“They didn’t have to defeat them,” said Wheaton. “The fact that Homo sapiens has no mitochondrial DNA from Neanderthals suggests that if there were head-to-head battles, the Neanderthals always won, and their males mated with the Sapient women, never the other way around.”
“Or Neanderthal women were so strong that they broke the necks of any gracile humans who tried to mate with them,” said Deborah.
Noxon wasn’t sure he liked the relish with which she said that.
“Seeing all that bloody beef made me hungry,” said Deborah.
“Why?” asked Wheaton. “You always like your beef cooked into a flavorless stringy mass.”
“But I know that it begins with those great bloody haunches and sides,” said Deborah, “and I could do with a nice parmentier about now. Or a hamburger.”
“Well, Noxon,” said Wheaton, “in all honesty, today’s work completely pays for the easy half of the bargain—providing you with a place to stay while you wait to see why the people of Earth decide to wipe out your world. So if you want to stop taking me into the distant past, I’d still consider us more than even.”
“None of us would be happy without a visit to Homo erectus,” said Noxon. “Today’s excursion was its own reward.”
Wheaton laughed. “Here I am marveling at the athleticism of Neanderthal hunters, while the only reason I could witness it was because the human race has evolved an ability that nobody could have foreseen.”
“Cameras?” asked Noxon, feigning innocence.
Wheaton only laughed. While Deborah took Noxon’s hand and squeezed it. So it wasn’t all neck-breaking with her.
They decided not to fly back to the United States. Instead, they would go directly to Africa, and search for the paths of an early Erectus tribe. Not ninety thousand years, but nine hundred thousand, at least. Maybe twice that.
And this time, they would want to watch for days, not an hour or so. Neanderthal-watching had left Noxon exhausted. Erectus-watching would be far harder. But . . . it was all part of saving the world. And he was almost as eager to see what they might learn as Wheaton and Deborah were.
At the back of the plane to Nairobi, when they took a toilet break from time-slicing, Ram Odin asked him, “Are you up to this? It looked like that expedition really wore you out.”
“In Africa, maybe we won’t have to hike so far,” said Noxon. “And we’ll just watch for a few hours a day, then return to camp in the present. I won’t push myself too hard. And this”—he tapped the facemask—“helps keep me strong.”
“It doesn’t replace food, water, and rest,” said Ram.
“It seems you want to talk,” said Noxon. “But I need that toilet.”
Ram gestured him toward the open bathroom door. Noxon went inside and marveled, once again, at the machinery of daily life that humans of this era of Earth regarded as minimal acceptable conditions. Only a few hours on the plane, but these people had to replace several rows of seats with contraptions for carrying away bodily waste, and with galleys for the preparation of food and drink.
Few of these people could last three days in the wilderness where Noxon had spent his childhood. But they had, and would soon use, the power to wipe the world of Garden out of existence. These feeble toilet-using snack-eating destructive babies—but, like the weaker, possibly stupider Sapients whose superior weapons out-hunted and, maybe, outfought the Neanderthals, they had moved their evolution away from their bodies and onto their tools. They didn’t have to be individually clever or strong, patient or wise, or skilled at either peace or war. They could never have wiped out the Neanderthals hand-to-hand. But once arrows and spear-throwers joined their toolkit, the Sapients would use machines to do their killing from a safe distance.
CHAPTER 22
Finding a Home for Square
“What I’m about to ask may seem unpleasant to you,” said Auntie Wind.
Umbo responded more to her tone than her words; her tone said that everything was fine, and Umbo would be delighted. “Ask and we’ll see,” he said.
“I’m concerned about the baby you brought from the future. The little boy called Square.”
Umbo was puzzled. “How do you know about him?”
“Your friend Loaf passed him into our care a few weeks ago,” Auntie Wind answered. “I assumed you knew.”
“Loaf tells me only what he thinks I need to know.”
“Well, no matter what he thinks, I think you need to know, because as the timeshaper you are the one who saved the boy’s life and brought him into our time.”
“I do care what happens to him,” said Umbo.
“Loaf told us that the boy’s mother does not regard him as her own,” said Auntie Wind. “I understand this, in that she has no memory of carrying him in her womb. Though I do not understand why she cannot take him into her heart as any woman would take an orphan in need of care.”
“Leaky can’t make herself feel what doesn’t come to her naturally.” Or keep herself from feeling what does come; Umbo had too many painful memories of trying to get her to curb her emotions long enough to simply hear him out.
“That is unfortunate in a full-grown person,” said Auntie Wind. “Our difficulty is that our lives are spent in the sea, but caring for Square means that we must keep one nursing mother or another on land for extended periods. Since Square’s mother won’t have him, I ask consent to introduce him to a mantle and take him into the sea with us. It’s a good life.”
“I don’t think Loaf would want that,” said Umbo, “and yet I think it’s hard to ask Larfolders to stay on land. Let me talk to him.”
“I was hoping for a quick answer,” said Auntie Wind. “I’m facing a bit of a rebellion, I’m afraid—there’s already so much resentment over the mice that you brought in to possess our land, and some are saying now, Let the baby drink mousemilk, and leave us out of it.”
Umbo had heard nothing about resentment of the mice. As far as he knew, the Larfolders hadn’t even noticed them.
“Underwater,” said Auntie Wind, “it would be an easy matter to care for him. Even on land, with a mantle he wouldn’t need diapering.”
“The mantle makes it so you don’t have to . . .” Umbo was uncomfortable referring to defecation.
“No, but the mantle reaches down and cleans the baby, then washes itself. It’s very sanitary. Our mantles have had thousands of years to become habituated to our needs.”
Umbo sighed. “I understand your urgency. But remember what I can do. I’ll go ask Loaf, but I’ll return to you within an hour from now.”
“Will you?” she asked mildly.
Umbo was annoyed at her doubt. “If I don’t,” said Umbo, “it’ll be because I’m dead.”
“I wasn’t doubting your word,” said Auntie Wind, amused but kind. “I didn’t understand you to have so much precision in your movement in time.”
“It’s fairly recently acquired,” said Umbo. “But now, yes, I can place myself in time with some exactness, especially if it’s near a time where I remember having been. Like now.”
“Then I will wait here,” said Auntie Wind, “though it’s dry and hot and you have many days’ travel ahead of you.”
Let her think what she will, Umbo decided. He had no interest in taking days to find Loaf. He had the knife, which was also a “phone”—a communicator that could call for the Larfold flyer. So he walked only a mile from the shore before the flyer came to him. He didn’t bother making it find a landing spot; it lowered a ladder and he stepped onto it and waited as it drew itself—and him—upward through the floor of the vehicle.
Thus it was not even nightfall on the same day when Umbo came to the settlement between folds where Loaf trained soldiers for Umbo’s army. It was inconvenient that whenever Umbo arrived there, he was treated as king. Fortunately, he had refused to allow much folderol to develop, because, as he pointed out, Param was the reigning Queen-in-the-Tent, and he was merely King Consort. So the greetings were only a distraction as he searched for Loaf; there were no time-consuming visits to be paid for protocol’s sake.