The Uplift War

by David Brin

  The Suzerain danced upon its perch, a series of mincing steps of ancient lineage.

  “The harm, damage, setback

  to our program is severe.

  But it is not, may not be

  irreparable!”

  At a gesture its Kwackoo followers hurried forward. The Suzerain’s first command was straightforward.

  “We must increase, improve, enhance

  our commitment, our incentives.

  Inform the female that we agree,

  accept, acquiesce to her request.

  “She may go to the Library.”

  The servitor bowed, and the other Kwackoo crooned.

  “Zoooon!”

  69

  Government in Exile

  The holo-tank cleared as the interstellar message ran to its end. When the lights came on, the Council members looked at each other in puzzlement. “What … what does it mean?” Colonel Maiven asked.

  “I’m not sure,” said Commander Kylie. “But it’s clear the Gubru are up to something.”

  Refuge Administrator Mu Chen drummed her fingers on the table. “They appeared to be officials from the Uplift Institute. It seems to mean the invaders are planning some sort of Uplift ceremony, and have invited witnesses.”

  That much is obvious, Megan thought. “Do you think this has anything to do with that mysterious construction south of Port Helenia?” she asked. The site had been a topic of much discussion lately.

  Colonel Maiven nodded. “I had been reluctant to admit the possibility before, but now I’d have to say so.”

  The chim member spoke. “Why would they want to hold an Uplift ceremony for the Kwackoo here on Garth? It doesn’t make sense. Would that improve their claim on our leasehold?”

  “I doubt it,” Megan said. “Maybe … maybe it isn’t for the Kwackoo at all.”

  “But then for who?”

  Megan shrugged. Kylie commented. “The Uplift Institute officials appear to be in the dark as well.”

  There was a long silence. Then Kylie broke it again.

  “How significant do you think it is that the spokesman was human?”

  Megan smiled. “Obviously it was meant as a dig at the Gubru. That man might have been no more than a junior clerk trainee at the local Uplift Institute branch. Putting him out in front of Pila and Z’Tang and Serentini means Earth isn’t finished yet. And certain powers want to point that out to the Gubru.”

  “Hm. Pila. They’re tough customers, and members of the Soro clan. Having a human spokesman might be an insult to the Gubru, but it’s no guarantee Earth is okay.”

  Megan understood what Kylie meant. If the Soro now dominated Earthspace, there were rough times ahead.

  Again, another long silence. Then Colonel Maiven spoke.

  “They mentioned a hyperspace shunt. Those are expensive. The Gubru must set great store by this ceremony thing.”

  Indeed, Megan thought, knowing that a motion had been put before the Council. And this time she realized that it would be hard to justify holding to Uthacalthing’s advice.

  “You are suggesting a target, colonel?”

  “I sure am, madam coordinator.” Maiven sat up and met her eyes. “I think this is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

  There were nods of agreement up and down the table. They are voting out of boredom, and frustration, and sheer cabin fever, Megan knew. And yet, is this not a golden chance, to be seized or lost forever?

  “We cannot attack once the emissaries from the Uplift Institute have arrived,” she emphasized, and saw that everybody understood how important that was. “However, I agree that there may be a window of opportunity during which a strike could be made.”

  Consensus was obvious. In a corner of her mind, Megan felt there really ought to be more discussion. But she, too, was near filled to bursting with impatience.

  “We shall cut new orders to Major Prathachulthorn then. He shall receive carte blanche, subject only to the condition that any attack be completed by November first. Is it agreed?”

  A simple raising of hands. Commander Kylie hesitated, then joined in to make it unanimous.

  We are committed, Megan thought. And she wondered if Hell reserved a special place for mothers who send their own sons into battle.

  70

  Robert

  She didn’t have to go away, did she? I mean she herself said it was all right.

  Robert rubbed his stubbled chin. He thought about taking a shower and shaving. Major Prathachulthorn would be calling a meeting sometime after it reached full light, and the commander liked to see his officers well groomed.

  What I really should be doing is sleeping, Robert knew. They had just finished a whole series of night exercises. It would be wise to catch up on his rest.

  And yet, after a couple of hours of fitful slumber he had found himself too nervous, too full of restless energy to stay in bed any longer. He had risen and gone to his small desk, setting up the datawell so its light would not disturb the chamber’s other occupant. For some time he read through Major Prathachulthorn’s detailed order of battle.

  It was ingenious, professional. The various options appeared to offer a number of efficient ways to use limited forces to strike the enemy, and strike him hard. All that remained was choosing the right target. There were several choices available, any of which ought to do.

  Still, something about the entire edifice struck Robert as wrong. The document did not increase his confidence, as he had hoped it would. In the space over his head Robert almost imagined something taking form—something faintly akin to the dark clouds that had shrouded the mountains in storms so recently—a symbolic manifestation of his unease.

  Across the little chamber a form moved under the blankets. One slender arm lay exposed, and a smooth length of calf and thigh.

  Robert concentrated and erased the nonthing that he had been forming with his simple aura-power. It had begun affecting Lydia’s dreams, and it wouldn’t be fair to inflict his own turmoil upon her. For all of their recent physical intimacy, they were still in many ways strangers.

  Robert reminded himself that there were some positive aspects to the last few days. The battle plan, for instance, showed that Prathachulthorn was at last taking some of his ideas seriously. And spending time with Lydia had brought more than physical pleasure. Robert had not realized how much he missed the simple touch of his own kind. Humans might be able to withstand isolation better than chims—who could fall into deep depression if they lacked a grooming partner for very long. But mel and fem humans, too, had their apelike needs.

  Still, Robert’s thoughts kept drifting. Even during his most passionate moments with Lydia, he kept thinking of somebody else.

  Did she really have to leave? Logically there was no reason to have to go to Mount Fossey. The gorillas were already well cared for.

  Of course, the gorillas might have been just an excuse. An excuse to escape the disapproving aura of Major Prathachulthorn. An excuse to avoid the sparking discharges from human passion.

  Athaclena might be correct that there was nothing wrong with Robert seeking his own kind. But logic was not everything. She had feelings, too. Young and alone, she could be hurt even by what she knew to be right.

  “Damn!” Robert muttered. Prathachulthorn’s words and graphs were a blur. “Damn, I miss her.”

  There was a commotion outside, beyond the flap of cloth that sectioned off this chamber from the rest of the caves. Robert looked at his watch. It was still only four a.m. He stood up and gathered his trousers. Any unplanned excitement at this hour was likely to be bad news. Just because the enemy had been quiet for a month did not mean it had to stay that way. Perhaps the Gubru had gotten wind of their plans and were striking preemptively!

  There was the slap of unshod feet upon stone. “Capt’n Oneagle?” a voice said from just beyond the cloth. Robert strode over and pulled it aside. A winded chim messenger breathed heavily. “What’s happening?” Robert asked.


  “Um, sir, you’d better come quick.”

  “All right. Let me get my weapons.”

  The chim shook her head. “It’s not fighting, sir. It’s … it’s some chims just arrivin’ from Port Helenia.”

  Robert frowned. New recruits from town had been arriving in small groups all along. What was all the excitement about this time? He heard Lydia stir as the talking disturbed her sleep. “Fine,” he told the chimmie. “We’ll interview them a little later—”

  She interrupted. “Sir! It’s Fiben! Fiben Bolger, sir. He’s come back.

  Robert blinked. “What?”

  There was movement behind him. “Rob?” a feminine voice spoke. “What is—”

  Robert whooped. His shout reverberated in the closed spaces. He hugged and kissed the surprised chimmie, then caught up Lydia and tossed her lightly into the air.

  “What …?” she started to ask, then stopped, for she found herself addressing only the empty space where he had been.

  Actually, there was little need to hurry. Fiben and his escorts were still some distance away. By the time their horses could be seen, puffing up the trail from the north, Lydia had dressed and joined Robert up on the escarpment. There dawn’s gray light was just driving out the last wan stars.

  “Everybody’s up,” Lydia commented. “They even roused the major. Chims are dashing all over the place, jabbering in excitement. This must be some chen we’re waiting for.”

  “Fiben?” Robert laughed. He blew into his hands. “Yeah, you might say old Fiben’s unusual.”

  “I gathered as much.” She shaded her eyes against the glow to the east and watched the mounted party pass a switchback climbing the narrow trail. “Is he the one in the bandages?”

  “Hm?” Robert squinted. Lydia’s eyesight had been bio-organically enhanced during her Marine training. He was envious. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Fiben’s always getting banged up, one way or another. Claims he hates it. Says it’s all due to innate clumsiness and a universe that has it in for him, but I’ve always suspected it was an affinity for trouble. Never known a chim who went to such lengths just to get a story to tell.”

  In a minute he could make out the features of his friend. He shouted and raised his hand. Fiben grinned and waved back, although his left arm was immobilized in a sling. Next to him, on a pale mare, rode a chimmie Robert did not recognize.

  A messenger arrived from the cave entrance and saluted. “Sers, the major requests that you an’ Lieutenant Bolger come down just as soon’s he’s here.”

  Robert nodded. “Please tell Major Prathachulthorn we’ll be right there.”

  As the horses climbed the last switchback, Lydia slipped her hand into his, and Robert felt a sudden wave of both gladness and guilt. He squeezed back and tried not to let his ambivalence show.

  Fiben’s alive! he thought. I must get word to Athaclena. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.

  Major Prathachulthorn had a nervous habit of tugging at one ear or the other. While listening to reports from his subordinates, he would shift in his chair, occasionally leaning over to mumble into his datawell, retrieving some quick dollop of information. At such times he might seem distracted, but if the speaker stopped talking, or even slowed down, the major would snap his fingers, impatiently. Apparently, Prathachulthorn had a quick mind and was able to juggle several tasks at once. However, these behaviors were very hard on some of the chims, often making them nervous and tongue-tied. That, in turn, did not improve the major’s opinion of the irregulars that had only recently been under Robert’s and Athaclena’s command.

  In Fiben’s case, though, this was no problem. As long as he was kept supplied with orange juice, he kept on with his story. Even Prathachulthorn, who usually interrupted reports with frequent questions, probing mercilessly for details, sat silently through the tale of the disastrous valley insurrection, Fiben’s subsequent capture, the interviews and tests by the followers of the Suzerain of Propriety, and the theories of Dr. Gailet Jones.

  Now and then Robert glanced at the chimmie Fiben had brought with him from Port Helenia. Sylvie sat to one side, between the chims Benjamin and Elsie, her posture erect and her expression composed. Occasionally, when asked to verify or elaborate on something, she answered in a quiet voice. Otherwise, her gaze remained on Fiben constantly.

  Fiben carefully described the political situation among the Gubru, as he understood it. When he came to the evening of the escape, he told of the trap that had been laid by the “Suzerain of Cost and Caution,” and concluded simply by saying, “So we decided, Sylvie and I, that we’d better exit Port Helenia by a different route than by sea.” He shrugged. “We got out through a gap in the fence and finally made it to a rebel outpost. So here we are.”

  Right! Robert thought sardonically. Of course Fiben had left out any mention of his injuries and exactly how he escaped. He would no doubt fill in the details in his written report to the major, but anyone else would have to bribe them out of him.

  Robert saw Fiben glance his way and wink. I’d bet this is at least a five-beer tale, Robert thought.

  Prathachulthorn leaned forward. “You say that you actually saw this hyperspace shunt? You know exactly where it is located?”

  “I was trained as a scout, major. I know where it is. I’ll include a map, and a sketch of the facility, in my written report.”

  Prathachulthorn nodded. “If I had not already had other reports of this thing I’d never have credited this story. As it is though, I am forced to believe you. You say this facility is expensive, even by Gubru standards?”

  “Yessir. That’s what Gailet and I came to believe. Think about it. Humans have only been able to throw one Uplift ceremony for each of their clients in all the years since Contact, and both had to be held on Tymbrim. That’s why other clients like the Kwackoo can get away with snubbing us.

  “Part of the reason has been political obstruction by antagonistic clans like the Gubru and the Soro, who’ve been able to drag out Terran applications for status. But another reason is because we’re so frightfully poor, by Galactic standards.”

  Fiben had been learning things, obviously. Robert realized part of it must have been picked up from this Gailet Jones person. With his heightened empathy sense, he picked up faint tremors from his friend whenever her name came up.

  Robert glanced at Sylvie. Hmm. Life seems to have grown complicated for Fiben.

  That reminded Robert of his own situation, of course. Fiben isn’t the only one, he thought. All his life he had wanted to learn to be more sensitive, to better understand others and his own feelings. Now he had his wish, and he hated it.

  “By Darwin, Goodall, and Greenpeace!” Prathachulthorn pounded the table. “Mr. Bolger, you bring your news at a most opportune time!” He turned to address Lydia and Robert. “Do you know what this means, gentlemen?”

  “Um,” Robert began.

  “A target, sir,” Lydia answered succinctly.

  “A target is right! This fits perfectly with that message we just received from the Council. If we can smash this shunt—preferably before the dignitaries from the Uplift Institute arrive—then we could rap the Gubru right where it pains them most, in their wallets!”

  “But—” Robert started to object.

  “You heard what our spy just told us.” Prathachulthorn said. “The Gubru are hurting out there in space! They’re overextended, their leaders here on Garth are at each others’ throats, and this could be the last straw! Why, we might even be able to time it so their entire Triumvirate is at the same place at the same time!”

  Robert shook his head. “Don’t you think we ought to give it some thought, sir? I mean, what about the offer that the Suzerain of Probity—”

  “Propriety,” Fiben corrected.

  “Propriety. Yes. What about the offer it made to Fiben and Dr. Jones?”

  Prathachulthorn shook his head. “An obvious trap, Oneagle. Be serious now.”

  “I am being serious, sir. I’m no more an
expert on these matters than Fiben, and certainly less of one than Dr. Jones. And certainly I concede it may be a trap. But on the surface, at least, it sounds like a terrific deal for Earth! A deal I don’t think we can pass up without at least reporting this back to the Council.”

  “There isn’t time.” Prathachulthorn said, shaking his head. “My orders are to operate at my own discretion and, if appropriate, to act before the Galactic dignitaries arrive.”

  Robert felt a growing desperation. “Then at least let’s consult with Athaclena. She’s the daughter of a diplomat. She might be able to see some ramifications we don’t.”

  Prathachulthorn’s frown spoke volumes. “If there’s time, of course I’ll be happy to solicit the young Tymbrimi’s opinion.” But it was clear that even mentioning the idea had brought Robert down a peg in the man’s eyes.

  Prathachulthorn slapped the table. “Right now I think we had better have a staff meeting of commissioned officers and discuss potential tactics against this hypershunt installation.” He turned and nodded to the chims. “That will be all for now, Fiben. Thank you very much for your courageous and timely action. That goes the same to you too, miss.” He nodded at Sylvie. “I look forward to seeing your written reports.”

  Elsie and Benjamin stood up and held the door. As mere brevet officers they were excluded from Prathachulthorn’s inner staff. Fiben rose and moved more slowly, aided by Sylvie.

  Robert hurriedly spoke in a low voice to Prathachulthorn. “Sir, I’m sure it only slipped your mind, but Fiben holds a full commission in the colonial defense forces. If he’s excluded it might not go down well, um, politically.”

  Prathachulthorn blinked. His expression barely flickered, though Robert knew he had once again failed to score points. “Yes, of course,” the major said evenly. “Please tell Lieutenant Bolger he is welcome to stay, if he’s not too tired.”

  With that he turned back to his datawell and started calling up files. Robert could feel Lydia’s eyes on him. She may despair of my ever learning tact, he thought as he hurried to the door and caught Fiben’s arm just as he was leaving.