Homeward Bound Part 41

Sam Yeager had faced plenty of frustrations on Home. He'd been ready for most of them-he knew what the Lizards were like and what they were likely to do as well as any mere human could. That (along with the Doctor's bad luck) was why he was the American amba.s.sador today.

But one frustration he hadn't expected was having the Race know more about what was happening back on Earth than he did.

Things had worked out that way, though. Physicists back on the home planet seemed to be dancing a buck-and-wing about something. (Did anybody back on Earth dance a buck-and-wing about anything any more? Sometimes the phrases that popped into Sam's head made him feel like an antique even to himself.) The Race had a pretty good idea of what it was. None of the Americans on Home had even a clue.

His own ignorance made Sam call Lieutenant General Healey one more time. He relished that about as much as he would have a visit to the proctologist's. Sometimes, though, he had to bend over. And sometimes he had to talk to the Admiral Peary Admiral Peary's commandant. He consoled himself by remembering Healey liked him no better than he liked Healey.

"What's on your mind, Amba.s.sador?" Healey growled when the connection went through. Then came the inevitable question: "And is this call secure?"

"As far as I can tell, it is," Yeager answered after checking the electronics in his room one more time.

"All right. Go ahead."

"Here's what I want to know: has the s.h.i.+p picked up any transmissions from the Lizards on Earth about human physicists' recent experiments, whatever they are? And have the Lizards here on Home been blabbing about that kind of thing anywhere you can monitor them? I'd like to find out what's going on if I can."

"I don't remember anything like that." By the way Healey said it, it couldn't have happened if he didn't remember it.

More often than not, Sam would have accepted that just to give himself an excuse to get off the phone with a man he couldn't stand. That he didn't now was a measure of how urgent he thought this was. "Could you please check, General? Could you please check as carefully as possible? It's liable to be very important."

"How important is very important?" Healey asked scornfully.

"Peace or war important. I don't think it gets any more important than that. Do you?"

The commandant didn't answer, not for some little while. Yeager started to wonder if he really did think something else was more important. With Healey, you never could tell. At last, though, he said, "I'll see what I can find out."

"Thanks," Yeager said. Again, Healey didn't answer. A glance at the electronics told Sam the commandant had hung up on him. He laughed. The man was consistent. Yeah, he's consistently a son of a b.i.t.c.h, Yeah, he's consistently a son of a b.i.t.c.h, jeered the little voice inside Sam's head. jeered the little voice inside Sam's head.

Talks with Atvar faltered. It was as if both the fleetlord and Sam were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sam wasn't even sure what the other shoe was, but he had to wait-and he had to seem to know more than he did. At one point, Atvar said, "It would be better for all concerned if this turned out to be a dead end."

"Do you truly think so?" Yeager said, wondering what this this was. "Our belief is that knowledge is never wasted." was. "Our belief is that knowledge is never wasted."

"Yes, I understand that," the fleetlord answered. "You have this notion of what you call progress, of change as improvement. We think differently. When we think of change, we think of all the things that can go wrong, all the things that will need fixing. We are more realistic than you."

Sam made the negative gesture. "Meaning no disrespect, but I do not think so. The Race and Tosevites have different histories, that is all. You gained your technology slowly, one piece at a time, and that made you notice the disruptions it caused. We got ours over a couple of long lifetimes. It made things much better for us in spite of the disruptions."

"Did it?" Atvar asked. "Would the Jews the Deutsche exterminated agree with you? Without your newly advanced technology-railroads, poisons, and so on-the Deutsche could not have done as they did. This is not the only example. Will you deny it?"

"I wish I could," Sam answered. But that was not what Atvar had asked. Sam Yeager sighed. "No, I will not deny it. It is a truth. But you ignore, for example, the medical advances that allow most of us to live out our full spans without fear of the diseases that killed so many of us not long ago."

"I do not ignore them," Atvar said. Yeager thought he meant they also had a black side, as in the experiments n.a.z.i doctors had undertaken while they were getting rid of Jews. But the fleetlord went down a different road: "Will your agriculture keep up with population growth? Will you regulate the number of hatchlings you are allowed to produce? Or will you simply start to starve because you do not think of difficulties until it is too late?"

Those were good questions. Sam had answers for none of them. All he could say was, "Tosevites have also predicted these disasters, but they have not happened yet. If progress continues, perhaps none of them will."

Atvar's mouth fell open. He knew Sam well enough to know he would not offend him by laughing at him. "There is such a thing as optimism, Amba.s.sador, and there is such a thing as what we call drooling optimism."

"We would say wild-eyed optimism," Sam replied. "But you see optimism in general turning into that kind of optimism sooner than we do."

"No doubt you have come out with another truth," Atvar said. "As for me, I can speak only as a male of the Race. And one of the things I have to say is this: from the Race's perspective, your optimism leads to arrogance. You think you can ask for anything you want and everything will somehow turn out all right. I must tell you that that that is not a truth, nor will it ever be." He added an emphatic cough. is not a truth, nor will it ever be." He added an emphatic cough.

"When you brought the conquest fleet to Tosev 3, you expected to find a bunch of sword-swinging barbarians," Sam said.

"Truth. We did," Atvar said. "I do not disagree. This is so."

"Forgive me, Fleetlord, but I have not finished," Sam said. "Instead of being sword-swinging barbarians, we were as you found us-"

"Barbarians with aircraft and landcruisers," Atvar broke in.

That stung. It also held some truth, more than Sam Yeager really cared to acknowledge. Refusing to acknowledge it, he went on as he had intended: "We were advanced enough to fight you to a standstill. You recognized some of us as equals, but you never truly meant it, not down in your livers, not even when we began to get ahead of you technologically. As long as we could not get out of our own solar system, you had some justification for this. But since we are talking here in Sitneff . . ."

"Everything you have said is a truth. It makes you more dangerous, not less. Why should we not try to rid ourselves of you while we still have the chance? If we do not, how long will it be before you try to get rid of us?"

There was the rub. The Race had always seen humans as nuisances. Now it saw them as dangerous nuisances. "We will fight to defend ourselves," Sam warned.

"That is not the issue," Atvar said. "Any species will fight to defend itself. You will fight to aggrandize yourselves. You will, but you will not do it at our expense."

"Was the conquest fleet fighting in self-defense?" Sam asked acidly.

"In the end, it certainly was," the fleetlord said, and Sam laughed in surprise. Atvar went on, "We had-and we paid for-a mistaken notion of where you Tosevites were in terms of technology. We knew as much before we landed on your planet. But if you had been what we thought you were, would you not agree you would have been better off if we had conquered you?"

Had the Lizards brought Earth from the twelfth century to the late twentieth in a couple of generations . . . "Materially, no one could possibly say we would not have been," Sam answered.

"There. You see?" Atvar said.

Sam held up a hand. "Excuse me, Fleetlord, but again I had not finished. The one thing you would have taken away from us forever is our freedom. Some of us would say that is too high a price to pay."

"Then some of you are fools," Atvar said with acid of his own. "You had freedom to murder one another, starve, and die of diseases you did not know how to cure. It is easy to speak of freedom when your belly is full and you are healthy. When you are starving and full of parasites, it is only a word, and one without much meaning."

That held some truth-more, again, than Yeager cared to admit. But just because it held some truth did not mean it was a truth. Sam said, "The Greeks invented democracy-snoutcounting, if you like-more than fifteen hundred of our years before your probe came to Tosev 3: more than three thousand of yours. They were full of diseases. They were hungry a lot of the time. They fought among themselves. But they did it anyway. They believed-and a lot of us have always believed since-that no one has the right to tell anyone else what to do just because of who his sire was."

"Snoutcounting." As usual, Atvar filled the word with scorn. "My opinion remains unchanged: it is nothing to be proud of. And is this vaunted freedom of yours worth having when it is only the freedom to starve or to die or to impose your superst.i.tion on others by force?"

"Who brought reverence for the spirits of Emperors past to Tosev 3?" Yeager inquired.

"That is not superst.i.tion. That is truth," Atvar said primly, sounding as certain as a missionary evangelizing an islander in the South Seas.

"Evidence would be nice," Sam said.

The fleetlord winced, but he answered, "We at least have the evidence of a long and prosperous history. Your superst.i.tions have nothing whatever-nothing but fanaticism, I should say."

"We are a stubborn lot," Sam admitted.

"You are indeed." Atvar used an emphatic cough.

Sam said, "What you do not seem to understand is that we are also stubborn in the cause of freedom. Suppose you had sent the conquest fleet right after your probe and conquered us. You could have done it. No one would say anything else, not for a moment. Suppose you had, as I say. Do you not think that, once we learned about modern technology from you, we would have risen to regain our independence?"

He had often seen Atvar angry and sardonic. He had hardly ever seen him horrified. This was one of those times. The fleetlord recoiled like a well-bred woman who saw a mouse (which reminded Sam that the Lizards had yet to exterminate the escaped rats). Visibly gathering himself, Atvar said, "What a dreadful idea!" He used another emphatic cough. "You realize you may not have done your species a favor with this suggestion?"

He could only mean Sam had made humans seem more dangerous, which made a preventive war more likely. Sam wanted to scowl; that wasn't what he'd had in mind. He held his face steady. Atvar had probably had enough experience with humans to be able to read expressions. Picking his words with care, Sam said, "Whatever happens to us is also likely to happen to you. You know this is a truth, Fleetlord."

"I know that whatever happens now is likely to be better than what would happen in a hundred years, and much better than what would happen in two hundred." Atvar sighed. "I am sorry, Amba.s.sador, but that is how things look out of my eye turrets."

"I am sorry, too." Sam used an emphatic cough of his own.

"Will it be war?" Jonathan Yeager asked his father.

Sam Yeager shrugged. "I don't know yet. But that's about as much as I can tell you." He shook his head. "No, that's not right. I can tell you one other thing: it doesn't look good right now."

"Everything seemed so fine when we got here," Jonathan said mournfully.

"I know," his father said. "But that that we got here . . . It's just made the Lizards more nervous the longer they think about it. Now we can reach them. We can hit them where they live-literally. They're starting to figure that if they don't move to get rid of us now, they'll never have another chance. They worry we'll have the drop on them if they wait." we got here . . . It's just made the Lizards more nervous the longer they think about it. Now we can reach them. We can hit them where they live-literally. They're starting to figure that if they don't move to get rid of us now, they'll never have another chance. They worry we'll have the drop on them if they wait."

Jonathan looked out the window of his father's room. There was Sitneff, the town he'd come to take for granted, with the greenish-blue sky and the dry hills out beyond the boxy buildings. It had been a comfortable place for Lizards to live since the Pleistocene, since before modern humans replaced Neanderthals. A female of the Race from those days wouldn't have much trouble fitting into the city as it was now. A Neanderthal woman dropped into Los Angeles might have rather more.

With a distinct effort of will, Jonathan pulled back to the business at hand, saying, "They may be right."

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't do us any good-just the opposite, in fact," his father said. "But if they do attack us, Earth isn't the only planet that'll suffer. You can bet your bottom dollar on that."

"Do you know for a fact that we've sent s.h.i.+ps to Rabotev 2 and Halless 1?" As he usually did, Jonathan used the Race's names for the stars humans called Epsilon Eridani and Epsilon Indi. "Do you know that we've sent more s.h.i.+ps here?"

"Know for a fact? No." Sam Yeager shook his head again. "The Admiral Peary Admiral Peary hasn't got news of any other launchings except the hasn't got news of any other launchings except the Molotov. Molotov. If the Lizards have, they aren't talking. But . . ." He sighed heavily, then repeated it: "But . . ." The one ominous word seemed a complete sentence. "If we did launch wars.h.i.+ps, we'd be d.a.m.n fools to let the Lizards know we'd done it. If war does start, they're liable to get some horrendous surprises. And I have no idea-none at all-what the Russians and the j.a.panese and even the Germans might be able to do by now. There may be a fleet behind the If the Lizards have, they aren't talking. But . . ." He sighed heavily, then repeated it: "But . . ." The one ominous word seemed a complete sentence. "If we did launch wars.h.i.+ps, we'd be d.a.m.n fools to let the Lizards know we'd done it. If war does start, they're liable to get some horrendous surprises. And I have no idea-none at all-what the Russians and the j.a.panese and even the Germans might be able to do by now. There may be a fleet behind the Molotov. Molotov. I just don't know." I just don't know."

"Madness," Jonathan said. "After you had your audience with the Emperor, I thought everything was going to fall into place. We'd have peace, and n.o.body would have to worry about things for a while." He chuckled unhappily. "Naive, wasn't I?"

"Well, if you were, you weren't the only one, because I felt the same way," his father said. "And I really don't know what queered the deal."

"That experiment back on Earth, whatever it was?"

"I guess so," his father said. "I'd like things a lot better if I knew what was going on there, though. The Lizards who do aren't talking." He paused to make sure the Race's listening devices were suppressed, then spoke in a low voice: "The Emperor wouldn't even tell Ka.s.squit."

Jonathan whistled softly. "Ka.s.squit is as loyal to the Empire as the day is long. Or do the Lizards think she'll spill everything she knows to Frank in pillow talk?" He threw his hands in the air to show how unlikely he thought that was.

"I don't know. I just don't know, dammit," Sam Yeager said. "That's possible-if the Lizards know us well enough to know what pillow talk is. But they do know we can bug their phone lines here, remember. That may be why Risson kept quiet. I can't say for sure. n.o.body human on Home can say for sure. That worries me, too."

"Do they have any ideas on the Admiral Peary Admiral Peary?" Jonathan asked.

"I asked Lieutenant General Healey." His father's mouth twisted, as if to say he considered that above and beyond the call of duty. "He hasn't found anything yet, but there's a h.e.l.l of a lot of Lizard signal traffic between Earth and Home to sift through and sometimes try to decrypt, so who knows what he'll come up with once he does some real digging?"

"And in the meantime . . ."

"In the meantime, he's sending a war warning back to the USA," his father said grimly. "Whatever the Lizards do, they won't pull a j.a.p on us."

"Okay, Dad," Jonathan said. That was a phrase from Sam Yeager's generation. Jonathan understood it, though he wouldn't have used it himself. He wondered how many Americans living right now would have any idea what it meant. Not many, he suspected.

"Wish I had better news for you, son," his father said.

"So do I," Jonathan said. "If I can do anything, you sing out, you hear?"

"I will," his father promised. "That's what you're along for, after all. Right now, though, I have to tell you I don't know what it would be. That's not a knock on you. I don't know what more I can do myself. I wish to h.e.l.l I did." Sam Yeager had always been a vigorous man who looked and acted younger than his years. But now the weight of worry made him seem suddenly old.

Jonathan walked over and set a hand on his father's shoulder. "Something will turn up."

"I hope so." His father sounded bleak. "I'll be d.a.m.ned if I know what it is, though. Of course, I would have said the same thing back in 1942, when the Lizards were knocking the c.r.a.p out of us. n.o.body had any idea what to do about them, either, not at first."

"That's what I hear," Jonathan agreed. "Of course, I wasn't around then. You were."

"If I hadn't been, you wouldn't be around now."

"Yeah," Jonathan said.

His father looked back across the years. "And if your mother hadn't been carrying you," he said, as much to himself as to Jonathan, "I probably wouldn't be here here right now." right now."

Jonathan raised a quizzical eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam Yeager blinked. He seemed to realize what he'd just said. A long sigh escaped him. "You know your mother was married to another guy before she met me."

"Oh, sure," Jonathan said. "He got killed when the Lizards invaded, right?"

"Well, yeah." His father was staring into the past again. He looked . . . embarra.s.sed? "It's-a little more complicated than we ever talked about, though."

"Whatever it is, I think you'd better spit it out, Dad," Jonathan said. "Do I have to come ten light-years to get all the old family scandals?"

"Well, it looks like you probably do." Sam Yeager not only looked embarra.s.sed, he sounded embarra.s.sed, too. "When your mother and I got married in beautiful, romantic Chugwater, Wyoming, we both thought her first husband was dead. That's the G.o.d's truth. We did."

"But he wasn't?" Jonathan said slowly. He didn't know how to take that. It was news to him.

His father nodded. "He sure wasn't. He was a physicist on our atomic-bomb project. Barbara-your mom-found out she was pregnant with you, and then she found out she wasn't a widow-bang! like that." Sam Yeager snapped his fingers.

"Jesus! You never told me any of this," Jonathan said.

"It's not exactly something we were proud of," his father answered, which was probably the understatement of the year. "I always figured that, if she hadn't had a bun in the oven, she would have gone back to the other guy-Jens, his name was. I never asked her-you'd better believe I didn't!-but that's what I figure. She did, though, and so she ended up choosing me . . . and the rest is history."

"Christ!" Jonathan exclaimed. "Any other other skeletons in the closet, as long as you're in a confessing mood?" skeletons in the closet, as long as you're in a confessing mood?"

"I don't think think so," his father answered. "I guess I should have told you this a long time ago." so," his father answered. "I guess I should have told you this a long time ago."

"I guess you should have," Jonathan said feelingly. "What the h.e.l.l happened to this other guy? Do you even know?"

"Yeah. I know." Sam Yeager's face went even more somber than it had been. "He kind of went off the deep end after that, and who can blame him? He shot a couple of people before they finally got him. And sometimes I wonder what I would have done. . . ." His voice trailed away.

"Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Dad!" Jonathan said. "You wouldn't have done anything that nutty. It's not your style, and you know it."

His father only shrugged. "How can you tell till something happens? You can't. Losing your mom screwed up the other guy's whole life. It sure wouldn't have done me any good. She was . . . something special." Now his voice broke.

For him, Barbara Yeager hadn't been dead long at all. He'd gone into cold sleep not long after she pa.s.sed away. Jonathan had waited another seventeen years. He had scar tissue over the wound his father didn't. But the other things his old man had told him . . . "Why did you sit on all this stuff for so long? Didn't you think I had a right to know?"

Sam Yeager coughed a couple of times. "Well, part of it was that your mother never wanted to talk about it much. She always did her best to act as though it hadn't happened. I think she felt bad about the way things turned out for the other guy. I know I would have in her shoes. How could you help it? It wasn't even that she didn't love him, or hadn't loved him. That probably made it worse. Just-one of those things. She didn't have any perfect choices. She made the one she made, and then she had to live with it. We all had to live with it."