“We have only one condition,” said the alpha mouse.
“Which is?” asked Noxon.
“You take at least one of us into the future with you and let her connect with your computer system when the aliens take it over. So we can make some assessment of what they’re capable of.”
“No,” said Noxon.
“Seriously? Why not? Knowledge is essential.”
“Knowledge is power,” said Noxon. “You’ve been trying for thousands of generations to break into the programming of the ships that control Garden, in order to reprogram them to allow you through the Wall and to let you develop higher tech than they currently permit. And you’ve failed. But these aliens broke into our computer systems, took them over, and used them to destroy us. You want to see how it’s done.”
Silence for a few moments. Then: “That was truly not my plan,” said the alpha mouse. “If it had been my plan, then that means I was already acting in bad faith and our alliance was already shattered. But I was acting in good faith. I really need to understand what their capabilities are. We will be much safer approaching their planet if I have some idea of how to resist them and keep them from taking over our ship remotely.”
Noxon thought for a while. Finally he spoke to Ram Odin. “I think I’m going to take one of them forward in time to watch the alien invasion while hooked into the communications network.”
“I thought your argument against that was excellent,” said Ram Odin. “Flawless, in fact.”
“It was,” said Noxon.
“So what did they say to change your mind?” asked Ram.
“More promises,” said Noxon, “which are exactly what they’d say if they’re telling the truth or if they’re lying.”
“So you have no idea,” said Ram Odin.
“You have to leap sometimes,” said Noxon. “You have to trust.”
“And if you’re wrong to trust them?” asked Ram.
“It’s in their self-interest to keep the alliance at least until we get to the alien world,” said Noxon. “At least until we’ve eliminated that threat. After that—well, we’ll see.”
“That’s it? We’ll see?”
“All alliances between rivals take that form,” said Noxon. “We work together as long as it makes sense to do so—and then see how the other side behaves when some of the incentives for cooperation are removed.”
“Very wise,” said Wheaton.
“It’s time to get these mice out of here,” said Noxon. “Come on, all of you climb up on me. The mice,” he added quickly. “Talking only to the mice.”
They scampered up into his clothing. The facemask remained aware of every one of them. “You won’t regret this,” said the alpha mouse.
“Good,” said Noxon, already regretting it, yet sure there was no better way. “Now the rest of you, kindly take my hands. We’re jumping back into the future one last time. I believe we have a car parked nearby waiting to take us back to civilization.”
The decision about the mice had been entirely Noxon’s to make. But since Deborah and Anthropologist Wheaton were not crucial now to any course of action, he could leave their future up to them.
“You don’t have a place on Earth anymore,” said Noxon. “There’s a girl with eyes using your name and fingerprints, Deborah, and a charming philologist who has done rather a good job of keeping a dying discipline alive who needs no competing Dr. Wheaton.”
“Especially since there’s no record of my degrees or my publications,” said Wheaton. “It rather blocks my ability to influence what passes for thinking among this sorry crop of anthropologists.”
“I can offer you each your choice of improbable futures. You can voyage to the alien world and take part in the discussions, though not the decisions, about what we will do to prevent the destruction of Earth. Or you can voyage to Garden, my home, where I can promise you will have access to the full range of studies of—”
Deborah interrupted him. “For me, there’s no choice but the world where I can get new eyes.”
“You do understand,” said Noxon, “that you might be unable to control the facemask. It’s not a matter of what humans call ‘strength of will.’ Some of the strongest people I know have been unable to tame the mask. If you get eyes, but cease to be yourself, it would be a poor bargain.”
“Then you’ll go back in time and prevent it,” said Deborah.
“But there you’ll be in a world without replacement batteries, without charging stations.”
“They’re solar. We’re not Neanderthals.” She gave Wheaton an exaggerated wink, to prevent his objection to her pejorative use of “Neanderthal.”
“They’re solar, but not unbreakable,” said Noxon. “Garden is not a very good place to be blind.”
“I will bring spares,” said Deborah.
“And the technology of our era is available,” said Wheaton. “Each starship should have the ability to replicate her glasses.”
“I didn’t think of that,” said Noxon.
Deborah raised a hand. “Something else must be said, however. Just because I will go to Garden or nowhere, that doesn’t mean you must go with me, Father. The chance to study the evolution of two alien species—I think that not only will you enjoy that voyage more, you might actually be able to offer crucial insights as Noxon makes his decisions.”
“What insights?” said Wheaton. “I know Erectids and other anthropes, and nothing more.”
“You know how to see evolutionary patterns,” said Deborah. “You know how natural selection works, how different societies promote the survival of some traits and not others. And there have been no human scientists on that road before you.”
“Do I detect a desire to be rid of this old man?” asked Wheaton with a laugh.
“Do I detect a barely-concealed plea for validation?” asked Deborah. “You know I love you, and I’d like to think your work would not be possible without me to clerk for you. But that isn’t true, and besides, you can have the ship pop out an extra expendable to take notes and look things up for you. Much more efficiently and accurately than I would.”
“Very well, I suppose I can work without you,” said Wheaton. But he looked grumpy, and that seemed to be a concealment of an underlying hurt.
“One world offers me eyes,” said Deborah, “and the other offers you a chance to do seminal work. If Noxon and Ram succeed in changing the future of that world, you will be the only scientist to observe the alien society as it existed before human interference.”
“We won’t be doing much observation,” said Noxon. “Particularly if we reach them at a time when they’re already technologically ahead of us. We’ll skedaddle instantly then.”
“I’ve found that brave dead scientists don’t contribute as much as prudent live ones,” said Wheaton. “I’ll study what there’s time to study.”
“It’s where you want to go,” said Deborah.
“All things being equal. But… nineteen wallfolds. A species of merpeople! Either world will do for me.”
Deborah made no answer, even though both Noxon and Wheaton looked at her, waiting.
“You know I have a choice myself,” said Noxon. “There are two of me now. One who went through the nuclear blast but managed to heal from it. One who didn’t.”
“Which are you?” asked Deborah.
“I’m the one who was warned and saved from the blast,” said Noxon. “But my twin and I have worked it out. It’s quite simple, really. There’s some risk that he suffered damage to some or all of his gametes. The facemask heals damage it can detect, but it’s possible for gametes to be motile and yet not viable, or viable but mutated.”