Colonization_ Aftershocks Part 27

"But you kept looking, didn't you?" President Warren said. "You couldn't take a hint. You just kept poking your nose where it didn't belong."

"A hint, sir?" Yeager said in real puzzlement. "What kind of hint?"

Warren sighed again. "Wouldn't you say that the unfortunate things that kept almost happening to you and your family-that would have happened if you'd been less on your guard-were a hint that you were digging in places you shouldn't be? We even tried to pa.s.s that message to you, first through General LeMay and then through Straha's driver."

"General LeMay was only talking about the Lewis and Clark," Lewis and Clark," Sam said, "and I didn't know just what Straha's driver was talking about-not till I found out what had happened to the colonization fleet, anyway. And by then it was too late." Sam said, "and I didn't know just what Straha's driver was talking about-not till I found out what had happened to the colonization fleet, anyway. And by then it was too late."

"It may be too late for all of us," the president said heavily. "What on earth possessed you to give Straha a printout of what you'd found?"

"When I did find it, Mr. President, all of a sudden I understood why I'd been having all the trouble I'd been having," Yeager answered. "I thought of Straha as a life-insurance policy-if anything happened to me or to my kin, the word would still get out. I guess it has?"

"Oh, it has, all right." Earl Warren glared at him. "That d.a.m.ned Lizard sneaked out of the USA and into Cairo, and by every sign those doc.u.ments got there ahead of him. And Atvar has been threatening war against the United States ever since. That is a war you must know we would lose."

"Yes, sir, I do know that," Sam said. "I've known it all along. I thought you did, too. The Lizards have always said they'd do something dreadful if they ever found out who hit the colonization fleet. I figured Germany or Russia would deserve it. I have trouble thinking we don't. I'm sorry, sir, but that's how it looks to me."

"Do you know what one of the Race's princ.i.p.al demands has been?" the president asked with an angry toss of the head.

"No, sir. I have no idea," Sam replied. "I haven't seen much in the way of news lately. Is my family all right?" They could have held him and done G.o.d knows what to Barbara and Jonathan. The guards had said they hadn't, but still.... Doing that would screw up the experiment with Mickey and Donald, but they probably wouldn't care. They'd figure keeping a secret was more important.

But now President Warren nodded. "Your wife and son are fine. You have my word on it." Yeager had always thought his word good. Now he knew it wasn't, or wasn't necessarily. Before he could do more than realize that, Warren went on, "The Lizards are insisting that you be released unharmed, and that no harm befall your kin. It is a condition we intend to meet."

G.o.d bless Straha, Sam thought. Sam thought. He lived among Big Uglies so long, he got some notion of how important family members are to us. And thank heaven he managed to get that across to the Lizards in Cairo. He lived among Big Uglies so long, he got some notion of how important family members are to us. And thank heaven he managed to get that across to the Lizards in Cairo. Aloud, he made his voice harsh: "Is that the reason I'm still breathing? And my wife and son?" Aloud, he made his voice harsh: "Is that the reason I'm still breathing? And my wife and son?"

"It is... one of the reasons," Warren answered. Yeager gave the president reluctant credit for not flinching from the question. "It is also the only condition we find easy to meet. The Race is demanding that we either let them incinerate one of our cities with an explosive-metal bomb or make concessions to them that would permanently weaken us-not quite to the degree the Reich Reich has been diminished, but something not far from that." has been diminished, but something not far from that."

Yeager winced. Sure enough, the Lizards hadn't been kidding. "And if you tell them no on both those counts, it's war?"

"That is about the size of it, Lieutenant Colonel Yeager," the president said. "We have you to thank for it."

But Yeager shook his head. "No, sir. You were the one who ordered the launch. The Race would have found out sooner or later, and they'd have been just as furious a hundred years from now as they are right this minute."

"We would be in a stronger position to fight back a hundred years from now," Warren said.

"Maybe," Sam said, "but maybe not, too. Who knows what'll be heading this way from Home now that the Lizards know we're not pushovers?"

"At any rate, we have to deal with what is happening now," the president said, "which is to say, with what you've wrought. The Russians may stand with us. The thought that they might has given the Lizards pause."

"Would they?" Sam knew he sounded surprised. After a little thought, though, it seemed less implausible. "If we go down, they know they're next, and they haven't got a prayer of fighting off the Lizards by themselves." He didn't think the USA and the USSR together could beat the Race, but they'd sure as h.e.l.l let the Lizards know they'd been in a fight.

President Warren's big head soberly went up and down. "I believe that is Molotov's reasoning, yes, although you never can tell with Russians."

In all his days, Sam Yeager had never imagined he would sit in judgment on a president of the United States. His voice hardly more than a whisper, he asked, "What will you do, sir?"

"What I have to do," Earl Warren answered. "What seems best for the United States and for all of humanity. That's what I've been doing all along." What was intended as a smile lifted only one corner of his mouth. "Thanks to you, it didn't work out quite the way I expected."

Sam let out a long sigh. "No, sir, I guess not." He started to add, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but that didn't pa.s.s his lips. Part of him was, but a much bigger part wasn't. but that didn't pa.s.s his lips. Part of him was, but a much bigger part wasn't.

President Warren said, "I shall of course arrange for your release. I would be grateful for your public silence and that of any loved ones you may have informed until the present crisis ends. I am not going to order it, but I would be grateful for it."

"How will I know when that is?" Sam asked.

The president looked at him-looked through him. "Believe me, Lieutenant Colonel, you will not be left in any doubt."

Pshing came up to Atvar and said, "Exalted Fleetlord, the amba.s.sador from the not-empire of the United States is here to see you."

Atvar made the affirmative gesture. "I will see him. Show him in. No-wait. First bring in a chair suitable for a Tosevite's hindquarters. I do not intend to insult him in any trivial way."

"It shall be done, Exalted Fleetlord." Pshing hurried off. He brought in first the chair and then the Big Ugly named Henry Cabot Lodge.

"I greet you, Exalted Fleetlord," the amba.s.sador said.

"And I greet you," Atvar replied. "You may sit." As far as he was concerned, the wild Tosevite didn't really deserve the privilege, but the fleetlord had grown used to diplomatic niceties since the first round of fighting stopped. The USA and the Race were theoretically equals and were not at war-not yet. Not offering Lodge a chair would have been an insult: a small one, but an insult nonetheless. No, Atvar did not intend to offer the United States any small insults.

"I am here, Exalted Fleetlord, among other reasons, to bring you the apology of the government of the United States for the unfortunate incident involving the colonization fleet," Lodge said.

"I am here to tell you, Amba.s.sador, that no apology is adequate," Atvar replied. "No apology can be adequate. I am here to tell you that the Race will have compensation for what the United States did."

Henry Cabot Lodge's gray-maned head bobbed up and down, the Tosevite equivalent of the affirmative gesture. "I am prepared to negotiate such compensation if you truly require it."

"If we truly require it?" Atvar sprang to his feet. His mouth opened, not in a laugh but in a way that suggested his ancestors had been carnivores. He held out his hand so his fingerclaws were ready to tear. Had he been standing erect instead of leaning forward, had his crest risen, he would have looked ready to fight a mating battle. "We have said from the moment this outrage occurred that we would require it, once we learned who the guilty party was. You may be grateful that we have not already embarked on war without limits."

In the abstract, he had to admire the American amba.s.sador. The Big Ugly sat there as calmly as if he hadn't embarked on his tirade. When he finished, Lodge said, "One reason you have not, of course, is that we could hunt you badly if you did. If the Russians join us-and we are no more certain about that than you-the damage to the Race and the lands it rules will be even greater."

He was all the more infuriating partly because he stayed calm, partly because he was without a doubt correct. But Atvar would not admit that no matter how obvious it was. He said, "Regardless of what you can do to us, we can do far more to you." That was also a manifest truth. "And we shall, to avenge the murder of males and females in cold sleep, before they ever had the chance to come down to the surface of Tosev 3."

"Unless I can negotiate some other solution that would satisfy you and my government at the same time," Lodge said.

"You know what our demands are." Atvar made his voice hard as stone, hoping the Big Ugly would grasp his tone. "Return of the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark and the new ship from their present location among the minor planets. No further expeditions to those planets. American orbital forts to have their explosive-metal weapons removed to prevent further unprovoked attacks. American ground-based missiles to be reduced in number. American submersible-ship-based missiles to be eliminated. The Race's inspectors to go where they please when they please in the United States to make certain these terms are carried out." and the new ship from their present location among the minor planets. No further expeditions to those planets. American orbital forts to have their explosive-metal weapons removed to prevent further unprovoked attacks. American ground-based missiles to be reduced in number. American submersible-ship-based missiles to be eliminated. The Race's inspectors to go where they please when they please in the United States to make certain these terms are carried out."

"No," Henry Cabot Lodge said. "My instructions are specific on that point. These terms are unacceptable to the United States. President Warren has not given me permission to deal with them even hypothetically."

"You also know the other alternative," Atvar said. "To let one of your cities be incinerated, as our colonists were incinerated."

"No," the American amba.s.sador said again. "That is also unacceptable."

"When the weak propose something, the strong may say it is unacceptable," Atvar told him. "When the strong propose something, the weak may say only, 'It shall be done.' Who here is strong? Who is weak? I suggest you think carefully on this, Amba.s.sador. If you reject both these demands, we shall have war. Regardless of the damage it may do us, it will destroy you. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Exalted Fleetlord," Lodge said, still calmly.

"Then I dismiss you," Atvar said. "You had better make sure that your not-emperor understands. Unless he complies with the Race's just demands-and they are are just demands, without the tiniest fragment of doubt-we shall visit ruination on his not-empire." just demands, without the tiniest fragment of doubt-we shall visit ruination on his not-empire."

Henry Cabot Lodge rose and bent at the waist-not the posture of respect, but about as close to it as wild Big Uglies came. "I shall convey your words to President Warren. Shall we meet again in two days' time?"

Atvar glared at him. "You are using this delay to increase your armed forces' readiness to resist us."

"No, Exalted Fleetlord." Lodge shook his head. "We have been at maximum readiness for some time. The only way we could be more ready would be to start the fight ourselves. That, I a.s.sure you, we do not intend to do."

"Of course not," Atvar snarled. "We would be ready if you did. You could not strike a stealthy blow this time."

Lodge bowed again and departed without another word. That left the fleetlord feeling vaguely punctured. As soon as the Tosevite had left, Pshing came into the office. "Any progress, Exalted Fleetlord?" he asked.

"None." Atvar made the negative gesture. "None whatsoever." He sighed. "We shall be fortunate to avoid another war, and this one far worse than that which we fought against the Deutsche. The American Big Uglies refuse to give up their clawhold on s.p.a.ce, and they also naturally refuse to yield up a city to our wrath."

"Did you expect them to yield one?" Pshing asked.

"No," Atvar answered. "I intended to use that threat to get them out of s.p.a.ce and to reduce their weaponry, which would let us dominate them hence-forward even if they stay nominally independent. But they plainly perceive the long-term danger in that course of events. If they refuse us, however, the danger is not long-term but short-term."

His telephone hissed. Pshing hurried out to answer it in the antechamber. A moment later, he called, "Exalted Fleetlord, it is Fleetlord Reffet."

Atvar wanted to speak to the leader of the colonization fleet about as much as he wanted to have an ingrown toeclaw cut free without local anesthetic, but realized he had no choice. With another sigh, he said, "Put him through."

Reffet looked angry. That was Atvar's first thought when he saw his opposite number from the colonization fleet. Reffet sounded angry, too: "Well, has that cursed Big Ugly caved in to our demands yet?"

"Unfortunately, no," Atvar answered.

"All right, then," Reffet said. "We just have to blow his stinking not-empire-stupid name for a piece of land, if anybody wants to know what I I think-clean off the surface of Tosev 3. Those Tosevites deserve whatever happens to them, after what they did to us. A bite in the back, that is what it was. Nothing but a miserable, treacherous bite in the back." think-clean off the surface of Tosev 3. Those Tosevites deserve whatever happens to them, after what they did to us. A bite in the back, that is what it was. Nothing but a miserable, treacherous bite in the back."

"Truth," Atvar agreed. "If we fight them now, however, they will without a doubt bite us in the front several times. Their not-empire is far larger and is also more populous than that of the Deutsche. Their military preparedness is not to be despised. And, if we get heavily involved in fighting them, the Russkis may indeed bite us in the back."

"And whose fault is that?" The question from the fleetlord of the colonization fleet was rhetorical. He was convinced he knew whose fault it was: Atvar's, and no one else's.

With a sigh-how many times had he sighed on or in orbit around Tosev 3?-Atvar answered, "If you must blame anyone, blame the planners who sent a probe to this miserable world sixteen hundred years ago and a.s.sumed it would not change in the meanwhile. A probe a hundred years before we set out would have warned us and saved us much grief. I have already recommended that this be made standard practice in planning any future conquest fleets."

"Wonderful," Reffet said. "This does us exactly no good now, of course."

"I agree," Atvar said. "Have you any constructive suggestions to make, or did you call just to complain at everything I am doing?"

The fleetlord of the colonization fleet glared at him. "I have already made my suggestion: punish these Big Uglies with every means at our disposal."

"I asked you for constructive suggestions," Atvar replied. "That is a destructive suggestion. How destructive it turns out to be, we will know only after the fighting ends." He held up a hand before Reffet could speak. "You will tell me it is more destructive to the Big Uglies. Again, I agree. It had better be, anyway. But it will hurt us, too. However much you may wish to scratch sand over it, that also remains a truth."

Reffet hissed in frustrated fury. "Will you let these Tosevites get off without punishment for their crime, then?"

"By no means." Atvar used an emphatic cough. "I am trying to arrange a punishment for them that will not involve damage to the Race. If I can do that, well and good. If I cannot... I will take whatever other steps I deem necessary."

"You had better," Reffet said. "If you fail here, the effort to depose you that Straha led will look like a hatchlings' game."

Atvar supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at a threat like that. Somehow, he still was. Having gone through such humiliation once, did he really want to face it a second time? Did he have any choice? If he did botch this negotiation with the Americans, wouldn't he deserve to be overthrown? He said, "I hear you, Reffet. Since you admit you have nothing constructive to contribute, I bid you good day."

"I admit nothing of the-" Reffet began. Atvar took savage pleasure in breaking the connection and cutting him off in mid-squawk.

After that, he had to deal with minutiae: the eternal rebellion in China, the equally eternal rebellion in India, a new outbreak in the subregion of the southern part of the lessen continental ma.s.s called Argentina. All of those would eventually be solved, and none of them, even unsolved, was more than a nuisance to the Race. Atvar issued directives confident that, regardless of whether they were right or wrong, the world would go on. He had margin for error.

He had none with the American Big Uglies, and he knew it. He had to keep the pressure on them, and had to do so in such a way that he resisted the pressure from his own extremists. Two days later, as promised, Henry Cabot Lodge returned to his office. "I have a proposal for you from President Warren," Lodge said, and set it forth.

When he'd finished, Atvar said, "Are you certain you understood him correctly? Is he certain of what he is doing?"

"Yes and yes, respectively," Lodge replied. "He requests one additional item: personal foreknowledge-not much, but a little-of the precise timing. Your intelligence resources will be able to make sure that the United States does not use this for any untoward purpose."

"I had not expected-" Atvar began.

Lodge cut him off: "Does this proposal meet with your approval or not? If not, I see no way to avoid war."

Atvar had never imagined that a Big Ugly could squeeze him. But he felt squeezed now. He stared at Lodge. The Tosevite kept his face very still. His impression after pondering was the same as it had been at first scent: he would never get a better offer from the Americans. His left hand shaped the affirmative gesture. "I accept," he said.

Jonathan Yeager had never been so glad to sit on the couch in his own front room watching a baseball game. Having his father sitting there beside him made all the difference in the world. Sam Yeager had his legs crossed. He took a swig from a bottle of Lucky Lager, then returned it to its resting place on top of his upper knee. It stayed there quite happily; the hollow in the bottom of the bottle fit the curve of his knee very well. Whenever Jonathan tried such things, he spilled beer or soda on his pants.

The Kansas City batter lashed a double to the gap in left-center. Two runners scored. "That makes the score 54 Blues, as the Yankees' bullpen lets them down again," Buddy Blattner shouted from the set.

"They overthrew the cutoff man," Jonathan's dad said. "If they hadn't, the Yankees might have nailed Mantle as he rounded second-he was thinking triple, but he had to put on the brakes."

Barbara Yeager said, "You pick apart ballgames the way I was trained to a.n.a.lyze literature."

"Why not?" Jonathan's dad said. "I "I was trained to hit the cutoff man on a throw from the outfield, no matter what. I didn't have the talent to make the big leagues-especially after I tore up my ankle-but I always knew what I was doing out there." was trained to hit the cutoff man on a throw from the outfield, no matter what. I didn't have the talent to make the big leagues-especially after I tore up my ankle-but I always knew what I was doing out there."

Before anybody could say anything more, the baseball game disappeared from the TV screen, to be replaced by a slide with the words URGENT NEWS BULLETIN URGENT NEWS BULLETIN. "What's this?" Jonathan said.

Chet Huntley's long, somber face replaced the slide. It looked even longer and more somber than usual. "In an a.s.sault apparently launched without any warning to U.S. authorities, the Race has detonated a large explosivemetal bomb above Indianapolis, Indiana," he said. "Casualties, obviously, are as yet unknown, but they must be in the tens, if not in the hundreds, of thousands."

As the picture cut away from Huntley to show a toadstool cloud rising above some city or other-it might have been Indianapolis, or it might have been stock footage-Jonathan and his parents all said the same thing at the same time: "Oh, Jesus Christ!"

"They've paid us back," Sam Yeager added. "It was this or get out of s.p.a.ce forever and turn oven most of our weapons. Those were the terms Atvar set. I didn't think we'd do it this way, though." He emptied his beer in a couple of long, convulsive gulps.

Chet Huntley reappeared, but only to say, "Now we're going to Eric Sevareid in Little Rock for the administration's response to this unprovoked attack."

It wasn't unprovoked, as Jonathan knew only too well. And when Sevareid came onto the screen, his face, normally as dead a pan as any newsman's, was wet with tears. He said, "Ladies and gentlemen, President Earl Warren has just been found dead in a Gray House bedroom. He appears to have died by his own hand."

Again, Jonathan and his father and mother said the same thing at the same time: "Oh, my G.o.d!"

Eric Sevareid said, "The presidential press secretary has before him a statement that he will read to the nation. We will also be hearing from Vice President-excuse me, from President-Harold Sta.s.sen as soon as he can be found and informed of the dual tragedies of the day. The vice president-excuse me again, the president; that will will take some getting used to-is on a fishing trip in his home state of Minnesota. And now, Mr. Hagerty." take some getting used to-is on a fishing trip in his home state of Minnesota. And now, Mr. Hagerty."

The camera cut away from Sevareid and over to the briefing room of the Gray House. James Hagerty blinked under the bright lights. He licked his lips a couple of times, then said, "As what seems to have been his final living act, President Warren wrote by hand the statement I have before me. He set it where it would surely be found when he was sought after the destruction of Indianapolis. He was, by that time, unfortunately deceased. These are, then, the last words of the president of the United States."

"I never thought he'd do this," Sam Yeager said. Jonathan and his mother both hissed for him to be quiet.

" 'My fellow citizens, by the time you hear these words, I will be dead,' " James Hagerty read. " 'The demands the Race has made upon the United States of America have left me in a position where I could not in good conscience accept either of them, but where rejecting them would have resulted in the destruction of our great nation.' "

Hagerty blinked and licked his lips again. He's getting all this for the first time, too, He's getting all this for the first time, too, Jonathan realized. Jonathan realized. Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d. The press secretary went on, " 'And yet, there was justice in the Race's demands upon us, for it was at my order that rocket forces of the United States launched explosive-metal-tipped missiles against twelve ships of the colonization fleet not long after it took up Earth orbit. I and no one else am responsible for that order. I still believe it was in the best interest of mankind as a whole. But now my role has been discovered, and my country and I must pay the price.' " The press secretary went on, " 'And yet, there was justice in the Race's demands upon us, for it was at my order that rocket forces of the United States launched explosive-metal-tipped missiles against twelve ships of the colonization fleet not long after it took up Earth orbit. I and no one else am responsible for that order. I still believe it was in the best interest of mankind as a whole. But now my role has been discovered, and my country and I must pay the price.' "

Jonathan's father cursed and grimaced. Jonathan's mother patted him on the shoulder. Jonathan himself hardly noticed. He was staring, transfixed, at the television screen.