“They were very nice about it.” She sniffed. “They offered me the choice of coming along.”

Fiben blinked. “You didn’t go, though.”

She glanced at him. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m terrible. That’s why I never told you before. You’d have refused our deal. You think I’m an unfit mother.”

“No, I—”

“At the time it seemed different, though. My mother was ill. We didn’t have a clan-family, and I didn’t feel I could just leave her in the care of strangers, an’ probably never see her again.

“I was only a yellow card at the time. I knew my child would get a good home on Earth or … Either he’d find favored treatment and be raised in a high-caste neo-chimp home or he’d meet a fate I didn’t want to know. I was so worried we would go all that way and they would only take him away anyway. I guess I also dreaded the shame if he was declared a Probationer.”

She stared down at her hands. “I couldn’t decide, so I tried to get advice. There was this counselor in Port Helenia, a human with the local Uplift Board. He told me what he thought th’ odds were. He said he was sure I’d given birth to a Probie.

“I stayed behind when they took Sichi away. Six … six months later my mother died.”

She looked up at Fiben. “And then, three years after that, word came back from Earth. The news was that my baby was now a happy,’well-adjusted little blue card, growing up in a loving blue-card family. And oh, yeah, I was to be promoted to green.”

Her hands clenched. “Oh, how I hated that damned card! They took me off compulsory yearly contracept injections, so I didn’t have to ask permission anymore if I wanted to conceive again. Trusted me to control my own fertility, like an adult.” She snorted. “Like an adult? A chimmie who abandons her own child? They ignore that, and promote me because he passes some damn tests!”

So, Fiben thought. This was the reason for her bitterness, and for her early collaboration with the Gubru. Much was explained.

“You joined Irongrip’s band out of resentment against the system? Because you hoped things might be different under the Galactics?”

“Something like that, maybe. Or maybe I was just angry.” Sylvie shrugged. “Anyway, after a while I realized something.”

“What was it?”

“I realized that, however bad the system was under humans, it could only be far worse under the Galactics. The humans are arrogant all right. But at least a lot of them feel guilty over their arrogance. They try to temper it. Their horrible history taught them to be wary of hub… hub …”

“Hubris.”

“Yeah. They know what a trap it can be, acting like gods and coming to believe it’s true.

“But the Galactics are used to this meddlesome business! It never occurs to them to have any doubts. They’re so damned smug … I hate them.”

Fiben thought about it. He had learned much during the last few months, and he figured Sylvie might be stating her case a little too strongly. Right now she sounded a lot like Major Prathachulthorn. But Fiben knew there were quite a few Galactic patron races who had reputations for kindness and decency.

Still, it was not his place to judge her bitterness.

Now he understood her nearly single-minded determination to have a child who would be at least a green card from the very start. There had to be no question. She wanted to keep her next baby, and to be sure of grandchildren.

Sitting there next to her, Fiben was uncomfortably certain of Sylvie’s present condition. Unlike human females, chimmies had set cycles of receptivity, and it took some effort to hide them. It was one reason for some of the social and family differences between the two cousin species.

He felt guilty to be aroused by her condition. A soft, poignant feeling lay over the moment, and he was determined not to spoil it by being insensitive. Fiben wished he could console her somehow. And yet, he did not know what to offer her.

He moistened his lips. “Uh. Look, Sylvie.”

She turned. “Yes, Fiben?”

“Um, I really do hope you get … I mean I hope I left enough …” His face felt warm.

She smiled. “Dr. Soo says there probably was. If not, there’s more where that came from.”

He shook his head. “Your confidence is appreciated. But I wouldn’t bet I’ll ever be back again.” He looked away, toward the west.

She took his hand. “Well, I’m not too proud to take extra insurance if it’s offered. Another donation will be accepted, if you feel up to it.”

He blinked, feeling the tempo of his pulse rise. “Uh, you mean right now?”

She nodded: “When else?”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He grinned and reached for her. But she held up a hand to stop him.

“Just a minute,” she said. “What kind of girl do you think I am? Candlelight and champagne may be in short supply up here, but a fern generally appreciates at least a little foreplay.”

“Fine by me,” Fiben said. He turned around to present his back for grooming. “Do me, then I’ll do you.”

But she shook her head. “Not that kind of foreplay, Fiben. I had in mind something much more stimulating.”

She reached behind the tree and brought forth a cylindrical object made of carved wood, one end covered by a tautly stretched skin. Fiben’s eyes widened. “A drum?”

She sat with the little handmade instrument between her knees. “It’s your own damn fault, Fiben Bolger. You showed me something special, and from now on I’ll never be satisfied with anything less.”

Her deft fingers rattled off a quick rhythm.

“Dance,” she said. “Please.”

Fiben sighed. Obviously she wasn’t kidding. This choreo-maniac chimmie was crazy, of course, whatever the Uplift Board said. It seemed to be the type he fell for.

There are some ways we’ll never be like humans, he thought as he picked up a branch and shook it tentatively. He dropped it and tried another. Already he felt flushed and full of energy.

Sylvie tapped the drum, starting with a rapid, exhilarating tempo that made his breath sharpen. The shine in her eyes seemed to warm his blood.

That is as it should be. We are our own selves, he knew.

Fiben took the branch in a two-handed grip and brought it down on a nearby log, sending leaves and brush exploding in all directions. “Ook…” he said.

His second blow was harder though, and as the beat picked up his next cry came with more enthusiasm.

The morning fog had evaporated. No thunder rolled. The uncooperative universe had not even provided a single cloud in the sky. Still, Fiben figured he could probably manage this time without the lightning.

In Gubru Military Enacampment Sixteen, the chaos at the top had begun affecting those lower down in the ranks. There were squabbles over allotments and supplies, and over the behavior of common soldiers, whose contempt for the support staff reached new and dangerous levels.

At afternoon prayer time, many of the Talon Soldiers put on the traditional ribbons of mourning for the Lost Progenitors and joined the priestly chaplain to croon in low unison. The less devout majority, who generally kept a respectful silence during such services, now seemed to make it a special occasion for gambling and loud commotion. Sentries preened and purposely sent loose feathers drifting in strong breezes so they would pass distractingly among the faithful.

Discordant noises could be heard during work, during maintenance, during training exercises.

The stoop-colonel in charge of the eastern encampments happened to be on an inspection tour and witnessed this disharmony in person. It wasted no time on indecision. At once the stoop-colonel ordered all personnel of Encampment Sixteen assembled. Then the officer gathered the camp’s chief administrator and the chaplain by its side upon a platform and addressed those gathered below.