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“Oh, I do,” Kassquit said. “The other part of the promise is what concerns me. The Deutsche tried a surprise attack against the Race.”
“I remember. I was a boy then,” Coffey said. That startled Kassquit for a moment. They seemed about the same age, but she’d come into adulthood when the Deutsche started the second major war between Big Uglies and the Race. Then she remembered she’d gone into cold sleep years before the American Tosevite had, and been kept in cold sleep till the Admiral Peary neared Home. Coffey went on, “They had radioactivity alerts every day. Depending on how bad the fallout was, sometimes they would not let us go out and play.”
“That sort of thing could happen here,” Kassquit said.
“Truth,” Coffey agreed. “Worse than that, much worse than that, could also happen here. And it could happen in my not-empire, too.”
Kassquit cared very little about the United States. She remembered only belatedly that Frank Coffey cared very little about the Empire. That struck her as strange. It would have struck an average member of the Race as even stranger. For more than a hundred thousand years, the Race hadn’t needed diplomatic relations with foreign empires. Those of the Rabotevs and Hallessi had fallen before earlier conquest fleets in the flick of a nictitating membrane.
Here as in everything else, the Big Uglies were different.
“If there is a war, Tosev 3 may not survive it,” Kassquit said. “What would you do then?”
“Personally? I am not sure,” Coffey answered. “I would not know the worst had happened for many years. That is something of a relief. But the question may be academic. The Admiral Peary and whatever other starships the United States is flying by then would do their best to make sure that whatever happened to Tosev 3 also happened to Home and the other worlds of the Empire.”
Was he speaking as someone who was simply concerned, or as an American military officer who wanted to make sure the Race’s military officers heard his words? He had to be sure Kassquit’s room was monitored. Kassquit was sure of it herself. She hated it, but didn’t know what she could do about it.
“How much damage could Tosevite starships do?” she asked, partly as a concerned citizen of the Empire and partly to make sure the Race’s military officers heard his reply.
What he said, though, wasn’t very informative: “How can I know for certain? I have been in cold sleep a long time. The state of the art back on Tosev 3 will have changed. I could not begin to guess the capabilities of the United States right now-or those of the other independent Tosevite empires and not-empires.”
Or maybe that wasn’t so uninformative after all. He’d managed to remind the Race it might not be fighting the United States alone. That was something military officers needed to think about, all right.
“If this war comes, it will be the worst anyone has ever known,” Kassquit said.
“No one could possibly say that is not a truth,” Coffey agreed gravely.
“Then why fight it?” Kassquit exclaimed.
“I speak for myself and for the United States when I say we do not want to fight it.” Frank Coffey used an emphatic cough. “But I also have to say again that, if the Race attacks us, we will fight back, and fight back as hard as we can.” He added another one.
“Where is the sense to it?” Kassquit asked.
“As for myself, I do not see that sense anywhere,” the American Big Ugly said. “But I can tell you where I think the Race sees it.”
“Where?”
“The Race fears that, no matter how bad the war would be if they fought it now, it would be even worse if they waited till later,” Coffey answered. “This is a mistaken attitude. The United States is completely happy to be a good neighbor to the Empire-as long as the Empire stays a good neighbor to us.”
That sounded both logical and reasonable. If Coffey meant it, if the United States meant it, the Empire and the Tosevites’ snoutcounting not-empire could live side by side. If. One thing history had taught the Race, though, was that Big Uglies were least reliable when they sounded most reasonable and logical. They left it there. Where else could they take it?
After supper that evening in the refectory, Kassquit went over to Ttomalss and said, “Excuse me, superior sir, but may I speak with you for a little while?”
“Certainly,” Ttomalss answered. “Will you come to my room?”
Kassquit made the negative gesture. “I thank you, but no. Do you not think it would be more pleasant to go outside and talk in the cool evening breezes?”
To her, those breezes were anything but cool. When she used the Race’s language, though, she necessarily used the Race’s thought patterns, too. And, by the way Ttomalss’ eye turrets swung sharply toward her face, he had no trouble figuring out what she really meant: if they talked outside the hotel, they would not-or at least might not-be talking into someone’s hearing diaphragm.
The psychologist replied naturally enough: “We can do that if you like. Maybe the evening sevod are still calling. They are pleasant to hear-do you not think so?”
“Yes, very,” Kassquit said.
They walked out of the hotel, Kassquit towering over the male who had raised her from a hatchling. Home’s sun had set not long before. Twilight deepened, the western sky gradually fading toward the blue-black of night. The evening sevod were still twittering in the bushes around the building, though they sounded sleepier with each passing moment.
One by one, stars came out of the sky. The lights of Sitneff drowned out the dimmer ones, but the brighter ones still shaped the outlines of the constellations. Kassquit had often watched stars from the starship in orbit around Tosev 3. She’d had to get used to seeing them twinkle here; from space, of course, their light was hard and unwinking.
She stared and then pointed. “Is that not the star Tosev, superior sir?”
Ttomalss’ eye turrets moved in the direction of her finger. He made the affirmative gesture. “Yes, I think so. Strange to see it as just another star, is it not?”
“Truth,” Kassquit said, and then, “I ask you again: what sort of experiments are the wild Big Uglies working on there?”
“Ah,” Ttomalss said. “I wondered why you wanted to speak behind the sand dune, as it were.” He sounded more amused than annoyed. “If the Emperor did not tell you, why did you think I would?”
“You… know what his Majesty said to me?” Kassquit said slowly.
“I have a good notion of what he said, anyhow,” Ttomalss replied. “You would have rubbed my snout in it had he told you. Will you not believe that if I had not been the one to bring this to the notice of those in authority here on Home, I would not be authorized to know of it, either?”
“What can possibly be as important as that?” Kassquit asked. “Everyone makes it sound as if the sun will go nova tomorrow on account of it.”
“Anything I say right now would only be speculation on my part,” Ttomalss told her. “Until the physicists have spoken, I can tell you nothing. Until then, as a matter of fact, there really is nothing to tell.”
Kassquit mad
e the negative gesture. “I would not say that, superior sir. For instance, you could tell me what sort of experiments the physicists are working on.”
Ttomalss used the negative gesture, too. “I could, but, as I say, I may not. The work is important and it is secret. If I were not directly involved in it, I repeat that I would be as ignorant as you. I wish I were.”
The last four words made Kassquit eye him thoughtfully. She knew Ttomalss better than she knew anyone else alive. “Whatever the wild Big Uglies have found, you do not think we will be able to reproduce it.”
“I never said that!” Ttomalss jerked as if she’d jabbed a pin under his scales. “I never said that, and I do not say it now. You have no right, none whatsoever, to make such assumptions.”
As was the way of such things, the more he protested, the more he convinced Kassquit she was right. She consoled him as best she could: “Whatever they do, superior sir, is bound to be limited to their own solar system for many years to come. The star Tosev is a long way away.” She pointed up into the sky. Tosev seemed brighter now. That was an illusion, of course. Twilight had faded, and the sky around the star had grown darker. Kassquit had had to get used to that, too. In space, the sky was always black.
What she’d intended for consolation seemed to have the opposite effect. Ttomalss twitched again. Then he spun and hurried back into the hotel, leaving her alone in the darkness outside. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so rude. He was worried about something, all right-something to do with the Big Uglies and their experiments.
Whatever it was, Kassquit realized she probably wouldn’t find out any time soon. If Ttomalss wouldn’t give her the information, no one would. She thought she was entitled to it. If higher-ups in the Race disagreed with her, what could she do about it? Nothing she could see.
She followed Ttomalss back into the hotel. He wasn’t waiting in the lobby for her. He’d gone upstairs-probably to report on her curiosity to some of those higher-ups. Kassquit shrugged. She couldn’t do anything about that, either.
Ttomalss peered out of his hotel window into the night. That was not the ideal way to look at the stars. In a crowded town like Sitneff, there was no ideal way to look at them. Even for an urban setting, pressing your snout against some none-too-clean glass was less than optimal.
