The Uplift War u-3 Page 14

  “We may need their help.”

  17

  Fiben

  Fiben had managed to fashion a crutch out of shattered tree limbs lying near the furrow torn up by his escape pod. Cushioned by tatters of his ship-suit, the crutch jarred his shoulder only partially out of joint each time He leaned on it.

  Hummph, he thought. If the humans hadn’t straightened our spines and shortened our arms I could’ve knuckle-walked back to civilization.

  Dazed, bruised, hungry… actually, Fiben was in a pretty good mood as he picked his way through obstacles on his way northward. Hell, I’m alive. I can’t really complain.

  He had spent quite a lot of time in the Mountains of Mulun,.doing ecological studies for the Restoration Project, so he could tell that he had to be in the right watershed, not too far from known lands. The varieties of vegetation were all quite recognizable, mostly native plants but also some that had been imported and released into the ecosystem to fill gaps left by the Bururalli Holocaust.

  Fiben felt optimistic. To have survived this far, even up to crash-landing in familiar territory … it made him certain that Ifhi had further plans for him. She had to be saving him for something special. Probably a fate that would be particularly annoying and much more painful than mere starvation in the wilderness.

  Fiben’s ears perked and he looked up. Could he have imagined that sound?

  No! Those were voices! He stumbled down the game path, alternately skipping and pole-vaulting on his makeshift crutch, until he came to a sloped clearing overlooking a steep canyon.

  Minutes passed as he peered. The rain forest was so damn dense!

  There! On the other side, about halfway downslope, six chims wearing backpacks could be seen moving rapidly through the forest, heading toward some of the still smoldering wreckage of TAASF Proconsul. Right now they were quiet. It was just a lucky break they had spoken as they passed below his position.

  “Hey! Dummies! Over here!” He hopped on his right foot and waved his arms, shouting. The search party stopped. The chim’s looked about, blinking as the echoes bounced around the narrow defile. Fiben’s teeth bared and he couldn’t help growling low in frustration. They were looking everywhere but in his direction!

  Finally, he picked up the crutch, whirled it above his head, and threw it out over the canyon.

  One of the chims exclaimed, grabbing another. They watched the tumbling branch crash into the forest. That’s right, Fiben urged. Now think. Retrace the arc backwards.

  Two of the searchers pointed up his way and saw him waving. They shrieked in excitement, capering in circles.

  Forgetting momentarily his own little regression, Fiben muttered under his breath. “Just my luck to be rescued by a bunch of grunts. Come on, guys. Let’s not make a thunder dance out of it.”

  Still, he grinned when they neared his hillside clearing. And in all the subsequent hugging and backslapping he forgot himself and let out a few glad hoots of his own.

  18

  Uthacalthing

  His little pinnace was the last craft to take off from the Port Helenia space-field. Already detection screens showed battle cruisers descending into the lower atmosphere.

  Back at the port, a small force of militiamen and Terragens Marines prepared to make a futile last stand. Their defiance was broadcast on all channels.

  “… We deny the invader’s rights to land here. We claim the protection of Galactic Civilization against their aggression. We refuse the Gubru permission to set down on our legal lease-hold.

  “In earnest of this, a small, armed, Formal Resistance Detachment awaits the invaders at the capital spaceport. Our challenge…”

  Uthacalthing guided his pinnace with nonchalant nudges on the wrist and thumb controllers. The tiny ship raced southward along the coast of the Sea of Cilmar, faster than sound. Bright sunshine reflected off the broad waters to his right.

  … should they dare to face us being to being, not cowering in their battleships…

  Uthacalthing nodded. “Tell them, Earthlings,” he said softly in Anglic. The detachment commander had sought his advice in phrasing the ritual challenge. He hoped he had been of help.

  The broadcast went on to list the numbers and types of weapons awaiting the descending armada at the spaceport, so the enemy would have no justification for using overpowering force. Under circumstances such as these, the Gubru would have no choice but to assail the defenders with ground troops. And they would have to take casualties.

  If the Codes still hold, Uthacalthing reminded himself. The enemy may not care about the Rules of War any longer. It was hard to imagine such a situation. But there had been rumors from across the far starlanes…

  A row of display screens rimmed his cockpit. One showed cruisers coming into view of Port Helenia’s public news cameras. Others showed fast fighters tearing up the sky right over the spaceport.

  Behind him Uthacalthing heard a low keening as two stilt-like Ynnin commiserated with each other. Those creatures, at least, had been able to fit into Tymbrimi-type seats. But their hulking master had to stand.

  Kault did not just stand, he paced the narrow cabin, his crest inflating until it bumped the low ceiling, again and again. The Thennanin was not in a good mood.

  “Why, Uthacalthing?” he muttered for what was not the first time. “Why did you delay for so long? We were the very last to get out of there!”

  Kault’s breathing vents puffed. “You told me we would leave night before last! I hurried to gather a few possessions and be ready and you did not come! I waited. I missed opportunities to hire other transport while you sent message after message urging patience. And then, when you came at last after dawn, we departed as blithely as if we were on a holiday ride to the Progenitors’ Arch!”

  Uthacalthing let his colleague grumble on. He had already made formal apologies and paid diplomatic gild in compensation. No more was required of him.

  Besides, things were going just the way he had planned them to.

  A yellow light flashed on the control board, and a tone began to hum.

  “What is that?” Kault shuffled forward in agitation. “Have they detected our engines?”

  “No.” And Kault sighed in relief.

  Uthacalthing went on. “It isn’t the engines. That light means we’ve just been scanned by a probability beam.”

  “What?” Kault nearly screamed. “Isn’t this vessel shielded? You aren’t even using gravities! What anomalous probability could they have picked up?”

  Uthacalthing shrugged, as if the human gesture had been born to him. “Perhaps the unlikelihood is intrinsic,” he suggested. “Perhaps it is something about us, about our own fate, that is glowing along the worldlines. That may be what they detect.”

  Out of his right eye he saw Kault shiver. The Thennanin race seemed to have an almost superstitious dread of anything having to do with the art/science of reality-shaping. Uthacalthing allowed looth’troo — apology to one’s enemy — to form gently within his tendrils, and reminded himself that his people and Kault’s were officially at war. It was within his rights to tease his enemy-and-friend, as it had been ethically acceptable earlier, when he had arranged for Kault’s own ship to be sabotaged.

  “I shouldn’t worry about it,” he suggested. “We’ve got a good head start.”

  Before the Thennanin could reply, Uthacalthing bent forward and spoke rapidly in GalSeven, causing one of the screens to expand its image.

  “ThwiU’kou-chlliou!” he cursed. “Look at what they are doing!”

  Kault turned and stared. The holo-display showed giant cruisers hovering over the capital city, pouring brown vapor over the buildings and parks. Though the volume was turned down, they could hear panic in the voice of the news announcer as he described the darkening skies, as if anyone in Port Helenia needed his interpretation.

  “This is not well.” Kault’s crest bumped the ceiling more rapidly. “The Gubru are being more severe than the situation or their war rights
here merit.”

  Uthacalthing nodded. But before he could speak another yellow light winked on.

  “What is it now?” Kault sighed.

  Uthacalthing’s eyes were at their widest separation. “It means we are being chased by pursuit craft,” he replied. “We may be in for a fight. Can you work a class fifty-seven weapons console,, Kault?”

  “No, but I believe one of my Ynnin—”

  His reply was interrupted as Uthacalthing shouted, “Hold on!” and turned on the pinnace’s gravities. The ground screamed past under them. “I am beginning evasive maneuvers,” he called out.

  “Good,” Kault whispered through his neck vents.

  Oh, bless the Thennanin thick skull, Uthacalthing thought.

  He kept control over his facial expression, though he knew his colleague had the empathy sensitivity of a stone and could not pick up his joy.

  As the. pursuing ships started firing on them, his corona began to sing.

  19

  Athaclena

  Green fingers of forest merged with the lawns and leafy-colored buildings of the Center, as if the establishment were intended to be inconspicuous from the air. Although a wind from the west had finally driven away the last visible shreds of the invader’s aerosol, a thin film of gritty powder covered everything below a height of five meters, giving off a tangy, unpleasant odor.

  Athaclena’s corona no longer shrank under an overriding roar of panic. The mood had changed amid the buildings. There was a thread of resignation now… and intelligent anger.

  She followed Benjamin toward the first clearing, where she caught sight of small groups of neo-chimps running pigeon-toed within the inner compound. One pair hurried by carrying a muffled burden on a stretcher.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t go down there after all, miss,” Benjamin rasped. “I mean it’s obvious the gas was designed to affect humans, but even us chims feel a bit woozy from it. You’re pretty important …”

  “I am Tymbrimi,” Athaclena answered coolly. “I cannot sit here while I am needed by clients and by my peers.”

  Benjamin bowed in acquiescence. He led her down a stairlike series of branches until she set foot with some relief on the ground. The pungent odor was thicker here. Atnaclena tried to ignore it, but her pulse pounded from nervousness.

  They passed what had to have been facilities for housing and training gorillas. There were fenced enclosures, playgrounds, testing areas. Clearly an intense if small-scale effort had gone on here. Had Benjamin really imagined that he could fool her simply by sending the pre-sentient apes into the jungle to hide?

  She hoped none of them had been hurt by the gas, or in the panicky aftermath. She remembered from her brief History of Earthmen class that gorillas, although strong, were also notoriously sensitive — even fragile — creatures.

  Chims dressed in shorts, sandals, and the ubiquitous tool-bandoleers hurried to and fro on serious errands. A few stared at Athaclena as she approached, but they did not stop to speak. In fact, she heard very few words at all.

  Stepping lightly through the dark dust, they arrived at the center of the encampment. There, at last, she and her guide encountered humans. They lay on couches on the steps of the main building, a mel and a fem. The male human’s head was entirely hairless, and his eyes bore traces of epicanthic folding. He looked barely conscious.

  The other “man” was a tall, dark-haired female. Her skin was very black — a deep, rich shade Athaclena had never encountered before. Probably she was one of those rare “pure breed” humans who retained the characteristics of their ancient “races.” In contrast, the skin color of the chims standing next to her was almost pale pink, under their patchy covering of brown hair.

  With the help of two older-looking chims, the black woman managed to prop herself up on one elbow as Athaclena approached. Benjamin stepped forward to make the introductions.

  “Dr. Taka, Dr. Schultz, Dr. M’Bzwelli, Chim Frederick, all of the Terran Wolfling Clan, I present you to the respected Athaclena, a Tymbrimi ab-Caltmour ab-Brma ab-Krallnith ul-Tytlal.”

  Athaclena glanced at Benjamin, surprised he was able to recite her species honorific from memory.

  “Dr. Schultz,” Athaclena said, nodding to the chim on the left. To the woman she bowed slightly lower. “Dr. Taka.” With one last head incline she took in the other human and chim. “Dr. M’Bzwelli and Chim Frederick. Please accept my condolences over the cruelty visited on your settlement and your world.”

  The chims bowed low. The woman tried to, as well, but she failed in her weakness.

  “Thank you for your sentiments,” she replied, laboriously. “We Earthlings will muddle through, I’m sure. … I do admit I’m a little surprised to see the daughter of the Tymbrimi ambassador pop out of nowhere right now.”

  I’ll just bet you are, Athaclena thought in Anglic, enjoying, this once, the flavor of human-style sarcasm. My presence is nearly as much a disaster to your plans as the Gubru and their gas!

  “I have an injured friend,” she said aloud. “Three of your neo-chimpanzees went after him, some time ago. Have you heard anything from them?”

  The woman nodded. “Yes, yes. We just had a pulse from the search party. Robert Oneagle is conscious and stable. Another group we had sent to seek out a downed flyer will be joining them shortly, with full medical equipment.”

  Athaclena felt a tense worry unwrap in the corner of her mind where she had put it. “Good. Very good. Then I wil turn to other matters.’

  Her corona’blossomed out as she formed kuouwassooe, the glyph of presentiment — though she knew these folk would barely catch its fringes, if at all.

  “First, as a member of a race that has been in alliance with yours ever since you wolflings burst so loudly upon the Five Galaxies, I offer my assistance during this emergency. What I can do as a fellow patron, I shall do, requiring in return only whatever help you can give me in getting in touch with my father.”

  “Done.” Dr. Taka nodded. “Done and with our thanks.”

  Athaclena took a step forward. “Second — I must exclaim my dismay on discovering the function of this Center. I find you are engaged in unsanctioned Uplift activities on … on a fallow species!”

  The four directors looked at each other. By now Athaclena could read human expressions well enough to know their chagrined resignation. “Furthermore,” she went on, “I note that you had the poor taste to commit this crime on the planet Garth, a tragic victim of past ecological abuse—”

  “Now just a minute!” Chim Frederick protested. “How can you compare what we’re doing with the holocaust of the Burur—”

  “Fred, be quiet!” Dr. Schultz, the other chim, cut in urgently.

  Frederick blinked. Realizing it was too late to take back the interruption, he muttered on. “. . . th’ only planets Earthclan’s been allowed to settle have been other Eatees’ messes. …”

  The second human, Dr. M’Bzwelli, started coughing. Frederick shut up and turned away.

  The human male looked up at Athaclena. “You have us against the wall, miss.” He sighed. “Can we ask you to let us explain before you press charges? We’re… we’re not representatives of our government, you understand. We are… private criminals.”

  Athaclena felt a funny sort of relief. Old pre-Contact Earthling flat movies — especially those copsandrobbers thrillers so popular among the Tymbrimi — often seemed to revolve around some ancient lawbreaker attempting to “silence the witness.” A part of her had wondered just how atavistic these people actually were.

  She exhaled deeply and nodded. “Very well, then. The question can be put aside during the present emergency. Please tell me the situation here. What is the enemy trying to accomplish with this gas?”

  “It weakens any human who breathes it,” Dr. Taka answered. “There was a broadcast an hour ago. The invader announced that affected humans must receive the antidote within one week, or die.

  “Of course they are offering the antidote only in urb
an areas.

  “Hostage gas!” Athaclena whispered. “They want all the planet’s humans as pawns.”

  “Exactly. We must ingather or drop dead in six days.”

  Athaclena’s corona sparked anger. Hostage gas was an irresponsible weapon, even if it was legal under “certain limited types of war.

  “What will happen to your clients?” Neo-chimps were only a few centuries old and should not be left unwatched in the wilderness.

  Dr. Taka grimaced, obviously worried as well. “Most chims seem unaffected by the gas. But they have so few natural leaders, such as Benjamin or Dr. Schultz here.”

  Schultz’s brown, simian eyes looked down at his human friend. “Not to worry, Susan. We will, as you say, muddle through.” He turned back to Athaclena. “We’re evacuating the humans in stages, starting with the children and old folks tonight. Meanwhile, we’ll start destroying this compound and all traces of what’s happened here.”

  Seeing that Athaclena was about to object, the elderly neo-chimp raised his hand. “Yes, miss. We will provide you with cameras and assistants, so you may collect your evidence, first. Will that do? We would not dream of thwarting you in your duty.”

  Athaclena sensed the chim geneticist’s bitterness. But she had no sympathy for him, imagining how her father would feel when he learned of this. Uthacalthing liked Earthlings.’ This irresponsible criminality would wound him deeply.

  “No sense in handing the Gubru a justification for their aggression,” Dr. Taka added. “The matter of the gorillas can go to the Tymbrimi Grand Council, if you wish. Our allies may then decide where to go from there, whether to press formal charges or leave our punishment to our own government.”

  Athaclena saw the logic in it. After a moment she nodded. “That will do, then. Bring me your cameras and I shall record this burning.”