"You can yell at me like this, anytime," I said. Her back felt fine. Almost as nice as her front
Gently, but firmly, she disengaged my hands. "I said later. Just do my back."
Something about her tone stopped me. "Okay." I concentrated on the curve of her backbone and all those lovely little vertebrae climbing up her delicious pink skin. I began gently massaging each and every one in my very best shiatsu technique.
"Mmm," she said. And then, "Mmmmmm!" After a while, she added softly, "Okay, here's the unofficial part. This is the part even I didn't hear. The President got on the phone to Prime Minister Dubois and read him the riot act. How dare he send a note of protest? His officer endangered American lives. His officer was unprepared and unqualified. His officer was about as useful as a plastic Jesus on the dashboard. If the Quebecois want to be a part of any more military operations, then they'd damned well better get their collective act together. Etcetera, etcetera."
"She actually said that to him?" I was surprised.
"And more. She really laid it on thick."
"That doesn't sound very politic."
"Oh, but it was. Ever since the secession, the Quebecois have been so full of themselves, they've been almost impossible to deal with. This'll put a pin in their pomposity. Dubois will probably lose the election, which won't displease the President at all. She hates him. And even if he wins, he's still lost a lot of face. No, sweetheart, even though the President is pissed as hell, she's also sharp enough to know how to turn this to her political advantage."
"Now I know why they call her 'Teddy Roosevelt in drag."'
"Roosevelt had a bushier mustache," Lizard said. She turned around to face me again. "The President also had a private message for you."
"Really?"
"She said, 'Thank him for me. That's the best laugh I've had since the Vice President called the Russian premier a bimbo.' Listen to me, sweetheart. I love you. Whatever's said in the news, you don't owe anybody any apologies, neither do I, and neither does the President." Lizard laughed and added, "You just can't say so in public. There's a limit even to the President's umbrella."
Later that night, in the silence of our bedroom, I said, "I really do make an awful lot of trouble for you, don't I?"
She didn't answer immediately; but finally, she agreed. "Yeah, you do. But it's good trouble."
"Lizard-?" I asked.
She rolled over on her side and looked at me directly, "I know that tone of voice," she said. "That little-boy tone. What's the matter?"
"In all the time we've been together; I've never doubted that you love me. But… I've never understood why you love me."
Lizard considered the question. At last, she said, "Because it's easier than not loving you."
"No," I said. "No jokes."
"That's not a joke, Jim. I tried not loving you, once. It didn't work. We were both miserable. This way, is easier." She looked at me. "That wasn't quite what you wanted to hear, was it?"
"I don't know what I wanted to hear." I scratched my ear, thoughtfully. "I just wanted to know why we fit together the way we do."
"Because we do," she said. "I like the way we fit together."
"And?" I prompted.
"Isn't that enough, Jim?" She looked at me so earnestly that all I could do was nod and agree.
It wasn't enough, because I still didn't understand. And I really wanted to. But sometimes the best thing to do is just let it alone. Accept what you have and be grateful.
I shut up and concentrated on being grateful.
Not as readily apparent, even to a trained observer, is the aspect of relational stability within the infestation's own ecostructure. As noted on the first page of this document, Chtorran ecology, as we are seeing it today, is volatile and unstable.
By that we mean that, whatever the ultimate ucture of an established Chtorran ecology, avaatever the pattern of interactions-the various checks and balances, the interrelated structures of symbioses and partnerships, of predator and prey, all the myriad relationships that allow the various member species to exist within their own distinct niches—none of those patterns fully exists today. Nor can we ake assumptions on what the ultimate form of these relationships may be, based on the evidence that we have collected so far.
At best, we are seeing an embryonic and very desperate struggle to achieve a critical threshold; not simply a threshold of biomass, but more strategically, a threshold of relationships that transcends all other ecological concerns. The goal is not expansion for the sake of axpansion, but expansion for the sake of achieving a state of maintenance and stability-a state that will allow and ensure the ultimate sucess of the many relationships that make up the Chtorran ecology.
This particular realization allows us to make this startling statement:
What we have so far observed is not an ecology-not yet-it is not even the beachhead of an ecology. What we have documented to date is only the first wave of infestation of biological tools; these are the tools which will build the tools which will build the tools which will build the tools which will ultimately allow an adapted Chtorran ecology to establish itself permanently here on Earth. What we are seeing is the process of adaption and evolution accelerated a millionfold.
The process is not accidental. It has been designed into the infestation so as to guarantee that the invading ecology will be able to overcome all biological obstacles, regardless of any conditions that may obtain or develop on the target world.
What this may suggest for the shape of future containment and control proceduresassuming that containment and control are still possible or even desirable in the face of such an event-is unfortunately beyond the scope of this study. It may, in fact, considering the limited resources currently available, be even beyond the scope of any possible human investigation.
The reader is directed to Appendix II, for time- and resource-weighted projections of the possible effectiveness of human resistance to the establishment of a stable Chtorran ecology.
The reader is also directed to the supplementary minority report in Appendix IX, outlining possible patterns of future coexistence and maintenance. Additional investigations in this area are strongly recommended.
—The Red Book,
(Release 22.19A)
Chapter 6
Sisters
"All insults are basic. They're variations on 'My orgasm is better than your orgasm. "
-SOLOMON SHORT
General Wainright had a few tricks of his own. You don't get to be a general without learning how to be a bastard too. I found that out at the mission briefing. The on-again, off-again Brazilian mission was on-again. Maybe. Well, anyway, we were back in the planning theater. I was hardly in the door when Dannenfelser, the general's aide (and official hemorrhoid sniffer), came trotting over to me. I was looking for Lizard. I hadn't seen her in two days. She'd had meetings. And then she'd had more meetings. I just wanted to tell her how much I'd missed her.
"Your briefing book," Dannenfelser demanded snippily. He held out his hand. "I'll take it now, please."
"Excuse me?"
"Didn't they tell you? Your clearance has been suspended. You've been replaced." He snapped his fingers impatiently.
I grabbed his thin, almost girlish wrist and twisted it upward. "Don't snap your fingers at me, you little twit."
"How butch," he replied icily, but he relaxed his hand in my grip. I released him without breaking it. He pulled his wrist away and glared at me. "Are you done? May I have the book now?"
"I think you should just turn around and walk away. General Tirelli is not going to be happy about this-"