Gailet concentrated on the controls. “This may be the ticket,” he heard her mumble. The almost perfect beachscape flickered, and in its place there suddenly loomed a wall of leafy green — a jungle scene, so near and real that Fiben almost felt he could leap through and escape into its green mists, as if this were one of those mythical “teleportation devices” one read of in romantic fiction, and not just a high-quality holo-tapestry.
He contemplated the scene Gailet had chosen. Fiben could tell at once that it wasn’t a jungle of Garth. The creeper-entwined rain forest was a vibrant, lively, noisy scene, filled with color and variety. Birds cawed and howler monkeys shrieked.
Earth, then, he thought, and wondered if the Galaxy would ever let him fulfill his dream of someday seeing the homewor\d. Not bloody likely, the way things are.
His attention drew back as Gailet spoke. “Just let me adjust this here, to make it more realistic.” The sound level rose. Jungle noise burst forth to surround them. What is she trying to do? he wondered.
’ Suddenly he noticed something. As Gailet twiddled with the volume level, her left hand moved in a crude but eloquent gesture. Fiben blinked. It was a sign in baby talk, the hand language all infant chims used until the age of four, when speech finally became useful.
Grownups listening, she said.
Jungle sounds seemed to fill the room, reverberating from the other walls. “There,” she said in a low voice. “Now they can’t listen in on us. We can talk frankly.”
“But — ” Fiben started to object, then he saw the gesture again. Grownups listening…
Once more his respect for Gailet’s cleverness grew. Of course she knew this simple method would not stop snoopers from picking up their every word. But the Gubru and their agents might imagine the chims foolish enough to think it would! If the two of them acted as if they believed they were safe from eavesdropping…
Such a tangled web we weave, Fiben thought. This was real spy stuff. Fun, in a way.
It was also, he knew, dangerous as hell.
“The Suzerain of Propriety has a problem,” Gailet told him aloud. Her hands lay still on her lap.
“It told you that? But if the Gubru are in trouble, why—”
“I didn’t say the Gubru — although I think that’s true, as well. I was talking about the Suzerain of Propriety itself. It’s having troubles with its peers. The priest seriously overcom-mitted itself in a certain matter, some time back, and now it seems there’s hell to pay over it.”
Fiben just sat there, amazed that the lofty alien lord had deigned to tell an earthworm of a Terran client such things. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea. Such confidences were likely to be unhealthy. “What were these overcommitments?” he asked.
“Well, for one thing,” Gailet went on, scratching her kneecap, “some months ago it insisted that many parties of Talon Soldiers and scientists be sent up into the mountains.”
“What for?”
Gailet’s face took on an expression of severe control. “They were sent searching for … for Garthlings.”
“For what?” Fiben blinked. He started to laugh. Then he cut short when he saw the warning flicker in her eyes. The hand scratching her knee curled and turned in a motion that signified caution.
“For Garthlings,” she repeated.
Of all the superstitious nonsense, Fiben thought. Ignorant, yellow-card chims use Garthling fables to frighten their children. It was rich to think of the sophisticated Gubru falling for such tall tales.
Gailet did not seem to find the idea amusing, though.
“You can imagine why the Suzerain would be excited, Fiben, once it had reason to believe Garthlings might exist. Imagine what a fantastic coup it would be for any clan who claimed adoption rights on a pre-sentient race that had survived the Bururalli Holocaust. Immediate takeover of Earth’s tenancy rights here would be the very least of the consequences.”
Fiben saw her point. “But… but what in the world made it think in the first place, that—”
“It seems our Tymbrimi Ambassador, Uthacalthing, was largely responsible for the Suzerain’s fixation, Fiben. You remember that day of the chancery explosion, when you tried to break into the Tymbrimi Diplomatic Cache?”
Fiben opened his mouth. He closed it again. He tried to think. What kind of game was Gailet playing now?
The Suzerain of Propriety obviously knew that he, Fiben, was the chim who had been sighted ducking through the smoke and stench of fried Gubru clerical workers on the day of the explosion at the one-time Tymbrimi Embassy. It knew Fiben was the one who had played a frustrated game of tag with the cache guardian, and who later escaped over a cliff face under the very beaks of a squad of Talon Soldiers.
Did it know because Gailet had told it? If so,’ had she also told the Suzerain about the secret message Fiben had found in the back of the cache and delivered to Athaclena?
He could not ask her these things. The warning look in her eyes kept him silent. I hope she knows what she’s doing, he prayed fervently. Fiben felt clammy under his arms. He brushed a bead of sweaf from his eyebrow. “Go on,” he said in a dry voice.
“Your visit invalidated diplomatic immunity and gave the Gubru the excuse they were looking for, to break into the cache. Then the Gubru had what they thought was a real stroke of luck. The cache autodestruct partially failed. There was evidence inside, Fiben, evidence pertaining to private investigations into the Garthling question by the Tymbrimi Ambassador.”
“By Uthacalthing? But …” And then it hit Fiben. He stared at Gailet, goggle-eyed. Then he doubled over, coughing as he fought not to laugh out loud. Hilarity was like a head of steam in his chest, a force in its own right, barely contained. A sudden, brief spell of speechlock was actually a blessing, as it kept Gailet from having to shush him. He coughed some more and slapped his chest. “Excuse me,” he said in a small voice.
“The Gubru now believe that the evidence was contrived, a clever ruse,” she went on.
No kidding, Fiben thought silently.
“In addition to faked data, Uthacalthing also arranged to have the Planetary Library stripped of its Uplift files, making it seem to the Suzerain as if something was being hidden. It cost the Gubru a lot to find out that Uthacalthing had tricked them. A research-class Planetary Library was shipped in, for instance. And they lost quite a few scientists and soldiers up in the mountains before they figured it out.”
“Lost them?” Fiben sat forward. “Lost how?”
“Chim irregulars,” Gailet answered tersely. And again there was that warning look. Come on, Gailet, he thought. I’m not an idiot. Fiben knew better than to refer in any way to Robert or Athaclena. He shied away from even thinking about them.
Still, he couldn’t quite suppress a smile. So that was why the Kwackoo had been so polite! If chims were waging intelligent war, and by the official rules at that, then all chims had to be treated with some minimal degree of respect.
“The mountain chims survived that first day! They must’ve stung the invaders, and kept stingin’ “em!” He knew he was free to vent a bit of exultation. It would only be keeping in character.
Gailet’s smile was -thin. This news must have given rise to mixed feelings. After all, her own part of the insurrection had gone very much worse.
So, Fiben thought, Uthacalthing s elaborate ruse persuaded the Gubru that there was something on the planet at least as important as the colony’s value as hostage. Garthlings! Imagine that. They went up into the mountains chasing a myth. And somehow the general found a way to hurt them as soon as they came within reach.
Oh, I’m sorry for all those things I thought about her old man. What a great jape, Uthacalthing!