“The species of my friend is not relevant,” Straha said, pushing her away from the major accusation and toward something smaller. “Rabotevs and Hallessi are citizens of the Empire, no less than males and females of the Race. If the conquest here succeeds in the end, the same will be true of Big Uglies.”
“That may well be a truth.” Zeshpass admitted what she plainly would sooner have denied. She had to admit it; equality of species under the law and in the afterlife was a cornerstone of the Empire. She tried to rally: “You said nothing, I notice, about your rampant and unwarranted individualism.”
There was the dangerous charge, especially from the viewpoint of members of the colonization fleet. Straha said, “Have you noticed that the males of the conquest fleet show more individualism than would have been common back on Home?”
“I have,” Zeshpass answered. “Everyone from the colonization fleet has noticed this. No one from the colonization fleet approves. Our view is that the males of the colonization fleet have been contaminated by the bizarre ideologies of the Tosevites.”
“We have done what we needed to do to survive and flourish on a world of individualism run wild,” Straha said. “That is the Race’s view, of course. To the Big Uglies, we are hopeless reactionaries.”
“I do not see why the views of the local barbarians should carry any special weight,” Zeshpass said primly.
“Do you not?” Straha said. “I would think the answer fairly obvious, and shown by the recent war with the Deutsche if it was not adequately obvious without that demonstration. What the Big Uglies think about us matters because they can hurt us. They can hurt us badly. Why do you have so much trouble believing that?”
Zeshpass said, “This is not the way things were to be when we got to Tosev 3. This is not the way we were told things would be when we got to Tosev 3.”
“But this is the way things are,” Straha said. “If you cannot see that, if you cannot adapt to that, the colonization effort will face severe difficulties.”
“We are the Race,” Zeshpass said. “We shall prevail. We have always prevailed. We can do it again.”
“We can, certainly,” Straha agreed. “Whether or not we shall… that is a different question. If we act as if our triumph is guaranteed, that only makes it more difficult. The Tosevites present the most severe challenge we have ever faced. Turning our eye turrets away from that challenge, acting as if it does not exist, will make things worse, not better. You may be sure the American Big Uglies, whom I know best, do not believe their triumph is guaranteed. As a result, they work unceasingly to subvert us.”
“Working is one thing. Succeeding is another,” Zeshpass said. “I submit to you, superior sir, that your view of these matters is colored by your having lived among the American Tosevites for so long.”
“And I submit to you that your view is colored by not having lived among any Big Uglies, and by your ignorance of them,” Straha retorted.
They glared at each other in perfect mutual loathing. “Time will tell which of us is correct,” Zeshpass said, and Straha made the affirmative gesture.
It was some time after midnight when the guard named Fred shook Sam Yeager awake. “Come on, pal,” he said when Yeager showed signs of returning to the real world. “You sleep like a rock. Shows you’ve got a clean conscience. I wish to God I did, believe me.”
Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes. Around the yawn, he asked, “What’s going on that won’t keep till morning?” He sounded mushy without his false teeth.
“Somebody wants to see you,” Fred answered. “Come on.”
“Yeah?” Yeager tensed, wishing he hadn’t made that sound quite so dubious. Who’d want to see him in the middle of the night? Were the guards waking him up so they could dispose of him more conveniently?
Fred might have read his mind. “Don’t do anything stupid, Yeager,” he said, and his.45 appeared as if by magic in his right hand. “If I wanted to ice you, I could blow your brains out without bothering to wake you up, right? No fuss, no muss, no bother. But I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass. Somebody wants to see you, and he’s waiting in the living room.”
Yeager sniffed. The odor of fresh-perked coffee wafted in from the kitchen. As much as Fred’s words, that convinced him the guard was telling the truth. He put in his dentures and slid out of bed, asking, “Who is it? And can I get out of my pajamas first?”
“Don’t bother about the PJ’s,” Fred answered. “As for who, come on out front and see for yourself.”
“Okay.” Sam sighed. Whoever was out there would be in a uniform, or maybe a business suit. Facing him in blue-and-white striped cotton pajamas would only put Yeager at a disadvantage. Well, he was at a big enough disadvantage already. His feet slid into slippers. “Let’s go.”
“Attaboy.” Fred made the pistol vanish as smoothly as he’d brought it out.
Up the hall Yeager went. When he walked into the living room, he wasn’t surprised to see John and Charlie already there. With them stood another couple of men he hadn’t seen before. They wore nearly identical off-the-rack suits, and they both looked jumpy and alert despite the hour. Sam noticed that much about them, but nothing more, for his eyes went to the man in the rocking chair by the far wall. Despite pajamas, he wanted to come to attention. He didn’t, not quite. Instead, he nodded and spoke as casually as he could: “Hello, Mr. President.”
Earl Warren returned the nod. “Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Yeager,” he replied. “Officially, I’ll have you know, this conversation is not taking place. Officially, I’m somewhere else-you don’t need to know where-and sound asleep. I wish I were.” He glanced over to one of the strangers in a suit. “Elliott, why don’t you get Yeager here a cup of coffee? I expect he could use one. I know I’m glad to have mine.”
“Sure,” said the Secret Service man-or so Sam assumed him to be. “You take cream and sugar, Lieutenant Colonel?”
“Both, please. About a teaspoon of sugar,” Yeager answered, for all the world as if this were an utterly normal conversation. Elliott went off to the kitchen.
“Sit down, Lieutenant Colonel, if you please,” President Warren said, and Sam saw that all the guards had left the armchair across the room from the rocker for him. The only reason they were there was to make sure he didn’t strangle the president. He’d asked to see Warren not really expecting anyone would pay any attention to him, but now Warren was here.
Elliott brought him the coffee. Not a drop had slopped from cup into saucer; the Secret Service man had steady hands. “Thanks,” Sam told him, and got a curt nod in return. He sipped the coffee. It was hot and strong and good.
President Warren let him drink about a third of the cup, then said, “Shall we get down to brass tacks?”
“Okay by me.” Yeager pointed to Fred and Charlie and John. “But these fellows have said they don’t want to know why they’ve been keeping me here. Should they listen in?”
His guards and the Secret Service men put their heads together. Then, to his surprise, the fellows who’d ridden herd on him trooped out of the living room and out of the house; he heard the door close behind them. President Warren said, “I think Jim and Elliott should be able to keep me safe.” Yeager nodded; they were bound to be armed. Even if they weren’t, either one of them could have broken him in half. With a sigh, the president asked, “Well, Lieutenant Colonel, what’s on your mind?”
Sam took another sip of coffee before answering. He took a deep breath, too. Now that he had to bring them out, the words wanted to stick in his throat. He wished the coffee were fortified with something stronger than cream and sugar. But he said what he had to say: “Sir, why did you order the attack on the colonization fleet?”
Both Secret Service men started. Elliott muttered something under his breath. He and the one named Jim stared at the president. Earl Warren sighed again. “The classic answer is, it seemed like a good idea at the time. And it did seem like a good idea. It was the hardest blow humans have even struck against the Race, and the Lizards never really suspected the United States. No one did-except you, Lieutenant Colonel. Are you happy to realize that, by being right, you may have brought your country down in flames?”
That made Sam take another deep, anything but happy breath. “Mr. President, I decided a long time ago that whoever launched missiles at the colonization fleet was a murderer,” he answered. “I swear to God, I thought it was the Nazis or the Reds. I never imagined the trail would lead back to us.”
“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 pass that message to you, first through General LeMay and then through Straha’s driver.”
“General LeMay was only talking about the 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.”
“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?”