Part 45 (1/2)
”Now.” Gailet turned to Sylvie. ”What is this fee you spoke of? What is it you want?”
Sylvie bit her lip. She faced Gailet, but pointed at Fiben. ”Him,” she said quickly. ”I want you to share him with me.”
”What?” Fiben started to get up, but Gailet shushed him with a quick gesture. ”Explain,” she asked Sylvie.
Sylvie shrugged. ”I wasn't sure what kind of marriage arrangement the two of you had.”
”We don't have any!” Fiben said, hotly. ”And what business-”
”Shut up, Fiben,” Gailet told him evenly. ”That's right, Sylvie. We have no agreement, group or monogamous. So what's this all about? What is it you want from him?”
”Isn't it obvious?” Sylvie glanced over at Fiben. ”Whatever his Uplift rating was before, he's now effectively a white card. Look at his amazing war record, and the way he foiled the Eatees against all odds, not once but twice, in Port Helenia. Any of those'd be enough to advance him from blue status.
”And now the Suzerain's invited him to be a race-representative. That kind of attention sticks. It'll hold whoever wins the war, you know that, Dr. Jones.”
Sylvie summarized. ”He's a white card. I'm a green. I also happen to like his style. It's that simple.”
Me? A Goodall-d.a.m.ned whitie? Fiben burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. It was just dawning on him what Sylvie was driving at.
”Whoever wins,” Sylvie went on, quietly ignoring him. ”Whether it's Earth or the Gubru, I want my child to ride the crest of Uplift and be protected by the Board. My child is going to have a destiny. I'll have grandchildren, and a piece of tomorrow.”
Sylvie obviously felt pa.s.sionately about this. But Fiben was in no mood to be sympathetic. Of all the metaphysical claptrap! he thought. And she wasn't even telling this to him. Sylvie was talking to Gailet, appealing to her! ”Hey, don't I have anything to say about this?” he protested. '
”Of course not, silly,” Gailet replied, shaking her head. ”You're a chen. A male chim will screw a goat, or a leaf, if nothing better is available.”
An exaggeration, but a stereotype based on enough truth to make Fiben blush. ”But-”
”Sylvie's attractive and approaching pink. What do you expect you'll do once you get free, if all of us have agreed in advance that your duty and pleasure coincide?” Gailet s.h.i.+fted. ”No, this is not your decision. Now for the last time be quiet, Fiben.”
Gailet turned back to ask Sylvie a new question, but at that moment Fiben could not even hear the words. The roaring in his ears drowned out every other sound. All he could think of at that moment was the drummer, poor Igor Patterson. No. Oh, Goodall, protect me!
”... males work that way.”
”Yes, of course. But I figure you have a bond with him, whether it's formal or not. Theory is fine, but anyone can tell he's got an honor-streak a mile thick. He might prove obstinate unless he knew it was all right with you.”
Is this how females think of us chens, down deep? Fiben pondered. He remembered secondary school ”health” cla.s.ses, when the young male chims would be taken off to attend lectures about procreative rights and see films about VD. Like the other boy-chims, he used to wonder what the chimmies were learning at those times. Do the schools teach them this cold-blooded type of logic? Or do they learn it the hard way? From us?
”I do not own him.” Gailet shrugged. ”If you are right, n.o.body will ever have that sort of claim on him . . . n.o.body but the Uplift Board, poor fellow.” She frowned. ”All I demand of you is that you get him to the mountains safely. He doesn't touch you till then, understood? You get your fee when he's safe with the guerrillas.”
A male human would not put up with this, Fiben pondered bitterly. But then, male humans weren't unfinished, client-level creatures who would ”screw a goat, or a leaf, if nothing better was available,” were they?
Sylvie nodded in agreement. She extended her hand. Gailet took it. They shared a long look, then separated.
Sylvie stood up. ”I'll knock before I come in. It'll be about ten minutes.” When she looked at Fiben her expression was satisfied, as if she had done very well in a business arrangement. ”Be ready to leave by then,” she said, and turned to go.
When she had left, Fiben finally found Iris voice. ”You a.s.sume too much with all your glib theories, Gailet. What the h.e.l.l makes you so sure-”
”I'm not sure of anything!” she snapped back. And the confused, hurt look on her face stunned Fiben more than anything else that had happened that evening.
Gailet pa.s.sed a hand in front of her eyes. ”I'm sorry, Fiben. Just do as you think best. Only please don't get offended. None of us can really afford pride right now. Anyway, Sylvie's not asking all that much, on the scale of things, is she?”
Fiben read the suppressed tension in Gailet's eyes, and his outrage leaked away. It was replaced by concern for her. ”Are . . . are you sure you'll be okay?”
She shrugged. ”I guess so. The Suzerain'll probably find me another partner. I'll do my best to delay things as long as I can.”
Fiben bit his lip. ”We'll get word back to you from the humans, I promise.'
Her expression told him that she held out little hope. But she smiled. ”You do that, Fiben.” She reached up and touched the side of his face gently. ”You know,” she whispered. ”I really will miss you.”
The moment pa.s.sed. She withdrew her hand and her expression was serious once more. ”Now you'd better gather whatever you want to take with you. Meanwhile, there are a few things I suggest you ought to tell your general. You'll try to remember, Fiben?”
”Yeah, sure.” But for one instant he mourned, wondering if he would ever again see the gentleness that had shone so briefly in her eyes. All business once more, she followed him around the room as he gathered food and clothing. She was still talking a few minutes later when there came a knock on the door.
64 Gailet In the darkness, after they had left, she sat on her mattress with a blanket oyer her head, hugging her knees and rocking slowly to the tempo of her loneliness.
Her darkness was not entirely solitary. Far better if it had been, in fact. Gailet sensed the sleeping chen near her, wrapped in Fiben's bedclothes, softly exhaling faint fumes from the drug that had rendered him unconscious. The Probie guard would not awaken for many hours yet. Gailet figured this quiet time probably would not last as long as his slumber.
No, she was not quite alone. But Gailet Jones had never felt quite so cut off, so isolated.
Poor Fiben, she thought. Maybe Sylvie's right about him. Certainly he is one of the best chens I'll ever meet. And yet . . . She shook her head. And yet, he only saw part of the way through this plot. And I could not even tell him the rest. Not without revealing what I knew to hidden listeners.
She wasn't sure whether Sylvie was sincere or not. Gailet never had been much good at judging people. But I'll bet gametes to zygotes Sylvie never fooled the Gubru surveillance.
Gailet sniffed at the very idea-that one little chimmie could have bollixed the Eatees' monitors in such a way that they would not have instantly noticed it. No, this was all far too easy. It was arranged.
By whom? Why?
Did it really matter?
We never had any choice, of course. Fiben had to accept the offer.
Gailet wondered if she would ever see him again. If this were just another sapiency test ordered by the Suzerain of Propriety, then Fiben might very well be back tomorrow, credited with one more ”appropriate response” . . . appropri- j ate for an especially advanced neo-chimpanzee, at the vanguard of his client-level race.
She shuddered. Until tonight she had never considered j the implications, but Sylvie had made it all too clear. Even if j they were brought together again, it would never be the } same for her and Fiben. If her white card had been a barrier between them before, his would almost certainly be a yawning chasm.
Anyway, Gailet had begun to suspect that this wasn't just another test, arranged by the Suzerain of Propriety. And if not, then some faction of the Gubru had to be responsible for tonight's escapade. Perhaps one of the other Suzerains, or ...
Gailet shook her head again. She did not know enough even to guess. There wasn't sufficient data. Or maybe she was just too blind/stupid to see the pattern.
A play was unfolding all around them, and at every stage it seemed there was no choice which way to turn. Fiben had to go tonight, whether the offer of escape was a trap or not. She had to stay and wrestle with vagaries beyond her grasp. That was her written fate.
This sensation of being manipulated, with no real power over her own destiny, was a familiar one to Gailet, even if Fiben was only beginning to get used to it. For Gailet it had been a lifelong companion.
Some of the old-time religions of Earth had included the concept of predetermination-a belief that all events were foreordained since the very first act of creation, and that so-called free will was nothing more than an illusion.
Soon after Contact, two centuries ago, human philosophers had asked the first Galactics they met what they thought of this and many other ideas. Quite often the alien sages had responded patronizingly. ”These are questions that can only be posed in an illogical wolfling language,” had been a typical response. ”There are no paradoxes,” they had a.s.sured.
And no mysteries left to be solved ... or at least none that could ever be approached by the likes of Earthlings.
” Predestination was not all that hard for the Galactics to understand actually. Most thought the wolfling clan predestined for a sad, brief story.