“No, not me.” Jonathan shook his head. The old days, like Dad said, he thought, and then, The bad old days. People didn’t know much back then.
Now his father was the one who said, “Okay. You can’t help being young, any more than I can help being… not so damn young.” He ran a hand through his hair, which really was getting thin on top. But even if he wasn’t so young, even if he was going bald, his eyes could still get a wicked twinkle in them. “Of course, if it weren’t for the Lizards, you wouldn’t be here at all, because I never would have met your mother if they hadn’t come.”
“I know. You’ve told me that before. I don’t like thinking about it.” Jonathan didn’t like thinking about that at all. Imagining his own existence as depending on a quirk of fate was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? Hell, it was downright terrifying. As far as he could tell, he’d always been here and always would be here. Anything that shook such foundations was not to be trusted.
“What do you like thinking about?” his father asked slyly. “Your wedding, maybe? Or your wedding night?”
“Dad!” Reproach rang in Jonathan’s voice. His father was an old man. He had no business thinking about stuff like that.
“Just wait till you have kids,” his father warned him. “You’ll tell them about what it might have taken to make sure they weren’t born, and they won’t want to listen to you, either.”
“I hope I don’t go and do stuff like that,” Jonathan said. “Maybe I’ll remember how much I hated it when you did it to me.”
His dad laughed at him, which only annoyed him more than ever. Sam Yeager said, “Maybe. But don’t bet anything much on it, or you’ll be sorry. I didn’t like it when my father did it to me, but that’s not stopping me. Once you get to a certain age and see your kid acting a certain way, well, you just naturally start acting a certain way yourself.”
“Do you?” Jonathan said darkly. He wanted to think he’d be different when he turned into an old man, but would he? How could he tell now? A lot of years lay between him and his father’s age, and he was in no hurry to pass through them.
“Yeah, you do,” his father said, “however much you think you won’t till you get there.” He grinned at Jonathan again, this time less pleasantly. Jonathan scowled. His father could outguess him better than the other way round. That struck Jonathan as most unfair, too. Once upon a time, his dad had been young, and he still-sometimes, sort of-remembered what it was like. But Jonathan hadn’t got old yet, so how was he supposed to think along with his father?
He gave ground now: “If you say so.”
“I damn well do,” his dad said. “How are you coming along with figuring out how to tie a bow tie?”
Jonathan threw his hands in the air in almost theatrical despair. “I don’t think I’ll ever get it so it looks right with a fancy tux.”
That made his father laugh. “It wasn’t anything I had to worry about when I married your mother. I was in uniform and she was wearing blue jeans. That great metropolis of-”
“Chugwater, Wyoming,” Jonathan chorused along with his father. If he’d heard about the tobacco-chewing justice of the peace who’d married his folks once, he’d heard about him a hundred times. The fellow had been post-master and sheriff, too. Not having to worry about a tux did give the story a slightly different slant, but only slightly.
His father’s eyes went far away. “Things haven’t worked so bad for Barbara and me, though,” he said, more than half to himself. “No, not so bad at all.” For a couple of seconds, he neither looked nor sounded like an old man, not even to Jonathan. He might have been looking forward to a wedding himself, not back on the one he’d had a long time ago.
“Chugwater, Wyoming.” This time, Jonathan spoke the ridiculous name in a different tone of voice. “It must be pretty hot, to be able to remember getting married in a funny place like that. I mean, a church is probably prettier and all, but everybody gets married in a church.”
“It was one of those crazy wartime things,” his father answered. “Nobody knew whether the Lizards could take Chicago, so they pulled all the physicists and the typists-your mom was one-and the Lizard POWs and the interpreter-me-and sent everybody to Denver, where it was supposed to be safer. We almost got killed just when we were setting out. A Lizard killercraft shot up our ship. That was the first time-” He broke off.
“The first time what?” Jonathan asked.
“Never mind. Nothing.” His dad turned red. Jonathan scratched his head, wondering what that was all about. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn… He shook his head. Nobody was ever comfortable thinking about his father and mother doing that, especially before they got married. Sam Yeager went on, “Isn’t there something useful you could be doing instead of standing around here jawing with me?” By his tone, he didn’t want Jonathan thinking about that, either.
“Like what?” Jonathan didn’t feel like doing anything useful, either. “Mickey and Donald are all taken care of.” That was the chore he most often had to worry about. Not that he didn’t enjoy dealing with the two little Lizards-though not so little now. He did. But he didn’t want to get herded off to take care of them. That made him feel as if he were still little himself.
“I don’t know,” his father said. “Shall I think of something?”
“Never mind.” Jonathan decamped from the kitchen, pausing only to grab a Coke from the refrigerator. He gambled that his dad wouldn’t have time to come up with anything particularly nasty-yardwork qualified, in his opinion-before he did that, and he won his gamble.
Back in the safety of his own room, he took a big swig at the soda and started studying his assignment in the history of the Race: he had exams coming. One more semester after this one, and then I can start making a living with the Lizards, just like Karen, he thought. And, thanks to his dad, he had some of the best connections in the whole world. Friendship counted for an awful lot with the Race, and his father had more friends among the Lizards than any human being this side of Kassquit.
Poor Kassquit, he thought. Much as the Race fascinated him, he wouldn’t have wanted to get to know it the way she had. Thinking about her made him sad and horny, both at once: he couldn’t help remembering what they’d spent so much time doing up on the starship. Thinking about doing that with Kassquit made him think about doing it with Karen, and their wedding, and their wedding night. What with all that, he got very little real studying done, but he had a good time anyhow.
Rance Auerbach stared out the hotel window at the waters of the Mediterranean. Even now, with fall sliding toward winter, they remained improbably warm and improbably blue. Oh, the Gulf of Mexico pulled the same trick, but Marseille was at the same latitude as Boston, more or less. It seemed like cheating.
“We ought to get a blizzard,” he said.
Penny Summers shook her head. “No, thanks. I saw too goddamn many blizzards when I was growing up. I don’t want any more.”
“Well, I don’t, either,” Rance admitted. “But weather this good this late in the year just doesn’t feel right.” He coughed, then wheezed out a curse under his breath. Coughing hurt. It always had, ever since he got shot up. It always would, up till the day they buried him. That, or something close to it, was on his mind these days. “Maybe I’m just antsy. Damned if I know.”
“What’s to be antsy about?” Penny asked. “We’re doing great-a lot better now that they dropped on good old Pierre. Plenty of business, plenty of customers…”
“Yeah.” Auerbach lit a cigarette. That would probably make him cough some more, but he didn’t care. No, that wasn’t right. He did care, but not enough to make him quit. “Maybe it’s just that things are going too good. I keep waiting for the knock on the door at three in the morning.”
Penny shook her head. “Not this time. If they didn’t grab us when they got Pierre the Turd, they aren’t gonna do it. You and me, sweetie, we’re home free.”
Now Rance eyed her with more than a little alarm. “Whenever you start thinking like that, you get careless. Remember what happened when we took that little trip down into Mexico? I don’t want anything like that happening again. They owe us for a lot more now than they did back then.”
“You worry too much,” Penny said. “Everything’s gonna be fine, you wait and see.”
“You don’t worry enough,” Rance returned. “You go around acting like the Lizards and the Frenchmen can’t see us, you’re going to find out you’re wrong. Then you’ll be sorry, and so will I.”
“I’m not the one who’s been taking chances lately,” Penny said. “You’re the fellow who blackmailed that Lizard into finding good old Pierre’s sister a job. Of course, that was just out of the goodness of your heart. Yeah, sure it was.”
“Lay off me on account of that, will you please?” Auerbach said wearily. “I never messed around with her, and you can’t say I did no matter how much you want to pin it on me.”
“If I could, I’d be gone,” Penny answered. “I don’t stay where I’m not wanted, believe you me I don’t.” She glared at him. “But even if you didn’t do anything, I could tell you wanted to.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Rance rolled his eyes. He knew that was overacting, but he needed to overact a little, because Penny wasn’t wrong. Picking his words with care and hoping that care didn’t show, he said, “She’s not ugly, but she’s not anything special. I don’t know what you’re all up in arms about.”