The Uplift War
Page 62
A slight chimmie emerged from the most recent test booth, mopped her forehead with the sleeve of her silvery tunic, and walked tiredly over to join Gailet. Michaela Noddings was only an elementary school teacher, and a green card, but she had proven more adaptable and enduring than quite a few blues, who were now walking the lonely spiral back down again. Gailet felt deep relief on seeing her new friend still among the candidates. She reached out to take the other chimmie’s hand.
“I almost flunked that one, Gailet,” Michaela said. Her fingers trembled in Gailet’s grasp.
“Now, don’t you dare flake out on me, Michaela,” Gailet said soothingly. She brushed her companion’s sweaty locks. “You’re my strength. I couldn’t go on if you weren’t here.”
In Michaela’s brown eyes was a soft gratitude, mixed with irony. “You’re a liar, Gailet. That’s sweet of you to say, but you don’t need any of us, let alone little me. Whatever I can pass, you take at a breeze.”
Of course that wasn’t strictly true. Gailet had figured out that the examinations offered by the Uplift Institute were scaled somehow, in order to measure not only how intelligent the subject was but also how hard he or she was trying. Sure, Gailet had advantages over most of the other chims, in training and perhaps in IQ, but at each stage her own trials got harder, too.
Another chim—a Probationer known as Weasel—emerged from the booth and sauntered over to where Irongrip waited with a third member of their band. Weasel did not seem to be much put out. In fact, all three of the surviving Probationers looked relaxed, confident. Irongrip noticed Gailet’s glance and winked at her. She turned away quickly.
One last chim came out then and shook his head. “That’s it,” he said.
“Then Professor Simmins …?”
When he shrugged, Gailet sighed. This just did not make sense. Something was wrong when fine, erudite chims were failing, and yet the tests did not cull out Irongrip’s bunch from the very start.
Of course, the Uplift Institute might judge “advancement” differently than the human-led Earthclan did. Irongrip and Weasel and Steelbar were intelligent, after all. The Galactics might not view the Probationers’ various character flaws as all that terrible, loathsome as they were to Terrans.
But no, that wasn’t the reason at all, Gailet realized, as she and Michaela stepped past the remaining twenty or so to lead the way upward again. Gailet knew that something else had to be behind this. The Probies were just too cocky. Somehow they knew that a fix was in.
It was shocking. The Galactic Institutes were supposed to be above reproach. But there it was. She wondered what, if anything, could be done about it.
As they approached the next station—this one manned by a plump, leathery Soro inspector and six robots—Gailet looked around and noticed something for the first time, that nearly all of the brightly dressed Galactic observers—the aliens unaffiliated with the Institute who had come to watch and engage in informal diplomacy—nearly all of them had drifted away. A few could still be seen, moving swiftly downslope and to the east, as if drawn by something interesting happening off that way.
Of course they won’t bother telling us what’s going on, she thought bitterly.
“Okay, Gailet,” Michaela sighed. “You first again. Show ’em we can talk real good.”
So, even a prim schoolteacher will use grunt dialect as an affectation, a bond. Gailet sighed. “Yeah. Me go do that thing.”
Irongrip grinned at her, but Gailet ignored him as she stepped up to bow to the Soro and submit to the attentions of the robots.
89
Galactics
The Suzerain of Beam and Talon strutted back and forth under the flapping fabric of the Uplift Institute pavilion. The Gubru admiral’s voice throbbed with a vibrato of outrage.
“Intolerable! Unbelievable! Impermissible! This invasion must be stopped, held back, put into abeyance!”
The smooth routine of a normal Uplift Ceremony had been shattered. Officials and examiners of the Institute—Galactics of many shapes and sizes—now rushed about under the great canopy, hurriedly consulting portable Libraries, seeking precedents for an event none of them had ever witnessed or imagined before. An unexpected disturbance had triggered chaos everywhere, and especially in the corner where the Suzerain danced its outrage before a spiderlike being.
The Grand Examiner, an arachnoid Serentini, stood relaxed in a circle of datatanks, listening attentively to the Gubru officer’s complaint.
“Let it be ruled a violation, an infraction, a capital offense! My soldiers shall enforce propriety severely!” The Suzerain fluffed its down to display the pinkish tint already visible under the outer feathers—as if the Serentini would be impressed to see that the admiral was nearly female, almost a queen.
But the sight failed to impress the Grand Examiner. Serentini were all female, after all. So what was the big deal?
The Grand Examiner kept her amusement hidden, however. “The new arrivals fit all of the criteria for being allowed to participate in this ceremony,” she replied patiently in Galactic Three. “They have caused consternation, of course, and will be much discussed long after this day is done. Still, they are only one of many features of this ceremony which are, well, unconventional.”
The Gubru’s beak opened, then shut. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that this is the most irregular Uplift Ceremony in megayears. I have several times considered canceling it altogether.”
“You dare not! We should appeal, seek redress, seek compensation …”
“Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you?” The Grand Examiner sighed. “Everyone knows the Gubru are overextended now. But a judgment against one of the Institutes could cover some of your costs, no?”
This time, the Gubru was silent. The Grand Examiner used two feelers to scratch a crease in her carapace. “Several of my associates believe that that was your plan all along. There are so many irregularities in this ceremony you’ve arranged. But on close examination each one seems to stop just short of illegality. You have been clever at finding precedents and loopholes.
“For instance, there is the matter of human approval of a ceremony for their own clients. It is unclear these hostage officials of yours understood what they were agreeing to when they signed the documents you showed me.”
“They were—had been—offered Library access.”
“A skill for which wolflings are not renowned. There is suspicion of coercion.”
“We have a message of acceptance from Earth! From their homeworld! From their nest-mothers!”
“Aye,” the Serentini agreed. “They accepted your offer of peace and a free ceremony. What poor wolfling race in their dire circumstances could turn down such a proposal? But semantic analysis shows that they thought they were only agreeing to discuss the matter further! They obviously did not understand that you had purchased liberation of their old applications, some made more than fifty paktaars ago! This allowed the waiting period to be waived.”
“Their misunderstandings are not our concern,” clipped the Suzerain of Beam and Talon.
“Indeed. And does the Suzerain of Propriety hold with this view?”
This time there was only silence. Finally, the Grand Examiner lifted both forelegs and crossed them in a formal bow. “Your protest is acknowledged. The ceremony shall continue, under the ancient rules set down by the Progenitors.”
The Gubru commander had no choice. It bowed in return. Then it swiveled and flounced outside, angrily pushing aside a crowd of its guards and aides, leaving them cackling, disturbed, in its wake.
The Examiner turned to a robot assistant. “What were we discussing before the Suzerain arrived?”
“An approaching craft whose occupants claim diplomatic protection and observer status,” the thing replied in Galactic One.
“Ah, yes. Those.”
“They are growing quite perturbed, as Gubru interceptors now seem about to cut them off, and may do them harm.”
The robot hurried off to pass on the order. Other aides then approached, waving readouts and picting preliminary reports on still more anomalies. One after another of the holo-screens lit up to show the crowd that had arrived at the base of the hill, tumbling out of rusty boats and surging up the unguarded slopes.
“This event grows ever more interesting,” the Grand Examiner sighed reflectively. “I wonder, what will happen next?”
90
Gailet
It was after sunset and Gimelhai had already sunk below a western horizon turbid with dark clouds by the time the worn-down survivors finally passed through the last examination screen to collapse in exhaustion upon a grassy knoll. Six chens and six chimmies lay quietly close to each other for warmth. They were too tired to engage in the grooming all felt they needed.
“Momma, why didn’t they choose dogs to uplift, instead? Or pigs?” One of them moaned.
“Baboons,” another voice suggested, and there was a murmur of agreement. Such creatures deserved this kind of treatment.
“Anybody but us,” a third voice summarized, succinctly.
Ex exaltavit humilis, Gailet thought silently. They have lifted up the humble of origins. The motto of the Terragens Uplift Board had its origins in the Christian Bible. To Gailet it had always carried the unfortunate implication that someone, somewhere, was going to get crucified.
Her eyes closed and she felt a light sleep close in immediately. Just a catnap, she thought. But it did not last long. Gailet felt a sudden return of that dream—the one in which a Gubru stood over her, peering down the barrel of a malevolent machine. She shivered and opened her eyes again.
The last shreds of twilight were fading. Bitterly clear, the stars twinkled as if through something more refracting than mere atmosphere.
She and the others stood up quickly as a brightly lit floater car approached and settled down in front of them. Out stepped three figures, a tall, downy-white Gubru, a spiderlike Galactic, and a pudgy human mel whose official gown hung on him like a potato sack. As she and the other chims bowed, Gailet recognized Cordwainer Appelbe, the head of Garth’s local Uplift Board.
The man looked bewildered. Certainly he must be overawed to be taking part in all this. Still, Gailet also wondered whether Appelbe was drugged.
“Um, I want to congratulate you all,” he said, stepping just ahead of the other two. “You should know how proud we are of all of you. I’ve been told that, while there are certain test scores that are still in dispute, the overall judgment of the Uplift Institute is that Pan argonostes—the neo-chimpanzees of Earthclan—are, or, well, actually have been ready for stage three for quite some time.”
The arachnoid official stepped forward then. “That is true. In fact, I can promise that the Institute will favorably consider any future applications by Earthclan for further examinations.”
Thank you, Gailet thought as she and the others bowed again. But please, don’t bother picking me for the next one.
Now the Grand Examiner launched into a lengthy speech about the rights and duties of client races. She spoke of the long-departed Progenitors, who began Galactic civilization so long ago, and the procedures they set down for all succeeding generations of intelligent life to follow.
The Examiner used Galactic Seven, which most of the chims could at least follow. Gailet tried to pay attention, but within her troubled thoughts kept turning to what was certainly to come after this.
She was sure she felt underfoot an increase in the faint trembling which had accompanied them all the way up the mountain. It filled the air with a low, barely audible rumbling. Gailet swayed as a wave of unreality seemed to pass through her. She looked up and saw that several of the evening stars appeared to flare suddenly brighter. Others fled laterally as an oval distortion inserted itself directly overhead. A blackness began to gather there.
The Examiner’s aeolian speech droned on. Cordwainer Appelbe listened raptly, a bemused expression on his face. But the white-plumed Gubru grew visibly impatient with each passing moment. Gailet could well understand why. Now that the hyperspace shunt was warmed up and ready, every passing minute was costing the invaders. When she realized this, Gailet felt warmer toward the droning Serentini official. She nudged Michaela when her friend seemed about to doze off, and put on an attentive expression.
Several times the Gubru opened its beak as if about to commit the ungraceful act of interrupting the Examiner. Finally, when the spiderlike being stopped briefly for a breath, the avian cut in sharply. Gailet, who had been studying hard for months, easily understood the clipped words in Galactic Three.
“—delaying, dawdling, stalling! Your motives are in doubt, incredible, suspect! I insist that you proceed, move along, get on with it!”
But the Examiner scarcely missed a beat, continuing in Galactic Seven.
“In passing the formidable gauntlet you faced today, more rigorous than any testing I have heretofore witnessed, you have demonstrated your worthiness as junior citizens of our civilization, and bring credit to your clan.
“What you receive today, you have earned—the right to reaffirm your love of your patrons, and to choose a stage consort. The latter decision is an important one. As consort you must select a known, oxygen-breathing, starfaring race, one that is not a member of your own clan. This race will defend your interests and impartially intercede in disputes between you and your patrons. If you wish, you may select the Tymbrimi, of the Clan of the Krallnith, who have been your consort-advisors up until now. Or you may make a change.
“Or, you may choose yet another option—to end your participation in Galactic civilization, and ask that the meddling of Uplift be reversed. Even this drastic step was prescribed by the Progenitors, as insurance of the fundamental rights of living things.”
Could we? Could we really do that? Gailet felt numb at the very idea. Even though she knew that it was almost never allowed in practice, the option was there!
She shuddered and refocused her attention as the Grand Examiner lifted two arms in a benediction. “In the name of the Institute of Uplift, and before all of Galactic civilization, I therefore pronounce you, the representatives of your race, qualified and capable of choosing and bearing witness. Go forth, and do all living things proud.”
The Serentini stepped back. And at last it was the turn of the ceremony sponsor. Normally, this would have been a human, or perhaps a Tymbrimi, but not this time. The Gubru emissary did a little dance of impatience. Quickly, it barked into a vodor, and words in Galactic Seven boomed forth.
“Ten of you shall accompany the final representatives to the shunt and offer witness. The selected pair shall carry the burden of choice and honor. These two I shall name now.
“Doctor Gailet Jones, female, citizen of Garth, Terragens Federation, Clan of Earth.”
Gailet did not want to move, but Michaela, her friend, betrayed her by planting a hand in the small of her back and gently urging her forward. She stepped a few paces toward the dignitaries and bowed. The vodor boomed again.
“Irongrip Hansen, male, citizen of Garth, Terragens Federation, Clan of Earth.”
Most of the chims behind her gasped in shock and dismay. But Gailet only closed her eyes as her worst fears were confirmed. Up until now she had clung to a hope that the Suzerain of Propriety might still be a force among the Gubru. That it might yet compel the Triumvirate to play fair. But now …
She felt him step up next to her and knew the chen she hated most was wearing that grin.
Enough! I’ve stood for this long enough! Surely the Grand Examiner suspects something. If I tell her …
But she did not move. Her mouth did not open to speak.
Suddenly, and with brutal clarity, Gailet realized the real reason why she had gone along with
this farce for so long!
They’ve fooled with my mind!
It all made sense. She recalled the dreams … nightmares of helplessness under the subtle, adamant coercion of machines held in ruthless talons.
The Uplift Institute wouldn’t be equipped to test for that.
Of course they wouldn’t! Uplift Ceremonies were invariably joyous occasions, celebrated by patron and client alike. Who ever heard of a race-representative having to be conditioned or forced to participate?
It must’ve been done after Fiben was taken away. The Suzerain of Propriety couldn’t have agreed to such a thing. If the Grand Examiner only knew, we could squeeze a planet’s worth of reparation gild from the Gubru!
Gailet opened her mouth. “I …” She tried to make words come. The Grand Examiner looked at her.
Perspiration condensed on Gailet’s brow. All she had to do was make the accusation. Even hint at it!
But her brain was frozen. It felt as if she had forgotten how to make words!
Speechlock. Of course. The Gubru had learned how easy it was to impose on a neo-chimpanzee. A human, perhaps, might have been able to break the hold, but Gailet recognized how futile it was in her case.
She could not read arthropoid expressions, but it seemed somehow as if the Serentini looked disappointed. The Examiner stepped back. “Proceed to the hyperspace shunt,” she said.
No! Gailet wanted to cry. But all that escaped was a faint sigh as she felt her right hand lift of its own accord and meet Irongrip’s left. He held on and she could not let go.
That was when she felt an image begin to form in her mind—an avian face with a yellow beak and cold, unblinking eyes. No effort could rid her of the picture. Gailet knew with terrible certainty that she was about to carry that image with her to the top of the ceremonial mound, and once there she and Irongrip would send it upward, into the oval of warped space overhead, for all to see, here and on a thousand other worlds.
The part of her mind that still belonged to her—the logical entity, now cut off and isolated—saw the cold covinous logic of the plan.