“These are truths, Senior Researcher. I cannot deny it,” Pesskrag said. “But this news holds other truths, too. These ships open much of this arm of the galaxy to colonization.”
“At the moment, they open it to
Tosevite
colonization,” Ttomalss said. “How long will we need to get such ships of our own?”
The physicist’s eye turrets swung up toward the ceiling as she calculated. Her tongue flicked in and out. After a bit, she said, “Now that we know it can be done, I would estimate somewhere between fifty and a hundred years.”
A pained hiss escaped Ttomalss. That wasn’t far from what he’d thought himself. He’d hoped Pesskrag would tell him he was wrong. “Not sooner?” he said. “This is a very long time for the Big Uglies to have the capability while we do not.”
“If we have to do the research and the engineering, that is my best guess,” Pesskrag said. “I know the Big Uglies did it faster, but we are not Big Uglies.”
“Truth—a truth that delights me most of the time. Here, though, it could spell the end of us.” Ttomalss paused. “Wait. You say
if
we do these things, it will take about this long. What else can we do?”
Before Pesskrag could answer, the server brought their meals. He had not been lying; the sauce that coated Ttomalss’ zisuili ribs stung his tongue. He drank water to help quench the fire, then ate some more. The midday meal was not a gourmet’s delight, but it was good enough of its kind. That sufficed; his mind wasn’t fully on it anyhow.
After stripping the meat from a large rib with teeth and tongue, Pesskrag said, “We could save a lot of time by buying a ship from the Big Uglies, or at least acquiring some of the engineering know-how from them. Copying is faster than creating.”
Ttomalss stared at her. That was also a truth, and a profound one. The Tosevites had caught up with the Race by imitating—stealing—technology from the conquest fleet. Of course, then the Big Uglies had proceeded to jump past their former mentors. Could the Race return the favor, or would the Empire live forever in the Tosevites’ rapidly spreading shadow?
“There is one obvious problem,” Ttomalss said. Pesskrag started eating another rib, but gestured for him to go on. He did: “It is not in the Big Uglies’ interest to sell us this technology. The longer they have it and we do not, the greater their advantage.”
“I cannot disagree with you,” Pesskrag said. “But some individual Tosevites are bound to be corrupt. We can afford enormous rewards for information. And if we cannot openly buy these secrets, perhaps we can steal them.”
“Perhaps we can,” Ttomalss said. “You may well be right. We have to try.”
“I still marvel that the Big Uglies made these experiments in the first place,” Pesskrag said. “We had a hundred thousand years in which to try them, and we never did. We were convinced we knew everything worth knowing, and content with what we had.”
“Big Uglies are never content. Never,” Ttomalss said. “Discontent is their salient characteristic.”
“This has proved to be to their advantage,” Pesskrag observed.
“I do not deny it. I could not, could I?” Ttomalss replied. “Do you truly understand how they have done what they have done?”
“If I truly understood it, I would be able to duplicate it myself,” the physicist said. “I cannot do that, Senior Researcher. At present, anyone who tells you he or she fully understands how the Big Uglies did this is either an optimist or a liar. I think my colleagues and I do begin to grasp the theory behind what they have done. Begin to, I stress.” She used an emphatic cough. “I remain convinced that this is a useful first step.”
“No doubt,” Ttomalss said.
Pesskrag finished the second rib and began on a third. Ttomalss wished his appetite were as good. A Tosevite proverb floated through his mind:
the condemned male ate a hearty meal.
He wasn’t condemned himself, but all the Race might be.
He started to say something, then had to lean back in a hurry as Pesskrag used the new rib like a lecturer’s pointer and almost got sauce on his snout. “Oh, excuse me,” the female said, “but I just thought of something else. Before long, I fear charlatans and maniacs will start crawling out from under every flat stone. They will all be shouting that they know how to travel faster than light. They will show us how if we transfer some large sum to their credit balance, or if we name them prime minister, or if the Emperor balances an egg on the end of his snout.”
“An egg?” Ttomalss said, confused.
“These males and females will be addled. Just about all of them will either be addled or frauds,” Pesskrag explained. “But we will have to investigate at least some of their claims, for fear of missing something profoundly important.”
“I see.” Ttomalss made the affirmative gesture. “I think I see, anyhow. There will also be some who travel on the opposite side of the road. Did you see Professor Kralk’s memorandum, in which she states that the Big Uglies must be frauds, because faster-than-light travel is an obvious impossibility?”
“Oh, yes, I saw it. It would be pathetic if it were not so sad,” Pesskrag said. “Kralk asserts this even though the signals from Tosev 3 are confirming in detail what the Big Uglies aboard the
Commodore Perry
said they would say.” Pesskrag sighed. “It is too bad. Kralk was a sound female when she was younger. To be unwilling to change theory without justification is the mark of a scientist. To be unwilling to change theory even when there is abundant justification is the mark of someone whose thought processes have ossified.”
They went their separate ways then, Pesskrag back to the laboratory to go on chasing the Big Uglies and Ttomalss back to the hotel to report to Atvar on what he had learned from the physicist. A young male wearing a wig of a greenish yellow like no Tosevite’s real hair tried to sell him ginger. He snarled his rejection so fiercely, he frightened the petty criminal.
Can we change?
he wondered.
Or have all our processes become ossified? We are going to find out. That is certain.
He didn’t talk to Atvar inside the hotel. Again, they feared the wild Big Uglies might be able to listen to what they said. They went over to the park where Sam Yeager liked to visit in the early morning or the late afternoon. They sat in the sunshine, not in the shade, also for fear the American ambassador might have planted little electronic hearing diaphragms wherever he went.
That was probably close to a delusion of persecution. Considering what had just happened to the Race, though, was any worry about the Big Uglies’ abilities really delusional? Ttomalss feared it wasn’t.
He told Atvar what Pesskrag had told him. The fleetlord hissed in dismay. “We cannot afford to wait so long. The Tosevites will not wait for us.”
“The other alternative, as Pesskrag suggested, involves bribery and espionage,” Ttomalss said. “It may well prove quicker, as she said. But it is far less certain.”
“Nothing is certain any more,” Atvar said sadly. “Nothing.”
Ttomalss understood how he felt. The Empire was built on certainty and stability. It had been, for as long as it existed. Now all of that was likely to fly away like a swarm of startled evening sevod. “We should never have sent the conquest fleet to Tosev 3,” the psychologist said.
“This same thought has occurred to me,” Atvar answered. “But who knows whether things would have turned out better or worse? If we had waited longer, the Big Uglies might have come upon us and caught us unawares. That would have been even worse than this. I will tell you what we should have done.”
“What is that?” Ttomalss asked. “As far as I can see, all of our choices were bad.”
“What we should have done, when our probe showed Tosev 3 to be inhabited, was send the conquest fleet at once. The Big Uglies really were primitives and savages then. We could have easily subdued them, and we would not have had to worry about any of this.”
“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?”