Second Contact (38 page)

Ttomalss did not like the Deutsche. He knew no one among the males of the Race who did like the Deutsche. Many of the males who had fought against them respected their military abilities. Some of the males who worked for the embassy also respected their ability to acquire and develop new technology. But no one liked them.

“They are arrogant,” Veffani, the Race’s ambassador, had told him, “as arrogant as if they had done something to justify such arrogance, as the Race has unquestionably done. They are murderous, and are not only unapologetic but proud of it.”

Understanding how and why that was so would have been useful for the Race. To try to gain some of that understanding, Ttomalss had spoken with a certain Rudolf Höss, an officer in charge of one of the industrial murder facilities the Deutsche operated. His question had been the most basic one possible: “How can you stand to do what you do? Does it not oppress you?”

“Why should it?” Höss had answered with a yawn. “It is my assignment. My duty is to obey the orders of my superiors and to carry out my assignment to the best of my ability.”

Had a male of the Race said that, it would have been laudable. But no male of the Race would have dreamt of getting an assignment like Höss’. Rather desperately, Ttomalss had asked, “But did you not think of rejecting this assignment when it was given to you?”

“Why should I have done that?” Höss had seemed genuinely puzzled. “My training suits me for the work. Besides, if I did not do it, someone else would have to, and I can do it better than most.”

“But the nature of the task—” Ttomalss began to wonder if his translator was doing a proper job. Could the Big Ugly across the desk from him be so oblivious to the kind of thing he did?

Evidently, Höss could. He said, “It is an assignment, like any other.”

No matter how Ttomalss tried, he could not penetrate below that insistence on duty to the true feelings Höss had about his work. Maybe he had no true feelings about it. Ttomalss would not have believed that possible, but it seemed to be so.

He had returned to the embassy with a mixture of relief at coming back to Homelike surroundings and frustration at failing to accomplish his object. The mixture of feelings made him hiss in annoyance when someone asked for admittance to his chamber. “Who is it?” he demanded irritably.

“I: Felless,” was the reply from outside the chamber.

The female’s voice sounded odd, but Ttomalss did not dwell on that. The unfortunate fact was that he could not refuse her entry, not when she had summoned him here to assist in her research. “Come in, superior female,” he said, and thumbed the control that opened the airtight door. Given the proficiency of the Deutsche with poisonous gases, that struck Ttomalss as a more than reasonable precaution.

“I greet you,” Felless said, skittering toward him.

“I greet you, superior female,” Ttomalss said resignedly. He swung his eye turrets toward Felless with a certain amount of curiosity. She did sound strange, and she moved strangely, too, almost as if she were going faster than she had any business doing.

“Do you know, Senior Researcher, that the Tosevites are very likely the most aggravating species evolved anywhere in the entire galaxy?” Felless said.

“Truth,” Ttomalss said with an emphatic cough. It didn’t matter if Felless’ voice wasn’t quite right, not when she said things like that. “As a matter of fact, the Big Uglies are . . .”

He took a deep breath, preparatory to cataloguing the Tosevites’ many iniquities. As the air went into his lung, it went past his scent receptors. The odor they caught was familiar but altogether unexpected. He stared at Felless. The long scales between his eye turrets stood up to form a sort of a crest, as they had not done since he came to Tosev 3.

Felless stared at him, too. The erection of his crest was only one response his body made on smelling that odor. Almost without conscious thought, he pushed his chair back and came around his desk toward Felless. With each stride, he grew more nearly upright, till at last he walked almost like a Big Ugly. The female bent into a position somewhat similar to the posture of respect, one which left her posterior high and swung her tailstump out of the way.

Ttomalss hurried to place himself behind her. His reproductive organ jutted from his cloaca. He thrust it into hers. A moment later, he let out a whistling hiss as pleasure shot through his body.

When he released her, he said, “I did not know you were coming into your season, superior female.”

“Neither did I,” Felless said. “My body usually gives me some warning. This time, I had none. I tasted ginger a little while ago, and—”

She got no further than that. The pheromones pouring from her still filled the air and still intoxicated Ttomalss. The visual cues he gave excited Felless once more, and she reassumed the mating posture. Ttomalss coupled with her again, just as he had observed male Big Uglies repeatedly joining with females.

After the second mating, he was as worn as she. He had trouble thinking straight. He could still smell the pheromones. He wanted to couple again, even if he was not sure his body would respond to his desire. Hoarsely, he said, “Maybe you had better go. The embassy will be a chaotic place for a while, if this is truly our females’ season on Tosev 3.”

“But it should not be.” Felless sounded as dazed as Ttomalss felt. “I did not think I was coming into season, as I said. I do not think I am due to come into season for some time. But I did. By the Emperor, I did.” She cast down her eyes, as she should have. Then, of itself, her head began to lower. Her hindquarters began to rise.

Ttomalss started to move behind her once more. Had he not already coupled twice in mere moments, he would have joined with her yet again. Instead, in a strangled voice, he said, “Get out.”

Felless, still half in the mating posture, scuttled for the door. She poked the recessed button beside it with a fingerclaw. The door slid open. She scurried out—and almost ran into Veffani, who had a hand raised to activate the intercom and ask for admittance.

“Your pardon, superior sir,” Felless gasped.

“No apology necessary, Senior Researcher,” the ambassador to the
Reich
replied. As Ttomalss had done, he took a breath so he could say something more. As Ttomalss had done, he stopped with the words unspoken. The long scales at the top of his head lifted up, as Ttomalss’ were still doing. He stood more nearly erect.

Felless began to assume the full mating posture once more. But to Ttomalss, Veffani’s visual cues were not a signal for mating. To him, millions of years of evolution made them scream,
Rival!
He stalked toward Veffani, fingerclaws spread, mouth open in what was anything but a laugh.

It was not rational. It was anything but rational. Some small part of his mind knew that perfectly well. It watched in horror as the larger, dominant, part commanded him to hunt down and slaughter the male who was his superior.

Veffani was locked in the grip of fury, too, now that he saw Ttomalss’ visual cues along with smelling Felless’ pheromones. With what must have taken great effort, he said, “This is madness. We have to stop.”

“Truth.” The remaining part of Ttomalss’ mind that could still think clearly seized on the excuse not to tear and snap at Veffani. Then the telephone hissed for his attention. That was a stimulus against which evolution had developed few defenses. He turned away to answer it. Veffani did not spring upon him.

The call turned out to be inconsequential. When Ttomalss disconnected, he saw that Veffani was just disconnecting from Felless. The ambassador had taken advantage of his distraction to mate.

“Superior female, please leave before we are all completely addled,” Ttomalss said. Felless straightened from the mating posture and scurried off up the hallway.

Her pheromones lingered in the air, but not at a level to send Ttomalss and Veffani wild. “Now that the season is here, it is sweet,” Veffani said. “Soon it will be over, and we can go back to being ourselves.”

“Truth,” Ttomalss said. “And that will be sweet, too. I am glad to have mated, but I did not miss it while going so long without.”

“Well, of course not,” Veffani said. “Are we Tosevites, to be thinking of mating every moment of the day and night?” He paused, then waggled his tongue in self-deprecation. “At the moment, we might as well be Big Uglies. I still feel the urge—and the urge to quarrel with you as well.”

“And I with you, superior sir.” Ttomalss’ wits, distracted by the mating urge, remained less sharp than they should have been. When something new occurred to him, he cursed himself for not having seen it sooner. “How the Tosevites will laugh at us now that we are interested in such matters once more.”

“As I said, soon it will be over,” Veffani replied. “And of one thing you may be sure: Tosevites have short memories. Very soon, they will forget their mockery and accept our behavior as normal for us, just as their behavior, however revolting we find it, is normal for them.”

“In one way, superior sir, that is a most perceptive observation on your part,” Ttomalss said, and explained to the ambassador to the
Reich
how Kassquit, even though raised as nearly as possible as a female of the Race, still sought physical relief at regular intervals. The researcher went on, “In a different way, though, I fear you may be too optimistic, for when have the Big Uglies ever proved accepting either of us or of other factions of their own kind?”

“Well, that is also a truth.” Veffani let out an annoyed hiss. “I cannot think straight, not with these pheromones still in the air. And every male in the place will have scent receptors tingling, looking for the female in her season.”

“And soon the rest of the females will be in heat, too—and so the mating season will go,” Ttomalss said. “And then it will be over for another year. We shall have a new crop of hatchlings to begin to civilize, which will afford the Big Uglies further chances for mirth, not that their own hatchlings are anything save risible.” He checked himself. “No, that is not strictly true. Their hatchlings are risible while they are raising them. When one of us attempts the task, it is, I assure you, no laughing matter.”

“That I believe. You have my admiration for your efforts along those lines,” Veffani said. “I should not have cared to try to emulate them. What I should care for is—” He broke off and made another self-mocking tongue waggle. “What I should care for is another mating. Being in the season makes us strange, does it not?”

Before Ttomalss could answer, a male came hurrying down the hall. The scales of his crest were raised; he had the determined stride of one who knew exactly what he wanted, though not exactly where it was. A moment later, another similarly intent male followed him. Ttomalss laughed. “It has begun.”

With his mouth open, he caught more of Felless’ pheromones. His crest stood higher, too.

Nesseref was fed up with Tosev 3: not with the Big Uglies—who, while their reproductive habits were revolting, had proved to have some interesting and even personable individuals among them—but with her own kind. She gave Bunim, the regional subadministrator headquartered in Lodz, a sour stare. “In my opinion, superior sir, you cannot have it both ways. You wanted the shuttlecraft port in this area, but now you keep raising objections to every site I propose.”

“That, Shuttlecraft Pilot, is because you continue to propose objectionable sites,” Bunim replied. “Things in this region are more complicated than you seem to understand.”

“Enlighten me, then,” Nesseref said, with more sarcasm than she should have aimed at a superior. At the moment, she would cheerfully have aimed a weapon at Bunim.
Obstructionist,
she thought.

Through the window of his office, she could see little clumps of frozen water twisting and swirling in the icy breeze. The stuff was interesting, perhaps even attractive in a bizarre way—when seen through a window. Nesseref had acquired more experience of snow than she’d ever wanted, trying to find a landing site that would satisfy her and Bunim both.

Despite the cold, despite the snow, Tosevites still met to buy and sell in the market square on which Bunim’s office faced. They put on more layers of muffling and went about their business. In a way, such determination was admirable. In another way, it made her reckon the Big Uglies addled.

Bunim said, “The situation is complicated in this way: the Race rules Poland, but not in the way we rule Rabotev 2 or even the way we rule most other parts of Tosev 3. The two groups of Tosevites here—the Poles and the Jews—are both heavily armed and could, should they rise up against us, cause us a great deal of difficulty. The Jews are even said to possess an explosive-metal device, though I do not know for certain if this is true.”

“I met a Tosevite who said he was checking the security for such a bomb,” Nesseref said.

“All Tosevites lie,” Bunim said dismissively. “But the point is, the only reason the locals tolerate us is that they loathe the not-empires to either side of them, the Greater German
Reich
and the SSSR, more than they loathe us. We do not want them to loathe us more than they loathe these not-empires, or they might succeed in expelling us. Thus we have to step carefully. We cannot simply move in and take whatever we want. This includes taking land we want, provided the Big Uglies now owning it do not care to give it up. Now do you begin to see?”

“I do, superior sir.” What Nesseref thought she saw was a confession of weakness, but saying so would not do. What she did say was, “You are telling me you are treating these Big Uglies as if, in property rights and such, they were males and females of the Race.”

“Essentially, yes,” Bunim said.

Nesseref’s opinion of that policy was not high. Bunim, however, would not care what her opinion was, and his superiors would support his opinion. Nesseref said what she could: “I do wish this policy had been communicated to me some time ago rather than now. Doing so would have prevented a great deal of friction between us.”
I could have done my job properly and gone away,
she thought savagely.
This is not a garden spot. From what I have seen of Tosev 3, it has no garden spots.