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 made 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.
But Tosev was bright enough for him to spot in spite of everything. Just a sparkling point of light . . . Strange to think how something that small and lovely could cause so much trouble.
The psychologist made the negative gesture. It wasn’t Tosev’s fault. It was that of the annoying creatures infesting the star’s third planet. If not for them, if not for that miserable world, Tosev would be . . . just another star, brighter than most but not bright enough to seem really special.
If. If not. But things were as they were. One way or another, the Race was going to have to deal with the Big Uglies. If that meant exterminating them, then it did. If the Race didn’t exterminate the Big Uglies, weren’t the Tosevites likely to do it to them first?
A star moving across the sky . . . But that wasn’t a star, only a warning light on an airplane. It was deep in the red to Ttomalss’ eyes. The Big Uglies might not have been able to see it at all. Their eyes could sense hues past deep blue, but did not reach as far into the red as the Race’s did. Tosev was a hotter, brighter star than the sun. Tosevites were adapted to its light, as the Race was adapted to that of the sun. Hallessi, now, had names for colors at the red end of the spectrum that the Race could not see. Their star was cooler and redder than the sun, let alone Tosev.
With a sorrowful hiss, Ttomalss looked away from the window. The authorities on Tosev 3 had put him into cold sleep and sent him back to Home to work toward peace with the wild Big Uglies. He’d done everything he could toward that end, too. And what had it got him? Only the growing certainty that war was on the way.
He’d seen war on Tosev 3, and from orbit around the Big Uglies’ home world. He tried to imagine
that
coming to the surface of Home. Peace had prevailed here since the planet was unified under the Empire: for more than a hundred thousand years. Males and females of the Race took it for granted. So did Rabotevs and Hallessi; they’d been freed from war since their worlds were brought into the Empire.
But if war was unimaginable to citizens of the Empire, it was anything but to the Big Uglies. They took it as much for granted as members of the Race took peace. And, because they did, responsible members of the Race also had to.
If war came now, it would ruin Tosev 3 and probably devastate the worlds of the Empire. What could be worse than that? The trouble was, Ttomalss feared he knew the answer. If war came later, it might only devastate Tosev 3 while ruining the worlds of the Empire.
How fast were the Big Uglies progressing? What did they know that Pesskrag and her colleagues were trying so hard to find out? Even more to the point, what did they know that Felless and other members of the Race on Tosev 3 didn’t know they knew? Whatever it was, was it enough to tip the balance of power between the Empire and the independent Tosevites? If it wasn’t now, would it be in a few years? In a few hundred years? What were the odds?
Would the independent Tosevites go to war with one another, and not with the Race? They’d been fighting one another when the conquest fleet arrived. Since then, the Race had seemed a bigger threat to them than they had to one another. But that wasn’t necessarily a permanent condition. With the Big Uglies, no condition was necessarily permanent.
That went a long way toward making them as dangerous as they were.
So many questions. So few answers. Or maybe the answers were there on Tosev 3, but light’s laggard speed simply hadn’t brought them Home yet. Ttomalss let out another unhappy hiss. There were times when he wished Felless had never passed on the information she’d found.
The American Big Uglies had a saying:
if stupidity is happiness, it is foolish to be intelligent.
That was how it went in the language of the Race, anyhow; Ttomalss suspected it lost something in the translation. Whatever truth it held depended on the status of the first clause—which suddenly seemed truer to the psychologist than it ever had before.
Ttomalss started to telephone Pesskrag, then stopped and made the negative gesture. He had almost been stupid, to say nothing of unintelligent, himself. The American Tosevites had shown they could monitor telephone calls inside the hotel. He didn’t want them listening to anything he had to say to the physicist. He used an emphatic cough by itself, which showed how upset he was. No, he didn’t want that at all.
He rode down to the lobby, and then went out into the night. His mouth fell open in a laugh. He did not have to worry about any of the Big Uglies sneaking after him. They would be as inconspicuous as an azwaca in a temple dedicated to the spirits of Emperors past. No, more so—an azwaca, at least, would belong to this world.
Ttomalss relished being one ordinary male among many ordinary males and females. This was where he belonged. These other members of the Race—even the occasional less than ordinary ones wearing false hair or wrappings—were his own kind. He might have spent many years studying the Big Uglies, but he knew them only intellectually. His liver belonged with his own.
He found a public telephone by a market whose sign boasted it was open all night. Passersby might hear snatches of his conversation. So what, though? Those snatches would mean nothing to them. If the Tosevites listened to everything he said . . . He made the negative gesture. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t, not now.
Before he could place the call, a skinny female sidled up to him. “Do you want to buy some ginger?” she asked.
He made the negative gesture. “No. Go away.”
“You do not need to get huffy about it. Do you want to buy
me
some ginger? Then you can smell my pheromones and mate with me.”
“No! Go away!” This time, Ttomalss used an emphatic cough.
“‘No! Go away!’ ” the female echoed mockingly. “You can stuff that right on up your cloaca, too, pal.” She skittered down the street.
He found himself quivering with anger. Ginger was a problem back on Tosev 3, certainly. That was where the stuff came from, so the scope of the problem there wasn’t so surprising. To get his snout rubbed in it here on Home, though, when he’d just stepped away from the hotel for a little while . . .
Maybe we really ought to slag the Big Uglies’ home planet. Then we would not have to worry about the herb any more.
Or was that a truth? Wouldn’t clever chemists start synthesizing the active ingredient? Getting rid of the trouble Tosevites caused might be even harder than getting rid of the Tosevites themselves. Somehow, that seemed altogether fitting to Ttomalss.
His fingerclaws poked in Pesskrag’s number. He more than half expected to have to leave a message, but the physicist’s image appeared on the screen. She said, “This is Pesskrag. I greet you.”
“And I greet you. This is Ttomalss.”
“Oh, hello, Senior Researcher. Good to hear from you. I was just thinking of you not long ago, as a matter of fact. What can I do for you?”
“Are you in a place where you can speak without being overheard?”
“Actually, I have had all my calls forwarded here to the laboratory. Some of my colleagues may hear what I say, but without their work I would not be able to tell you nearly so much as I can.”
“All right. That will do.” Ttomalss was impressed that she was working into the night. She recognized how important this research was, then. Good. The psychologist said, “I was wondering if you had gained any better idea of how long it might take to translate these new discoveries into real-world engineering.”
“Well, I still cannot tell you I am certain about that,” Pesskrag answered. “I presume you are asking based on the notion that speed counts for more than safety, and that the usual checks and reviews will be abandoned or ignored?”
“Yes, that is right,” Ttomalss agreed.
“My opinion is that it will still be a matter of years, and more of them rather than fewer. No one will walk confidently on this sand. There will be errors and misfortunes, and they will lead to delays. I do not see how they can help leading to delays.”
That only proved she’d never watched Big Uglies in action. They charged right past errors and misfortunes. If those left dead or maimed individuals in their wake—well, so what? To the Tosevites, results counted for more than the process used to obtain them.
Asking the Race to imitate that sort of behavior was probably useless. No, it was bound to be useless. The Race simply did not and could not operate the way the Big Uglies did. Most of the time, Ttomalss thanked the spirits of Emperors past for that. Every once in a while, as now, it made him want to curse.