Homeward Bound Part 29

"Vodka over ice sounds wonderful. Getting up off the sleeping mat and going to your room . . ." Dr. Blanchard laughed ruefully and shook her head. "Maybe if I say pretty please, you'll bring me a drink instead?"

"That might be arranged," Karen said.

"We'll be friends forever if it can," Melanie Blanchard said. "Is the car back to the hotel very far from here?"

"About as far as it was from the shuttlecraft to where you are," Jonathan answered.

The doctor heaved herself to her feet. She wobbled for a moment. Jonathan held out his arm. She took it, but then steadied and stood on her own. To the guard, she called, "I am ready to go to the car now, as long as I do not have to move too fast."

"Set whatever pace you please, superior female," the Lizard replied. "Our orders are to accommodate ourselves to your needs."

"I thank you. That is very kind." Dr. Blanchard dropped back into English to tell Karen and Jonathan, "Why don't you lead the way? You know where you're going, and I haven't got the faintest idea."

"I don't think we'll lead. I think we'll go one on each side of you, in case you need propping up," Jonathan said. That turned out to be a good idea. Dr. Blanchard walked as if she were a St. Bernard plowing through thick snow. Home's gravity field seemed harder for her than drifts after a blizzard were for a dog. The Lizard carrying her suitcases followed, while the guards spread out on all sides.

When they reached the car, she sank down into a seat with a groan of pleasure. "This one even fits my b.u.t.t," she said happily. "All the time in the world on an exercise bike up there isn't the same as ten minutes in gravity, believe you me it isn't."

She seemed a little better by the time they got back to the hotel. That relieved Karen; she'd feared the doctor would be in no shape to take care of herself, let alone anybody else. But Melanie Blanchard walked more easily than she had before, and even paused briefly to talk with reporters waiting outside. She might need a while to do a thorough job of adjusting, but it seemed likely she would.

When the humans went into the lobby, Karen's father-in-law met them with an expression she found hard to fathom. Was it grim, or was he swallowing a belly laugh? He sounded grim when he said, "We have a . . . situation here."

"What's up, Dad?" Jonathan asked.

"A cleaning crew went into your room while you were out meeting Dr. Blanchard," Sam Yeager answered. "They were fooling with the rats' cages. We've had an escape."

"Oh, dear," Melanie Blanchard said. "I was hoping to do some work with them."

"That's not the problem," Karen said, which was, if anything, an understatement.

Sam Yeager nodded. "No, it's not. The Race told us they'd raise holy h.e.l.l if anything of ours got loose on Home. We promised on a stack of Bibles we wouldn't let the critters loose-and we didn't."

"They don't care what they've done to Earth's ecology," Karen said. "They claim that's not their worry. But if we return the favor, it's a different story. How many got away?"

"Eight or ten, I think," her father-in-law answered. "You'll know better than I do when you see your room, because you have a better notion of how the cages were laid out. But as of now, I'm open to suggestions."

"Why should we worry?" Karen said. "It's the Lizards' own fault. If they want to catch the rats, tell 'em to buy a cat."

Everybody laughed. Dr. Blanchard said, "Excuse me," and sat down on the edge of a table. That was probably more comfortable than perching in what the Race used for chairs. The table was flat, not curved the wrong way for a human fundament.

"They are setting traps," Sam Yeager said. "I have no idea how much good that will do. Can they find something rats really want to eat? Can the rats find something to eat and drink on their own?" He spread his hands. "I don't know about that, either. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, and we'll find out."

"They'll have vermin of their own." Dr. Blanchard looked and sounded happier sitting down. "They'll have creatures that hunt vermin, too. The next interesting question may be whether those creatures feel like hunting rats."

"Befflem, tsiongyu, and their wild cousins, I'd expect," Jonathan said. "Yes, that could be mighty interesting. Befflem have turned into G.o.dawful nuisances back on Earth. There'd be a sort of poetic justice if rats did the same thing here."

"I doubt the Race would appreciate it," his father said dryly. "But they can't blame us for the escape. They did it themselves. I wouldn't want to be one of those cleaners right now, not for all the tea in China I wouldn't."

"If I wake up and find myself myself nose to nose with a rat, I'll probably scream," Karen said. nose to nose with a rat, I'll probably scream," Karen said.

"If I wake up and find myself myself nose to nose with a rat, I'll probably scream, too," Sam Yeager said. "That'll scare the rat out of a year's growth, but I don't suppose it'll do much else." nose to nose with a rat, I'll probably scream, too," Sam Yeager said. "That'll scare the rat out of a year's growth, but I don't suppose it'll do much else."

"If anything Earthly can establish itself on Home, I'd bet on rats," Dr. Blanchard said thoughtfully. "They've evolved to live anywhere and eat anything. And they've evolved to live in cities alongside people. They might feel right at home here on Home."

"That occurred to me, too," Sam Yeager said. "I don't know if it's fully occurred to the Race yet. You have to have lived on Earth for a while before you understand just what pests rats can be, and there aren't that many Lizards here who have."

"If they don't get it now, they will pretty soon," Karen said.

"They may, anyhow," Jonathan said. "Maybe rats can't can't make it here. Maybe they won't find anything to eat. Maybe the exterminators will get 'em. Maybe something local will think they're delicious." make it here. Maybe they won't find anything to eat. Maybe the exterminators will get 'em. Maybe something local will think they're delicious."

"Maybe," Dr. Blanchard said. "But n.o.body's ever gone broke betting on rats."

Senyahh held a strange creature by the tail. The creature was deceased. The bandage on the kitchen chief's other hand said it hadn't perished without putting up a fight. "What is is this horrible thing, Exalted Fleetlord?" Senyahh demanded. this horrible thing, Exalted Fleetlord?" Senyahh demanded.

Atvar eyed it with a grim sense of recognition. The tail was long and naked and scaly, which made the animal seem a little less alien. The creature's body, though, was soft-skinned and furry. Its head had the flaps of skin Tosevite creatures used to concentrate sound waves for their hearing diaphragms. The head was, at the moment, somewhat the worse for wear.

"What did you hit it with?" Atvar inquired.

"A frying pan," Senyahh answered. "It bit me anyhow. And I almost missed it. It is as fast as a beffel, but I never saw anything like it before. What is it?"

"I believe it is called a rat. rat." Atvar p.r.o.nounced the unfamiliar word as well as he could. "It is one of the escaped Tosevite animals. Congratulations on killing it."

"Oh, one of those horrible creatures," Senyahh said. "I thought they would be bigger and uglier and go around on their hind legs."

"This is quite ugly enough, in my opinion," Atvar said. "And I meant those congratulations. We believe the housekeeping staff let eight or ten rats rats escape. This is the first one of which we have seen the slightest trace." escape. This is the first one of which we have seen the slightest trace."

Senyahh swung the dead beast by the tail. "It will cause no more trouble," she declared, a hunter's pride in her voice.

"This one will not, no," Atvar agreed. "But what of the others? What if they breed? What if they flourish? On Tosev 3, they are major pests. Do they have any diseases or predators here? I have my doubts."

The head of the kitchens had her own concerns. She asked, "Are they good to eat?"

"I believe so, but the Big Uglies do not commonly consume them." Atvar pointed to the female. "You are welcome to experiment on your own, but do not, do not, do not, serve the results of your experiment to the American Tosevites-not even to Karen Yeager, with whom you quarreled." He used an emphatic cough. "The cleaning crew that freed the serve the results of your experiment to the American Tosevites-not even to Karen Yeager, with whom you quarreled." He used an emphatic cough. "The cleaning crew that freed the rats rats has been sacked. If you give the Americans has been sacked. If you give the Americans rat rat to eat, you will envy their fate. Do you understand me? Do I make myself plain?" to eat, you will envy their fate. Do you understand me? Do I make myself plain?"

"Yes, Exalted Fleetlord. It shall be done. Or rather, it shall not be done, no matter how tempting it may be. You have my word on it," Senyahh declared.

"All right. Take the miserable creature away, then," Atvar said. "I am more familiar with these animals than I ever wanted to be."

After the kitchen chief left his room, Atvar said several pungent things. He did not blame the female who had killed the rat. She was only doing her job. The cleaning crew . . . Had it been up to him, they would have got worse than the sack. Their foolishness had endangered all of Home. Yes, Atvar knew more about rats than he wanted to. He knew much more about rats than any male or female who'd never been to Tosev 3.

He hadn't wanted the animals to come down to the surface of Home in the first place. He'd wondered if the Big Uglies had brought them here to wage their own brand of ecological warfare. He'd warned. He'd fussed. And he'd been undone not by the American Tosevites but by the hotel's housekeeping staff. They'd decided they felt like playing with the animals. Now everyone would have to pay for it.

Then Atvar made the negative gesture. The Big Uglies wouldn't have to pay a thing. They might have got what they wanted. He couldn't prove that, no matter how it seemed to him. But it hadn't been their fault. That was only too obvious.

He tried to look on the bright side of things, an exercise with which he'd had frequent practice on Tosev 3. Species from Home were making the Big Uglies' planet more livable, more comfortable, for the Race. The Tosevites couldn't make that sort of arrangement here on Home. All they could do was make nuisances of themselves. That, unfortunately, was an exercise with which they'd they'd had frequent practice on Tosev 3. had frequent practice on Tosev 3.

As if to prove the point, Sam Yeager chose that moment to telephone him. "I greet you, Amba.s.sador," Atvar said resignedly. "What can I do for you this morning?"

"I would like to request permission to bring down another ten rats rats from the from the Admiral Peary Admiral Peary to replace the ones that were allowed to escape," the amba.s.sador replied. to replace the ones that were allowed to escape," the amba.s.sador replied.

"Oh, you would?" Atvar said.

"Yes, please," Sam Yeager said. "They are very useful to us because they let us test foods easily and conveniently. We were sorry to lose the ones the housekeepers released."

He made sure that got under Atvar's scales. Atvar couldn't do anything about it, either, because he'd earned the right. The fleetlord tried to stall: "I cannot decide this on my own. I will have to consult with local authorities."

"Back on Tosev 3, Fleetlord, we call that pa.s.sing the buck. pa.s.sing the buck." Sam Yeager used three words of English. "It means seeking to evade responsibility. That is not like you. I hope to hear an answer very soon. Good day." He broke the connection.

Atvar hissed angrily. Some of the anger was aimed at the Big Ugly, the rest at himself. The amba.s.sador was right: he did seek to evade responsibility for letting more rats rats come down to the surface of Home. Unlike the males and females who had never left this planet, he had a pretty good notion of how damaging the Tosevite creatures could be. Letting more of them come here, even caged, was not in the Race's best interest. come down to the surface of Home. Unlike the males and females who had never left this planet, he had a pretty good notion of how damaging the Tosevite creatures could be. Letting more of them come here, even caged, was not in the Race's best interest.

But if it was in the Big Uglies' best interest . . . Atvar hissed again. Sam Yeager had come right out and said it was. The only way the Race could reject the amba.s.sador's request would be to insult the American Tosevites and possibly to jeopardize their health. Atvar did not care to be responsible for that. He did not think any other male or female would care for it, either.

He wondered if he ought to make some calls anyhow, on the off chance he was wrong. His hand shaped the negative gesture. That struck him as pointless-and also as pa.s.sing the buck, pa.s.sing the buck, as Sam Yeager had put it. as Sam Yeager had put it.

Instead of telephoning members of his own species, he called the Big Ugly back. "Why, h.e.l.lo, Fleetlord. I greet you," Sam Yeager said, as politely as if they hadn't been sparring not long before.

"And I greet you," Atvar replied, trying-with indifferent success, he feared-to match that politeness.

"What can I do for you now?" the American Tosevite asked, still smoothly. "Does this have to do with what we were talking about a little while ago, or is it about something else?"

"The same topic." Atvar respected the Big Ugly for coming to the point, and respected him even more for doing so in an inoffensive way. "You have permission to bring ten more of these rats rats here. They are to remain caged at all times, as their predecessors were to have done." here. They are to remain caged at all times, as their predecessors were to have done."

"I thank you, Fleetlord, and I do understand the restrictions," Sam Yeager said. "We agreed to them from the beginning. We have not violated them, either. It was your own folk who freed the rats rats still-I suppose-in this hotel." still-I suppose-in this hotel."

Atvar didn't like that I suppose. I suppose. He also wasn't happy that Sam Yeager was completely correct. With luck, the housekeepers who'd got more curious than they should have would have trouble finding work anywhere for the rest of their lives. Atvar would have loved to fine or imprison them, but they hadn't done anything criminal-so the local prosecuting attorney a.s.sured him. Whether they'd done anything damaging was a different question, worse luck. He also wasn't happy that Sam Yeager was completely correct. With luck, the housekeepers who'd got more curious than they should have would have trouble finding work anywhere for the rest of their lives. Atvar would have loved to fine or imprison them, but they hadn't done anything criminal-so the local prosecuting attorney a.s.sured him. Whether they'd done anything damaging was a different question, worse luck.

"Will any special Tosevite bait attract these creatures?" the fleetlord asked. "If so, we will use it in our traps."

"Our traditional bait is cheese, cheese," Sam Yeager answered.

Then he had to explain to Atvar what cheese was. The explanation left the fleetlord as much revolted as enlightened. The idea of milk was disgusting enough to the Race. The idea of deliberately letting it rot before eating it was worse. Trying to suppress nausea, Atvar inquired, "Do you have any of this stuff closer than the Tosevite solar system?"

"We have none here on the surface of Home-I know that," the American amba.s.sador said. "There may be some aboard the Admiral Peary. Admiral Peary. If you like, I will ask the ship to send some down with the If you like, I will ask the ship to send some down with the rats rats if there is." if there is."

"I thank you," Atvar said. "I thank you very much, in fact. That would be generous of you, and greatly appreciated."

Sam Yeager sounded wryly amused: "Unlike a certain species I could name, we do not deliberately seek to disrupt the ecology of another world."

"You have made your political point, Amba.s.sador." Atvar, on the other hand, sounded sour. "We have sought to make Tosev 3 more Homelike and friendly to ourselves. You have done the same on certain parts of the planet."

"Never so drastically as your folk are doing," the Tosevite amba.s.sador said. "And we know better now. You brag about the Race's long spell of civilization, but it does not seem to have made you sensitive to ecological concerns."

The Race was chiefly interested in shaping ecologies to its own needs. It had done so on Rabotev 2 and Halless 1, and was still busy doing it on Tosev 3. Sam Yeager's att.i.tude made Atvar less proud of that than he might have been.

He did not intend to let the wild Big Ugly see what he was thinking. Bitter experience on Tosev 3 had taught him that revealing anything to the Big Uglies was a mistake. They never took such revelations as simple confidences, but always as signs of weakness. And they exploited such signs for all they were worth. Would Sam Yeager do the same? Atvar did not doubt it for an instant.

"We see nothing wrong in manipulating the environment for our own benefit," the fleetlord said. "That is one of the hallmarks of an intelligent species, would you not agree?"

"Manipulation is one thing, destruction something else altogether," the American amba.s.sador insisted.

"Very often, the difference lies in the point of view," Atvar said. "Or will you tell me I am mistaken?" He waited. Sam Yeager used the negative gesture. Atvar respected his honesty. He went on, "This being so, you accuse us of being strong enough to make ourselves comfortable on a new world. To this I must plead guilty."

"Who gave you the right to do that?" Sam Yeager asked.

"We gave it to ourselves, by being strong enough to do it," Atvar replied.

Yeager studied him. "You say these words, Fleetlord, and you seem pleased with them. And I suppose you have reason to be pleased with them-now. But I tell you this: when I hear them, they are to me nothing to be pleased with. They are a judgment on your kind, a judgment on the whole Race. And judgments like that have a way of being fulfilled."

Atvar stared at him in astonishment. He sounded more like one of the mullahs who'd made life so unpleasant for the Race on Tosev 3's main continental ma.s.s than the highly civilized being the fleetlord knew him to be. "Do you threaten me, Amba.s.sador?" Atvar demanded.

"No, Fleetlord," the wild Big Ugly replied. "I do not threaten you if I say the sun will rise tomorrow, either. I simply observe."

"If that is the sort of observation you are going to make, you would do better to keep it to yourself," Atvar said coldly.

"As you wish, Fleetlord," Sam Yeager said. "But have you not seen that the truth will come and find you regardless of whether anyone points it out to you ahead of time?"

Yes, he did sound like a mullah. "What I have not seen, in this particular instance, is that you are speaking truth," Atvar said. Sam Yeager only shrugged. He spread his hands, as if to say, You will find out. You will find out. Atvar deliberately turned his eye turrets away from those hands. To his annoyance, the American amba.s.sador only laughed-a loud, grating Tosevite laugh. Atvar deliberately turned his eye turrets away from those hands. To his annoyance, the American amba.s.sador only laughed-a loud, grating Tosevite laugh.

At supper in the refectory that evening, Jonathan Yeager listened to his father's account of the conversation with Atvar. Sam Yeager was speaking English: "I tell you, I felt like Daniel in the Old Testament. I was doing everything but shouting and waving my arms and yelling, 'Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting.' "

"How did he take it?" Dr. Melanie Blanchard asked.

"He got mad," Sam answered. "I would have got mad, too, if somebody talked to me like that. But I still don't think I'm wrong. If you're that arrogant, it usually comes back and bites you."

"As far as I'm concerned, you handled it just right," Tom de la Rosa said. "What they've done to ecosystems back on Earth is a shame and a disgrace. They'd better not think we're happy about it."

"But now the shoe is on the other foot," Jonathan said. "Now they're worried about rats here, not zisuili and azwaca and befflem and all their plants back on Earth. The shoe pinches more when it's on their foot."

"Oh. The rats." Dad snapped his fingers. "Almost forgot. We do have permission to bring down replacements."

"You insulted Atvar, and you still got away with that?" Frank Coffey said. "Not bad, Amba.s.sador. Not bad at all." He clapped his hands together.

"I didn't insult him till after he'd agreed." Sam Yeager grinned. "Aren't I sly?"

Everybody laughed. Jonathan said, "He didn't change his mind afterwards?"

"Nope," his father answered. "Or if he did, he didn't tell me. If they shoot down the shuttlecraft with the rats in it, then we'll know he was really really angry." That drew more laughs. Tom de la Rosa hoisted his gla.s.s of more-or-less vodka in salute. All the Americans drank. angry." That drew more laughs. Tom de la Rosa hoisted his gla.s.s of more-or-less vodka in salute. All the Americans drank.

A couple of tables away, Ka.s.squit sat by herself. Sometimes she joined the other humans when they ate, sometimes she didn't. That seemed to fit her betwixt-and-between nature: stuck between what she'd been born and what she'd been raised as. Having watched Mickey and Donald grow from their eggs into . . . fair copies of human beings, Jonathan thought he understood that better than most.

He scratched his head, which reminded him he needed to shave it again soon. Was he wrong, or had Ka.s.squit been more standoffish than usual lately? After a moment's thought, he nodded to himself. Unless he was wrong, she hadn't eaten with the Americans since Dr. Blanchard came down from the Admiral Peary. Admiral Peary.

He switched to the language of the Race, calling, "Say, Researcher, will you not come over and eat with us?"

Karen gave him a hard look. He pretended not to notice. This had nothing to do with the fact that he and Ka.s.squit had been lovers up on her starship in the early 1960s. He and Karen hadn't been married yet, or even engaged. They had been going together, though, and his . . . research had almost spelled the end of that. This was just social. Jonathan really meant that. Because of what she was, Ka.s.squit was to a certain degree isolated from everyone around her, humans and Lizards alike. Getting her to mingle wasn't just diplomacy; it also felt like psychotherapy.

As usual, Ka.s.squit's face showed nothing. She might have been joyful, furious, gloomy-you couldn't tell by looking. She said, "I did not think you would want me there, not when you were so busy using your own language."

"We will speak yours if you do join us." That wasn't Jonathan-it was Melanie Blanchard. "We have no problem speaking the Race's language, even if we are a little more comfortable with our own. The familiar is often welcome, especially when one is far from home."