Oh, humans were sure to claim that the choice made today had been rigged. And probably more than half of the clans in the Five Galaxies would believe it. But that wouldn’t change anything. The choice would still stand! The alternative would be to discredit the entire system. Stellar civilization was under such pressure, right now, that it could not stand much further strain.
In fact, quite a few clans might decide that there had already been quite enough trouble over one little tribe of wolflings. Whatever the rights and wrongs, there would be substantial sentiment for ending the problem, once and for all.
It came to Gailet all in a rush. The Gubru did not merely want to become chims’ new stage consort “protectors.” They meant to bring about the extinction of humanity. Once that was accomplished, her own people would be up for adoption, and she had little doubt how that would go!
Gailet’s heart pounded. She struggled not to turn in the direction Irongrip was guiding her, but to no avail. She prayed that she would have a stroke.
Let me die!
Her life hardly mattered. They certainly planned to have her “disappear” immediately after the ceremony anyway, to dispose of the evidence. Oh, Goodall and Ifni, strike me down now! She wanted to scream.
At that moment, words came. The words … but it was not her voice that spoke them.
“Stop! An injustice is being done, and I demand a hearing!”
Gailet had not thought her heart could beat any quicker, but now tachycardia made her feel faint. Oh God, let it be …
She heard Irongrip curse and let go of her hand. That alone brought her joy. There was the sound of squawking Gubru anger, and high “eeps” of chim surprise. Someone—Michaela, she realized—took her arm and turned her around.
It was full night now. Scattered clouds were underlit by the bright beacons of the mound, and by the turbulent, lambent tunnel of energy now taking form above the artificial mountain. Into the stark light of the floater car’s headlamps a solitary neo-chimpanzee in a dust-coated formal robe approached from the last test station. He wiped sweat from his brow and strode purposefully toward the three surprised officials.
Fiben, Gailet thought. Dazed, she found that old habits were the first to reassert themselves. Oh, Fiben, don’t swagger! Try to remember your protocol.…
When she realized what she was doing, Gailet suddenly giggled in a brief wave of hysteria. It shook her partially free of her immobility, and she managed to lift her hand to cover her mouth. “Oh, Fiben,” she sighed.
Irongrip growled, but the new arrival only ignored the Probationer. Fiben caught her eye and winked. It struck Gailet how the gesture that had once so infuriated her now made her knees feel weak with joy.
He stepped before the three officials and bowed low. Then, with hands clasped respectfully, Fiben awaited permission to speak.
“—dishonorable, incorrigible, impermissible interruptions—” the Gubru’s vodor boomed. “We demand immediate removal and sanction, punishment—”
The noise suddenly cut off as the Grand Examiner used one of her forward arms to reach up and switch the vodor off She stepped daintily forward and addressed Fiben.
“Young one, I congratulate you on making your way up to this place all alone. Your ascent provided much of the excitement and unconventionality that is making this one of the most memorable of all ceremonies on record. By virtue of your test scores and other accomplishments, you have earned a place on this pinnacle.” The Serentini crossed two arms and lowered her forebody. “Now,” she said as she rose again, “can we assume that you have a complaint to voice? One important enough to explain such abruptness of tone?”
Gailet tensed. The Grand Examiner might be sympathetic, but there was a veiled threat implied in those words. Fiben had better make this good. One mistake and he could make matters even worse than before.
Fiben bowed again. “I—I respectfully request an explanation of … of how the race-representatives were chosen.”
Not too bad. Still, Gailet struggled against her conditioning. If only she could step forward and help!
For some time the dim slopes beyond the circle of lights had begun to fill with the Galactic dignitaries—those who had departed earlier to watch unknown events downslope. Now they were all hushed, watching a humble client from one of the newest of all species demand answers from a lord of the Institute.
The Grand Examiner’s voice was patient when she answered. “It is traditional for the ceremony sponsors to select a pair from among those who pass all trials. While it is true that the sponsors are, on this occasion, declared enemies of your clan, their enmity will officially end upon completion of the rites. Peace will exist between the clan of Terrans and that of Gooksyu-Gubru. Do you object to this, young one?”
“No.” Fiben shook his head. “Not to that. I just want to know this: Do we absolutely have to accept the sponsors’ choice as our representatives?”
The Gubru emissary immediately squawked indignantly. The chims looked at one another in surprise. Irongrip muttered, “When this is over, I’m gonna take that little frat boy an’ …”
The Examiner waved for silence. Its many-faceted eyes focused upon Fiben. “Young one, what would you do, were it up to your Would you have us put it to a vote of your peers?”
Fiben bowed. “I would, your honor.”
This time the Gubru’s shriek was positively painful to the ear. Gailet tried once again to step forward, but Irongrip held her arm tightly. She was forced to stand there, listening to the Probationer’s muttered curses.
The Serentini official spoke at last. “Although I am sympathetic, I cannot see how I can allow your request. Without precedent—”
“But there is precedent!”
It was a new, deep voice, coming from the dim slope behind the officials. From the crowd of Galactic visitors four figures now emerged into the light, and if Gailet had felt surprise before, now she could only stare in disbelief.
Uthacalthing!
The slender Tymbrimi was accompanied by a bearded human mel whose ill-fitting formal robe had probably been borrowed from some bipedal but not quite humanoid Galactic and was thrown over what seemed to be animal skins. Beside the young man walked a neo-chimp who had obvious trouble standing completely erect and who bore many of the stigmata of atavism. The chim hung back when they approached the clearing, as if he knew he did not belong on this ground.
It was the fourth being—a towering figure whose bright, inflated crest ballooned upward in dignity—who bowed casually and addressed the Grand Examiner.
“I see you, Cough*Quinn’3 of the Uplift Institute.”
The Serentini bowed back. “I see you, honored Ambassador Kault of the Thennanin, and you, Uthacalthing of the Tymbrimi, and your companions. It is pleasant to witness your safe arrival.”
The big Thennanin spread his arms apart. “I thank your honor for allowing me to use your transmitting facilities to contact my clan, after so long an enforced isolation.”
“This is neutral ground,” the Uplift official said. “I also know that there are serious matters regarding this planet which you wish to press with the Institute, once this ceremony is at an end.
“But for now, I must insist we maintain pertinence. Will you please explain the remark you made on your arrival?”
Kault gestured toward Uthacalthing. “This respected envoy represents the race which has served as stage consort and protector to the neo-chimpanzees ever since their wolfling patrons encountered Galactic society. I shall let him tell you.”
All at once Gailet noticed how tired Uthacalthing looked. The tym’s usually expressive tendrils lay flat, and his eyes were set close together. It was with obvious effort that he stepped forward and offered a small, black cube. “Here are the references,” he began.
A robot came forward and plucked the data out of his hand. From that instant the Institute’s staff would be inspecting the citations. The Examiner herself listened attentively to Uthacalthing.
“The references will show that, very early in Galactic history, Uplift Ceremonies evolved out of the Progenitors’ desire to protect themselves from moral fault. They who began the process we now know as Uplift frequently consulted with their client races, as humans do with theirs, today. And the clients’ representatives were never imposed upon them.”
Uthacalthing gestured toward the assembled chims.
“Strictly speaking, the ceremonial sponsors are making a suggestion, when they make their selection. The clients, having passed all the tests appropriate to their stage, are legally permitted to ignore the choice. In the purest sense, this plateau is their territory. We are here as their guests.”
Gailet saw that the Galactic observers were agitated. Many consulted their own datawells, accessing the precedents Uthacalthing had provided. Polylingual chatter spread around the periphery. A new floater arrived, carrying several Gubru and a portable communications unit. Obviously, the invaders were doing furious research of their own.
All this time the power of the hyperspace shunt could be felt building just upslope. The low rumbling was now omnipresent, making Gailet’s tendons quiver in imposed rhythm.
The Grand Examiner turned to the nominal human official, Cordwainer Appelbe. “In the name of your clan, do you support this request for a departure from normal procedure?”
Appelbe bit his lower lip. He looked at Uthacalthing, then at Fiben, then back at the Tymbrimi Ambassador. Then, for the first time, the man actually smiled. “Hell, yes! I sure do!” he said in Anglic. Then he blushed and switched to carefully phrased Galactic Seven. “In the name of my clan, I support Ambassador Uthacalthing’s request.”
The Examiner turned away to hear a report from her staff. When she came back the entire hillside was hushed. Suspense held them all riveted until she bowed to Fiben.
“Precedent is, indeed, interpretable in favor of your request. Shall I ask your comrades to indicate their choice by hand? Or by secret ballot?”
“Right!” came an Anglic whisper. The young human who had accompanied Uthacalthing grinned and gave Fiben a thumbs-up sign. Fortunately, none of the Galactics were looking that way to witness the impertinence.
Fiben forced a serious expression and bowed again. “Oh, a hand vote will do nicely, your honor. Thank you.”
Gailet was more bemused than anything as the election was held. She tried hard to decline her own nomination, but the same captation, the same implacable force that had kept her from speaking earlier made her unable to withdraw her name. She was chosen unanimously.
The contest for male representative was straightforward as well. Fiben faced Irongrip, looking calmly up into the tall Probationer’s fierce eyes. Gailet found that the best she could make herself do was abstain, causing several of the others to look at her in surprise.
Nevertheless, she almost sobbed with relief when the poll came in nine to three … in favor of Fiben Bolger. When he finally approached, Gailet sagged into his arms and sobbed.
“There. There,” he said. And it wasn’t so much the cliché as the sound of his voice that comforted her. “I told you I’d come back, didn’t I?”
She sniffed and rubbed away tears as she nodded. One cliché deserved another. She touched his cheek, and her voice was only slightly sardonic as she said, “My hero.”
The other chims—all except the outnumbered Probies—gathered around, pressing close in a jubilant mass. For the first time it began to look as if the eeremony just might turn into a celebration after all.
They formed ranks, two by two, behind Fiben and Gailet, and started forth along the final path toward the pinnacle where, quite soon, there would be a physical link from this world to spaces far, far away.
That was when a shrill whistle echoed over the small plateau. A new hover car landed in front of the chims, blocking their path. “Oh, no,” Fiben groaned. For he instantly recognized the barge carrying the three Suzerains of the Gubru invasion force.
The Suzerain of Propriety looked dejected. It drooped on its perch, unable to lift its head even to look down at them. The other two rulers, however, hopped nimbly onto the ground and tersely addressed the Examiner.
“We, as well, wish to present, offer, bring forward … a precedent!”
91
Fiben
How easily is defeat snatched from the jaws of victory?
Fiben wondered about that as he stripped out of his formal robe and allowed two of the chims to rub oil into his shoulders. He stretched and tried to hope that he would remember enough from his old wrestling days to make a difference.
I’m too old for this, he thought. And it’s been a long, hard day.
The Gubru hadn’t been kidding when they gleefully announced that they had found an out. Gailet tried to explain it to him while he got ready. As usual, it all seemed to have to do with an abstraction.
“As I see it, Fiben, the Galactics don’t reject the idea of evolution itself, just evolution of intelligence. They believe in something like what we used to call “Darwinism” for creatures all the way up to pre-sentients. What’s more, it’s assumed that nature is wise in the way she forces every species to demonstrate its fitness in the wild.”
Fiben sighed. “Please get to the point, Gailet. Just tell me why I have to go face to face against that momzer. Isn’t trial-by-combat pretty silly, even by Eatee standards?”
She shook her head. For a little while she had seemed to suffer from speechlock. But that had disappeared as her mind slipped into the familiar pedantic mode.
“No, it isn’t. Not if you look at it carefully. You see, one of the risks a patron race runs in uplifting a new client species all the way to starfaring intelligence is that by meddling too much it may deprive the client of its essence, of the very fitness that made it a candidate for Uplift in the first place.”
“You mean—”
“I mean that the Gubru can accuse humans of doing this to chims, and the only way to disprove it is by showing that we can still be passionate, and tough, and physically strong.”
“But I thought all those tests—”
Gailet shook her head. “They showed that everyone on this plateau meets the criteria for Stage Three. Even”—Gailet grimaced as she seemed to have to fight for the words—“even those Probies are superior, at least in most of the ways Institute regulations test for. They’re only deficient by our own, quaint, Earth standards.”
“Such as decency and body odor. Yeah. But I still don’t get—”
“Fiben, the Institute really doesn’t care who actually steps into the shunt, not once we’ve passed all its tests. If the Gubru want our male race-representative to prove he’s better by one more criterion—that of ‘fitness’—well it’s precedented all right. In fact, it’s been done more often than voting.”
Across the small clearing, Irongrip flexed and grinned back at Fiben, backed up by his two confederates. Weasel and Steelbar joked with the powerful Probationer chief, laughing confidently over this sudden swerve in their favor.
Now it was Fiben’s turn to shake his head and mutter lowly. “Goodall, what a way to run a galaxy. Maybe Prathachulthorn was right after all.”
“What was that, Fiben?”
“Nothin’,” he said as he saw the referee, a Pila Institute official, approach the center of the ring. Fiben turned to meet Gailet’s eyes. “Just tell me you’ll marry me if I win.”
“But—” She blinked, then nodded. Gailet seemed about to say something else, but that look came over her again, as if she simply could not find the phrases. She shivered, and in a strange, distant voice she managed to choke out five words.
“Kill—him—for—me, Fiben.”
It was not feral bloodlust, that look in her eyes, but something much deeper. Desperation.
Fiben nodded. He suffered no illusions over what Irongrip intended for him.
The referee called them forward. There would be no weapons. There would be no rules. Underground the rumbling had turned into a hard, angry g
rowl, and the zone of nonspace overhead flickered at the edges, as if with deadly lightning.
It began with a slow circling as Fiben and his opponent faced each other warily, sidestepping a complete circuit of the arena. Nine of the other chims stood on the upslope side, alongside Uthacalthing and Kault and Robert Oneagle. Opposite them, the Gubru and Irongrip’s two compatriots watched. The various Galactic observers and officials of the Uplift Institute took up the intervening arcs.
Weasel and Steelbar made fist signs to their leader and bared their teeth. “Go get ’im, Fiben,” one of the other chims urged. All of the ornate ritual, all of the arcane and ancient tradition and science had come to this, then. This was the way Mother Nature finally got to cast the tie-breaking vote.
“Be-gin!” The Pila referee’s sudden shout struck Fiben’s ears as an ultrasonic squeal an instant before the vodor boomed.
Irongrip was quick. He charged straight ahead, and Fiben almost decided too late that the maneuver was a feint. He started to dodge to the left, and at barely the last moment changed directions, striking out with his trailing foot.
The blow did not finish in the satisfying crunch he’d hoped for, but Irongrip did cry out and reel away, holding his ribs. Unfortunately, Fiben was thrown off balance and could not follow up his brief opportunity. In seconds it was gone as Irongrip moved forward again, more warily this time, with murder written in his eyes.
Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed, Fiben thought as they resumed circling.
Actually, today had begun when he awoke in the notch of a tree, a few miles outside the walls of Port Helenia, where plate ivy parachutes festooned the stripped branches of a winter-barren orchard.…
Irongrip jabbed, then punched out with a hard right. Fiben ducked under his opponent’s arm and riposted with a backhand blow. It was blocked, and the bones of their forearms made a loud crack as they met.
… The Talon Soldiers had shown grudging courtesy, so he rode Tycho hard until he arrived at the old prison.…