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“Unless they rebelled after becoming part of the Empire and acquiring our technology,” said Ttomalss, who no longer had any faith in the Race’s ability to deal with the Tosevites.
Atvar only shrugged. “Yes, I have already heard this possibility mentioned. But I still believe doing that would have given us our best chance. Instead, we delayed-and the results of that are as we now see.”
“So they are,” Ttomalss replied. “Until we develop this technology for ourselves, we are at their mercy.”
“Exactly.” The fleetlord made the affirmative gesture. “I wonder if our best course might not be to fight the war anyway.”
“But they would intercept our order. They would know about it years before our colony on Tosev 3 learned of it. Would that not be a disaster?”
Atvar sighed. “Probably. But what do we have now? A disaster of a different sort. We might have to sacrifice the colony.”
“We would sacrifice the Rabotevs and the Hallessi, too. And who knows what the Big Uglies could do to Home itself?” Ttomalss said.
The fleetlord sighed again. “I suppose you are right. A war would have a certain finality to it, though. This way, we shall have to live with a difficult, dangerous, ambiguous future, with no guarantee that war, worse war, does not lie ahead.”
“Anyone who has been to Tosev 3 knows that life is different, dangerous, and ambiguous more often than not,” Ttomalss said, and Atvar made the affirmative gesture again.
Major Nicole Nichols was about the cutest little thing Sam Yeager had ever seen. She was just past thirty, which struck him as young for a major, but the Commodore Perry was bound to be full of hotshots. She was a light-skinned black woman with a bright smile, flashing eyes, and a shape he would have expected to see on a professional dancer, not a U.S. Air and Space Force officer.
She’d come down to Sitneff in the Commodore Perry ’s own shuttlecraft. The Lizards were too rattled to refuse permission for that. They’d contented themselves with surrounding the shuttlecraft port with police and guards. If that shuttle was packed with ginger, smugglers would have a devil of a time getting to it unless some of the guards proved venal, which wasn’t impossible.
Major Nichols was also all business. She heard Yeager’s summary of what had gone on since the Admiral Peary reached Home, then nodded briskly. “We tried to get our ship built in time to get here before you, but it didn’t quite happen,” she said, and shrugged as if to say it couldn’t be helped.
“That would have been awful!” Sam exclaimed. “We’d have revived and found out we were nothing but an afterthought.”
“Yes, but we would have been in reasonably close touch with Earth, which you weren’t,” the major answered. That plainly counted for more with her. She eyed him as if he were a museum exhibit. To her, he probably was. And he wasn’t even the right museum exhibit, for she went on, “Meaning no offense, but you do understand we’d expected to be dealing with the Doctor?”
“Oh, sure.” He nodded. “And I’m not offended. I expected the same thing. But when he didn’t wake up”-Sam shrugged-“the Lizards knew I was along, and they asked for me to represent the United States. I’ve done the best job I know how to do.”
“No one has said anything different,” Major Nichols assured him. For a moment, he took that as a compliment. Then he realized it meant the people from the Commodore Perry had been checking up on him. He supposed they would have checked on the Doctor, too, but probably not quite in the same way.
He said, “You’re going to replace me, aren’t you?”
“That was the plan,” Major Nichols answered. “Someone who knows how things are now back on Earth has an advantage over you. I’m sure you’ve kept up with our broadcasts as best you could, but that still leaves you more than ten years behind the times.” She spoke oddly. Her rhythm was different from what Sam was used to, and she used far more words and constructions from the Race’s language as if they were English. By the way she used them, they were English to her.
“I know. As you say, it can’t be helped.” Sam smiled. “I’m looking forward to finding out what the United States is like these days.”
Something changed in the major’s face. “That… may be a little more complicated than you’d think, sir.”
Yeager raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” Major Nichols nodded. Sam said, “Well, maybe you’d better tell me about it, then.” If she were a man, he would have said, Kiss me, ’cause I think you’re gonna screw me. Being of the female persuasion, though, she might not have taken that the right way.
“This is more complicated than we thought it would be,” she repeated. “You have to understand, our instructions about you assumed you would be acting as the Doctor’s assistant and adviser, not that you would be ambassador yourself.”
“Okay. I understand that. It’s simple enough,” Sam said. “So what were these instructions that were based on that assumption?”
“That you were to stay here and continue to act as assistant and adviser to the Doctor’s successor,” Major Nichols answered.
“I… see,” Sam said slowly. “And if I didn’t want to do that? I wasn’t born yesterday, you know, even if you don’t count cold sleep. I was thinking I would enjoy retirement. I’m still thinking that, as a matter of fact.”
The major looked unhappy. “Sir, there’s no polite, friendly way to tell you this. You are to be… discouraged from coming back to Earth.”
“Am I?” Sam said tonelessly. “Well, I don’t have to be an Einstein to figure out why, do I?” His voice went harsh and flat.
“You probably don’t,” she agreed. “You’re… not remembered kindly in certain circles in the U.S. government.”
“People who tell the truth often aren’t,” Sam said. “That’s what I did, Major. That’s what my crime was, back before you were born. I told the truth.”
“They’ve rebuilt Indianapolis,” Major Nichols said. She went on, “I have cousins there. I’ve been to Earl Warren Park. The memorial to the people who died is very touching.” President Warren himself had died, by his own hand, when word of his role in the attack came out.
Sam made the affirmative gesture. He spoke in the language of the Race: “Where is the monument to those our not-empire wantonly destroyed? Do they not deserve some commemoration?”
She went right on speaking English: “It’s because you say this kind of thing that some people thought you might be more comfortable staying here than coming back to the United States.”
“ ‘Some people.’ ” Sam echoed that with an odd, sour relish. “I know what kind of people, too-the kind who think anybody who doesn’t believe all the same things they do isn’t a real American. Well, I happen to think I am, whether they like it or not.”
Major Nichols didn’t answer that right away. She studied Yeager instead. He had no idea what was going on behind her eyes. Whatever she thought, she kept to herself. He wouldn’t have wanted to play poker against her; she would have taken the shirt off his back. At last, she said, “You’re not what my briefings made me think you were going to be.”
“No horns,” he said. “No tail. No fangs, that’s for sure-I’ve only got four of my own choppers. Lost the rest more than a hundred years ago, if you add cold sleep into it.”
“They can do something about that now. They have what they call dental implants,” she told him. “They go into your jawbone, and they’re just about as good as real teeth.”
“To tell you the truth, I hardly remember what real teeth are like,” Sam said. “I’ve gone without ’em since I was a kid.” Human teeth amazed and horrified the Lizards. They couldn’t imagine why evolution made people go through life with only two sets. Like small-l lizards on earth, they replaced theirs continuously throughout their lives. And then Sam smiled sourly at the major from the Commodore Perry. “Besides, what difference does it make? You just said you’re not going to let me go back to Earth anyway, didn’t you?”
She flushed. Her skin wasn’t dark enough t
o hide it. In a small voice, she said, “Me and my big mouth.”
“You and your big mouth,” he agreed. “Look, tell me something I want to know for a change, will you? How are my grandchildren? Do I have great-grandchildren yet? Great-great? And how are Mickey and Donald getting along?”
“One of your grandsons-Richard-is at Stanford University, heading the Interspecies Studies Department there,” Major Nichols said. “The other-Bruce-runs a company that arranges cultural exchanges with the Lizards. They’re both well, or they were when we left. You have five great-grandchildren-three boys and two girls-all told, and two great-great-granddaughters. Bruce is divorced. Richard had a brief failed marriage, then remarried and has stayed that way for almost thirty years.”
“Lord!” Sam said softly. Jonathan’s boys had been kids when he went into cold sleep. They’d been in college when Jonathan and Karen went on ice. It sounded as if they’d done pretty well for themselves since. By the way their bodies felt, they’d be older than their parents. If that wasn’t bizarre, Sam didn’t know what would be. “And what about Mickey and Donald?”
