Harry Turtledove - Aftershocks

“Surprising? Yes, it is surprising,” Ttomalss answered. “The Race does not change easily. The Race has never changed easily. We changed very little when we conquered the Rabotevs and the Hallessi.”

“Were those conquests easy or difficult?” Johannes Drucker asked.

“Easy. Much, much easier than the conquest of Tosev 3.”

The Big Ugly nodded again, then remembered the Race’s affirmative gesture. “You did not need to learn anything from them. When fighting against us, you have had no choice.” He paused. His face assumed an expression even Ttomalss, with his experience in reading Tosevite physiognomy, had trouble interpreting. Was it amusement? The look of a Big Ugly with a secret? Contempt? He couldn’t tell. Johannes Drucker went on, “You may end up finding that freedom causes you even more trouble than ginger.”

“I doubt that would be possible,” Ttomalss said tartly. Johannes Drucker laughed yet again. Ignorant Big Ugly, Ttomalss thought. Aloud, he continued, “Anyone would think you were a Tosevite from the snoutcounting not-empire of the United States, not from the Reich, where your not-emperor has more power than the true Emperor.” He cast down his eye turrets at the mention of his revered sovereign.

“We still have more freedom than you do,” the Deutsch Tosevite insisted.

“Nonsense,” Ttomalss said. “Think of what your not-empire does to those of the Jewish superstition. How can you claim you are more free? We do not do anything like that to members of the Race.”

That hit home on Johannes Drucker harder than Ttomalss had expected. The Big Ugly turned a darker shade of pinkish beige and looked down at the metal floor of the compartment: not in reverence, Ttomalss judged, but in embarrassment. Still not looking at Ttomalss, Drucker mumbled, “The rest of us have more freedom.”

“How can you say that?” Ttomalss asked. “How can any be free when some are not free?”

“How can you say you are free when you tried to conquer our whole world and enslave us?” the Tosevite returned.

“It is not the same,” Ttomalss said. “After the conquest is complete, Tosevites will have the same rights as all other citizens of the Empire, regardless of species.”

“Whether we wanted to join the Empire or not? Where is the freedom in that?”

“You do not understand. You willfully refuse to understand,” Ttomalss said, and gave up on his interview with the obstreperous Big Ugly.

Sam Yeager called out to his wife: “Hey, hon, c’mere. We’ve got an electronic message from Jonathan.”

“What has he got to say for himself this time?” Barbara asked, but she was waving a hand when she hurried into the study. “No, don’t tell me-let me read it for myself.” She adjusted her bifocals on her nose so she could more readily see the screen. “He’ll be home pretty soon, will he?” She let out a long sigh of relief. “Well, thank heaven for that.”

“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.”