Colonization_ Down To Earth Part 33

Reproof in her voice, Liu Mei said, "The revolutionary cause is more important than any one person."

Liu Mei had been around revolutionary rhetoric all her life. She took it seriously-as seriously as the scaly devils took their spirits of Emperors past. Liu Han took revolutionary rhetoric seriously, too, but not quite in the same way. She was willing to fight for the Communist cause, but she didn't care to be a martyr for it. Maybe that was because she'd come to the Party as an adult. She believed its teachings, but she didn't believe in in them the way she believed in the ghosts and spirits about whom she'd learned in childhood. Liu Mei did. them the way she believed in the ghosts and spirits about whom she'd learned in childhood. Liu Mei did.

Liu Han didn't say any of that; Liu Mei would have ignored it. What Liu Han did say was, "What happens to people matters, too. I probably wouldn't have become a revolutionary if the little scaly devils hadn't kidnapped you."

"Even if you hadn't, the cause would go on." Liu Mei's logic was perfect-and perfectly irritating.

"I think it has gone on better with me in it," Liu Han said. Yes, she could hear the anger in her own voice.

And, for a wonder, Liu Mei heard it, too. "Well, maybe it has," she said, and walked out of the hut the two of them shared.

Staring after her, Liu Han stayed where she was: on the kang, kang, the raised hearth where she spent as much time as she could during the winter. She'd been in the north more than twenty years now, and never had got used to the wretched weather. The wind off the Mongolian desert blew hot and dusty in the summer and sent blizzard after blizzard down on the countryside in winter. If Liu Mei wanted to stamp through snow, that was her business. She took it as much for granted as she did revolutionary fervor. After growing up near Hankow, Liu Han didn't. the raised hearth where she spent as much time as she could during the winter. She'd been in the north more than twenty years now, and never had got used to the wretched weather. The wind off the Mongolian desert blew hot and dusty in the summer and sent blizzard after blizzard down on the countryside in winter. If Liu Mei wanted to stamp through snow, that was her business. She took it as much for granted as she did revolutionary fervor. After growing up near Hankow, Liu Han didn't.

She wondered what Liu Mei was doing out there. Glaring at the memorial tablet the scaly devils had set up, more than likely. Liu Han bit her lip. Her daughter wasn't going to listen to her. She could feel that in her bones. What would happen when Liu Mei took a hatchet to the tablet or smashed it with a rock or did whatever else she was thinking of doing?

Maybe nothing. Maybe the little devils were bluffing. Their propaganda was better these days than it had been-maybe they were paying more attention to their Chinese running dogs. But maybe they weren't bluffing. The spirits of Emperors past played a big role in their ideological system. Liu Mei didn't understand that. She thought superst.i.tions were unimportant because they were false. She didn't understand the power they could hold over people's-and scaly devils'-minds.

Would she listen to Nieh Ho-T'ing if he told her the same things Liu Han had been telling her? Unfortunately, Liu Han doubted it. Liu Mei would do whatever she would do. She lacked the almost blind respect for her elders Liu Han had had at the same age. That lack of filial piety sprang from revolutionary rhetoric, too. Most of the time, Liu Han applauded it; it made Liu Mei freer than she had been. This once, Liu Han would have been content-would have been delighted-with a little old-fas.h.i.+oned blind obedience.

That evening, Liu Mai carried the chamber pot out to dump it in the snow. She was gone longer than Liu Han thought she should have been. Liu Han craned her neck, listening for smas.h.i.+ng noises. None came, but she didn't rest easy. The next morning, she went out herself to make sure the memorial tablet was still there. When she saw it, she breathed a long, foggy sigh of relief. She said nothing of that to her daughter. Silence seemed wiser.

Less than a week later, she bitterly regretted that silence. Excited exclamations in the village square brought her out of her hut, hastily fastening the toggles of her quilted, cotton-stuffed jacket Sure enough, it was just as she'd feared: someone had overturned and wrecked the memorial tablet.

"Eee!" the village headman squealed, looking about ready to tear his hair. He rounded on Liu Han and Nieh Ho-T'ing. "If the scaly devils come down on us, it will be your fault! Yours, do you hear me?" the village headman squealed, looking about ready to tear his hair. He rounded on Liu Han and Nieh Ho-T'ing. "If the scaly devils come down on us, it will be your fault! Yours, do you hear me?"

"I don't think the scaly devils will do one thing," Liu Han said, much more calmly than she felt. Standing in front of his own hut, Nieh nodded. The headman subsided. Having important Communists in his village had taught him there were authorities greater than his.

All Liu Han could do was hope she'd been right. That she did, for the village's sake, and her own, and most of all her daughter's. She didn't know Liu Mei had destroyed the memorial tablet, but couldn't think who else might have. She didn't want to ask her daughter, either, for fear interrogators might tear the truth from her if she knew it.

The day pa.s.sed quietly. So did the night. In the morning, helicopters that looked like flying tadpoles came thuttering toward the village from the east, from the direction of fallen Peking. They landed in the frozen, snow-covered fields. Little scaly devils, looking miserably cold, got out of them. Almost all the little devils carried weapons. Liu Han's heart sank.

One of the little devils, an unarmed one, spoke Chinese. "Let everyone a.s.semble!" he shouted. "A crime has been committed here, a vile crime, and justice shall be done on the criminals."

"How do you even know who the criminals are?" someone shouted. "You weren't here. You didn't see."

"We were not here," the scaly devil agreed. "But we did see." He set down a machine he'd been carrying. Liu Han had seen its like in Peking: the little devils used them to display images. "This will show us who the criminal was," the little scaly devil declared, sticking a clawed forefinger into a control on the side of the machine.

As Liu Han had expected, a three-dimensional image sprang to life above the device. Several of the villagers exclaimed; even though they lived close to Peking, they'd never seen, never imagined, such a thing. They'd probably never even seen a human-made motion picture. Liu Han kept hoping some other villager had decided to wreck the memorial tablet. No such luck: there came Liu Mei, advancing on the tablet with a pick-axe handle in her hand and smas.h.i.+ng it till it abruptly stopped recording. She must have done that during the night, but the image was as clear as if it were daylight.

Numbly, Liu Han waited for the little scaly devils to seize her daughter, or perhaps to shoot her down on the spot. But the one who spoke Chinese said, "Now you will tell us who this person is, and tell us immediately."

They have as much trouble knowing one person from another as we do with them, Liu Han thought. Hope surged in her. It grew even higher when no one gathered there in the snowy square said a word. Liu Han thought. Hope surged in her. It grew even higher when no one gathered there in the snowy square said a word.

Then the scaly devil said, "You will tell us who this person is, and nothing bad will happen to this village." Yes, his kind were learning ruthlessness.

But still no one spoke. Some of the little devils hefted their weapons. Others examined the crowd, doing their best to identify the person in the recording, which kept repeating over and over. They didn't seem to be having any luck, though. Some of the villagers started to laugh at them.

The little scaly devil who spoke Chinese said, "You tell us who this person is, and you take everything this person has."

They were indeed learning. There was always someone, someone full of greed, who would pounce on an offer like that. And, sure enough, someone pointed at Liu Mei and shouted, "She did it! She's the one! She's a Red!"

Little scaly devils skittered forward to seize Liu Mei. Liu Han vowed a horrible revenge on the traitor. Maybe he also thought of that, for he kept right on pointing. "And there's her mother, and there's her mother's comrade! They're both Reds, too!" If he could remove the Communist presence from the village, maybe he could escape vengeance.

More scaly devils aimed their rifles at Liu Han. Numbly, she stuck her hands in the air. A little devil frisked her, and found a pistol in her pocket. That raised a fresh alarm. The scaly devils tied her hands behind her back, and served her daughter and Nieh Ho-T'ing the same way. Then they marched them back toward their helicopters.

I was captured once before, Liu Han thought. Liu Han thought. Eventually, I got away. I can do it again. Eventually, I got away. I can do it again. She didn't know if she would, but she could. She was sure of it. Because of that, she didn't give way to despair, however tempted she might have been. She didn't know if she would, but she could. She was sure of it. Because of that, she didn't give way to despair, however tempted she might have been. Something will turn up. Something will turn up. But, as she climbed into the helicopter, she couldn't imagine what. But, as she climbed into the helicopter, she couldn't imagine what.

Glen Johnson grimly pedaled away on one of the Lewis and Clark' Lewis and Clark's exercise bicycles. Sweat flew off him and floated in little, nasty drops in the exercise room. His wasn't the only sweat floating around in the chamber, either. Several other crewmen and -women also exercised there. In spite of the ventilation currents that also eventually got rid of the sweat, the place smelled like a locker room right after a big game.

After what seemed like forever, an alarm chimed. Panting, Johnson eased upon the pedals. His heart pounded in his chest. It usually took things easy in weightlessness, and resented having to go back and work for a living. But he'd keep on living longer if it did, so he exercised. Besides, he'd get in trouble with the powers that be if he didn't.

He unhooked the belt that held him onto the bike. The rest of the people in the chamber were doing the same. One of the troubles with strenuous exercise was that it made him look at a sweaty, tousled woman and not think of anything except how tired he was.

Lucy Vegetti, the sweaty, tousled woman in question, was looking at him, too. He wondered what that meant, and hoped to find out some time when his interest wasn't quite so academic. But the mineralogist, after wiping her face on her sleeve, told him at least some of what was on her mind: "I heard last night that somebody had spotted another Lizard spy s.h.i.+p."

"News to me," Johnson answered. People were gliding out of the chamber to change and sponge off in the two adjoining smaller rooms, one for men, the other for women. In five minutes, another s.h.i.+ft of exercisers would mount the bikes.

Lucy looked worried. "How are we supposed to do what we came out here to do if the Race keeps spying on us?"

She'd asked the same question when she and Johnson discovered the first Lizard spy craft. He shrugged. "We've got to do it. If we don't, we might as well pack up and go home."

She shook her head. "No, that would be worse than not trying at all. It would be giving up. It would tell the Lizards they're stronger than we are."

"Well, they are stronger than we are," Johnson said. "If they weren't, we wouldn't have to worry about any of this folderol." Reluctantly, he pushed off toward his changing room, adding, "See you," over his shoulder.

"See you," Lucy said. Johnson sighed. He hadn't seen as much of her as he would have liked. She kept him thinking she was, or could be, interested, but things had gone no further than that. She didn't tease; that wasn't her style. But she was cautious. As a pilot, Johnson approved of caution-in moderate doses. As a man, he wished Lucy'd never heard of it. But, by the rules that had shaped up aboard the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark, the choice was all hers.

A damp sponge made a poor subst.i.tute for a hot shower, but it was what he had. After he'd cleaned up and put on a fresh pair of coveralls, he was about to go to his cubicle and either read or grab a little sack time when the intercom blared to life: "Lieutenant Colonel Johnson, report to the commandant's office immediately! Lieutenant Colonel Glen Johnson, report to the commandant's office immediately!"

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," Johnson muttered under his breath. "What have I done now? Or what does that iron-a.s.sed son of a b.i.t.c.h think I've done now?"

He got no answer from the intercom. He hadn't expected one. He wished Brigadier General Healey had yelled for him a couple of minutes earlier. Then, in good conscience, he could have reported to the commandant all sweaty and rank from his exercise period. He wondered if Healey kept close enough tabs on his schedule to know when he'd have sponged off. He wouldn't have been surprised. Healey seemed to know everything that happened aboard the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark as soon as it happened, sometimes even before it happened. as soon as it happened, sometimes even before it happened.

Alone among the officers on the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, the commandant boasted an adjutant. "Reporting as ordered," Johnson told him. He half expected the spruce captain to make him cool his heels for half an hour before admitting him to Healey's august presence. Hurry up and wait Hurry up and wait had been an old army rule in the days of Julius Caesar. It was older now, but no less true. had been an old army rule in the days of Julius Caesar. It was older now, but no less true.

But Captain Guilloux said, "Go on in, sir. The commandant is expecting you."

Since Healey had summoned him, that wasn't the biggest surprise in the world. But Johnson just nodded, said, "Thanks," and glided past Guilloux and through the door into the commandant's office. Saluting, he repeated what he'd told the adjutant: "Reporting as ordered, sir."

"Yes." As usual, Healey looked like a bulldog who wanted to take a bite out of somebody. He'd wanted to take a bite out of Johnson when the pilot came aboard-either take a bite out of him or boot him out the air lock, one. He still wasn't happy with Johnson, not even close. But Johnson wasn't his biggest worry. His next words showed what was: "How would you like to stick a finger in one of the Lizards' eye turrets?"

He couldn't mean it literally-so far as Johnson knew, there were no live Lizards within a couple of a hundred million miles. But what he likely did mean wasn't hard to figure out: "Have we got permission from Little Rock to blast their spy s.h.i.+p to h.e.l.l and gone, sir?"

"No." Healey looked as if having to give that answer made him want to bite, too. "But we have got permission to explore the possibility of covering the d.a.m.n thing with black-painted plastic sheeting or aluminum foil or anything else we can spare that'll make it harder for them to monitor us."

Johnson nodded. "I've heard there's a second s.h.i.+p in the neighborhood, too."

Before he could say anything else, Brigadier General Healey pounced: "Where did you hear that, and from whom? It's not supposed to be public news." Johnson stood-or rather, floated-mute. He wasn't about to rat on Lucy Vegetti, even if she hadn't given him a tumble yet. Healey made a sour face. "Never mind, then. What you heard is true. We can only hope there aren't any others we haven't found."

"Yes, sir." Johnson considered. "Well, if that's so, how much trouble can we give them? Blind 'em, sure, but can we jam their radar and their radio receivers? If we can't, is throwing a sack over them worth the trouble we'll get into for doing it?"

Now Healey turned the full power of that high-wattage glare on him. "If you're yellow, Lieutenant Colonel, I can find somebody else for the job."

"Sir, as far as I'm concerned, you can go to the devil," Johnson said evenly.

Healey looked as if he'd just got a punch in the nose. Unless Johnson missed his guess, n.o.body'd told the commandant anything like that in a h.e.l.l of a long time. He wished he'd said something worse. G.o.dd.a.m.n military discipline, G.o.dd.a.m.n military discipline, he thought. Alter a couple of deep, angry breaths, Healey growled, "You are insubordinate." he thought. Alter a couple of deep, angry breaths, Healey growled, "You are insubordinate."

"Maybe so, sir," Johnson replied, "but all I was trying to do was figure the angles, and you went and called me a coward. You've got my war record, sir. If that doesn't tell you different, I don't know what would."

Brigadier General Healey kept on glaring. Johnson floated in place, one hand securing him to the chair bolted to the floor in front of the commandant's desk, the chair in which he'd be sitting if there were gravity or a semblance of it. When he didn't buckle or beg for mercy, Healey said, "Very well, let it go." But it wasn't forgotten; every line of his face declared how unforgotten it was.

Trying to get back to business, Johnson asked, "Sir, is is it worth it to do whatever we can to those s.h.i.+ps if we don't destroy them? If it is, send me. I'll go." it worth it to do whatever we can to those s.h.i.+ps if we don't destroy them? If it is, send me. I'll go."

"As yet, we are still evaluating that," Healey said gruffly. "Not all the variables are known."

"Well, of course we can't know ahead of time what the Lizards will do if..." Johnson's voice trailed away. Healey's face had changed. He'd missed something, and the commandant was silently laughing at him on account of it. And, after a moment, he realized what it was. "Oh. Do we know if these s.h.i.+ps are armed, sir?"

"That's one of the things we're interested in finding out," the commandant answered, deadpan.

"Yes, sir," Johnson said, just as deadpan. So Healey was thinking about turning him into a guinea pig, eh? That didn't surprise him, not even a little bit. "When do you want me to go out, and which one do you want me to visit?"

"We haven't prepared the covering material yet," Healey said. "When we do-and if we decide to-you will be informed. Until then, dismissed."

After saluting, Johnson launched himself out of the commandant's office. He glided straight past Captain Guilloux, then used the handholds in the corridor to pull himself back to his tiny cubicle. The only thing his bunk and the straps securing him to it did that a stretch of empty air couldn't was to make sure he didn't b.u.mp up against anything while sleeping.

He kept waiting for the order to climb into a hot rod and go blind one of the Lizards' spy s.h.i.+ps. The order kept on not coming. He didn't want to ask Brigadier General Healey why it didn't come. After a week or so, he broached the subject to Walter Stone in an oblique way.

Stone nodded. "I know what you're talking about. I don't think you have to worry very much."

"I wasn't worried," Johnson said, which would do for a lie till a better one came along. "I was curious, though; I'll say that."

"Sure you were." Stone grinned at him, there in the privacy of the Lewis and Clark Lewis and Clark's control room. Johnson grinned back. The s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p's chief pilot had been through the mill, even if he was an Army Air Force man and not a Marine. He knew the feeling of going out on a mission from which you didn't expect to come back. He went on, "You don't know this officially because I don't know it officially, but we got, uh, discouraged from going on with that."

"Oh, yeah?" Johnson leaned forward in his seat. "I'm all ears."

"That's not what Healey thinks-he figures you're all mouth and bra.s.s b.a.l.l.s," Stone answered with a chuckle. "Anyway, this is all scuttleb.u.t.t, and you haven't heard it from me." Solemnly, Johnson crossed his heart, which made the number-one pilot laugh out loud. "What I heard is, we did a dry run, with a hot rod under radio control. Whoever was in charge of the beast inched it up to the spy s.h.i.+p, and when it got close enough..."

"Yeah?" Johnson said. "What happened then?" Stone had hooked him, sure as if he'd been telling a h.e.l.l of a dirty joke.

"Then the d.a.m.n thing-the spy s.h.i.+p, not the hot rod-broke radio silence, or that's what they say," Stone told him. "It sent out a recorded message in the Lizards' language, something like, 'You come any closer or do anything cute and we count it as an act of war.' And so they backed up the hot rod and sent it home, and n.o.body's said a word about it since."

"Is that a fact?" Johnson said.

"d.a.m.ned if I know," Stone answered. "But it's what I've heard."

No wonder Healey isn't sending for me, Johnson thought. Then something else crossed his mind: Johnson thought. Then something else crossed his mind: I'm d.a.m.n glad I I'm d.a.m.n glad I didn't didn't open up on the lousy thing. open up on the lousy thing.

13.

Jonathan Yeager sprawled across his bed, working on the chemistry notes and problems he'd missed because he'd gone into s.p.a.ce. Karen sat in the desk chair a couple of feet away. The bedroom door remained decorously open. That was a house rule. Now that he'd finally turned twenty-one, Jonathan had proposed to his folks that they change it. They'd proposed to him that he keep his mouth shut as long as he lived under their roof.

He pointed to a stretch of Karen's notes he had trouble following. "What was Dr. Cobb saying about stoichiometry here?"

Karen pulled the chair closer and bent over to see what he was talking about. Her red hair tickled his ear. "Oh, that," she said, a little sheepishly. "I didn't quite get that myself."

He sighed. "Okay, I'll ask after lecture tomorrow." He made motions that would have implied tearing his hair if he'd had any hair to tear. "I don't think I'm ever going to get all caught up, and I was only gone a week."

"What was it like?" Karen asked. She'd been asking that ever since he got back from Kitty Hawk. He'd tried several different ways of explaining, but none of them satisfied her-or him, really.

After some thought, he took another shot at it: "You've read Edgar Rice Burroughs, right?" When Karen nodded, he went on, "You know how the apes raised Tarzan but he still turned out to be a man pretty much like other men?" She nodded again. Jonathan said, "Well, it was nothing nothing like that. I mean, nothing at all. Ka.s.squit looks like a person, but she doesn't act like a person. She acts just like a Lizard. My dad was right." He laughed a little; that wasn't something he said every day. "We just play at being Lizards. She's not playing. She wishes she had scales-you can tell." like that. I mean, nothing at all. Ka.s.squit looks like a person, but she doesn't act like a person. She acts just like a Lizard. My dad was right." He laughed a little; that wasn't something he said every day. "We just play at being Lizards. She's not playing. She wishes she had scales-you can tell."

Karen nodded again, this time thoughtfully. "I can see that, I guess." She paused, then found a different question, or maybe a different version of the same one: "How did it feel, talking about important things with a woman who wasn't wearing any clothes?"

Was that that what she'd been getting at all along? Jonathan answered, "For me, it felt funny at first. Ka.s.squit didn't even think about it, and I tried not to notice-you know what I mean?" He'd tried; he hadn't succeeded too well. Not wanting to admit as much, he added, "I think it fl.u.s.tered my dad worse than it did me." what she'd been getting at all along? Jonathan answered, "For me, it felt funny at first. Ka.s.squit didn't even think about it, and I tried not to notice-you know what I mean?" He'd tried; he hadn't succeeded too well. Not wanting to admit as much, he added, "I think it fl.u.s.tered my dad worse than it did me."

"That's how it works for people that old," she agreed with careless cruelty. Jonathan felt he'd pa.s.sed an obscure test. He'd been attracted to Liu Mei when she visited Los Angeles, so now Karen was nervous about every female he met. Here, he thought she was wasting worry. UCLA boasted tons of pretty girls, all of them far more accessible and far more like him than one raised by aliens who'd spent her whole life on a stars.h.i.+p.

Interesting, now-Ka.s.squit was certainly interesting. Fascinating, even. But attractive? He'd seen all of her, every bit; she was no more shy of herself than a Lizard was. He shook his head. No, he didn't think so.

"What?" Karen asked.

Before Jonathan could answer, one of the Lizard hatchlings skittered down the hall. He stopped in the doorway, his eye turrets swinging from Jonathan to Karen and back again. They lingered longer on Karen, not because the hatchling found her attractive-a really preposterous notion-but because he saw her less often. Jonathan waved. "h.e.l.lo, Donald," he called.

Donald waved back. He and Mickey had got good at gestures, though the sounds they made were nothing but hissing babbles.

"I greet you," Karen called to him in the language of the Race.

He stared at her as if he'd never heard such noises before. And, except from himself and Mickey, he hadn't. "Don't do that," Jonathan told Karen. "My dad would go through the roof if he heard you. We're supposed to raise them like people, not like Lizards. When they learn to talk, they'll learn English."

"Okay. I'm sorry," Karen said. "I knew that, but I forgot. When I see a Lizard, I want to talk Lizard talk."

"Mickey and Donald won't be Lizards, any more than Ka.s.squit is really a person," Jonathan said. Then he paused. "Still and all, I think there's a little part of her that wants to be a person, even if she doesn't know how."

Karen didn't want him talking about Ka.s.squit any more. She made a point of changing the subject. She made a literal point: pointing at Donald, she said, "He sure is getting big."

"I know," Jonathan said. "He and Mickey are an awful lot bigger than human one-year-olds would be." His mother would have flayed him if he'd said Mickey and him Mickey and him. However he said it, it was true. The baby Lizards weren't babies any more, not to look at they weren't. They'd grown almost as if inflated by CO2 cartridges, and were closer in size to adult Lizards than to what they'd been when they came out of their eggs.