The Uplift War

“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 fu

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 a

“Of course they are offering the antidote only in urban 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.”

20

Galactics

To the fleet admiral — the Suzerain of Beam and Talon — the argument sounded silly. But of course that was always the way of it among civilians. Priests and bureaucrats always argued. It was the fighters who believed in action!

Still, the admiral had to admit that it was thrilling to take part in their first real policy debate as a threesome. This was the way Truth was traditionally attained among the Gubru, through stress and disagreement, persuasion and dance, until finally a new consensus was reached.

And eventually…

The Suzerain of Beam and Talon shook aside the thought. It was much too soon to begin contemplating the Molt. There would be many more arguments, much jostling and maneuvering for the highest perch, before that day arrived.

As for this first debate, the admiral was pleased to find itself in the position of arbiter between its two bickering peers. This was a good way to begin.

The Terrans at the small spaceport had issued a well-written formal challenge. The Suzerain of Propriety insisted that Talon Soldiers must be sent to overcome the defenders in close combat. The Suzerain of Cost and Caution did not agree. For some time they circled each other on the dais of the flagship’s bridge, eyeing each other and squawking pronouncements of argument.

The Suzerain of Cost and Caution thus insisted that this expedition was only one of many engagements currently sapping the strength of the clan of Gooksyu-Gubru. In fact, it was rather a side-battle. Matters were tense across the Galactic spiral. In such times, it was the job of the Suzerain of Cost and Caution to protect the clan from overextending itself.

The Suzerain of Propriety huffed its feathers indignantly in response. 

 Observing from its own perch of command, the Suzerain of Beam and Talon watched the struggle to see if any clear patterns of dominance were about to manifest themselves. It was thrilling to hear and see the excellent argument-dances performed by those who had been chosen to be the admiral’s mates. All three of them represented the finest products of “hot-egg” engineering, designed to bring out the best qualities of the race.

Soon, it was obvious that its peers had reached a stalemate. It would be up to Suzerain of Beam and Talon to decide.