Colonization_ Down To Earth Part 49

His boss and Jack Devereaux were doing the same thing. "Is that your home number?" Hal Walsh asked, which somewhat surprised David-his working a.s.sumption was that, if it had to do with numbers in any way, Walsh already knew it without needing to check.

"Yes, that's it," Goldfarb agreed. "And I'd say we're really on to something here."

"I'd say you're right." Walsh looked as if he wanted to blow canary feathers off his chin. The Saskatchewan River Widget Works was his company; even though the phone-number-reading gadget hadn't been altogether his idea, the greater share of the profits from it would end up in his pocket. He might have picked that thought out of Goldfarb's mind, for he said, "n.o.body will be poor on account of this, I promise you all. I think it'll be a big enough pie for everybody to have a big slice."

"Hal, you've played straight with us right from the start," Devereaux said. "I don't think anybody's worried you're going to pull a fast one this time."

"That's right," David Goldfarb said, though he hadn't been with the Widget Works right from the start. Walsh was the sort of boss who inspired confidence.

He laughed at his employees now. "In the old days, the days before the Race came, I could have turned everything into cash and headed down to Rio. Well, I still could, if I felt like living under the Lizards for the rest of my days. Since I don't, I suppose I'd have to go to Los Angeles instead."

"They'd ship you back from the USA," Devereaux pointed out.

"But at least you'd have decent weather while you were there," Goldfarb said with undisguised longing. By what he was used to, Los Angeles was liable to be beastly hot, but he preferred that to too b.l.o.o.d.y cold, which was how Canadian weather struck him.

Jack Devereaux said, "I wonder where the jet stream is this year, and where it'll take the fallout."

"Not that much from the j.a.panese test," Hal Walsh said. "Of course, they may set off some more."

"I wasn't thinking of that," Devereaux said. "I was thinking of the big dose, when the n.a.z.is and the Race start going after each other."

"G.o.d forbid," Goldfarb said. "I've got family in Poland." The others wouldn't think of him as an Englishman anymore, but too bad. He tried to look on the bright side of things: "Maybe the war won't happen after all. The Germans have been thumping their chests for a while now, but that's all they've been doing."

"There's a big part of me that would love to see Germany smashed to smithereens," Devereaux said, and Goldfarb could no more help nodding than he could help breathing. His colleague went on, "All the same, though, I hope you're right. There'd be too much damage to the rest of the world to make the war worthwhile."

"I think they're going to fight," Hal Walsh said. "I think they've done too much posturing to back down without looking yellow, and they don't dare do that. It'd be asking half the countries they're sitting on to rise up against 'em."

"That makes sense," Goldfarb said. "I wish it didn't." Before he could go on, his telephone rang yet again. He picked up the handset. "Hullo-Goldfarb here."

"You lousy, stinking kike," the voice on the other end of the line replied. "You think you're too G.o.dd.a.m.n good to play with us, do you? You'll pay for that, and so will your whole family. The n.a.z.is have the right idea." Slam! Slam! The phone went dead. The phone went dead.

"Who was that?" Walsh asked.

"n.o.body I know," Goldfarb answered. "n.o.body I want to know, either." He glanced over at the little screen attached to the telephone and jotted down the number it displayed. "But the police may be interested in doing something about it."

"Oh, really?" That was Jack Devereaux. "One of your charming friends?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." David Goldfarb held up the telephone number he'd just noted. "And I have an excellent notion of how to go about helping myself and getting some publicity for the Widget Works, both at the same time."

He called the Edmonton police and reported the threat he'd just received. "You got this by telephone, sir?" the policeman asked. "I'm afraid we can't do much about that-you do understand the difficulty."

"Not in this case, no," Goldfarb answered, and gave the number from which the threatening call had been placed.

After a long pause, the policeman asked, "How could you possibly know the call came from that number, sir?"

And Goldfarb spent the next ten minutes explaining who he was, for whom he worked, and exactly how he knew what he knew. He finished, "I a.s.sume you can find out which numbers go with which houses? If you can, you might find it worth your while to pay a visit to that particular one. Do be careful, though. These are not nice people."

"I make no promises," the policeman said, and hung up.

After David reported the other end of the conversation to his boss, Hal Walsh grinned from ear to ear. "If they go, and if they find things worth finding, we've just made our mark in big letters," he said, and held up an imaginary advertising signboard. " 'As endorsed by the Edmonton Police Department.' "

"Unless that number turns out to be another phone booth, of course," Goldfarb said. Walsh crossed his forefingers, as if to avert a vampire. David laughed. "That doesn't work. I'm Jewish, remember?"

n.o.body at the Widget Works got much work done till Goldfarb's telephone rang again a couple of hours later. When he answered it, the Edmonton copper said, "Mr. Goldfarb, my hat's off to you. Thanks to your call and your device, we have four very nasty fellows in custody. We also have several illegal firearms, some illegal drugs, and a large quant.i.ty of ginger, which is, of course, not illegal-here. Now, if you would be so kind as to let me speak to Mr.-Welsh, was it?-about the possibility of acquiring this device for ourselves..."

"Walsh," Goldfarb corrected happily. "Hal Walsh." He gave his boss the phone. With his hand over the mouthpiece, he said, "We are are in business." in business."

Felless said, "I think it is extremely unfortunate that we should have to prepare to evacuate this area as a result of threats from these Tosevite savages."

Kazzop, the science officer at the Race's consulate in Ma.r.s.eille, waggled his eye turrets ever so slightly to show his bemus.e.m.e.nt. "Correct me if I am wrong, superior female," he said, "but is this evacuation not the only way in which you are likely to be able to return to territory ruled by the Race? Without it, would you not remain indefinitely in the Greater German Reich Reich?"

"Well, yes, so I would," she admitted. "Amba.s.sador Veffani holds a grudge against me." She preferred not to dwell on whether her disgrace had given the amba.s.sador good reason to hold a grudge against her, but continued, "Still, I would sooner the Race were strong enough to make it safe for me to stay here than to have to go."

"We are are strong. We are stronger than we were when the conquest fleet arrived," Kazzop said. As he was a male from that fleet, he knew whereof he spoke. He went on, "The trouble lies not in ourselves or in our strength, but in the Big Uglies. They are far stronger now than they were when we first came here, too, and infinitely stronger than we imagined they could be when we left Home." strong. We are stronger than we were when the conquest fleet arrived," Kazzop said. As he was a male from that fleet, he knew whereof he spoke. He went on, "The trouble lies not in ourselves or in our strength, but in the Big Uglies. They are far stronger now than they were when we first came here, too, and infinitely stronger than we imagined they could be when we left Home."

"It is humiliating that the males of the conquest fleet cannot guarantee our safety here," Felless said. "Humiliating and disgraceful."

"Superior female, we are not being evacuated from Ma.r.s.eille because we are in any particular danger from the Deutsche," Kazzop said. "The Big Uglies will not harm us even in the event of war. They know we could retaliate against their males and females serving as diplomats or otherwise living in parts of Tosev 3 ruled by the Race. The Tosevites have developed elaborate and surprisingly sophisticated rules for exchanging individuals under these circ.u.mstances. Because of their own frequent conflicts, they have needed such rules."

"What then?" Felless said. "Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps I truly do not understand why we are being evacuated."

"I will make the eggsh.e.l.l clear, so you may see the hatching truth within." Kazzop sounded as if he was taking an almost Tosevite glee in explaining things to a superior as if she were a hatchling. "We are being evacuated because Ma.r.s.eille will make an important target for the Race if war breaks out. Explosive-metal bombs, unfortunately, are not very selective."

"Oh," Felless said in a small voice. "Please understand that I am new to the idea of war and to everything involved with it. I expected the conquest would have been completed before I woke from cold sleep."

"Life on Tosev 3 is full of surprises," the science officer said dryly.

"That is also a truth-and how I wish it weren't," Felless said. "Of course, Veffani also gets to leave the Reich. Reich. Since he has been stuck here much longer than I have, I am sure he will welcome the opportunity to escape." Since he has been stuck here much longer than I have, I am sure he will welcome the opportunity to escape."

But Kazzop made the negative gesture. "Veffani will not leave, any more than the Deutsche will call their amba.s.sador back from Cairo. By Tosevite custom, amba.s.sadors do not leave other lands until war breaks out."

Of all the things Felless had never imagined, a reason to feel sympathy toward Veffani certainly ranked high on the list. "Poor fellow," she said, and then, "But the only announcement of the war is liable to be the launch of missiles tipped with explosive-metal bombs. How can he be sure of safe evacuation?"

"He cannot," Kazzop answered, which surprised Felless all over again.

She said, "You males of the conquest fleet cannot always have had an easy time of it." She could hear the surprise in her own voice. She spent most of the time resenting the males of the conquest fleet because they hadn't given the colonization fleet so completely subdued a world as the newcomers had antic.i.p.ated. Only rarely, as now, did she stop to think about the difficulties the males had faced and continued to face.

"Superior female, that is a great truth," Kazzop said. "It is also a truth few females or males of the colonization fleet ever realize. I am glad you have realized it, and I hope you will cling to the memory here."

"I shall not forget," Felless said. And then, as she sometimes did, she thought about the clutch of eggs she'd laid at Nuremberg. "I presume arrangements have been made to bring hatchlings out of the Reich Reich."

"I believe so, yes," Kazzop said. "Some of us have to be responsible for them, or the species would perish, after all."

"I suppose that's true," Felless agreed. "I have never felt the urge to any great degree myself. Slomikk, the science officer at the emba.s.sy, did a far better job with the hatchlings than I could have. As far as I am concerned, he is welcome to it. Adults, now, adults are interesting. Hatchlings?" After the interrogative cough, she used the negative hand gesture.

"Slomikk is a very capable male in many ways. I have known him for a long time," Kazzop said. "I can see how he would be good with hatchlings. My own att.i.tude, I confess, is more like yours. You do of course realize that the Tosevites are far more centered on their offspring than we are on ours."

"I have gathered that, yes." This time, Felless used the affirmative gesture. "I gather also that the reasons behind it are primarily biological. When the Big Uglies hatch, or rather, when they emerge from the bodies of the females who bear them"-Felless spoke with fastidious disgust-"they are much less developed, much less able to care for themselves, than are our hatchlings. If adult Big Uglies were not genetically programmed to care for them, they would perish in short order."

"Just so," Kazzop said. "These strong personal bonds permeate Tosevite society to a degree we can understand only intellectually, not emotionally. They are no small part of what makes the Big Uglies so vengeance-p.r.o.ne and so generally difficult to administer."

"I have also heard this from Senior Researcher Ttomalss," Felless said.

"Ah. Yes, I can see how you would have," Kazzop replied. "Ttomalss is very sound, very sound indeed, when it comes to Tosevite psychology. Why, he might almost be a Big Ugly himself, he understands Tosevites so well."

Having had her share of problems with Ttomalss, Felless did not care to hear him praised in such extravagant terms. "I have heard this about the Big Uglies," she repeated, "but I am not altogether convinced it is truth. It seems a very foolish principle on which to organize a society."

"But the Big Uglies use it constantly," Kazzop said. "Take the Reich, Reich, for example. You must know that its ruling ideology holds the Deutsche to be superior to other Tosevites by reason of their genetics." for example. You must know that its ruling ideology holds the Deutsche to be superior to other Tosevites by reason of their genetics."

"From every available bit of evidence, this is an ideology unsupported by truth," Felless pointed out.

"Oh, of course," the male from the conquest fleet said. "But the existence and popularity of an ideology are truths of their own, independent of the truth-if any-at the yolk of the ideology. And this one a.s.serts that the Deutsche are part of a large family grouping descended from a common ancestor-derived, you see, from Tosevite family patterns."

"Well, perhaps," Felless admitted. "This is certainly not an organizing principle we would use for ourselves."

"No, among us it would be madness," Kazzop said. "Our matings are nonexclusive, after all. We could not tell family lines even if we wanted to, in most instances. But if you ignore the ways the Big Uglies differ from us, you will never come to a satisfactory understanding of them. That is where Ttomalss' insights have proved so useful, so valuable."

"Is it?" Felless said tonelessly.

Before she could add anything less complimentary to Ttomalss, and before Kazzop could further irritate her by praising him, the consul-general spoke over the intercom, his voice filling the entire building: "We must evacuate! We must evacuate! We can delay no longer. I am told negotiations between the Race and the Reich Reich have broken down. It is no longer safe for us to remain here. We must evacuate." have broken down. It is no longer safe for us to remain here. We must evacuate."

Kazzop sighed. "So many opportunities for research going to waste."

"Oh, indeed," Felless said. "And so many opportunities for getting killed now becoming available." Kazzop started to answer, but thought better of it. Instead, he went off to see to his packing.

Felless had already seen to hers. She had little in the way of personal belongings, having pruned her possessions before coming from Nuremberg to Ma.r.s.eille. Body paint took up far less room than the wrappings traveling Tosevites had to bring with them. All the data she'd collected in the Greater German Reich had already gone into the Race's electronic storage system; they were safer than she was. All she really had to worry about was...

She checked. As she'd thought, she had plenty of ginger. She wanted a taste, but restrained herself. She knew she would get in trouble if she started mating with males on the way out of Ma.r.s.eille. I can wait I can wait, she thought. I will not have to wait forever. The herb will be there when we get wherever we are going. I will not have to wait forever. The herb will be there when we get wherever we are going. She'd long since given up the idea of telling herself she would never taste again. It was a lie, as she knew all too well. Telling herself she would wait, though, worked well enough. Sooner or later, she could enjoy the herb she craved. She'd long since given up the idea of telling herself she would never taste again. It was a lie, as she knew all too well. Telling herself she would wait, though, worked well enough. Sooner or later, she could enjoy the herb she craved.

"Report to the front entrance immediately!" the intercom bellowed, adding a loud emphatic cough. "Repeat, report to the front entrance immediately! Ground transportation to our aircraft is now waiting."

Armed and uniformed Big Uglies stood guard outside the consulate. Felless had seen their like in Nuremberg. They put her in mind of trained tsiongyu waiting to bite anyone who went where he shouldn't. One after another, the males and females from the consulate boarded buses and motorcars under their cold, watchful stares.

And a good many males and females of the Race who were not part of the consular staff were also boarding those buses and motorcars. Kazzop said, "If anyone wants to know my opinion, we ought to leave most of those fast-talking cheats and thieves behind. They come to Ma.r.s.eille to buy ginger and to sell drugs to the Big Uglies. Even if an explosive-metal bomb vaporized them all, the Race would be just as well off, and probably better."

Felless knew she would have felt the same way if she weren't a ginger taster herself. She said, "Some of them may have legitimate business here. We cannot be sure which ones are criminals and rogues?'

"Few who have only legitimate business come to Ma.r.s.eille," Kazzop replied. But he said no more than that. The fast-talking males and females got aboard, which made all the vehicles taking the Race out of Ma.r.s.eille more crowded than they would have been otherwise. Deutsch soldiers on motorized cycles that made a dreadful racket escorted the procession to the aircraft waiting at the field outside the city.

Because so many interlopers were fleeing Ma.r.s.eille, the aircraft was as crowded as the ground transportation had been. But it had no trouble taking off. Felless let out a long, happy sigh. "Going back to civilization at last," she murmured. The male sitting next to her made the affirmative gesture. She laughed. Going off to somewhere I can taste again, too. Going off to somewhere I can taste again, too. From looking at that male, she thought he would have agreed with her, but she didn't try to find out. From looking at that male, she thought he would have agreed with her, but she didn't try to find out.

Walter Stone looked pleased with himself as he peered out from the control room of the Lewis and Clark. Lewis and Clark. "We're spreading out." he said, as if he'd done all the spreading himself, possibly with a manure cart. "We're spreading out." he said, as if he'd done all the spreading himself, possibly with a manure cart.

Most times, Glen Johnson would have laughed at the senior pilot. Now he just nodded. "The more spread out we are, the more working bases we've got on every little chunk of rock near Ceres, the better off we'll be, because every separate base makes it that much harder for the Lizards to wipe us off the map."

"We always knew we'd be up against that," Stone said.

Johnson nodded. "Oh, yeah," he agreed. "But we didn't figure we'd be up against it so hard so soon. Stupid G.o.dd.a.m.n n.a.z.is."

"Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds seem bound and determined to go out in a blaze of glory, don't they?" Stone said.

"They've sure got a wild hair up their a.s.s about Poland, anyhow, if half of what we hear on the radio is true," Johnson said. "And I'll tell you something else: I wouldn't give you a plug nickel to be aboard the Hermann Goring Hermann Goring right now, either." right now, either."

Stone's chuckle was not a happy sound. "Me, neither. Can you say 'bull's-eye'? How many missiles do you suppose the Lizards have aimed at that baby?"

Remembering his conversation with Mickey Flynn, Johnson answered, "Enough to do the job-and probably about another ten more besides."

"That sounds about right," Stone agreed. "The Race doesn't like doing things by halves-which is one reason it's G.o.d's own miracle they didn't finish the fight back in the Forties."

"It was a question of who'd finish who," Johnson said. "They wanted the colonization fleet to have a planet worth landing on." His chuckle didn't show much in the way of good humor, either. "So now they can blow things up with the colonists here. Hot d.a.m.n."

"Hot d.a.m.n is right," Stone said. "Real hot."

"What worries me is, they might decide to go after us if they're going after the Hermann Goring Hermann Goring," Johnson said. "In for a penny, in for a pound, you know what I mean? As long as they've got a war on their hands..."

"It'd be a lot bigger one if they're fighting us, too," Stone said. "Yeah, but if you're a Lizard, the other question is, how big is too big if you're already fighting the n.a.z.is?" Johnson said. "The only answer I can think of is, if it's big enough to blow up the planet, it's probably too big. Otherwise, who knows?"

Walter Stone looked at him. "You're in a nice, cheerful mood today, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't you be, the way things are now?" Glen Johnson returned. "Remember, you spent all the time before we left learning to fly the Lewis and Clark. Lewis and Clark. I spend a lot of my duty time in orbit, watching the Race and the n.a.z.is and the Russians. I know how fast things can go wrong. They almost did a few times." I spend a lot of my duty time in orbit, watching the Race and the n.a.z.is and the Russians. I know how fast things can go wrong. They almost did a few times."

"You tried to help make things go wrong, poking your nose in where it didn't belong," Stone said.

"And look what it got me," Johnson said. "I'm stuck for life with people like you." Before Stone could answer, a bell chimed the hour. Johnson sighed. "And I'm stuck on an exercise bicycle for the next hour."

"Have fun," Stone said. "I already did my bit today."

"Fun," Johnson said, as if it were a four-letter word. But he didn't have time to do any more complaining than that, not if he wanted to get to the gym on time. He didn't give two whoops in h.e.l.l about getting to the gym on time, but he didn't want to listen to the lecture he'd get for missing some of his exercise period, either. And so he swung out of the control room and down the halls to the gymnasium. When he got there, he signed the sheet to log in, changed into sweat clothes in the little men's room off the gym, and then got onto a bike and got to work.

One of the main-engine technicians who'd started exercising before him grinned and said, "You sure you're really here, sir?"

"I think so, Bob," Johnson answered, grinning back. "I look like I'm here, don't I?"

"You never can tell," Bob said, and they both laughed. The joke was only funny if you looked at it the right way. Not very long before, the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark had gone through its first really juicy scandal. A good many people, including several of high rank, had got in the habit of signing their names on the sheet and then going off and doing something else instead of getting in their work. Brigadier General Healey had not been happy when word of what they were doing finally got to him. And when the commandant wasn't happy, n.o.body else was happy, either. had gone through its first really juicy scandal. A good many people, including several of high rank, had got in the habit of signing their names on the sheet and then going off and doing something else instead of getting in their work. Brigadier General Healey had not been happy when word of what they were doing finally got to him. And when the commandant wasn't happy, n.o.body else was happy, either.

"One thing you've got to give Healey," Bob said: "he's fair. He came down on everybody, and who didn't matter."

"Yeah, that's true." Johnson's considered opinion was that the commandant hated everybody impartially, and that the crew of the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark returned the favor. He realized he wasn't objective, but he didn't much care. As far as he was concerned, Healey didn't rate objectivity. returned the favor. He realized he wasn't objective, but he didn't much care. As far as he was concerned, Healey didn't rate objectivity.

Johnson's legs pumped hard as he did his best to keep calcium in his bones. He didn't want to think about gravity, not any more. The idea of having weight, of moving his muscles against resistance, seemed alien and repugnant. He pedaled on anyhow. When his body was working hard, he could stop thinking about the troubles back on Earth and, indeed, about everything else. Exercise wasn't as much fun as s.e.x, but it did the job of distraction almost as well.