Now she knew those differences were even larger than she’d thought before she met wild Big Uglies. That knowledge could mortify her, too. “I am a citizen of the Empire,” she said. “I am a Tosevite, but I am also a citizen of the Empire.”
It was a truth. Sometimes-perhaps, even, more often than not-it helped calm her. But the converse held, too. She was a citizen of the Empire, but she was also a Tosevite. And, at the moment, she was engaged in a task which proved exactly that.
Her hair-the hair on her scalp, that is, not the hair that sprouted elsewhere on her body-had got long enough to need combing. The black plastic comb she held had come up from the surface of Tosev 3 at her request. The Race didn’t make anything like it: what point, with scales instead of hair? She’d needed to send an electronic message to Sam Yeager to find out how the Big Uglies kept hair in any kind of order. “Comb,” she said as she used it. The word was English. The Race did not have the thing, and so did not have a term for it.
After she finished using the comb, she studied the result. Her hair was neater, no doubt about it. She suspected any Big Ugly who saw her would have approved. She also suspected neither males nor females of the Race would care one way or the other. Members of the Race disapproved of her hair on general principles. Not long ago, that disapproval would have crushed her. Now, every once in a while, she enjoyed annoying males and females. If that wasn’t her Tosevite blood coming out, she had no idea what it was.
The intercom panel by the door hissed for her attention. “Who is it?” she asked.
“I: Ttomalss,” came the reply.
Kassquit stuck on an artificial fingerclaw for a moment, so she could prod the switch to let him in. “I greet you, superior sir,” she said, bending into the posture of respect.
“And I greet you,” Ttomalss replied. “I hope you are well?”
She made the affirmative gesture. “Yes. I thank you. And yourself?” After Ttomalss used the same gesture, Kassquit asked him, “And what can I do for you today, superior sir?”
“You mentioned to me the ambiguities involved in recording every action of an individual who is a citizen of the Empire with the same privileges as those enjoyed by other citizens of the Empire,” Ttomalss said.
“I certainly did mention that to you, yes,” Kassquit said. “And I do not believe the issue is in the least ambiguous.”
“You will, I hope, understand that I did not and do not altogether agree with you,” Ttomalss said. “But a review committee of higher-ranking individuals has come to a different conclusion. I am now able to tell you that the routine recording of your actions has ceased and will not resume.”
“That is… very good news, superior sir.” Kassquit added an emphatic cough. She knew she sounded astonished. She was astonished. That the Race would put her wishes ahead of its own research was something to be astonished about. Then she checked her swelling delight. “Wait.”
“What is it?” Ttomalss asked.
“You say you are able to tell me the routine recording of my actions has stopped,” Kassquit answered. “You do not say that this is a truth. Is it a truth, superior sir?”
She watched him narrowly. She was not a female of the Race, to have instinctual cues about what his body language meant, but she’d been watching him all her life. When he flinched now, the motion was tiny, but she saw it. And when he said, “What do you mean?” she caught the startled alarm in his voice.
“I mean that you were lying to me,” she said sadly. “I mean that you thought I would not pay close enough attention to your words. When I was a hatchling, I would not have. But I am an adult now. When you lie to me, I have some chance of realizing it.”
“You do not understand.” But Ttomalss didn’t deny what she’d said.
She wished he would have denied it. “I understand you have lied to me. I understand I cannot trust you any more. Do you understand-do you have any idea-how much pain that causes me? I am sorry, superior sir, but I do not think I want to see you again for some time to come. Please go.”
“Kassquit, I-” Ttomalss began.
“Get out!” Kassquit shrieked at the top of her lung-no, lungs; being a Tosevite, she had two. They seemed to make her voice doubly loud, doubly shrill, inside the little cubicle. Ttomalss cowered in alarm as her cry echoed and reechoed from the metal walls. Without a word, he fled.
As the door hissed shut behind him, Kassquit fought the urge to run after him and do him an injury. Assuming she actually could, what would it do except land her in trouble? It would make me feel better, she thought. But, in the end, that proved not quite reason enough, and she let her mentor escape.
She made the negative gesture. “No. I let him escape physically,” she said, much more quietly than she’d ordered him to go. “But he will not get away with it, by the spirits of Emperors past.”
After casting down her eyes as any other citizen of the Empire would have, she made a telephone call. A female of the Race said, “Office of Fleetlord Reffet, fleetlord of the colonization fleet. How may… I help… you?” Her voice faltered as she saw herself facing a Tosevite rather than the member of the Race she’d expected.
“I am Junior Researcher Kassquit,” Kassquit said. “I should like to speak to the Exalted Fleetlord, if that is possible.”
“I doubt very much that it will be,” the female replied.
Such a lack of acceptance didn’t even anger Kassquit any more; she’d encountered it too often. She said, “Please mention my name to the fleetlord. You may possibly be surprised.”
To another member of the Race, the females surely would have said, It shall be done. Here, she plainly debated refusing Kassquit altogether. At last, with a shrug, she replied, “Oh, very well.” Her image disappeared as she set herself to finding out whether Fleetlord Reffet would indeed condescend to speak to this Big Ugly who bore the title and name of a female of the Race.
If Reffet decided he didn’t care to speak with Kassquit, she probably wouldn’t see the female in his office again; the connection would just be broken. But Kassquit knew she’d done the Race-and Reffet-a considerable service in identifying the male who called himself Regeya on the electronic network as Sam Yeager, wild Big Ugly. She hoped the fleetlord would remember, too.
And, for a moment, she wished she could forget. Had she not unmasked Sam Yeager, she would never have become intimate with Jonathan Yeager. She would have come closer-much closer-to remaining a good counterfeit female of the Race. But that hadn’t been how things worked out. Now Jonathan Yeager was permanently mated to another wild Big Ugly. And now Kassquit knew she was doomed always to stay betwixt and between. She could never make herself into a proper member of the Race, but she could never fully be a Tosevite, either.
The female reappeared. “The fleetlord will speak to you,” she said in startled tones. She vanished again. Reffet’s image replaced hers.
Kassquit folded into the posture of respect. “I greet you, Exalted Fleetlord,” she said. “Is it not a truth that I have been adjudged a full citizen of the Race?”
“Let me examine the facts before I answer, Junior Researcher,” Reffet said. One of his eye turrets swung away from her, presumably to look at another monitor. No matter how she tried to make them behave so, her eyes refused. After a little while, Reffet swung both eye turrets back toward her. “Yes, that does appear to be a truth.”
“Do I have all the privileges of any other citizen of the Empire, then?” she persisted.
“I would say that would follow from the other.” Reffet added the affirmative gesture.
“In that case, Exalted Fleetlord…” Kassquit took a deep breath. “In that case, I request that you formally reprimand my mentor, Senior Researcher Ttomalss, for falsely assuring me that he had stopped recording my every activity when in fact he has not. He admitted as much when I caught him in the lie. And I daresay you can see and hear him admit as much on the recording he has denied making. I also request that you order him to cease such recordings in the future.”