The Uplift War

The tense little ne’ squirrel hovered between caution and gluttony as it approached once more to feed from Kault’s outstretched hand.

He should not be able to do that. Uthacalthing wondered why the squirrel trusted the The

Kault could not be soothing the creature as a Tymbrimi might — by glyph-singing to it in gentle tones of empathy. A The

But Kault spoke to the creature in his own highly inflected dialect of Galactic. Uthacalthing listened.

“Know you — sight-sound-image — an essence of destiny, yours? Little one? Carry you — genes-essence-destiny — the fate of star-treaders, your descendants?”

The ne’ squirrel quivered, cheeks full. The native animal seemed mesmerized as Kault’s crest puffed up and deflated, as his breathing slits sighed with every moist exhalation. The The

How ironic, Uthacalthing thought. Tymbrimi lived their lives awash in the everflowing music of life, and yet he did not personally identify with this small animal. It was one of hundreds of millions, after all. Why should he care about this particular individual?

Yet Kault loved the creature. Without empathy sense, without any direct being-to-being link, he cherished it entirely in abstract. He loved what the little thing represented, its potential.

Many humans still claim that one can have empathy without psi, Uthacalthing pondered. To “put one’s self into another’s shoes,” went the ancient metaphor. He had always thought it to be one of their quaint pre-Contact ideas, but now he wasn’t so certain. Perhaps Earthlings were sort of midway between The

Kault’s people passionately believed in Uplift, in the potential of diverse life forms eventually to achieve sapiency. The long-lost Progenitors of Galactic culture had commanded this, billions of years ago, and the The

But now, ironically, Uthacalthing was counting on that fanaticism. He hoped to lure it into action of his own design.

The ne’ squirrel snatched one last nut from Kault’s open hand and then decided it had enough. With a swish of its fan-shaped tail it scooted off into the undergrowth. Kault turned to look at Uthacalthing, his throat slits flapping as he breathed.

“I have studied genome reports gathered by the Earth-ling ecologists,” the The

“The Nahalli were punished for what their clients did, weren’t they?” Uthacalthing asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Aye. They were reverted to client status and put under foster care to a responsible elder patron clan. My own, in fact. It is a most sad case.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the Nahalli are actually quite a mature and elegant people. They simply did not understand the nuances required in uplifting pure carnivores and so failed horribly with their Bururalli clients. But the error was not theirs alone. The Galactic Uplift Institute must take part in the blame.”

Uthacalthing suppressed a human-style smile. Instead his corona spiraled out a faint glyph, invisible to Kault. “Would good news here on Garth help the Nahalli?” he asked.

“Certainly.” Kauh expressed the equivalent of a shrug with his flapping crest. “We The

“And have they?”

Kault’s eyes closed and opened again. “Have they what?”

“Have the Earthlings done a bad job, here?”

Kault’s crest flapped again. “No. Our peoples may be at war, theirs and mine, but I have found no new grievances here to tally against them. Their ecological management program was exemplary.

“However, I do plan to file a report concerning the activities of the Gubru.”

Uthacalthing believed he could interpret bitterness in Kault’s voice inflection*. They had already seen signs of the collapse of the environmental recovery effort. Two days ago they had passed a reclamation station, now abandoned, its sampling traps and test cages rusting. The gene-storage bins had gone rancid after refrigeration failed.

An agonized note had been left behind, telling of the choice of a neo-chimpanzee ecology aide — who had decided to abandon his post in order to help a sick human colleague. It would be a long journey to the coast for an antidote to the coercion gas.

Uthacalthing wondered if they ever made it. Clearly the facility had been thoroughly dosed. The nearest outpost of civilization was very far from here, even by hover car.

Obviously, the Gubru were content to leave the station unma

This time Uthacalthing did smile at Kault’s choice of words. “Perhaps we will find something of interest,” he agreed.

They resumed their journey when the sun, Gimelhai, had slipped down somewhat from its burning zenith.

The plains southeast of the Mulun range stretched like the undulating wavetops of a gently rolling sea, frozen in place by the solidity of earth. Unlike the Vale of Sind and the open lands on the other side of the mountains, here there were no signs of plant and animal life forms introduced by Earth’s ecologists, only native Garth creatures.

And empty niches.

Uthacalthing felt the sparseness of species types as a gaping emptiness in the aura of this land. The metaphor that came to mind was that of a musical instrument missing half its strings.

Yes. Apt. Poetically appropriate. He hoped Athaclena was taking his advice and studying this Earthling way of viewing the worM.

Deep, on. the level of nahakieri, he had dreamt of his daughter last night. Dream-picted her with her corona reaching, ke

Through anything other than tutstmuca

That will have to do, for now.

Kault carried most of their supplies. The big The

Ahead, a series of small, tree-lined hummocks lay by a streambed, just off their path toward the distant ruddy mountains. Uthacalthing checked his compass and wondered if the hills should look familiar. He regretted the loss of his inertial guidance recorder in the crash. If only he could be sure…