“But it — it appears that these creatures aren’t complete kongs, after all. They — after their demolishment of the fence, they don’t seem to have done much more damage in their s-sudden invasion of Port Helenia. Mostly, right now, they’re just milling around, opening doors, eating fruit, going wherever they want to. After all, where does a four-hundred-pound gar … oh, never mind.”

This time, another chim joined Sylvie. Athaclena’s vision blurred and she shook her head. The announcer went on.

“They seem completely unaffected by the Gubru’s psi-drones, which apparently aren’t tuned to their brain patterns…”

Actually, Athaclena and the mountain fighters had known for more than two days where the gorillas were headed. After their first frantic attempts to divert the powerful pre-sentients, they gave up the effort as useless. The gorillas politely pushed aside or stepped over anybody who got in their way. There had simply been no stopping them.

Not even April Wu. The little blond girl had apparently made up her mind to go and find her parents, and short of risking injury to her, there was no way anybody would be able to pry her off the shoulders of one of the giant, silver-backed males.

Anyway, April had told the chims quite matter-of-factly, somebody had to go along and supervise the Villas, or they might get into trouble!

Athaclena remembered little April’s words as she looked at the mess the pre-sentients had made of the Gubru wall. I’d hate to see the trouble they could cause if they weren’t supervised!

Anyway, with the secret out, there was no reason the human child should not be reunited with her family. Nothing she said could hurt anybody now.

So much for the last secrecy of the Howletts Center Project. Now Athaclena might as well just toss away all the evidence she had so dutifully gathered, that first, fateful evening so many months ago. Soon the entire Five Galaxies would know about these creatures. And by some measures that was, indeed, a tragedy. And yet…

Athaclena remembered that day in early spring, when she had been so shocked and indignant to come upon the illegal Uplift experiment hidden in the forest. Now she could scarcely believe she had actually been like that. Was I really such a serious, officious little prig?

Now, syulff-kuonn was only the simplest, most serious of the glyphs she sparked off, casually, tirelessly, in joy over a simply marvelous joke. Even the chims could not help being affected by her profligate aura. Two more laughed when one of the channels showed an alien staff car, manned by squawking irate Kwackoo, in the process of being peeled back by gorillas who seemed passionately interested in how it would taste. Then another chim chuckled. The laughter spread.

Yes, she thought. It is a wonderful jest. To a Tymbrimi, the best jokes were those that caught the joker, as well as everybody else. And ihis fit the bill beautifully. It was, in truth, a religious experience. For her people believed in a Universe that was more than mere clockwork physics, more than even Ifni’s capricious flux of chance and luck.

It was when something like this happened — the Tymbrimi sages said — that one really knew that God, Himself, was still in charge.

Was I, then, also an agnostic before? How silly of me. Thank you then, Lord, and thank you too, father, for this miracle.

The scene shifted to the dock area, where milling chims danced in the streets and stroked the fur of their giant, patient cousins. In spite of the likely tragic consequences of all this, Athaclena and her warriors could not help but smile at the delight the brown-furred relations obviously took in each other. For now, at least, their pride was shared by all the chims of Port Helenia.

Even Lieutenant Lydia McCue and her wary corporal could not help but laugh when a gorilla baby danced past the cameras, wearing necklace made of broken Gubru psi-globes. They caught a glimpse of little April, riding in triumph through the streets, and the sight of a human child seemed to galvanize the crowds.

By now the glade was saturated with her glyphs. Athaclena turned and walked away, leaving the others to resonate in the wry joy. She moved up a forest trail until she came to a place with a clear view of the mountains to the west. There she stood, reaching and kenning with her tendrils.

It was there that a chim messenger found her. He hurried up and saluted before handing her a slip of paper. Athaclena thanked him and opened it, though she thought she already knew what it would say.

“With’tanna, Uthacalthing,” she said, softly. Her father was back in touch with the world again. For all of the events of the past few months, there was a solid, practical part of her, still, who was relieved to have this confirmation by radio.

She had had faith that Robert would succeed, of course. That was why she had not gone to Port Helenia with Fiben, or after that with the gorillas. What could she accomplish there, with her poor expertise, that her father could not do a thousand times better? If anyone could help turn their slim hopes into more and still greater miracles, it would be Uthacalthing.

No, her job was to remain here. For even in the event of miracles, the Infinite expected mortals to provide their own insurance.

She shaded her eyes. Although she had no hope of personally sighting a little aircraft against the bright clouds, she kept looking for a tiny dot that would be carrying all her love and all her prayers.

Gay pavilions dotted the manicured hillside, occasionally billowing and flapping in the gusting breeze. Quick robots hurried to pluck up any debris brought in by the wind. Others fetched and carried refreshments to the gathered dignitaries.

Galactics of many shapes and colors milled in small groups that merged and separated in an elegant pavane of diplomacy. Courteous bows and flattenings and tentacle wavings conveyed complex nuances of status and protocol. A knowledgeable observer might tell a great deal from such subtleties — .and there were many knowledgeable observers present on this day.

Informal exchanges abounded as well. Here a squat, bearlike Pila conversed in clipped, ultrasonic tones with a gangling Linten gardener. A little upslope, three Jophur ring-priests keened in harmonious complaint to an official from the War Institute over some alleged violation out among the starlanes.

It was often said that much more practical diplomacy was accomplished at these Uplift Ceremonies than at formal negotiation conferences. More than one new alliance might be made today, and more than one broken.

Only a few of the Galactic visitors spared more than passing attention to those being honored here today — a caravan of small, brown forms which had taken the entire morning to labor halfway up the mound, circling it four times along the way.

By now nearly a third of the neo-chimpanzee candidates had failed one test or another. Those rejected were already trooping back down the sloping path, in downcast ones and twos.

The remaining forty or so continued their ascent, symbolically reiterating the process of Uplift that had brought their race to this stage in its history, but ignored, for the most part, by the bright crowds on the slopes.

Not all of the observers were inattentive, of course. Near the pinnacle, the Commissioners from the Galactic Uplift Institute paid close attention to the results relayed up by each test station. And nearby, from beneath their own pavilion, a party of the neo-chimpanzees’ human patrons watched, glumly.

Looking somewhat lost and helpless, they had been brought out from Cilmar Island only this morning — a few mayors, professors, and a member of the local Uplift Board. The delegation had put forward a procedural protest over the irregular way the ceremony had come about. But when pressed, none of the humans actually claimed a right to cancel it altogether. The possible consequences were potentially just too drastic.