I agree to this.

The patch changed color at once, signifying his assent. Now what? Fiben wondered as he sat back.

His answer came a moment later, when the door opened quietly. Sylvie entered, wearing the same ankle-length dress as before. She sat down in front of them.

“Surveillance is off. I’m feeding the cameras a tape loop. It ought to work for at least an hour before their computer gets suspicious.”

Fiben plucked the disk out of Gailet’s fur and she held out her hand for it. “Give me a minute,” Gailet whispered, and hurried over to her personal datawell to drop the capsule inside. “No offense, Sylvie, but the wording needs improvement. Fiben can initial my changes.”

“I’m not offended. I knew you’d have to fix it up. I just wanted it to be clear enough for you two to understand what I was offering.”

It was all happening so fast. And yet Fiben felt the adrenaline already starting to sing in his veins. “So I’m going?”

“We’re going,” Sylvie corrected. “You and me. I’ve got supplies stashed, disguises, and a route out of town.”

“Are you with the underground, then?”

She shook her head. “I’d like to join, of course, but this is strictly my own show. I … I’m doing this for a price.”

“What is it you want?”

Sylvie shook her head, indicating she would wait for Gailet to return. “If you two agree to take the chance, I’ll go back outside and call in the night guard. I picked him out carefully and worked hard to get Irongrip to assign him duty tonight.”

“What’s so special about that guy?”

“Maybe you noticed, that Probationer looks a lot like you, Fiben, and he’s got a similar build. Close enough to fool the spy-comps in the dark for a while, I’d guess.”

So that was why that chen at the gate had looked so familiar! Fiben speculated concisely. “Drug him. Leave him with Gailet while I sneak out in his clothes, using his pass.”

“There’s a lot mo’re to it, believe me.” Sylvie looked nervous, exhausted. “But you get the general idea. He and I both go off shift in twenty minutes. So it’s got to be before then.”

Gailet returned. She handed the pellet to Fiben. He held it up to one eye and read the revised text carefully, not because he planned to criticize Gailet’s work, but so he would be able to recite it word for word if he ever did make it back to Athaclena and Robert.

Gailet had entirely rewritten the message.

STATEMENT OF INTENT: RECORDED BY FIBEN BOLGER, A-CHIM-AB-HUMAN, CLIENT CITIZEN OF THE TERRAGENS FEDERATION AND RESERVE LIEUTENANT, GARTH COLONIAL DEFENSE FORCE.

I ACKNOWLEDGE THE COURTESY I HAVE BEEN SHOWN DURING MY IMPRISONMENT, AND AM COGNIZANT OF THE KIND ATTENTION GIVEN ME BY THE EXALTED AND RESPECTED SUZERAINS OF THE GREAT CLAN OF THE GUBRU. NEVERTHELESS, I FIND THAT MY DUTY AS A COMBATANT IN THE PRESENT WAR BETWEEN MY LINE AND THAT OF THE GUBRU COMPELS ME TO RESPECTFULLY REFUSE FURTHER CONFINEMENT, HOWEVER COURTEOUS.

IN ATTEMPTING TO ESCAPE, I IN NO WAY SPURN THE HONOR GRANTED ME BY THE EXALTED SUZERAIN, IN CONSIDERING ME FOR THE STATUS OF RACE-REPRESENTATIVE. BY CONTINUING HONORABLE RESISTANCE TO THE GUBRU OCCUPATION OF GARTH, I HOPE THAT I AM BEHAVING AS SUCH A CLIENT-SOPHONT SHOULD, IN PROPER OBEDIENCE TO THE WILL OF MY PATRONS.

I ACT NOW IN THE TRADITIONS OF GALACTIC SOCIETY., AS BEST I HAVE BEEN GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND THEM.

Yeah. Fiben had learned enough under Gailet’s tutelage to see how much better this version was. He registered his assent again, and once more the recording spot changed color. Fiben handed the disk back to Gailet.

What matters is that we try, he told himself, knowing how forlorn this venture certainly was.

“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-damned 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 passionately 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 shifted. “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” classes, 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, nobody will ever have that sort of claim on him… nobody 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.