by David Brin
Such a sober, serious, earnest expression, Fiben thought. So typically Thennanin.
A few of the assembled Galactics chattered in amazement, but most acted as if they had been frozen in place. All except Uthacalthing, whose delighted astonishment still sparked in all directions like a Roman candle.
“Z’wurtin’s’tatta.… I worked for this, and never knew!”
The titanic image of the Thennanin drifted backward in the milky oval. All could see the thick, slitted neck, and then the creature’s powerful torso. But when its arms came into view, it became clear that two figures stood on either side of it, holding its hands.
“Duly noted,” the Grand Examiner said to her aides. “The unnamed Stage One client species tentatively called Garthlings have selected, as their patrons, the Thennanin. And as their consorts and protectors, they have jointly chosen the neo-chimpanzees and humans of Earth.”
Robert Oneagle shouted. Cordwainer Appelbe fell to his knees in shock. The sound of renewed Gubru screeching was quite deafening.
Fiben felt a hand slip into his. Gailet looked up at him, the poignancy in her eyes now mixed with pride.
“Oh, well,” he sighed. “They wouldn’t have let us keep ’em, anyway. At least, this way, we get visitation rights. And I hear the Thennanin aren’t too bad as Eatees go.”
She shook her head. “You knew something about these creatures and didn’t tell me?”
He shrugged. “It was supposed to be a secret. You were busy. I didn’t want to bother you with unimportant details. I forgot. Mea culpa. Don’t hit, please.”
Briefly, her eyes seemed to flash. Then she, too, sighed and looked back up the hill. “It won’t take them long to realize these aren’t really Garthlings, but creatures of Earth.”
“What’ll happen then?”
It was her turn to shrug. “Nothing, I guess. Wherever they come from, they’re obviously ready for Uplift. Humans signed a treaty—unfair as it was—forbidding Earthclan to raise ’em, so I guess this’ll stand. Fait accompli. At least we can play a role. Help see the job’s done right.”
Already, the rumbling beneath their feet had begun to diminish. Nearby, the cacophony of Gubru squawking rose in strident tones to replace it. But the Grand Examiner appeared unmoved. Already she was busy with her assistants, ordering records gathered, detailing followup tests to be made, and dictating urgent messages to Institute headquarters.
“And we must help Kault inform his clan,” she added. “They will no doubt be surprised at this news.”
Fiben saw the Suzerain of Beam and Talon stalk off to a nearby Gubru flyer and depart at top speed. The boom of displaced air ruffled the feathers of the avians who remained behind.
It happened then that Fiben’s gaze met that of the Suzerain of Propriety, staring down from its lonely perch. The alien stood more erect now. It ignored the babbling of its fellows and watched Fiben with a steady, unblinking yellow eye.
Fiben bowed. After a moment, the alien politely inclined its head in return.
Above the pinnacle and the crooning gorillas—now officially the youngest citizens of the Civilization of the Five Galaxies—the opalescent oval shrank back into the narrowing funnel. It diminished, but not before those present were treated to yet one more sight none had ever seen before … one they were not likely ever to see again.
Up there in the sky, the image of the Thennanin and those of the chim and human all looked at each other. Then the Thennanin’s head rocked back and he actually laughed.
Richly, deeply, sharing hilarity with its diminutive partners, the leathery figure chortled. It roared.
Among the stunned onlookers, only Uthacalthing and Robert Oneagle felt like joining in as the ghostly creature above did what Thennanin were never known to do. The image kept right on laughing even as it faded back, back, to be swallowed up at last by the closing hole in space and covered by the returning stars.
PART SIX
Citizens
I am a kind of farthing dip,
Unfriendly to the nose and eyes;
A blue-behinded ape, I skip
Upon the trees of Paradise.
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, “A PORTRAIT”
92
Galactics
“They exist. They have substance! They are!”
The assembled Gubru officials and officers bobbed their downy heads and cried out in unison.
“Zooon!”
“This prize was denied us, honor was set aside, opportunity abandoned, all in the name of penny-pinching, miserly bean-counting! Now the cost will be greater, multiplied, exponentiated!”
The Suzerain of Cost and Caution stood miserably in the corner, listening amid a small crowd of loyal assistants while it was berated from all sides. It shivered each time the conclave turned and shouted its refrain.
The Suzerain of Propriety stood tall upon its perch. It stepped back and forth, fluffing up to best display the new color that had begun to show under its molting plumage. The assembled Gubru and Kwackoo reacted to that shade with chirps of passionate devotion.
“And now a derelict, recalcitrant, stubborn one forestalls our Molt and consensus, out of which we might at least regain something. Gain honor and allies. Gain peace!”
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 aggrava
ting 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 consultants.”
“I hope the Council holds out for a good price.”
“Beggars 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 crafting 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 everybody 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 De 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. S
oon, 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!”
