That plainly hadn’t occurred to Zeshpass. After some thought, she said, “I suppose we shall have to finish the conquest before that happens. This hatching conflict with the United States gives us the opportunity to take a long stride in that direction.”
“Truth-but only to a point,” Straha said. “Even in lands we have supposedly conquered, rebellion continues. That must be one of the reasons you refuse to allow me to go out into Cairo and see for myself what sort of society the Race is building.”
“You have also spoken truth, superior sir-but only to a point,” Zeshpass replied. “The Big Uglies under our rule get arms and encouragement from the independent Tosevite not-empires. If there were no more independent not-empires, how could they continue the struggle against us?”
It was a good question. Straha could not answer it, not at once. After some thought of his own, he replied, “That is a possibility, I suppose. But, given what we of the conquest fleet have seen of Tosevite stubbornness and perversity, I believe it is folly to assume all resistance will die within a generation.”
“We shall consider your opinions, of course,” Zeshpass said. “But we are under no obligation to do anything more than consider them.”
“I understand that.” Straha sighed. “By my own actions, I made certain I would never again help form the Race’s policy here on Tosev 3.” He sounded resigned, even humble. He didn’t feel humble, or anything close to it. He remained convinced he could have done a better job with the conquest fleet than Atvar had. And if Reffet couldn’t see the need for soldiers from the colonization fleet, he was just another male with fancy body paint and with sand between his eye turrets.
Straha crossed the first and second fingers of his right hand, a gesture American Big Uglies sometimes used when they said something they didn’t mean. That gesture meant nothing to Zeshpass, of course. To Zeshpass, Big Uglies were nuisances, annoyances, no more. Despite the war with the Deutsche, she didn’t fully seem to grasp how dangerous they could be and, therefore, how important they were to study.
That gesture also summarized Straha’s feelings about his return to the Race. The meeker and milder he seemed, the sooner his interrogators and those who did lead the Race these days would let him get on with his life. So he hoped, anyhow.
But Zeshpass, though naive about Tosevites, was by no means foolish about matters that had to do with the Race. She said, “When you delivered your information, superior sir, that act helped form our policy.”
“I suppose it did,” Straha admitted, “but that was not why I did it. As I have said before, I did it because my friend, Sam Yeager, had asked me to do it.”
“Friendship with a Big Ugly counting for more than policy concerns of the Race?” Zeshpass said. “Surely your priorities became distorted during your long years of exile.”
“I disagree.” Straha used the negative gesture and added an emphatic cough. “Sam Yeager did a great deal for me while I was in exile. The actions of the leadership of the Race were what drove me into exile. Naturally, Yeager’s wishes and his wellbeing were and are important to me.”
“I shall make a note of that,” Zeshpass said, with the air of a magistrate passing sentence on a criminal. Straha realized he’d been too vehement, too outspoken, too opinionated. So much for meek and mild, he thought. Now more like a hunting beast than a confidante, Zeshpass returned to the questioning: “So you believe it was legitimate for you to hatch friendships among the Big Uglies?”
“Yes, I do,” Straha answered. Of course I do, you addled egg. “After all, I believed I would live among them the rest of my life.” Maybe he could steer his way back toward meek and mild after all.
Zeshpass wasn’t about to make things easy for him. Voice sharp as filed fingerclaws, she demanded, “It was for this reason, then, that you put your individual concerns and the concerns of this Big Ugly friend of yours above those of the Race as a whole?”
“The species of my friend is not relevant,” Straha said, pushing her away from the major accusation and toward something smaller. “Rabotevs and Hallessi are citizens of the Empire, no less than males and females of the Race. If the conquest here succeeds in the end, the same will be true of Big Uglies.”
“That may well be a truth.” Zeshpass admitted what she plainly would sooner have denied. She had to admit it; equality of species under the law and in the afterlife was a cornerstone of the Empire. She tried to rally: “You said nothing, I notice, about your rampant and unwarranted individualism.”
There was the dangerous charge, especially from the viewpoint of members of the colonization fleet. Straha said, “Have you noticed that the males of the conquest fleet show more individualism than would have been common back on Home?”
“I have,” Zeshpass answered. “Everyone from the colonization fleet has noticed this. No one from the colonization fleet approves. Our view is that the males of the colonization fleet have been contaminated by the bizarre ideologies of the Tosevites.”
“We have done what we needed to do to survive and flourish on a world of individualism run wild,” Straha said. “That is the Race’s view, of course. To the Big Uglies, we are hopeless reactionaries.”
“I do not see why the views of the local barbarians should carry any special weight,” Zeshpass said primly.
“Do you not?” Straha said. “I would think the answer fairly obvious, and shown by the recent war with the Deutsche if it was not adequately obvious without that demonstration. What the Big Uglies think about us matters because they can hurt us. They can hurt us badly. Why do you have so much trouble believing that?”
Zeshpass said, “This is not the way things were to be when we got to Tosev 3. This is not the way we were told things would be when we got to Tosev 3.”
“But this is the way things are,” Straha said. “If you cannot see that, if you cannot adapt to that, the colonization effort will face severe difficulties.”
“We are the Race,” Zeshpass said. “We shall prevail. We have always prevailed. We can do it again.”
“We can, certainly,” Straha agreed. “Whether or not we shall… that is a different question. If we act as if our triumph is guaranteed, that only makes it more difficult. The Tosevites present the most severe challenge we have ever faced. Turning our eye turrets away from that challenge, acting as if it does not exist, will make things worse, not better. You may be sure the American Big Uglies, whom I know best, do not believe their triumph is guaranteed. As a result, they work unceasingly to subvert us.”
“Working is one thing. Succeeding is another,” Zeshpass said. “I submit to you, superior sir, that your view of these matters is colored by your having lived among the American Tosevites for so long.”
“And I submit to you that your view is colored by not having lived among any Big Uglies, and by your ignorance of them,” Straha retorted.
They glared at each other in perfect mutual loathing. “Time will tell which of us is correct,” Zeshpass said, and Straha made the affirmative gesture.
It was some time after midnight when the guard named Fred shook Sam Yeager awake. “Come on, pal,” he said when Yeager showed signs of returning to the real world. “You sleep like a rock. Shows you’ve got a clean conscience. I wish to God I did, believe me.”
Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes. Around the yawn, he asked, “What’s going on that won’t keep till morning?” He sounded mushy without his false teeth.
“Somebody wants to see you,” Fred answered. “Come on.”
“Yeah?” Yeager tensed, wishing he hadn’t made that sound quite so dubious. Who’d want to see him in the middle of the night? Were the guards waking him up so they could dispose of him more conveniently?
Fred might have read his mind. “Don’t do anything stupid, Yeager,” he said, and his.45 appeared as if by magic in his right hand. “If I wanted to ice you, I could blow your brains out without bothering to wake you up, right? No fuss, no muss, no bother. But I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass. Somebody wants to see you, and he’s waiting in the living room.”