The Uplift War

by David Brin

  “That’s your opinion,” Prathachulthorn snorted.

  Athaclena shook her head. “But that is not the only or even the most important reason.” She had grown tired of fruitlessly explaining the nuances of Galactic punctilio to the Marine officer, but somehow she found the will to try one more time. “I told you before, major. Wars are known to feature cycles of what you humans sometimes call ‘tit-for-tat’ where one side punishes the other side for its last insult, and then that other side retaliates in turn. Left unconstrained, this can escalate forever! Since the days of the Progenitors, there have been developed rules which help keep such exchanges from growing out of all proportion.”

  Prathachulthorn cursed. “Damn it, you admitted that our raid would’ve been legal if done in time!”

  She nodded. “Legal, perhaps. But it also would have served the enemy well. Because it would have been the last action before the truce!”

  “What difference does that make?”

  Patiently, she tried to explain. “The Gubru have declared a truce while still in an overpowering position of strength, major. That is considered honorable. You might say they ‘win points’ for that.

  “But their gain is multiplied if they do so immediately after taking damage. If they show restraint by not retaliating, the Gubru are then performing an act of forbearance. They gather credit—”

  “Ha!” Prathachulthorn laughed. “Fat lot of good it’d do them, with their ceremonial site in ruins!”

  Athaclena inclined her head. She really did not have time for this. If she spent too long here, Lieutenant McCue might suspect that this was where her missing commander was being hidden. The Marines had already swooped down on several possible hiding places.

  “The upshot might have been to force Earth to finance a new site as a replacement,” she said.

  Prathachulthorn stared at her. “But—but we’re at war!”

  She nodded, misunderstanding him. “Exactly. One cannot allow war without rules, and powerful neutral forces to enforce them. The alternative would be barbarism.”

  The man’s sour look was her only answer.

  “Besides, to destroy the site would have implied that humans do not want to see their clients tested and judged for promotion! But now it is the Gubru who must pay honor-gild for this truce. Your clan has gained a segment of status by being the aggrieved party, unavenged. This sliver of propriety could turn out to be crucial in the days ahead.”

  Prathachulthorn frowned. For a moment he seemed to concentrate, as if a thread of her logic hung almost within reach. She felt his attention shimmer as he tried … but then it faded. He grimaced and spat again. “What a load of crap. Show me dead birds. That’s currency I can count. Pile them up to the level of this cage, little Miss Ambassador’s Daughter, and maybe, just maybe I’ll let you live when I finally break out of here.”

  Athaclena shivered. She knew how futile it was to try to hold a man such as this prisoner. He should have been kept drugged. He should have been killed. But she could not bring herself to do either, or to further prejudice the fate of the chims in her cabal by involving them in such crimes.

  “Good day, major,” she said. And turned to go.

  He did not shout as she left. In a way, the parsimonious use he made of his threats made those few seem all the more menacing and believable.

  She took a hidden trail from the secret glade over a shoulder of the mountain, past warm springs that hissed and steamed uncertainly. At the ridge crest Athaclena had to draw in her tendrils to keep them from being battered in the autumn wind. Few clouds could be seen in the sky, but the air was hazy with dust blowing in from faraway deserts.

  Hanging from a nearby branch she encountered one of the parachutelike kite and spore pod combinations blown up here from some field of plate ivy. The autumn dispersal was fully under way now. Fortunately, it had begun in earnest more than two days ago, before the Gubru announced their truce. That fact might turn out to be very important indeed.

  The day felt odd, more so than any time since that night of terrible dreams, shortly before she climbed this mountain to wrestle with her parents’ fierce legacy.

  Perhaps the Gubru are warming up their hyperwave shunt, again.

  She had since learned that her fit of dreams on that fateful night had coincided with the invaders’ first test of their huge new facility. Their experiments had let surges of unallocated probability loose in all directions, and those who were psychically sensitive reported bizarre mixtures of deathly dread and hilarity.

  That sort of mistake did not sound like the normally meticulous Gubru, and it seemed to be validation of Fiben Bolger’s report, that the enemy had serious leadership problems.

  Was that why tutsunucann collapsed so suddenly and violently that evening? Was all that loose energy responsible for the terrific power of her s’ustru’thoon rapport with Uthacalthing?

  Could that and the subsequent tests of those great engines explain why the gorillas had begun behaving so very strangely?

  All Athaclena knew for certain was that she felt nervous and afraid. Soon, she thought. It will all approach climax very soon.

  She had descended halfway down the trail leading back to her tent when a pair of breathless chims emerged from the forest, hurrying uphill toward her. “Miss … miss …” one of them breathed. The other held his side, panting audibly.

  Her initial reading of their panic triggered a brief hormone rush, which only subsided slightly when she traced their fear and kenned that it did not come from an enemy attack. Something else had them terrified half out of their wits.

  “Miss Ath-Athaclena,” the first chim gasped. “You gotta come quick!”

  “What is it, Petri? What’s happening?”

  He swallowed. “It’s the ’rillas. We can’t control ’em anymore!”

  So, she thought. For more than a week the gorillas’ low, atonal music had been driving their chim guardians to nervous fits. “What are they doing now?”

  “They’re leaving!” the second messenger wailed plaintively.

  She blinked. “What did you say?”

  Petri’s brown eyes were filled with bewilderment. “They’re leaving. They just got up and left! They’re headin’ for the Sind, an’ there doesn’t seem t’be anythin’ we can do to stop ’em!”

  82

  Uthacalthing

  Their progress toward the mountains had slackened considerably recently. More and more of Kault’s time seemed to be spent laboring over his makeshift instruments … and in arguing with his Tymbrimi companion.

  How quickly things change, Uthacalthing thought. He had labored long and hard to bring Kault to this fever pitch of suspicion and excitement. And now he found himself recalling with fondness their earlier peaceful comradeship—the long, lazy days of gossip and reminiscences and common exile—however frustrating they had seemed at the time.

  Of course that had been when Uthacalthing was whole, when he had been able to look upon the world through Tymbrimi eyes, and the softening veil of whimsy.

  Now? Uthacalthing knew that he had been considered dour and serious by others of his race. Now, though, they would surely think him crippled. Perhaps better off dead.

  Too much was taken from me, he thought, while Kault muttered to himself in the corner of their shelter. Outside, heavy gusts blew through the veldt grasses. Moonlight brushed long hillcrests that resembled sluggish ocean waves, locked amid a rolling storm.

  Did she actually have to tear away so much? he wondered, without really being able to feel or care very much.

  Of course Athaclena had hardly known what she was doing, that night when she decided in her need to call in the pledge her parents had made. S’ustru’thoon was not something one trained for. A recourse so drastic and used so seldom could not be well described by science. And by its very nature, s’ustru’thoon was something one could do but once in one’s lifetime.

  Anyway, now that he looked back upon it, Uthacalthing remembered something he ha
dn’t noticed at the time.

  That evening had been one of great tension. Hours beforehand he had felt disturbing waves of energy, as if ghostly half-glyphs of immense power were throbbing against the mountains. Perhaps that explained why his daughter’s call had carried such strength. She had been tapping some outside source!

  And he remembered something else. In the s’ustru’thoon storm Athaclena triggered, not everything torn from him had gone to her!

  Strange that he had not thought of it until now. But Uthacalthing now seemed vaguely to recall some of his essences flying past her. But where they had actually been bound he could not even imagine. Perhaps to the source of those energies he had felt earlier. Perhaps …

  Uthacalthing was too tired to come up with rational theories. Who knows? Maybe they were drawn in by Garth lings. It was a poor joke. Not even worth a tiny smile. And yet, the irony was encouraging. It showed that he had not lost absolutely everything.

  “I am certain of it now, Uthacalthing.” Kault’s voice was low and confident as the Thennanin turned to face him. He put aside the instrument he had constructed out of odd items salvaged from the wrecked pinnace.

  “Certain of what, colleague?”

  “Certain that our separate suspicions are focusing in on a probable fact! See here. The data you showed me—your private spools regarding these ‘Garthling’ creatures—allowed me to tune my detector until I am now sure that I have found the resonance I was seeking.”

  “You are?” Uthacalthing didn’t know what to make of this. He had never expected Kault to find actual confirmation of mythical beasts.

  “I know what concerns you, my friend,” Kault said, raising one massive, leather-plated hand. “You fear that my experiments will draw down upon us the attention of the Gubru. But rest assured. I am using a very narrow band and am reflecting my beam off the nearer moon. It is very unlikely they would ever be able to localize the source of my puny little probe.”

  “But …” Uthacalthing shook his head. “What are you looking for?”

  Kault’s breathing slits puffed. “A certain type of cerebral resonance. It is quite technical,” he said. “It has to do with something I read in your tapes about these Garthling creatures. What little data you had seemed to indicate that these pre-sentient beings might have brains not too dissimilar to those of Earthlings, or Tymbrimi.”

  Uthacalthing was amazed by the way Kault used his faked data with such celerity and enthusiasm. His former self would have been delighted. “So?” he asked.

  “So … let me see if I can explain with an example. Take humans—”

  Please, Uthacalthing inserted, without much enthusiasm, more out of habit.

  “—Earthlings represent one of many paths which can be taken to arrive eventually at intelligence. Theirs involved the use of two brains that later became one.”

  Uthacalthing blinked. His own mind was working so slowly. “You … you are speaking of the fact that their brains have two partially independent hemispheres?”

  “Aye. And while these halves are similar and redundant in some ways, in others they divide the labor. The split is even more pronounced among their neo-dolphin clients.

  “Before the Gubru arrived, I was studying data on neo-chimpanzees, which are similar to their patrons in many respects. One of the things the humans had to do, early in their Uplift program, was find ways to unite the functions of the two halves of pre-sentient chimpanzee brains comfortably into one consciousness. Until that was done neo-chimpanzees would suffer from a condition called ‘bicamerality.’ …”

  Kault droned on, gradually letting his jargon grow more and more technical, eventually leaving Uthacalthing far behind. The arcana of cerebral function seemed to fill their shelter, as if in thick smoke. Uthacalthing felt almost tempted to craft a glyph to commemorate his own boredom, but he lacked the energy even to stir his tendrils.

  “… so the resonance appears to indicate that there are, indeed, bicameral minds within the range of my instrument!”

  Ah, yes, Uthacalthing thought. Back in Port Helenia, at a time when he had still been a clever crafter of complex schemes, he had suspected that Kault might turn out to be resourceful. That was one reason why Uthacalthing chose for a confederate an atavistic chim. Kault was probably picking up traces from poor Jo-Jo, whose throwback brain was in many ways similar to fallow, non-uplifted chimpanzees of centuries ago. Jo-Jo no doubt retained some of this “bicame-rality” characteristic Kault spoke of.

  Finally Kault concluded. “I am therefore quite convinced, from your evidence and my own, that we cannot delay any longer. We must somehow get to and use a facility for sending interstellar messages!”

  “How do you expect to do that?” Uthacalthing asked in mild curiosity.

  Kault’s breathing slits pulsed in obvious, rare excitement. “Perhaps we can sneak or bluff or fight our way to the Planetary Branch Library, claim sanctuary, and then invoke every priority under the fifty suns of Thennan. Perhaps there is another way. I do not care if it means stealing a Gubru starship. Somehow we must get word to my clan!”

  Was this the same creature who had been so anxious to flee Port Helenia before the invaders arrived? Kault seemed as changed outwardly as Uthacalthing felt inwardly. The Thennanin’s enthusiasm was a hot flame, while Uthacalthing had to stoke his own carefully.

  “You wish to establish a claim on the pre-sentients before the Gubru manage it?” he asked.

  “Aye, and why not? To save them from such horrible patrons I would lay down my life! But there may be need for much haste. If what we have overheard on our receiver is true, emissaries from the Institutes may already be on their way to Garth. I believe the Gubru are planning something big. Perhaps they have made the same discovery. We must act quickly if we are not to be too late!”

  Uthacalthing nodded. “One more question then, distinguished colleague.” He paused. “Why should I help you?”

  Kault’s breath sighed like a punctured balloon, and his ridge crest collapsed rapidly. He looked at Uthacalthing with an expression as emotion-laden as any the Tymbrimi had ever seen upon the face of a dour Thennanin.

  “It would greatly benefit the pre-sentients,” he hissed. “Their destiny would be far happier.”

  “Perhaps. Arguable. Is that it, though? Are you relying on my altruism alone?”

  “Errr. Hrm.” Outwardly Kault seemed offended that anything more should be asked. Still, could he really be surprised? He was, after all, a diplomat, and understood that the best and firmest deals are based on open self-interest. “It would … It would greatly help my own political party if I delivered such a treasure. We would probably win government,” he suggested.

  “A slight improvement over the intolerable is not enough to get excited about.” Uthacalthing shook his head. “You still haven’t explained to me why I should not stake a claim for my own clan. I was investigating these rumors before you. We Tymbrimi would make excellent patrons for these creatures.”

  “You! You … K’ph mimpher’rrengi?” The phrase stood for something vaguely equivalent to “juvenile delinquents.” It was almost enough to make Uthacalthing smile again. Kault shifted uncomfortably. He made a visible effort to retain diplomatic composure.

  “You Tymbrimi have not the strength, the power to back up such a claim,” he muttered.

  At last, Uthacalthing thought. Truth.

  In times like this, under circumstances as muddy as these, it would take more than mere priority of application to settle an adoption claim on a pre-sentient race. Many other factors would officially be considered by the Uplift Institute. And the humans had a saying that was especially appropriate. “Possession is nine points of the law.” It certainly applied here.

  “So we are back to question number one.” Uthacalthing nodded. “If neither we Tymbrimi nor the Terrans can have the Garthlings, why should we help you get them?”

  Kault rocked from one side to the other, as if he were trying to work his way off a hot seat. His misery
was blatantly obvious, as was his desperation. Finally, he blurted forth, “I can almost certainly guarantee a cessation of all hostilities by my clan against yours.”

  “Not enough,” Uthacalthing came back quickly.

  “What more could you ask of me!” Kault exploded.

  “An actual alliance. A promise of Thennanin aid against those now laying siege upon Tymbrim.”

  “But—”

  “And the guarantee must be firm. In advance. To take effect whether or not these pre-sentients of yours actually turn out to exist.”

  Kault stammered. “You cannot expect—”

  “Oh, but I can. Why should I believe in these ‘Garthling’ creatures? To me they have only been intriguing rumors. I never told you I believed in them. And yet you want me to risk my life to get you to message facilities! Why should I do that without a guarantee of benefit for my people?”

  “This … this is unheard of!”

  “Nevertheless, it is my price. Take it or leave it.”

  For a moment Uthacalthing felt a thrilled suspicion he was about to witness the unexpected. It seemed as if Kault might lose control … might actually burst forth into violence. At the sight of those massive fists, clenching and unclenching rapidly, Uthacalthing actually felt his blood stir with change enzymes. A surge of nervous fear made him feel more alive than he had in days.

  “It … it shall be as you demand,” Kault growled at last.

  “Good.” Uthacalthing sighed as he relaxed. He drew forth his datawell. “Let us work out together how to parse this for a contract.”

  It took more than an hour to get the wording right. After it was finished, and when they had both signified their affirmation on each copy, Uthacalthing gave Kault one record pellet and kept the second for himself.

  Amazing, he thought at that point. He had planned and schemed to bring about this day. This was the second half of his grand jest, fulfilled at last. To have fooled the Gubru was wonderful. This was simply unbelievable.