Part 32 (2/2)

Megan Oneagle pinched the bridge of her nose. She spoke with eyes closed. ”I have always found it odd that my Amerindian ancestors' concept of 'counting coup' should have a place in a hypertechnological galaxy.” She looked up. ”It may, indeed, come to that, if we can find no other way to be effective.

”But you'll recall that Uthacalthing also advised patience.” She shook her head. ”Please sit down, Colonel Millchamp. Everybody. I'm determined not to throw our strength away in a gesture, not until I know it's the only thing left to do against the enemy.

”Remember, nearly every human on the planet is hostage on the islands, their lives dependent on doses t>f Gubru antidote. And on the mainland there are the poor chims, for all intents abandoned, alone.”

Along the conference the officers sat downcast. They're frustrated, Megan thought. And I can't blame them.

When war had loomed, when they had begun planning ways to resist an invasion, n.o.body had ever suggested a contingency like this. Perhaps a people more experienced in the sophistications of the Great Library-in the arcane art of war that the aeons-old Galactics knew-might have been better prepared. But the Gubru's tactics had made a shambles of their modest defense plans.

She had not added her final reason for refusing to sanction a gesture. Humans were notoriously unsophisticated at the game of Galactic punctilio. A blow struck for honor might be bungled, instead giving the enemy excuse for even greater horrors.

Oh, the irony. If Uthacalthing was right, it was a little Earths.h.i.+p, halfway across the Five Galaxies from here, that had precipitated the crisis!

Earthlings certainly did have a knack for making trouble for themselves. They'd always had that talent.

Megan looked up as the small chen from the mainland, Robert's messenger, approached the table, still wearing his blanket. His dark brown eyes were troubled.

”Yes, Petri?” she asked.

The chim bowed.

”Ma'am, th' doctor wants me to go to bed now.”

She nodded. ”That's fine, Petri. I'm sure we'll want to debrief you some more, later . . . ask you some more questions. But right now you should rest.”

Petri nodded. ”Yes'm. Thank you, ma'am. But there was somethin' else. Somethin' I'd better tell you while I remember.”

”Yes? What is it?”

The chen looked uncomfortable. He glanced at the watching humans and back at Megan. ”It's personal, ma'am. Somethin' Captain Oneagle asked me to memorize an' tell you.”

Megan smiled. ”Oh, very well. Will you all excuse me , for a moment, please?”

She walked with Petri over to the far end of the room.

There she sat down to bring her eyes level with the little chim. ”Tell me what Robert said.”

Petri nodded. His eyes went unfocused. ”Captain Oneagle said to tell you that th' Tymbrimi Athaclena is actually doin' most of the organizing for th' army.”

Megan nodded. She had suspected as much. Robert might have found new resources, new depths, but he was not and never would be a born leader.

Petri went on. ”Cap'n Oneagle told me to tell you that it was important that th' Tymbrimi Athaclena have honorary patron status to our chims, legally.”

Again, Megan nodded. ”Smart. We can vote it and send word back.”

But the little chim shook his head. ”Uh, ma'am. We couldn't wait for that. So, uh, I'm supposed to tell you that Captain Oneagle an' th' Tymbrimi Athaclena have sealed a ... a consort bond ... I think that's what it's called. I . . .”

His voice trailed off, for Megan had stood up.

Slowly, she turned to the wall and rested her forehead against the cool stone. That d.a.m.n fool of a boy! part of her cursed.

It was the only thing they could do, another part answered.

So, now I'm a mother-in-law, the most ironic voice added.

There would certainly be no grandchildren from this union. That was not what interspecies consort marriages were for. But there were other implications.

Behind her, the council debated. Again and again they turned over the options, coming up dry as they had for months now.

Oh, if only Uthacalthing had made it here, Megan thought. We need his experience, his wry wisdom and humor. We could talk, like we used to. And maybe, he could explain to me these things that make a mother feel so lost.

She confessed to herself that she missed the Tymbrimi Amba.s.sador. She missed him more than any of her three husbands and more even, G.o.d help her, than she missed her own strange son.

51 Uthacalthing It was fascinating to watch Kault play with a ne' squirrel, one of the native animals of these southern plains. He coaxed the small creature closer by holding out ripe nuts in his great Thennanin hands. He had been at it for over an hour while they waited out the hot noonday sun under the cover of a thick cl.u.s.ter of th.o.r.n.y bramble.

Uthacalthing wondered at the sight. The universe never seemed about to cease surprising him. Even bluff, oblivious, obvious Kault was a perpetual source of amazement.

Quivering nervously, the ne' squirrel gathered its courage. It took two more hops toward the huge Thennanin and stretched out its paws. It plucked up one of the nuts.

Astonis.h.i.+ng. How did Kault do it?

Uthacalthing rested in the muggy shade. He did not recognize the vegetation here in the uplands overlooking the estuary where his pinnace had come down, but he felt he was growing familiar with the scents, the rhythms, the gently throbbing pain of daily life that surged and flowed through and all around the deceptively quiet glade.

His corona brought him touches from tiny predators, now waiting out the hot part of the day, but soon to resume stalking even smaller prey. There were no large animals, of course, but Uthacalthing kenned a swarm of ground-hugging insectoids grubbing through the detritus nearby, seeking tidbits for their queen.

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 Thennanin, so huge, so intimidating and powerful. Life here on Garth was nervous, paranoid in the wake of the Bururalli catastrophe-whose deathly pall still hung over these steppes far east and south of the Mountains of Mulun.

Kault could not be soothing the creature as a Tymbrimi might-by glyph-singing to it in gentle tones of empathy. A Thennanin had all the psi sense of a stone.

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 Thennanin could not commune with the creature, not as Uthacalthing might. And yet, the squirrel somehow appeared to sense Kault's love.

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 Thennanin and Tymbrimi in this matter of how one empathized with others.

Kault's people pa.s.sionately 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 Thennanin Clan took the injunction very seriously. Their uncompromising fanaticism on this issue went beyond being admirable. At times-as during the present Galactic turmoil-it made them terribly dangerous.

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

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