“Indeed it should have, were that the only radioactivity we were discussing,” Slomikk said. “But the Deutsche, back in the days when they were first experimenting with explosive metals, built a pile with inadequate moderators, or perhaps with no moderators at all. As you would expect, it melted down, and its radioactivity has not declined to any great degree in the years since. It is still too strong for anyone, even condemned criminals, to go in and clean it out, and it is the source of the increased radioactivity you noticed in this area.”
“A pile without moderators?” Ttomalss shuddered at the mere idea. “Big Uglies are mad. What prompted them to do such a thing?”
“As best I can gather-you will understand, the Deutsche are not forthcoming about this-the answers are, desperate haste and complete inexperience,” Slomikk replied. “From our point of view, it is unfortunate that they acquired technical proficiency so fast.”
“Yes.” Ttomalss used the affirmative hand gesture. “Better by far for us had they succeeded in rendering a good stretch of their not-empire completely uninhabitable rather than…” He returned to the question that had brought him to Slomikk in the first place: “How dangerous is this environment, anyhow?”
“Risk of malignancy is certainly higher than it would be had the Deutsche not acted with such flagrant stupidity,” Slomikk said. “That does not mean it is extremely high. Among the Deutsche of Nuremberg, the incidence of neoplasms is about thirty percent higher than it is in areas with lower radiation levels. Closer to the site of the meltdown, that increases considerably.”
“How do you know this?” Ttomalss answered his own question: “You have access to Deutsch records, then?”
“Some of them,” Slomikk said. “Frustratingly, only some. Many of their records remain handwritten or produced on machines that are not electronic. We have to examine them physically, which is not easy for us to do without revealing ourselves. And working through Tosevite intermediaries to gain access to what these records contain is not everything it might be, either, for there is always the question of whom a Big Ugly truly works for.”
“So there is,” Ttomalss agreed. “Tosevites have played us false so many times in the past, we have every reason to be alert to treachery now.”
Slomikk was the sort of methodical male who, once he got started on an explanation, kept right on no matter what the male to whom he was explaining said: “And not all the Deutsch security systems for the data they do have in electronic format are easy to penetrate. Big Uglies worry about espionage far more than the Race has done since the formative days of our species.”
“With all the competing sovereignties among the Big Uglies, they have needed such fears,” Ttomalss observed. “This is an area where unity has not given us strength.”
“They have even entrapped us a few times,” Slomikk said, “defending data with all their strength, making us exert great effort and ingenuity to win them. Then, when we had done so, we eventually discovered the data were thoroughly falsified.” He let out an irate hiss.
“I have had firsthand experience of Tosevite treachery,” Ttomalss said. “I can well believe these Big Uglies could be as devious as you say. Do you suppose they could have penetrated any of our data networks without our knowing it?”
“That is not my area of expertise, but I would doubt it very much,” Slomikk said. “You would be better advised seeking such answers from the head of Security here. But I, for my part, am certain the Deutsche are too ignorant to attempt, let alone succeed at, electronic espionage of their own.”
“I hope you are right,” Ttomalss said, “but one of the things I have seen again and again is that the Tosevites encourage us to underestimate them, which enables them to prepare for and carry out outrageous deeds under our snouts. They have given us so many large, unpleasant surprises that successful espionage here would be only a small, unpleasant surprise.”
“Surprises from espionage are not always small.” Slomikk paused thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be wise if one of us did mention this matter to the head of Security here. I will take care of it, if you like.”
The science officer’s voice was casual-too casual. I will take the credit if you turn out to be right was what he meant. Ttomalss should have got angry. He knew that. He couldn’t make himself do it. The embassy to the Reich was not his permanent station. He didn’t much care what the males and females here thought of him, and their opinions would have no large effect on his career.
“Go ahead,” he said, as if it were a small matter. To him, it was. If it wasn’t to Slomikk, fine.
“I thank you.” Slomikk scribbled a note to himself.
“You are wise not to note this problem electronically,” Ttomalss observed. Slomikk did his best to look wise. What he did look like was a male who had reached for a pen without the least concern for security, with only the thought that it would be the quickest way to set down the idea and make sure he did not forget it.
“If you are right,” he said, “it will be good that we find out about it.”
“Truth,” Ttomalss said. If he was right, the embassy’s security officer would end up wishing he’d never been hatched. Thinking about hatchlings put Ttomalss on a new line of thought: “Is increased background radiation more likely to affect eggs and hatchlings than adults? We have several gravid females here in the embassy, you know.”
“Obviously, there is more concern where cell growth is rapid,” Slomikk said. “We have few data to suggest how urgent that concern should be. We, unlike the Big Uglies, have been sensible enough to minimize exposure of the vulnerable to radiation.” He hesitated. “Or we have until now, at any rate. I may have to discuss with Veffani the wisdom of moving gravid females out of this area until such time as they have laid their eggs.”
One more notion you did not think of, but for which you are willing to take the credit, Ttomalss thought. Again, he had trouble being as angry as he might have. The only gravid female he knew well was Felless. He wondered whether he or Veffani had fertilized the eggs she bore.
Had he been a Tosevite, the question would have been of enormous importance to him. All his own research and most of the Tosevite literature he’d studied convinced him of the truth of that. Back on Home, the question of paternity would scarcely have arisen. During her season, Felless would have mated with any number of males. Here on Tosev 3, Ttomalss found himself in the middle: more than curious, less than concerned.
“You seem to have a knack for posing stimulating questions, Senior Researcher,” Slomikk said. “You are to be congratulated.”
“I thank you,” Ttomalss said, in what he feared were abstracted tones. He’d asked himself an interesting question, and one for which he had as yet no good answer. Ginger seemed certain to make more females here on Tosev 3 become gravid after mating with a smaller number of males, or perhaps with only one, than happened back on Home. There were more circumstances in which that could make important who the father was: if he’d given the female ginger to induce her to mate with him, for instance, or if she’d taken credit from his account in exchange for tasting ginger and becoming sexually receptive.
Ttomalss sighed. “This world is doing its best to change us, no matter how much we are in the habit of resisting change.”
“I agree. You are not the first to raise this notion, of course,” Slomikk said. “Even creating embassies and reviving the title of ambassador was new and strange, for the Race has needed neither embassies nor ambassadors these past tens of thousands of years.”
“Forcing us to revive the old is one thing,” Ttomalss said. “It is, in itself, not a small thing. But we have had to respond to so much that is new both from the Tosevites and among ourselves, that the revivals pale to insignificance by comparison.”