Whether there actually were more allies to be won, more magic tricks to be pulled, Fiben couldn’t predict. But he was pretty sure the final outcome would be decided thousands of parsecs away from here. Perhaps on old mother Earth herself.
When Megan Oneagle began speaking Fiben realized it was finally time to get through the morning’s worst unpleasantness.
“… ill turn out to be a total loss if we do not learn from months such as those we have just passed through. After all, what is the use of hard times if they do not make us wiser? For what did our honored dead give up their lives?”
The Planetary Coordinator coughed for a brief moment and rustled her old-fashioned paper notes.
“We shall propose modification of the probation system, which causes resentments the enemy were able to exploit. We’ll endeaver to use the new Library facilities for the benefit of all. And we certainly. shall service and maintain the equipment on the Ceremonial Mound, against the day when peace returns and it can be used for its proper purpose, the celebration of status the race, of Pan argonostes so richly deserves.
“And most important of all, we shall use Gubru reparations to finance resumption of our major job here on Garth, reversing the decline of this planet’s frail ecosphere, using hard-won knowledge to halt the downward spiral and return this, our adopted home, to its proper task — the task of breeding wonderful species diversity, the wellspring of all sentience.
“More of these plans will be presented for public discussion over the coming weeks.” Megan looked up from her notes and smiled. “But today we also have an added chore, the pleasurable chore of honoring those who have made us proud. Those who made it possible for us to stand here in freedom today. It is our chance to show them how grateful we are, and how very much they are loved.”
YOM love me? Fiben asked silently. Then let me outta here!
“Indeed,” the Coordinator went on. “For some of our chim citizens, recognition of their achievements will not finish with their lives or even with their places in history books, but shall continue in the veneration with which we hold their descendants, the future of their race.”
From his left, Sylvie leaned forward far enough to look across Fiben to Gailet on his right. The two shared a glance and a grin.
Fiben sighed. At least he had persuaded Cordwainer Appelbe to keep that damned upgrade to white card secret! Fat lot of good it would do, of course. Green- and blue-status chimmies from all over Port Helenia were after him already. And Gailet and Syrvie were hardly any help at all. Why the hell had he married them, anyway, if not for protection! Fiben sniffed at the thought. Protection, indeed! He suspected the two of them were interviewing and evaluating candidates.
Whether or not two species came from the same clan, or even the same planet, there would always be some basics that were different between them. Look at how much pre-Contact humans had varied for simply cultural reasons. Of course matters of love and reproduction among chims had to be based on their own sexual heritage, from long before Uplift.
Still, there was enough human conditioning in Fiben to make him blush when he thought of what these two were going to put him through, now that they were close friends. How did I let myself get into such a situation?
Sylvie caught his eye and smiled sweetly. He felt Gailet’s hand slip into his.
Well, he admitted with a sigh. I guess it wasn’t all that hard.
They were reading names now, calling people up to accept their medals. But for a while Fiben felt just the three of them, sitting there together, as if the rest of the world were only an illusion. Actually, under his outward cynicism, he felt pretty good.
Robert Oneagle rose and stepped to the dais to accept his medal, looking much more comfortable in his uniform than Fiben felt. Fiben watched his human pal. I’ve got to ask him who his tailor is.
Robert had kept his beard, and the hard body won in rugged mountain living. He was no stripling any longer. In fact, he looked every inch a storybook hero.
Such nonsense. Fiben sniffed in disgust. Gotta get that boy pissed drunk real soon. Beat him arm-wrestling. Save him from believing ever thing the press writes,
Robert’s mother, on the other hand, seemed to have aged appreciably during the war. Over the last week Fiben had seen her repeatedly blink up at her tall, bronzed son, walking by with the grace of a jungle cat. She seemed proud but bewildered at the same time, as if the fairies had taken away her own child and left a changeling in its place. It’s called growing up, Megan.
Robert saluted and turned to head back toward his seat. As he passed in front of Fiben, his left hand made a quick motion, sign talk spelling out a single word. Beer!
Fiben started laughing but choked it back as both Sylvie and Gailet turned to look at him sharply. No matter. It was good to know Robert felt as he did. Talon Soldiers were almost preferable to this ceremonial nonsense.
Robert returned to his seat next to Lieutenant Lydia McCue, whose own new decoration shone on the breast of her glistening dress tunic. The woman Marine sat erect and attentive to the proceedings, but Fiben could see what was invisible to the dignitaries and the crowd, that the toe of her boot had already lifted the cuff of Robert’s trouser leg.
Poor Robert fought for composure. Peace, it seemed, offered its own travails. In its way, war was simpler.
Out in the crowd Fiben caught sight of a small cluster of humanoids, slender bipedal beings whose foxlike appearance was belied by fringes of gently waving tendrils just above their ears. Among the gathered Tymbrimi he easily picked out Uthacalthing and Athaclena. Both had declined every honor, every award. The people of Garth would have to wait until the two departed before erecting any memorials. That restraint, in a sense, would be their reward.
The ambassador’s daughter had erased many of the facial and bodily modifications which had made her look so nearly human. She chatted in a low voice with a young male Tym who Fiben supposed could be called handsome, in an Eatee sort of way.
One would think the two young people — Robert and his alien consort — had readjusted completely to returning to their own folk. In fact, Fiben suspected each was now far more at ease with the opposite sex than they had been before the war.
And yet…
He had seen them come together once, briefly, during one of the endless series of diplomatic receptions and conferences. Their heads had drawn quite near, and although no words were exchanged, Fiben was certain he saw or sensed something whirl lightly in the narrow space between them.
Whatever mates or lovers they would have in the future, it was clear that there was something Athaclena and Robert would always share, however much distance the Universe put between them.
Sylvie returned to her seat upon receiving her own commendation. Her dress could not quite hide the rounding of her figure. Another change Fiben would have to get used to pretty soon. He figured the Port Helenia Fire Department would probably have to hire more staff when that little kid started taking chemistry in school.
Gailet embraced Sylvie and then approached the podium herself. This time the cheers and applause were so sustained that Megan Oneagle had to motion for order.
But when Gailet spoke, it was not the rousing victory paean the crowd obviously expected. Her message, it seemed, was much more serious.
“Life is not fair,” she said. The murmuring audience went silent as Gailet looked out across the assembly and seemed to meet their eyes as individuals. “Anyone who says it is, or even that it ought to be, is a fool or worse. Life can be cruel. Ifni’s tricks can be capricious games of chance and probability. Or cold equations will cut you down if you make one mistake in space, or even step off the sidewalk at the wrong moment and try too quickly to match momentum with a bus.