“You said it,” Sam agreed. He’d been sighing with relief every day since the Germans surrendered. He hadn’t thought the Nazis would start their war against the Lizards. He knew the Reich was fighting out of its weight against the Race, and so he assumed the Nazi bigwigs knew the same thing. That hadn’t proved such a good assumption. Jonathan had been up in space when the war started. If a German missile had hit his starship…
Barbara said, “I don’t know how we could have gone on if anything had happened to Jonathan.”
“I didn’t think anything would,” Sam answered. If anything had happened to his only son after he’d encouraged Jonathan to go into space, he didn’t know how he’d be able to go on living with Barbara, either. For that matter, he didn’t know how he’d be able to go on living with himself. “It’s all right now, anyhow.” He said that as much to convince himself as to remind his wife.
And Barbara did something she’d never done in all the weeks since the war between the Reich and the Race broke out and endangered their son: she put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and said, “Yes, I guess it is.”
He leaned back in his swivel chair and reached up to set his hand on hers. If she was going to forgive him, he’d make the most of it. “I love you, hon,” he said. “Looks as if we’re together for the long haul after all.”
That as if was a tribute to the long haul they’d already put in. Barbara had done graduate work in Middle English before the fighting, and was as precise a grammarian as any schoolmarm ever born. And, over more than twenty years, her precision had rubbed off on Sam. He wondered if they did have as long a haul ahead as behind. He’d just turned fifty-eight. Would they still be married when he was eighty? Would he still be around when he was eighty? He had his hopes.
“So it does.” She smiled down at him as he was grinning up at her. “I like the idea,” she said.
“You’d better, by now,” he said, which made her smile broader. But his own grin slipped. “On the other hand, you know, I’m liable to softly and suddenly vanish away, because the Snark I found damn well is a Boojum.”
He spoke elliptically. Whenever he spoke of what he’d found with the help of some computer coding from a Lizard expatriate named Sorviss, he spoke elliptically. He didn’t know who might be listening. He didn’t know how much good speaking elliptically would do him, either.
Barbara said, “They wouldn’t,” but her voice lacked conviction.
Sam said, “They might. We know too well, they might. If they do, though, they’ll be sorry, because if anything happens to me the word will get out one way or another.” He chuckled. “Of course, that might be too late to do me a whole lot of good. The story of Samson in the temple never was my favorite, but it’s the best hope I have these days.”
“That we should need such things,” Barbara said, and shook her head.
“I just wish you hadn’t squeezed it out of me,” Yeager said. “Now you’re liable to be in danger, too, on account of it.”
“Think of me as one of your life-insurance policies,” Barbara said. “That’s what I am, because I’ll start shouting from the housetops if anything happens to you. That’s the best way I know of to get you out of a jam, if you should get into one. They can’t stand the light of day-or maybe I should say, the light of publicity.”
“That’s true enough,” Sam agreed. And so it was… to a point. If he and Barbara both softly and suddenly vanished away, she wouldn’t have the chance to start shouting from the housetops. Presumably, those who might be interested in silence could figure that out, too. Yeager didn’t mention it to his wife. Anybody could foul up; he’d seen that. A foul-up on the other side’s part could well give her the chance to play the role she’d talked about. He said, “We’re liable to be worrying over nothing. I hope we are. I’m even starting to think we are. If they’d found out where I’ve been, I’d think they would have dropped on me by now.”
“Probably.” Barbara looked poised to say something else on the same subject, but a crash from the kitchen distracted her. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed. “What have those two gone and done now?” She hurried away to find out.
“Something where we’ll need to sweep up the pieces,” Sam answered, not that that counted for much in the way of prophecy. He got up from his chair and followed Barbara.
He was in the living room, halfway between the study and the kitchen, when he heard a door slam in the back part of the house. He started to laugh. So did Barbara, though he wasn’t sure she was actually amused. “Those little scamps,” she said. “There they’ll be, pretending as hard as they can that they’re innocent.”
“They’re learning,” Yeager said. “Any kid will do that kind of thing, till his folks put a stop to it. And we’re the only folks Mickey and Donald have.”
The shattered remains of what had been a serving bowl lay all over the linoleum of the kitchen floor. Barbara clucked in dismay at the size of the mess. Then she clucked again. “That bowl was in the dish drainer,” she said. “They’re growing like weeds, but I don’t think they’re big enough to reach it, not since I shoved it back sideways against the wall there.”
Sam examined the scene of the crime. “No chair pushed up against the counter,” he said musingly. “I wonder if one of them stood on the other one’s back. That would be interesting-it would show they’re really starting to cooperate with each other.”
“Now if only they’d start cooperating to clean up the messes they make. But that would be too much to ask for, wouldn’t it?” Barbara rolled her eyes. “Sometimes it’s too much to ask for from Jonathan, or even from someone else I might mention.”
“I haven’t got the faintest idea who-whom-you’re talking about,” Sam said. Barbara rolled her eyes again, more extravagantly than before. But when she started for the broom closet, Sam shook his head. “That’ll wait for a couple of minutes, hon. We can’t let Mickey and Donald think they got away with it, or else they’ll try the same thing again tomorrow.”
“You’re right,” Barbara said. “If we read them the riot act, they may wait till day after tomorrow-if we’re lucky, they may.” Sam laughed, though he knew perfectly well she hadn’t been kidding.
Side by side, they walked to the bedroom the two Lizard hatchlings they were raising called their own. Up till a few months before, the door to that bedroom had been latched on the outside almost all the time: the baby Lizards, essentially little wild animals, would have torn up the house without even knowing what they were doing. Now they know some of what they’re doing, and they still tear up the house, Sam thought. Is that an improvement?
He opened the door. Mickey and Donald stood against the far wall. If they could have disappeared altogether, they looked as if they would have done it. Even Donald, bigger and more rambunctious than his (her?) brother (sister?), seemed abashed, which didn’t happen very often.
Yeager held up a piece of the broken bowl. By the way the hatchlings cringed, he might have been showing a couple of vampires a crucifix. “No, no!” he said in a loud, ostentatiously angry voice. “Don’t play with dishes! Are you ever going to play with dishes again?”
Both baby Lizards shook their heads. They’d learned the gesture from Barbara and Jonathan and him; they didn’t know the one the Race used. Neither one of them said anything. They didn’t talk much, though they understood a startling amount. Human babies picked up language much faster. The Lizards would have been amazed that the hatchlings were talking at all. Yeager chuckled under his breath. Barbara and I, we’re bad influences, he thought.
Though behind in language, Mickey and Donald were miles ahead of human toddlers in every aspect of physical development. They’d hatched able to run around and catch food for themselves, and they’d grown like weeds since: evolution making sure not so many things were able to catch them. They were already well on their way toward their full adult size.
Sam remained a towering figure, though, and used his height and deep, booming voice to good advantage. “You’d better not go messing with Mommy Barbara’s china,” he roared, “or you’ll be in big, big trouble. Have you got that?” The young Lizards nodded. They had a pretty good notion of what trouble meant, or at least that it was a good thing to avoid. Yeager nodded at them. “All right, then,” he said. “You behave yourselves, you hear?”
Mickey and Donald both nodded some more. Satisfied he’d put the fear of God in them-at least till the next time-Sam let it go at that. He didn’t spank them save as a very last resort. He hadn’t spanked Jonathan much, either… and Jonathan hadn’t had such formidable teeth with which to defend himself.
“Maybe the Lizards have the right idea about bringing up their babies,” Barbara said as she and Sam went up the hall.
“What? Except for making sure they don’t kill themselves or one another, leaving them pretty much alone till they’re three or four years old?” Sam said. “It’d be less work, yeah, but we’ve got a big head start on civilizing them.”
“We’ve got a big head start on exhaustion, is what we’ve got,” Barbara said. “We were a lot younger when we did this with Jonathan, and there was only one of him, and he’s human.”