Harry Turtledove - Second Contact

He was talking about human beings, people like Reuven. They were, unfortunately, also people doing their best to kill him. He couldn’t work up much sympathy for them. What came out of his mouth was, “Good.”

The mechanized combat vehicle spun, backed, and stopped. The Lizard, who could see out, said, “We are just in front of your building. I will open the doors. When I do, you run inside.”

“It shall be done,” Reuven and Jane said together. The doors flew open. Ducking low to keep from banging their heads on a roof made for shorter beings, they jumped out and ran. No bullets smote them. As soon as they were inside the dormitory, students who’d got there before them slammed the building’s doors shut again.

“Are the telephones working?” Reuven asked. When somebody told him they were, he called his parents’ house. He got one of his twin sisters. “I’m at the dormitory. I’m going to spend the night here,” he said. “How are things around the house?”

“Quieter here than last time,” Esther or Judith-he thought it was Judith-answered. “Getting home wouldn’t have been easy for you, though, I don’t suppose. I’m glad you’re all right.” She said that last with the air of someone granting a great concession.

“I’m glad all of you are safe, too,” Reuven answered. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. Take care.” He hung up.

“We have no vacant bedrooms,” one of the dormitory workers told him. “I will set up a cot for you in the hall.”

Reuven hadn’t thought there would be any empty rooms. He’d dreamt of sharing a bedroom with Jane Archibald. By the way she’d kissed him every now and then, he’d dared hope he wasn’t the only one dreaming of such things. Whether he was or not, he wouldn’t find out tonight.

She handed him a chicken sandwich and a bottle of Coca-Cola. She had a sandwich and a soda of her own, too. “Thanks,” he said, realizing how hungry he was. He gulped down an enormous bite, then went on, “That’s… almost as good as what I hoped for.”

Her eyes widened a little; she could hardly misunderstand him. Then she said, “Not tonight, Reuven.” He nodded-he’d already figured that out for himself. But she was smiling, she wasn’t angry, and she didn’t say anything more. All of a sudden, the whole hellish day didn’t look so bad.

Nieh Ho-T’ing was normally perhaps the most self-contained man Liu Han knew. Today, though, he seemed as bouncy as a sixteen-year-old who imagined himself in love for the first time. “We have more weapons than we know what to do with,” he said jubilantly. “We have weapons from the Americans-thanks to you, Comrade.” He grinned at Liu Han. They weren’t lovers any more, but seeing that grin reminded her of why they had been.

“Thanks to the Americans, too, for trying till they got a ship-ment past the Japanese and the little scaly devils and their Chinese lackeys at the customs houses,” Liu Han said.

Nieh brushed that aside. His mind was on other things. “And we have weapons from our Socialist brethren in the Soviet Union,” he burbled. “Theirs got through, too”-which might have meant he’d been listening to her after all. “And with all these toys in our hands, we ought to find something worthwhile to do with them.”

“Something that will make the little scaly devils wish they’d never been hatched, you mean,” Liu Han said.

“Well, of course,” Nieh Ho-T’ing replied in some surprise. “What other worthwhile use for weapons is there?”

“The Kuomintang,” she said.

“They are a small enemy,” Nieh said with a scornful wave. “The scaly devils are the great enemy. So it was before the scaly devils came: the Japanese were the great enemy, the Kuomintang the small. They cannot destroy us. The scaly devils might, if they had the will and the skill.”

“Their will is considerable,” Liu Han said. “Never think too little of them.”

“They have not the dialectic, which means their will won’t endure,” Nieh said sharply. “And they have little in the way of skill.”

Liu Han could not disagree with that. Talking quietly over a couple of bowls of noodles in a neighborhood eatery on the west side of Peking, she and Nieh Ho-T’ing might have been deciding when to hold a party for a neighbor, not how best to visit death and destruction on the imperialist little devils. “What have you got in mind?” she asked.

He slurped up another mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks before answering, “The Forbidden City. I think we have a chance to take it, or at least to wreck it so the little scaly devils cannot use it any more.”

“Eee, wouldn’t that be something!” Liu Han exclaimed. “The Chinese Emperors kept the people out of it, and now the little devils do the same.” She’d seen some of the marvels at the heart of Peking when serving as an emissary to the little devils. Thinking of them in ruins hurt, but thinking of striking a blow against the little scaly devils made the hurt go away. She turned practical: “We should strike the little devils somewhere else first, so they will not be thinking about an assault on the Forbidden City.”

Nieh Ho-T’ing nodded respectfully. “That is part of the plan, yes. You see things the way a general would.” As he was a general himself, that was not the sort of compliment he gave lightly.

“Good.” Liu Han nodded, too. “Now, you have talked the Muslims into joining the first attack, the one that won’t go anywhere?”

This time, Nieh stopped with a load of noodles halfway to his mouth. “I’ve dealt with the Muslims of Peking every now and then-you know that,” he said slowly, and waited for Liu Han to nod. When she did, he went on, “Why would you want me-why would you want us-to involve them now?”

“Ah.” Liu Han smiled. She’d seen something he hadn’t-she’d seen something the rest of the Central Committee hadn’t. “Because the Muslims farther west are rebelling against the scaly devils. If we have an uprising here, why shouldn’t our Muslims get the blame, or part of it?”

Nieh stared at her. The noodles, forgotten on the chopsticks, dripped broth down onto the tabletop. After a moment, he shook his head and started to laugh. “Do you know what a terror you would have been if you’d stayed a peasant in a little village?” he said. “You would be running that village by now-no one would dare sell a duck, let alone a pig, without asking what you thought first. And if you had daughters-in-law… Eee, if you had daughters-in-law, they wouldn’t dare breathe without asking you first.”

Liu Han thought about it. After a moment, she laughed, too. “Maybe you’re right. That’s what mothers-in-law are for-making life miserable for daughters-in-law, I mean. Mine did. But it hasn’t got anything to do with anything now. Will you talk to the Muslims, or won’t you?”

“Oh, I will-you’ve convinced me,” Nieh said. “I wish I’d thought of it myself, as a matter of fact. It’s good to have you back in China.”

“It’s good to be back,” Liu Han said from the bottom of her heart. “If you know some of the things they eat in the United States… But never mind that. Why wasn’t I involved in planning the attack on the Forbidden City as soon as someone got the idea?”

Suddenly, Nieh Ho-T’ing looked uncomfortable. “Oh, you know how Mao is about these things,” he said at last.

“Ah.” Liu Han did indeed. “He thinks women are better in bed than at the council table. Hsia Shou-Tao thinks the same way. How much self-criticism has he had to give over the years because of it? Maybe Mao should criticize himself, too.”

“Maybe he should-but don’t hold your breath,” Nieh said. “Now you have shown you deserve to help plan the attack. Isn’t that enough?”