“In accepting parole you have injured — caused harm — reduced our propriety and honor,” the Suzerain finished chiding.
If they had been military the high priest might have demanded reparations from these and their families. But most of their escorts had been killed, and scientists were often less concerned or knowledgeable in matters of propriety than soldiers.
The Suzerain decided to forgive them.
“Nevertheless, your decision is understood — is given sanction. We shall abide by your parole.”
The technicians danced in relief. They would not suffer humiliation or worse upon returning to their homes. Their solemn word would not be repudiated.
The parole would be costly however. These scientists had to depart from the Garth system at once and not be replaced for at least a year. Furthermore, an equal number of human beings had to be released from detention!
The Suzerain suddenly had an idea. This brought on a rare flutter of that strange emotion, amusement. It would order sixteen humans freed, all right, but the mountain chimpanzees would not be reunited with their dangerous masters. The released humans would be sent to Earth!
That would certainly satisfy the propriety of the parole. The solution would be expensive, true, but not nearly as much as letting such creatures loose again on the main continent of Garth!
It was stunning to contemplate that neo-chimpanzees might have achieved what these reported they had done in the mountains. How could it be? The proto-clients they had observed in town and in the valley hardly seemed capable of such finesse.
Might there, indeed, be humans out there still?
The thought was daunting, and the Suzerain did not see how it would be possible. According to census figures the number unaccounted for was too small to be significant anyway. Statistically, all of those should simply be dead.
Of course the gas bombings would have to be stepped up. The new Suzerain of Cost and Caution would complain, for the program had proved very expensive. But now the Suzerain of Propriety would side with the military completely.
There was a faint stirring. The Suzerain of Propriety felt a twinge inside. Was it an early sign of a change of sexual state? It should not begin yet, when things were still so unsettled, and dominance not yet decided among the three peers. The molting must wait until propriety had been served, until consensus had been reached, so that it would be clear who was strongest!
The Suzerain chirped a prayer to the lost Progenitors, and the others immediately crooned in response.
If only there was some way to be sure which way the battles were going, out in the Galactic swirl! Had the dolphin ship been found yet? Were the fleets of some alliance even now approaching the returned Ancient Ones to call up the end of all things?
Had the time of Change already begun?
If the priest were certain that Galactic Law had indeed broken down irreparably, it would feel free to ignore this unpalatable parole and its implied recognition of neo-chimpanzee sapiency.
There were consolations, of course. Even with humans to guide them, the near-animals would never know the right ways to take advantage of that recognition. That was the way of wolfling-type species. Ignoring the subtleties of the ancient Galactic culture, they barged ahead using the direct approach, and nearly always died.
Consolation, it chirped. Yes, consolation and victory.
There was one more matter to take care of — potentially, the most important of all. The priest addressed the leader of the expedition again.
“Your final parole agreement was to avoid — to abjure — to forswear ever visiting that site again.”
The scientists danced agreement. One small place on the surface of Garth was forbidden the Gubru until the stars fell, or until the rules were changed.
“And yet, before the attack you found — did discover — did uncover traces of mysterious activity — of gene meddling — of secret Uplift?”
That too had been in their report. The Suzerain questioned them carefully about details. There had only been time for a cursory examination, but the hints were compelling. The implications staggering.
Up in those mountains the chimpanzees were hiding a pre-sentient race! Prior to the invasion, they and their human patrons had been engaging in Uplift of a new client species!
So! The Suzerain danced. The data recovered from the Tymbrimi cairn was no lie! Somehow, by some miracle, this catastrophe world has given birth to a treasure! And now, in spite of Gubru mastery of the surface and the sky, the Earth-lings continued to hoard their discovery to themselves!
No wonder the planetary Branch Library had been ransacked of its Uplift files! They had tried to hide the evidence.
But now, the Suzerain rejoiced, we know of this wonder.
“You are dismissed — released — set upon your ships for home,” it told the bedraggled scientists. Then the Suzerain turned to its Kwackoo aides, gathered below its perch.
“Contact the Suzerain of Beam and Talon,” it said with unaccustomed brevity. “Tell my peer that I wish a colloquy at once.” One of the fluffy quadrupeds bowed at once, then scurried off to call the commander of the armed forces.
The Suzerain of Propriety stood still upon its perch, disallowed by custom from setting foot upon the surface until the ceremonies of protection had been completed.
Its weight shifted from time to time, and it rested its beak on its chest while standing deep in thought.
PART FOUR
Traitors
Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part;
Do thou but thine.
50
Government in Hiding
The messenger sat on a couch in the corner of the Council Room, holding a blanket around his shoulders while he sipped from a steaming cup of soup. Now and then the young chen shivered, but mostly he looked exhausted. His damp hair still lay in tangled mats from the icy swim that had brought him on the last leg of his dangerous journey.
It’s a wonder he made it here at all, Megan Oneagle thought, watching him. All the spies and recon teams we sent ashore, carrying the finest equipment — none ever returned. But this little chim makes it to us, sailing a tiny raft made of cut trees, with homespun canvas sails.
Carrying a message from my son.’
Megan wiped her eyes again, remembering the courier’s first words to her after swimming the last stretch of underground caves to their deep island redoubt.
“Captain Oneagle sends his felic — his felicitations, ma’am.”
He had drawn forth a packet — waterproofed in oli tree sap — and offered it to her, then collapsed into the arms of the medical techs.
A message from Robert, she thought in wonder. He is alive. He is free. He helps lead an army. She didn’t know whether to exult or shudder at the thought.
It was a thing to be proud of, for sure. Robert might be the sole adult human loose on the surface of Garth, right now. And if his “army” was little more than a ragged band of simian guerrillas, well, at least they had accomplished more than her own carefully hoarded remnants of the official planetary militia had.
If he had made her proud, Robert had also astonished her. Might there be more substance to the boy than she had thought before? Something brought out by adversity, perhaps?
There may be more of his father in him than I’d wanted to see.
Sam Tennace was a starship pilot who stopped at Garth every five years or so, one of Megan’s three spacer husbands. Each was home for only a few months at a stretch — almost never at the same time — then off again. Other ferns might not have been able to deal with such an arrangement, but what suited spacers also met her needs as a politician and career woman. Of the three, only Sam Tennace had given her a child.