leaching away of color that had almost been its own!
Consensus? The admiral would show them consensus! It was determined to win back its position of leadership. And the only way to do that, after that catastrophe of an Uplift Ceremony, was to demonstrate the efficacy of the military option. When the Thennanin came to claim their “Garthling” prizes, they would be met with force! Let them engage in Uplift of their new clients from deepspace!
Of course, to keep them at bay — in order to return this world for the Roost Masters — there must be complete surety that there would be no attacks from behind, from the surface. The ground opposition had to be eliminated!
The Suzerain of Beam and Talon refused even to consider the possibility that anger and revenge might also have colored its decisions. To have admitted that would be to begin to fall under the sway of Propriety. Already, several good officers had deserted down that path, only to be ordered back to their posts by the sanctimonious high priest. That was particularly galling.
The admiral was determined to win their loyalty back in its own right, with victory!
“The new detectors work, are effective, are efficient!” It danced in satisfaction. “They let us hunt the Earthlings without needing to scent special materials. We trace them by their very blood!”
The Suzerain’s assistants shared its satisfaction. At this rate, the irregulars should soon all be dead.
A pall fell over the celebration when it was reported that one of the troop carriers that had brought them here had broken down. Another casualty of the plague of corrosion that had struck Gubru equipment all over the mountains and the Vale of Sind. The Suzerain had ordered an urgent investigation.
“No matter! We shall all ride the remaining carriers. Nothing, nobody, no event shall stop our hunt!”
The soldiers chanted.
“Zooon!”
95
Athaclena
She watched as the hirsute human read the message for the fourth time, and could not help wondering whether she was doing the right thing. Rank-haired, bearded, and naked, Major Prathachulthorn looked the very essence of a wild, carnivorous wolfling … a creature far too dangerous to trust.
He looked down at the message, and for a moment all she could read were the waves of tension that coursed up his shoulders and down his arms to those powerful, tightly flexed hands.
“It appears that I am under orders to forgive you, and to follow your policies, miss.” The last word ended in a hiss. “Does this mean that I’ll be set free if I promise to be good? How can I be sure this order is for real?”
Athaclena knew she had little choice. In the days ahead she would not be able to spare the chimpower to continue guarding Prathachulthorn. Those she could rely upon to ignore the human’s command-voice were very few, and he had already nearly escaped on four separate occasions. The alternative was to finish him off here and now. And for that she simply had not the will.
“I have no doubt you would kill me the instant you discovered the message wasn’t genuine,” Athaclena replied.
His teeth seemed to flash. “You have my word on that,” he assured her.
“And on what else?”
He closed and then reopened his eyes. “According to these orders from the Government in Exile, I have no choice but to act as if I was never kidnapped, to pretend there was no mutiny, and to conform my strategy to your advice. All right. I agree to this, as long as you remember that I’m going to appeal to my commanders on Earth, first chance I get. And they will take this to the TAASF. And once Coordinator Oneagle is overruled, I will find you, my young Tymbrimi. I will come to you.”
The bald, open hatred in his mind simultaneously made her shiver and ako reassured her. The man held nothing back. Truth burned beneath his words. She nodded to Benjamin.
“Let him go.”
Looking unhappy, and avoiding eye contact with the dark-haired human, the chims lowered the cage and cut open the door. Prathachulthorn emerged rubbing his arms. Then, quite suddenly, he whirled and leaped in a high kick landing in a stance one blow away from her. He laughed as Athaclena and the chims backed away.
“Where is my command?” he asked tersely.
“I do not know, precisely,” Athaclena answered, as she tried to abort a gheer flux. “We’ve scattered into small parties and even had to abandon the caves when it was clear they were compromised.”
“What about this place?” Prathachulthorn motioned to the steaming slopes of Mount Fossey.
“We expect the enemy to stage an assault here at any moment,” she replied honest
ly.
“Well,” he said. “I didn’t believe half of what you told me, yesterday, about that ‘Uplift Ceremony’ and its consequences. But I’ll give you this; you and your dad do seem to have stirred up the Gubru good.”
He sniffed the air, as if already he were trying to pick up a spoor. “I assume you have a tactical situation map and a datawell for me?”
Benjamin brought one of the portable computer units forward, but Prathachulthorn held up a hand. “Not now. First, let’s get out of here. I want to get away from this place.”
Athaclena nodded. She could well understand how the man felt.
He laughed when she declined his mock-chivalrous bow and insisted that he go first. “As you wish,” he chuckled.
Soon they were swinging through the trees and running under the thick forest canopy. Not much later, they heard what sounded like thunder back where the refuge had been, even though there were no clouds in the sky.
96
Sylvie
The night was lit by fiery beacons which burst forth actinically and cast stark shadows as they drifted slowly groundward. Their impact on the senses was sudden, dazzling, overwhelming even the noise of battle and the screams of the dying.
It was the defenders who sent the blazing torches into the sky, for their assailants needed no light to guide them. Streaking in by radar and infrared, they attacked with deadly accuracy until momentarily blinded by the brilliance of the flares.
Chims fled the evening’s fireless camp in all directions, naked, carrying only food and a few weapons on their backs. Mostly, they were refugees from mountain hamlets burned down in the recent surge of fighting. A few trained irregulars remained behind in a desperate rearguard action to cover the civilians’ retreat.
They used what means they had to confuse the airborne enemy’s deadly, precise detectors. The flares were sophisticated, automatically adjusting their fulminations to best interfere with active and passive sensors. They slowed the avians down, but only for a little while. And they were in short supply.