Part 51 (1/2)

In ribbons and hoods and feather dyes she saw the colors of Propriety, of Accountancy, and of Soldiery. For the most part, each faction kept apart in its own area. There was bristling and some ruffling of down when the follower of one Suzerain pa.s.sed too close to another.

In one place, however, a multi-hued gaggle of fluttering Gubru displayed that some communication remained among the factions. There was much head ducking and preening and gesturing toward floating holographic displays, all apparently as much ritualistic as based on fact and reason.

As Gailet hurried by, several of the hopping, chattering birds turned to stare at her. Pointing talons and beak gestures made Gailet guess that they knew exactly who she was, and what she was supposed to represent.

She did not hesitate or linger. Gailet's cheeks felt warm.

”Is there any way I can be of service to you, miss?”

At first Gailet thought that what stood at the dais, directly beneath the rayed spiral of the Five Galaxies, was a decorative plant of some sort. When it addressed her, she jumped slightly.

The ”plant” spoke perfect Anglic! Gailet took in the rounded, bulbous foliage, lined with silvery bits which tinkled gently as it moved. The brown trunk led down to k.n.o.bby rootlets that were mobile, allowing the creature to move in a slow, awkward shuffle.

A Kanten, she realized. Of course, the Inst.i.tutes provided a Librarian.

The vege-sentient Kanten were old friends of Earth. Individual Kanten had advised the Terragens Council since the early days after Contact, helping the wolfling humans weave their way through the complex, tricky jungle of Galactic politics and win their original status as patrons of an independent clan. Nevertheless, Gailet restrained her initial surge of hope. She reminded herself that those who entered the service of the great Galactic Inst.i.tutes were supposed to forsake all prior loyalties, even to their own lines, in favor of a holier mission. Impartiality was the best she could hope for, here.

”Urn, yes,” she said, remembering to bow. ”I want to look up information on Uplift Ceremonies.”

The little bell-like things-probably the being's sensory apparatus-made a chiming that almost sounded amused.

”That is a very broad topic, miss.”

She had expected that response and was ready with an answer. Still, it was unnerving talking with an intelligent being without anything even faintly resembling a face. ”I'll start with a simple overview then, if you please.”

”Very well, miss. Station twenty-two is formatted for use by humans and neo-chimpanzees. Please go there and make yourself comfortable. Just follow the blue line.”

She turned and saw a s.h.i.+mmering hologram take form next to her. The blue trail seemed to hang in s.p.a.ce, leading around the dais and on toward a far corner of the chamber. ”Thank you,” she said quietly.

As she followed the guide trail she imagined she heard sleigh bells behind her.

Station twenty-two was like a friendly, familiar song. A chair and desk and beanbag sat next to a standard holo-console. There were even well-known versions of datawells and styluses, all neatly arranged on a rack. She sat at the desk gratefully. Gailet had been afraid she would have to stand stiltwise, craning her neck to use a Gubru study station.

As it was, she felt nervous. Gailet hopped slightly as the display came alight with a slight ”pop.” Anglic text filled the central s.p.a.ce. PLEASE ASK FOR ADJUSTMENTS ORALLY. REQUESTED REMEDIAL SURVEY WILL BEGIN AT YOUR SIGNAL.

”Remedial survey ...” Gailet muttered. But yet, it would be best to begin at the simplest level. Not only would it guarantee that she had not forgotten some vital fundamental, but it-would tell her what the Galactics themselves considered most basic.

”Proceed,” she said.

The side displays came alight with pictures, displaying images of faces, the faces of other beings on worlds far away in both s.p.a.ce and time.

”When nature brings forth a new pre-sentient race, all Galactic society rejoices. For it is then that the adventure of Uplift is about to begin. ...”

Soon the old patterns rea.s.serted themselves. Gailet swam easily into the flow of information, drinking from the font of knowledge. Her datawell filled with notes and cross-references. Soon she lost all sense of the pa.s.sage of time.

Food appeared on the desktop without Gailet ever becoming aware of how it arrived. A nearby enclosure took care of her other needs, when nature's call grew too insistent to ignore.

During some periods of Galactic history, Uplift Ceremonies have been almost purely ceremonial. Patron species have been responsible for declaring their clients suitable, and their word was simply accepted that their charges were ready. There have been other epochs, however, in which the role of the Uplift Inst.i.tute has been much stronger, such as during the Sumubulum Meritocracy, when the entire process was under direct Inst.i.tution supervision in all cases.

The present era falls somewhere in between these extremes, featuring patron responsibility but with medium to extensive Inst.i.tute involvement. The latter partic.i.p.ation has increased since a rash of Uplift failures forty to sixty thousand GYU's ago* resulted in several severe and embarra.s.sing ecological holocausts (Ref: Gl'kahesh, Bururalli, Sstienn, MuhurnS.) Today the patron of a client cannot vouch alone for its client's development. It must allow close observation by the client's Stage Consort, and by the Uplift Inst.i.tute.

*GYU = Galactic year unit (approximately fourteen Earth months) Uplift Ceremonies are now more than perfunctory celebrations. They serve two other major purposes. First, they allow representatives from the client race to be tested-under rigorous and stressful circ.u.mstances-to satisfy the Inst.i.tute that the race is ready to a.s.sume the rights and duties appropriate to the next Stage. Also, the ceremony allows the client race an opportunity to choose a new consort for the subsequent Stage, to watch over it and, if necessary, to intercede on its behalf.

The criteria used in testing depend upon the level of development the client race has reached. Among other important factors are phagocity type (e.g., carnivore, herbivore, autophagic, or ergogenic), modality of movement (e.g., bipedal or quadrupedal walker, amphibious, roller, or sessile), mental technique (e.g., a.s.sociative, extrapolative, intuitive, holographic, or nulutative) . . .

Slowly she worked her way through the ”remedial” stuff. It was fairly heavy plodding. This Library branch would need some new translation routines if the chim-on-the-street in Port Helenia was going to be able to use the vast storehouse of knowledge. a.s.suming Joe and Jane Chim ever got the opportunity.

Nevertheless, it was a wonderful edifice-far, far greater than the miserable little branch they'd had before. And unlike back at La Paz, there was not the perpetual hustle and bustle of hundreds, thousands of frantic users, waving priority slips and arguing over access timeslots. Gailet felt as if she could just sink into this place for months, years, drinking and drinking knowledge until it leaked out through her very pores.

For instance, here was a reference to how special arrangements were made to allow Uplift among machine cultures. And there was one brief, tantalizing paragraph about a race of hydrogen breathers which had seceded from that mysterious parallel civilization and actually applied for members.h.i.+p in Galactic society. She ached to follow that and many other fascinating leads, but Gailet knew she simply did not have the time. She had to concentrate on the rules regarding bipedal, warm-blooded, omnivorous Stage Two clients with mixed mental faculties, and even that made for a daunting reading list.

Narrow it down, she thought. So she tried to focus on ceremonies which take place under contention or in time of war. Even under those constraints she found it hard slogging. Everything was all so complicated! It made her despair over the shared ignorance of her people and clan.

. .'. whether an agreement of co-partic.i.p.ation is or is not made in advance, it can and shall be verified by the Inst.i.tutes in a manner taking into account methods of adjudication considered traditional by the two or more parties involved . . .

Gailet did not recall falling asleep on the beanbag. But for some time it was a raft, floating upon a dim sea which rocked to the rhythm of her breathing. After a while, mists seemed to close in, coalescing into a black and white dream-scape of vaguely threatening shapes. She saw contorted images of the dead, her parents, and poor Max.

”Mm-mm, no,” she muttered. At one point she jerked sharply. ”No!”

She started to rise, began to emerge from slumber. Her eyes fluttered, fragments of dreams clinging in shreds to the lids. A Gubru seemed to hover overhead, holding a mysterious device, like those which had probed and peered at her and Fiben. But the image wavered and fell apart as the avian pressed a b.u.t.ton on the machine. She slumped back, the Gubru image rejoining the many others in her disturbed sleep.

The dream state pa.s.sed and her breathing settled into the slow cycle of deep somnolence.

She only awoke sometime later, when she dimly sensed a hand stroke her leg. Then it seized her ankle and pulled hard.

Gailet's breath caught as she sat up quickly, before she could even bring her eyes to focus. Her heart raced. Then vision cleared and she saw that a rather large chim squatted beside her. His hand still rested on her leg, and his grin was instantly recognizable. The waxed handlebar mustache was only the most superficial of many attributes she had come to detest.

So suddenly drawn out of sleep, she had to take a mo-ment to find speech again. ”Wh . . . what are you doing here?” she asked acerbically, yanking her leg away from his grasp.

Irongrip looked amused. ”Now, is that the way to say h.e.l.lo to someone as important as I am to you?”

”You do serve your purpose well,” she admitted. '”As a bad example!” Gailet rubbed her eyes and sat up. ”You didn't answer my question. Why are you bothering me? Your incompetent Probies aren't in charge of guarding anybody anymore.”

The chen's expression soured only slightly. Obviously he was relis.h.i.+ng something. ”Oh, I just figured I ought to come on down to th' Library and do some studying, just like you.”

”You, studying? Here?” She laughed. ”I had to get special permission from the Suzerain. You're not even supposed^ -- ”

”Now those were the exact words I was about to use,” he interrupted.

Gailet blinked. ”What?”

”I mean, I was gonna tell you that the Suzerain told me to come down here and study with you. After all, partners ought to get to know each other well, especially before they step forward together as race-representatives.”

Gailet's breath drew in audibly. ”You . . . ?” Her head whirled. ”I don't believe you!”

Irongrip shrugged. ”You needn't sound so surprised. My genetic scores are in the high nineties almost across the board . . . except in two or three little categories that shouldn't ever have counted in the first place.”

That Gailet could believe easily enough. Irongrip was obviously clever and resourceful, and his aberrant strength could only be considered an a.s.set by the Uplift Board. But sometimes the price was just too great to pay. ”All that means is that your loathsome qualities must be even worse than I had imagined.”

The chen rocked back and laughed. ”Oh, by human standards, I suppose you're right,” he agreed. ”By those criteria, most Probationers shouldn't be allowed anywhere near chimmies and children! Still standards change. And now I have the opportunity to set a new style.”