Barring perhaps a few of the sentient, semi-vegetable Kanten, the Tymbrimi were the Galactics who knew Earthlings best. Nevertheless, Athaclena blinked in surprise, uncertain just what it was she was seeing.
Closest to the trunk of that tree sat an adult female neo-chimpanzee—a “chimmie”—dressed only in shorts, holding a chim baby in her arms. The little mother’s brown eyes were wide with fear.
Next to them was a small, smooth-skinned human child dressed in denim overalls. The little blond girl smiled back at Athaclena, shyly.
But it was the fourth and last being in the other tree that had Athaclena confused.
She recalled a neo-dolphin sound-sculpture her father had brought home to Tymbrim from his travels. This was just after that episode of the ceremony of Acceptance and Choice of the Tytlal, when she had behaved so strangely up in that extinct volcano caldera. Perhaps Uthacalthing had wanted to play the sound-sculpting for her to draw her out of her moodiness—to prove to her that the Earthly cetaceans were actually charming creatures, not to be feared. He had told her to close her eyes and just let the song wash over her.
Whatever his motive, it had had the opposite effect. For in listening to the wild, untamed patterns, she had suddenly found herself immersed in an ocean, hearing an angry sea squall gather. Even opening her eyes, seeing that she still sat in the family listening room, did not help. For the first time in her life, sound overwhelmed vision.
Athaclena had never listened to the cube again, nor known anything else quite so strange … until encountering the eerie metaphorical landscape within Robert Oneagle’s mind, that is.
Now she felt that way again! For while the fourth creature across from her looked, at first, like a very large chimpanzee, her corona was telling quite another story.
It cannot be!
Calmly, placidly, the brown eyes looked back at her. The being obviously far outweighed all the others combined, yet it held the human child on its lap delicately, carefully. When the little girl squirmed, the big creature merely snorted and shifted slightly, neither letting go nor taking its gaze from Athaclena. Unlike normal chimpanzees, its face was very black.
Ignoring her aches, Athaclena edged forward slowly so as not to alarm them. “Hello,” she said carefully in Anglic.
The human child smiled again and ducked her head shyly against her furry protector’s massive chest. The neo-chimp mother cringed back in apparent fear.
The massive creature with the high, flattened face merely nodded twice and snorted again.
It fizzed with Potential!
Athaclena had only once before encountered a species living in that narrow zone between animal and accepted client-class sophont. It was a very rare state in the Five Galaxies, for any newly discovered pre-sentient species was soon registered and licensed to some starfaring clan for Uplift and indenture.
It dawned on Athaclena that this being was already far along toward sentience!
But the gap from animal to thinker was supposed to be impossible to cross alone! True, some humans still clung to quaint ideas from the ignorant days before Contact—theories proposing that true intelligence could be “evolved.” But Galactic science assured that the threshold could only be passed with the aid of another race, one who had already crossed it.
So it had been all the way back to the fabled days of the first race—the Progenitors—billions of years ago.
But nobody had ever traced patrons for the humans. That was why they were called k’chu-non … wolflings. Might their old idea contain a germ of truth? If so, might this creature also …?
Ah, no! Why did I not see it at once?
Athaclena suddenly knew this beast was not a natural find. It was not the fabled “Garthling” her father had asked her to seek. The family resemblance was simply too unmistakable.
She was looking at a gathering of cousins, sitting together on that branch high above the Gubru vapors. Human, neo-chimpanzees, and … what?
She tried to recall what her father had said about humanity’s license to occupy their homeworld, the Earth. After Contact, the Institutes had granted recognition of mankind’s de facto tenancy. Still, there were Fallow Rules and other restrictions, she was certain.
And a few special Earth species had been mentioned in particular.
The great beast radiated Potential like … A metaphor came to Athaclena, of a beacon burning in the tree across from her. Searching her memory Tymbrimi fashion, she at last drew forth the name she had been looking for.
“Pretty thing,” she asked softly. “You are a gorilla, aren’t you?”
16
The Howletts Center
The beast tossed its great head and snorted. Next to it, the mother chimp whimpered softly and regarded Athaclena with obvious dread.
But the little human girl clapped her hands, sensing a game. “ ’Rilla! Jonny’s a ’rilla! Like me!” The child’s small fists thumped her chest. She threw back her head and crowed a high-pitched, ululating yell.
A gorilla. Athaclena looked at the giant, silent creature in wonderment, trying to remember what she had been told in passing so long ago.
Its dark nostrils flared as it sniffed in Athaclena’s direction, and used its free hand to make quick, subtle hand signs to the human child.
“Jonny wants to know if you’re going to be in charge, now,” the little girl lisped. “I hope so. You sure looked tired when you stopped chasing Benjamin. Did he do something bad? He got away, you know.”
Athaclena moved a little closer. “No,” she said. “Benjamin didn’t do anything bad. At least not since I met him—though I am beginning to suspect—”
Athaclena stopped. Neither the child nor the gorilla would understand what she now suspected. But the adult chim knew, clearly, and her eyes showed fear.
“I’m April,” the small human told her. “An’ that’s Nita. Her baby’s name is Cha-Cha. Sometimes chimmies give their babies easy names to start ’cause they don’t talk so good at first,” she confided.
Her eyes seemed to shine as she looked at Athaclena, “Are you really a Tym … bim … Tymmbimmie?”
Athaclena nodded. “I am Tymbrimi.”
April clapped her hands. “Ooh. They’re goodguys! Did you see the big spaceship? It came with a big boom, and Daddy made me go with Jonny, and then there was gas and Jonny put his hand over my mouth and I couldn’t breathe!”
April made a scrunched up face, pantomiming suffocation.
“He let go when we were up in th’ trees, though. We found Nita an’ Cha-Cha.” She glanced over at the chims. “I guess Nita’s still too scared to talk much.”
“Were you frightened too?” Athaclena asked.
April nodded seriously. “Yeth. But I had to stop being scared. I was th’ only man here, and I hadda be in charge, and take care of ever’body.
“Can you be in charge now? You’re a really pretty Tymbimmie.”
The little girl’s shyness returned. She partly buried herself against Jonny’s massive chest, smiling out at Athaclena with only one eye showing.
Athaclena could not help staring. She had never until now realized this about human beings—of what they were capable. In spite of her people’s alliance with the Terrans, she had picked up some of the common Galactic prejudice, imagining that the “wolflings” were still somehow feral, bestial. Many Galactics thought it questionable that humans were truly ready to be patrons. No doubt the Gubru had expressed that belief in their War Manifesto.
This child shattered that image altogether. By law and custom, little April had been in charge of her clients, no matter how young she was. And her understanding of that responsibility was clear.
Still, Athaclena now knew why both Robert and Benjamin had been anxious not to lead her here. She suppressed her initial surge of righteous anger. Later, she would have to find a way to get word to her father, after she had verified her suspicions.
She was almost beginning to feel Tymbrimi again as the gheer reaction gave way to a m
ere dull burning along her muscles and neural pathways. “Did any other humans make it into the trees?” she asked.
Jonny made a quick series of hand signs. April interpreted, although the little girl may not have clearly understood the implications. “He says a few tried. But they weren’t fast enough.… Most of em just ran aroun’ doin’ ‘Man-Things.’ That’s what ’rillas call the stuff humans do that ’rillas don’t understand,” she confided lowly.
At last the mother chim, Nita, spoke. “The g-gas …” She swallowed. “Th’ gas m-made the humans weak.” Her voice was barely audible. “Some of us chims felt it a little.… I don’t think the ’rillas were bothered.”
So. Perhaps Athaclena’s original surmise about the gas was correct. She had suspected it was not intended to be immediately lethal. Mass slaughter of civilians was something generally frowned upon by the Institute for Civilized Warfare. Knowing the Gubru, the intent was probably much more insidious than that.
There was a cracking sound to her right. The large male chim, Benjamin, dropped onto a branch two trees away. He called out to Athaclena.
“It’s okay now, miss! I found Dr. Taka and Dr. Schultz. They’re anxious to talk to you!”
Athaclena motioned for him to approach. “Please come here first, Benjamin.”
With typical Pongo exaggeration, Benjamin let out a long-suffering sigh. He leaped branch to branch until he came into view of the three apes and the human girl. Then his jaw dropped and his balancing grip almost slipped. Frustration wrote across his face. He turned to Athaclena, licking his lips, and cleared his throat.
“Don’t bother,” she told him. “I know you have spent the last twenty minutes trying, in the midst of all this turmoil, to arrange to have the truth hidden. But it was to no avail. I know what has been going on here.”
Benjamin’s mouth clapped shut. Then he shrugged. “So?” he sighed.
To the four on the branch Athaclena asked, “Do you accept my authority?”
“Yeth,” April said. Nita glanced from Athaclena to the human child, then nodded.
“All right, then. Stay where you are until somebody comes for you. Do you understand?”
“Yes’m.” Nita nodded again. Jonny and Cha-Cha merely looked back at her.
Athaclena stood up, finding her balance on the branch, and turned to Benjamin. “Now let us talk to these Uplift specialists of yours. If the gas has not completely incapacitated them, I’ll be interested to hear why they have chosen to violate Galactic Law.”
Benjamin looked defeated. He nodded resignedly.
“Also,” Athaclena told him as she landed on the branch next to him. “You had better catch up with the chims and gorillas you sent away—in order that I would not see them. They should be called back.
“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 Ifni 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 chims 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 n
ot 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 gravitics! 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.