Down to Earth (64 page)

“What are the two of you talking about?” Kassquit asked sharply.

“We are trying to decide what is proper here,” Jonathan answered, which was true enough. Picking his words with great care, he went on, “I do not have a permanent arrangement with a female, no, but I am seeing a female with whom I may have such an arrangement one day.”

“What does this mean—you are seeing her?” Kassquit asked. “Is this a euphemism for mating with her?”

Jonathan’s father had to translate
euphemism
for him. The question made Jonathan cough. It also made him wonder how to answer. He and Karen hadn’t actually gone to bed with each other, but they’d sure done everything else. He was damned if he’d try to explain petting and oral sex to Kassquit with his father listening. Instead, keeping it simple, he just said, “Yes.”

And that made his dad’s eyebrows shoot up, too, as he’d known it would. Kassquit said, “If you do not have a permanent mating arrangement, you may mate with whomever you choose. Is this not a truth? Do you choose to mate with me, Jonathan Yeager?”

That wasn’t a proposition; it was more like an ultimatum. Before Jonathan could answer, his father said, “Superior female, regardless of what my hatchling may decide, there should be no matings at this meeting.”

“And why not?” Kassquit’s face didn’t show emotion, but her voice did. She sounded furious.

“Why not?” Jonathan’s father echoed. “Because the purpose of mating—or a purpose of mating, anyhow—is reproduction. Do you want to take the chance of becoming gravid as a result of mating? How well equipped is the Race to handle that problem?”

“Oh.” Kassquit bent into the posture of respect. “I had not thought of that.”

“A lot of Tosevites do not think of it ahead of time.” Sam Yeager answered dryly. “This ends up making their lives more difficult than they would be otherwise—or more interesting, anyhow.” By his expression, he was looking a long way back into the past. Had they been somewhere else, Jonathan might have asked him about it. But not here, not now.

“What is the solution, then?” Kassquit asked. “It cannot be not mating. That, by what I am given to understand, is not the Tosevite way.”

“The usual American solution is a thin rubber sheath worn on the male’s reproductive organ,” Sam Yeager said. Jonathan admired his dispassionate tone. It came easier in the language of the Race, but even so . . . His father went on, “This permits mating but keeps sperm and egg from meeting.”

“Ingenious,” Kassquit said. “Sanitary. Do you have any of these sheaths with you?”

“No,” Jonathan said. “We did not expect the issue of mating to arise.”

“Very well,” Kassquit made the affirmative gesture. “Next time you visit, do bring some. Or I can arrange for a supply to be brought up from some of the territory the Race rules. Is it agreed?”

She sounded as brisk as if she were arranging a business deal. Maybe that was what she thought she was doing. She had no idea what being human meant—and she wanted to start learning in the most intimate way possible. That made sense of a sort, but only of a sort: Jonathan kept wondering if he wanted to be her teacher.

“Is it agreed?” she repeated.

Jonathan looked at Sam Yeager. His father’s face said nothing at all. Jonathan knew it was up to him, no one else. Well, no one from the starship was likely to tell Karen, which was more than he could say about most Earthly situations. Ever so slightly, he nodded. “It is agreed,” Sam Yeager said, and Jonathan couldn’t tell for the life of him whether or not his dad thought he was doing the right thing.

“Tosevite sheaths for mating without the risk of reproduction,” Ttomalss said bemusedly, one eye turret on the recording of the meeting between Kassquit and the two wild Big Uglies, the other on Kassquit herself.

“Yes, superior sir,” Kassquit said. “I can certainly understand how becoming gravid as the result of a mating would be undesirable. These sheaths reduce the risk of such a mischance.”

“Are you sure you are not being precipitate in this?” Ttomalss had trouble getting used to the idea of Kassquit grabbing at things with her own fingerclaws.

“Yes, superior sir. I am sure I would like to make the experiment, at any rate,” Kassquit told him. “Remember, some time ago you offered me a wild Tosevite for such purposes. I declined then, but no longer wish to decline.”

“I . . . see.” What Ttomalss mostly saw was occasion to worry. He knew how strongly the mating urge and the urge to form families affected the Big Uglies. Would Kassquit become addicted to that gratification, as so many males and females of the Race had to ginger?

“Everything will be all right,” Kassquit reassured him.

“How can you know that in advance of the event?” Ttomalss demanded. “The answer is, you cannot. You have committed yourself to this course of action without adequate forethought.” And if that wasn’t a Tosevite thing to do, what was? Ttomalss did not tax Kassquit with it, though, for fear of prompting an indignant denial—another typical Tosevite response.

“I have not,” she said. “I have been considering this, pondering it, since you made your offer to me some time ago. Indeed, I have been pondering it longer than that—ever since I discovered some of the physiological responses of my own body. This is something evolution has adapted me to do.”

She was likely to be right in that. She was almost certain to be right in that, in fact. Even so, Ttomalss said, “Suppose I forbid it? I have the authority to do so, as you must know.”

“On what grounds would you do such a thing?” Kassquit demanded angrily. “And you do not have the authority.”

“I must assuredly do.” Ttomalss hadn’t intended to get angry in return, but found he couldn’t help himself. “And my authority is based on my continuing wardship of you.”

“I see.” Kassquit leaned forward and glared at him. “So all your talk about my being a citizen of the Empire was nothing but talk? Is that what you are telling me now, superior sir?” She made the title one of reproach. “So much for any hope of equality, I see.”

“Calm yourself!” Ttomalss exclaimed, though he was feeling anything but calm himself. Dealing with Big Uglies had that effect on him, though he hadn’t thought of Kassquit as a Big Ugly in such matters for quite a while. “I am trying to see what is best for you. This of course is for your own long-term good.”

He wondered if mature Tosevites ever spoke to their hatchlings thus. He doubted it. How likely were any Big Uglies, young or old, to value the long-term at the expense of the immediate?

Kassquit certainly remained unconvinced. “Considering who I am and what I am, who are you to judge my long-term good? No one, either among the Race or among the Big Uglies, is so well suited to evaluate that as
I
am myself. I am, in this particular case, unique, and my judgment must stand.”

“A moment ago, you were claiming you were not unique: you were claiming to be a citizen of the Empire,” Ttomalss pointed out. “Which is it? It cannot be both at once, you know.”

“You are being deliberately obstructive,” Kassquit said, That was a truth, but not one Ttomalss intended to admit. Kassquit went on, “You realize you are trying to keep me from following a course you once urged on me? You cannot do both at once, either, superior sir.”

“You do not seem to understand what a large step mating is for a Tosevite,” Ttomalss said. “You are taking it too lightly.”

“And
you
are equipped to understand this better? Forgive me, superior sir, but I doubt it.” Yes, Kassquit could be devastating when she chose. And she chose now.

Ttomalss said, “I told you, I believe you were hasty in this. May I propose a compromise?”

“Go ahead, though I do not see where there is room for one,” Kassquit said. “Either I shall mate with this wild Big Ugly or I shall not.”

“We will obtain some of these sheaths.” Ttomalss didn’t think that would be difficult. “But I want you to consider whether they should be used, and I want there to be some little while before the wild Big Ugly comes up here. This may be wise in any case: in the event of war between the Race and the
Reich,
all space travel may well entail unacceptable risks.”

Now Kassquit exclaimed in dismay, “Do you truly believe war is likely, superior sir?”

With along, hissing sigh, Ttomalss answered, “I wish I did not, but I am afraid I do. Having visited the
Reich,
having sojourned there, I must say that the Deutsche are, of all the Tosevites I have seen and heard of, the least susceptible to reason. They are also among the most technically adept and the most arrogant. It strikes me as a combination bound to cause trouble and grief.”

“It strikes me as a combination logically impossible.” Kassquit replied.

“And that is also a truth,” Ttomalss replied. “But logic, like reason, goes by the board far more often on Tosev 3 than it does here. And, because the Deutsche are so fond of reasoning from premises that strike even other Big Uglies as absurd, logic, however well applied, becomes less valuable: the most perfect logic cannot make truth hatch from false premises.”

“What will we do if they attack this ship?” Kassquit asked.

“Logic should be able to tell you that.” Ttomalss answered. “Unless we can deflect or prematurely detonate a missile with an explosive-metal warhead, it will destroy us. We have to hope we are not attacked.”

He hoped Kassquit wouldn’t ask him how likely it was that the Race could deflect or prematurely detonate Deutsch missiles. He knew too well what the answer was:
not very.
When the conquest fleet came to Tosev 3, no one had imagined the Big Uglies would ever be in a position to assail orbiting starships. The ships had had some antimissile launchers added in the years since the Tosevites taught the Race how inadequate its imagination was, but few males thought they could knock down everything.

Kassquit didn’t choose the question Ttomalss dreaded, but did ask a couple related to it: “If the Deutsche do go to war with the Race, how much damage can they do to us and to our colonies? Can they cripple us to the point where we would be vulnerable to attacks from the other Tosevite not-empires?”

“I do not know the answers there,” Ttomalss said slowly. “I would doubt that even the exalted fleetlord knows the answers there. My opinion—and it is only my opinion—is that they could hurt us badly, though I do not know just how badly, or whether they could, as you say, cripple us. But of this I am sure: if they undertake to attack us, we will smash them to the point where they will never be able to do so again.” He used an emphatic cough to show how sure he was.

“Good,” Kassquit said, with an emphatic cough of her own. “I thank you, superior sir. To some degree, that relieves my mind.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Ttomalss replied. That was a truth. The psychological researcher knew more than a little relief at having managed to distract his ward from thoughts of mating with the wild Big Ugly named Jonathan Yeager. Of course, the means of distracting her was contemplating great damage to the Race and the devastation of a good-sized stretch of Tosev 3. It occurred to him that such distractions might be more expensive than they were worth.

And this one didn’t even prove completely successful. Kassquit said, “Very well, then, superior sir: after this discussion, I do understand the need for delay in carrying out these matings. But, once the crisis with the Deutsche is resolved, I want to go forward with them, assuming, of course, that part of the resolution does not involve the destruction of this ship.”

“Yes—assuming.” Ttomalss’ tone was dry. “I assure you, Kassquit, you have made your views on that matter very plain, and I will do what I can, consistent with your safety and welfare, to obtain for you that which you desire.”
That which you lust after,
he thought. Biologically, she was a Big Ugly, sure enough. Pointing that out, though, would only inflame the situation further. Instead of doing anything so counterproductive, he asked, “Do we need to concern ourselves with other topics at this time?”

“No, superior sir,” Kassquit answered. No matter what she was biologically, she did belong to the Race as far as culture went. Recognizing Ttomalss’ question as a dismissal, she rose, briefly assumed the posture of respect, and left his office.

He sighed again once she was gone. He’d managed to slow her a bit, but she’d seized the initiative. She was going to do what she wanted to do, not what he and the rest of the Race wanted her to do. And if that didn’t re-create in miniature the history of the relationship between the Race and the Big Uglies, he didn’t know what did.

Hoping to distract himself from worries about Kassquit—and from larger worries about the Deutsche, a situation over which he had no control whatever—he turned to the latest news reports on the computer monitor. Deutsch bluster formed a part of those, too. If the Big Uglies were bluffing, they were doing a masterful job. He feared they weren’t.

Video from elsewhere on Tosev 3 came up on the screen: rioting brown Big Uglies, most of whom wore only a strip of white cloth wrapped around their reproductive organs. The Race’s commentator said, “Farmers in the subregion of the main continental mass known as India have resorted to violence to protest the appearance of hashett in their fields. The plant from Home is of course a prime feed source for our own domestic animals, but the Big Uglies are concerned because it is successfully competing against grains they use for food. No males or females of the Race were reported injured in this latest round of unrest, but property damage is widespread.”

If hashett grew well on Tosev 3, other crops from Home would, too. They would help make this world a more Homelike place, as would the spread of the Race’s domestic animals. If Tosev 3 did not go up in nuclear explosions, the Race might do very well for itself here. If . . .

Can we acculturate the Big Uglies before they go to war with us?
That was the question, no doubt about it. Increasing the Tosevites’ reverence for the spirits of Emperors past would help; Ttomalss was sure of that. But it would help only slowly. Danger was growing in a hurry. The Race was running up against a deadline, not a situation familiar to its males and females.
What can we do?
Ttomalss wondered.
Can we do anything?
He could hope. Past that, he had no answers, which worried him more than anything.