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The ceremony was not so grand as it would have been in the Soviet Union-as it had been when Stalin died-but it had a spare impressiveness of its own. Six white horses drew the wagon on which lay the flag-draped casket that held Earl Warren’s remains. Behind it, a nice touch, a soldier led a riderless black horse with empty boots reversed in the stirrups.
President Warren’s widow, his children, and their spouses and children walked behind the horse. Then came the new U.S. president and his family, and then the assembled foreign dignitaries, with Molotov in the first rank. Behind them marched military bands and units from the American armed forces, some on foot, some mounted.
At a slow march, the procession went east on Capitol Street-Embassy Row-for more than a mile, then turned south toward a barge church. Molotov cared little for any of that, except when his feet began to hurt. He took sardonic pleasure in the certainty that Walter Dornberger, who wore Nazi jackboots, was suffering worse than he.
What really interested him were the people who crowded the sidewalks to watch the coffin as it rolled by. Some were silent and respectful. Others called out, as they would not have done in the USSR. Gromyko murmured in Molotov’s ear: “Some of them say he should have hit the Lizards harder. Others curse him for striking them at all.”
“Someone will take the names of those people.” Molotov spoke with great certainty. The United States might boast of the freedom of speech it granted its citizens. When they criticized the government, though, he was convinced they would be fair game.
He endured a religious service in a language he did not understand. Gromyko didn’t bother translating. Molotov knew what the preacher would be saying: Warren had been important and was dead. One day, Party functionaries would say the same of Molotov. Not soon, he hoped.
11
Felless was about to taste ginger when the telephone hissed. She hissed, too, in frustration and annoyance. After scraping the herb off her palm and back into the vial, she touched the accept control and said, “I greet you.”
Ambassador Veffani’s image appeared in the screen. “And I greet you, Senior Researcher,” he replied. “I hope you are well?”
“Yes, superior sir; I thank you.” Felless was glad she hadn’t tasted before answering. Who could guess in what kind of trouble she might have found herself? Actually, the kind was easy enough to guess; the degree was a different question altogether. “And you?”
“I am well,” Veffani said. “I am calling to inform you that you are being placed on detached duty and transferred from Marseille to Cairo.”
“I… am being transferred to Cairo?” Felless had trouble believing her hearing diaphragms. “After the unfortunate incident with the males from the staff of the fleetlord of the conquest fleet?”
“After they all mated with you, yes, as did I.” Veffani was at pains to spell out the details Felless would sooner have avoided. “I trust you will not go there full of ginger. It would be unfortunate if you did.” He used an emphatic cough.
“That will not be a difficulty, superior sir,” Felless said, though it would have been had Veffani called a little later. “I would like to know the reason why I am being summoned to Cairo, especially in light of the impression the unfortunate incident must have created.” She wouldn’t call it anything else.
“The reason is simple,” Veffani answered. “Fleetlord Atvar is forming a commission to examine the reason the American Big Uglies sacrificed one of their cities to us.”
“I should think it would be obvious,” Felless said: “to keep us from devastating their land with warfare, as we devastated the Reich.”
Veffani made an impatient noise. “Why did they choose to sacrifice a city rather than weaken such space installations as they possess? Superficially, that was the easier choice, and the Tosevites are nothing if not superficial. It was the choice we expected them to make. We offered the other primarily at Fleetlord Reffet’s urging. Now that they have accepted it, they remain a major power-and a major danger to us.”
“I see.” Felless made the affirmative gesture to show she did. “Yes, that is a worthwhile subject for consideration. Who will my colleagues be?”
“I know of Senior Researcher Ttomalss and Security Chief Diffal, both from the conquest fleet,” Veffani answered. “Your inclusion with them and with whoever else will be present is a distinct compliment, as you are so recently come to Tosev 3.”
“Very well,” Felless said; for once, she could not argue with the ambassador. “When is the next flight from Marseille to Cairo?”
“Check your computer,” he told her. “Bill the administrative system, when you give your own identification number as well, it will accept the charges.”
“It shall be done, “she said. “I thank you for not holding the past against me.”
“I had nothing to do with it, “Veffani replied. “Atvar asked for you by name, and I was in no position to refuse the fleetlord. Neither are you.” His image vanished.
Felless discovered a flight was leaving that afternoon. She checked; it had seats available. As Veffani had said, she could charge her reservation to the administrative system. She was on the aircraft. No one shot at it when it landed. On any other world of the Empire, that would have been a given. On Tosev 3, Felless was willing to accept it as something of a triumph.
No one shot at her armored vehicle as it traveled to Shepheard’s Hotel, either. “The Big Uglies seem to be more accepting of our rule,” she remarked to the female sitting beside her as the second armored gate closed behind the vehicle.
“So they do,” the female replied, “at least until something else gets them bouncing like drops of oil in a hot pan.” Felless didn’t answer. By everything she could see, cynicism that had been unique to the males of the conquest fleet was now infecting the colonists, too. Maybe that would make it easier for the males of the conquest fleet to fit in. Maybe it just meant the colonists would have a harder time in their efforts to form a stable society on this world.
Ttomalss was waiting for Felless when she came into the lobby of the Race’s administrative center. “I greet you, superior female,” he said. “You could get a room number and a map from the computer terminal there, but this place is like a maze. Your room is across the corridor from mine. If you like, I will escort you there.”
“I thank you, Senior Researcher. That would be kind of you,” Felless answered. As they walked through the hallways-hallways that struck her as too wide and too tall-she asked, “Who besides Diffal will be on the commission with us?”
“The only other member who has yet been chosen is Superior Nuisance Straha,” Ttomalss said. Before Felless could remark on that, he continued, “That is his own suggested title for himself these days. From my experience in working with him, I must say it is a good one.”
“Working with a defector?” Felless started to get angry. Then she checked herself. “It may not be such a bad move after all. He has lived longer and more intimately with the Big Uglies than we have.”
“Your reaction mirrors mine, “Ttomalss said. “I have been interrogating him, as you may know. When I heard he would be a part of this commission, I was at first horrified, but then realized, as you did, that his insights would prove valuable. And so they have. He has an empirical knowledge of Tosevites few of us could match.”
“Good enough,” Felless said. “The next obvious question is, can we trust his insights? Or is he still in some degree loyal to the Big Uglies who sheltered him for so long?”
Ttomalss made the negative gesture. “He has been interrogated under truth-revealing drugs. His comments about the authorities in the United States, though less coherent than when he is undrugged, are of the same sardonic tenor. The only loyalty to a Tosevite that he does exhibit is a personal one to Sam Yeager, whom he truly reckons a friend.”
“All right. We may discount that, then,” Felless agreed. “A pity we do not have such drugs to use on the Big Uglies.”
“We tried some during the first round
of fighting,” Ttomalss said. “They worked imperfectly when they worked at all. And, because males relied too much on the false results they got with them, they turned out to be worse than interrogation with no drugs at all.”
“That is unfortunate,” Felless said.
“It often turned out to be very unfortunate for the males involved,” Ttomalss said. “Most of them can explain their misfortune only to spirits of Emperors past, however.” He stopped. “Here is your room. Mine, as I told you, is across the hall. By all means let me know if you need anything. I suspect we will be meeting too often to let you taste ginger without complicating your life and everyone else’s. I do not mean that as criticism, merely as a statement of fact.”
“And as a warning,” Felless said. Ttomalss made the affirmative gesture. Felless sighed. “I thank you. The habit is hard to break.” It was especially hard to break when she didn’t want to break it. She asked, “When will the first meeting be?”
“After breakfast tomorrow morning,” Ttomalss answered. “That will give you a chance to relax and recover from your flight.”
“Good enough,” Felless said again. “I thank you for your help.” She went into the room and closed the door behind her. Her eye turrets swiveled. Like the hall, the room had been built for Tosevites, and so struck her as outsized. Some of the plumbing fixtures were also left over from the days when Big Uglies had come here. But the rest had been modernized, and the appointments suited her well enough.
When she made her way to the refectory, she found the food quite good. Then she noticed the fleetlord of the conquest fleet at a table in one corner of the room, in animated discussion with a shiplord whose body paint was almost as complex as his. If the fleetlord ate here, the food would be good, or someone would hear about it in short order.
Breakfast the next morning was good, too. She used a map of the complex to find the meeting room. Diffal and Ttomalss were already there. A male with the body paint of a shuttlecraft pilot came in right behind her. Ttomalss said, “Senior Researcher, I present to you the returned defector and former shiplord, Straha.”
