He let out a long sigh. “You are a bunch of obstreperous hooligans.”

“Truth,” Karen repeated, with another emphatic cough. The rest of the Americans used the affirmative gesture again. By their grins, they took it for a compliment, just as she did.

Chesneau saw that, too. “If you think you can blackmail me…” He paused and grimaced and finally started to laugh. “It’s possible you’re right. If I showed up in the Solar System without any of you, I suspect I would get some fairly sharp questions. So would the administration that sent me out-and unlike you, I can’t go into cold sleep and outlast it.” Karen’s hopes soared. Chesneau eyed her father-in-law. “Well, Ambassador, are you willing to go back to a country where you may not be especially welcome?”

“No, I’m not willing,” Sam Yeager answered. Karen stared. But then he went on, “I’m eager, General. What I’m willing to do is take my chances.”

“All right, then,” Chesneau said. “I’ll use altered circumstances here on Home as justification for disregarding my orders-and we’ll see which of us ends up in more trouble.” He started to add something, but found he couldn’t: the old-timers crowding his office were clapping and cheering too loud for anybody to hear another word he said.

As the American Tosevites from the Admiral Peary got ready to return to Tosev 3, Ttomalss waited for Kassquit to come wailing to him. She’d done it before, when Jonathan Yeager returned to the United States from her starship orbiting Tosev 3. Now she was losing not only a mate but the sire of the hatchling growing inside her. And Frank Coffey wasn’t just traveling down through the atmosphere. He would be light-years away.

But Kassquit did nothing of the sort. She began striking up acquaintances with the wild Big Uglies the Commodore Perry was leaving behind. The new physician seemed surprised to have a gravid patient, but also seemed confident he would be able to cope with whatever difficulties arose.

Finally, Ttomalss’ curiosity got the better of him. He came up to Kassquit in the hotel refectory one morning and said, “May I join you?”

She made the affirmative gesture. “Of course, superior sir… provided my nausea does not make me leave more quickly than I would like.”

A server came up and offered Ttomalss a printout. He declined; after so long, he had the refectory’s choices graven on his liver, and needed no reminders. He ordered. The server sketched the posture of respect and skittered away. Ttomalss swung his eye turrets toward Kassquit. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“About the same as before,” she answered. “The wild Big Uglies assure me these symptoms are nothing out of the ordinary. I have to believe them.”

“That is not exactly what I meant,” Ttomalss said. “How do you feel about losing your mating partner?”

“He may come back to Home one day, or I may visit Tosev 3,” Kassquit said. “With the new ships, such journeys will not be impossible. I am sad he will go. I am sad, yes, but I am not devastated. Losing a mating partner was harder the first time I did it. I had no standard of comparison then, and no prospect of staying in contact with any other Big Uglies. Things are different now.”

“I see.” Ttomalss broke off, for the server brought in Kassquit’s order just then. After the male left, the psychologist resumed: “You are more mature now than you were then.”

“Maybe I am.” Kassquit began to eat fried zisuili and fungi. “This is an excellent breakfast,” she said, plainly trying to deflect his questions.

“I am glad you like it.” Ttomalss wondered what tone to take with her. No usual one was right, and he knew it. He could not speak to her as one friend did to another among the Race. Too much lay between them for that. Except for not physically siring and bearing her, he had been her parent, in the full, ghastly Tosevite sense of the word. And yet, as he’d said himself just now, she was more mature than she had been-too mature to take kindly to his using the sort of authority he’d had when she was a hatchling.

His mouth fell open in a sour laugh. Did Big Uglies ever know these ambiguities? Or did they understand instinctively how such things were supposed to work? He supposed they had to. If they didn’t, wouldn’t their whole society come tumbling down?

“Is something wrong, superior sir?” Kassquit asked. She must have noticed how unhappy his laugh was. He wouldn’t have thought a Big Ugly could. But, as he was the Race’s leading student of matters Tosevite, so Kassquit knew the Race more intimately than any other Big Ugly, even Sam Yeager.

“No, nothing is really wrong, ” he replied. “I was thinking about how you respond to stress now, as opposed to how you did when you were younger.”

“You said it yourself, superior sir: I am more mature than I used to be,” Kassquit replied. “I am also more used to the idea of belonging to two worlds than I was. Before, I desperately wanted to be part of the Race, and if that meant abandoning my biological heritage, well then, it did, and that was all there was to it. But I have discovered that I cannot abandon my biology-and I have also discovered I do not want to.”

“You will find your counterpart’s autobiography interesting,” Ttomalss said. “So will I. I look forward to the day the translation reaches Home.”

“Truth.” Kassquit used the affirmative gesture. The server brought Ttomalss his food. As he began to eat, she went on, “I would give a great deal to meet Mickey and Donald. I have already told the Tosevites as much. Those two of all people should understand some of what I have experienced-though they at least had each other.”

Ttomalss crunched a plump roasted grub between his teeth. He said, “There are times when I feel guilty because of what I have done to you. You are not a normal Tosevite, and you never can be. But you may not be worse off on account of that. The lot of a normal Tosevite, especially at the time when I, ah, found you, all too often proved unfortunate.”

“Yes, Frank Coffey has pointed out the same thing to me,” Kassquit said. Because her room was electronically monitored, Ttomalss knew that. He also knew better than to show he knew. Kassquit went on, “I still think I would rather have been as I would have been, if you take my meaning.”

“I think so,” Ttomalss said. “Of course, you have not experienced the disease and the hard labor you would have known had I chosen another Tosevite hatchling. You are comparing what you have now against some ideal existence, not against the reality you would have known.”

“Perhaps,” Kassquit said. “I have certainly learned more of bodily infirmity since become gravid than I ever knew before. These are lessons I do not care to expand upon further.” She looked at her almost empty plate. “This morning, things seem willing to stay down.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Ttomalss said. “I gather your gravidity has persuaded you not to travel on the Commodore Perry ?”

Kassquit made the affirmative gesture. “None of the wild Tosevites seemed to think it was a good idea. No one knows how traveling faster than light affects developing hatchlings, and no one seems to want to find out by experiment. I do not care for this conclusion, but I must say it makes sense.”

“I agree.” Ttomalss bit down on a ripe ippa fruit. Tart juice and pulp flooded into his mouth. “There will be time enough for such things later.”

“I hope so,” Kassquit said. “This is one of the occasions, though, when I notice that your likely span is longer than mine.” She shrugged. “It cannot be helped. If you will excuse me, superior sir…” She rose and left the refectory.

As Ttomalss finished breakfast, he wondered what his likely span was. Kassquit meant that an average member of the Race lived longer than an average Big Ugly. She was right about that, of course. But it held true only in times of peace, of stability. If the missiles started flying, if the hydrogen bombs started bursting, no one of any species was likely to live very long.

The Race and the Big Uglies hadn’t blown Tosev 3 sky-high. They’d come close when the Deutsche reached for something they weren’t big enough to grab. They’d come close, but they hadn’t quite done it. Both sides there had got used to the idea that they were living on the edge of a volcano.

Now all the worlds of the Empire were living by the same crater. Most males and females on Home didn’t realize it yet, but it was true. Rabotev 2 and Halless 1 were blissfully unaware of it… or were they? Had Tosevite faster-than-light starships appeared out of nowhere in their skies? For that matter, had the Big Uglies bombarded or conquered the other two planets in the Empire? If they had, Home wouldn’t find out about it for years-unless more Tosevite starships brought the news.

That thought reminded Ttomalss just what a predicament the Race found itself in. The Big Uglies could know things sooner than his own species could, and could act more quickly on what they knew. For years, the Race had tried to decide whether Tosevites were enough of a menace to be worth destroying, and had never quite made up its mind. Even if it had, doing anything would have taken years and years.

If the American Big Uglies decided the Race was still enough of a menace to be worth destroying, how long would they take to act on their decision? Not long at all, both because they were generally quicker to act than the Race and because they now had the technology to match their speed of thought.

Involuntarily, Ttomalss’ eye turrets looked up toward the ceiling. Even if he could have looked up through the ceiling, he couldn’t have seen the Commodore Perry in orbit around Home, not in daylight. If the starship launched missiles, he would never know about it till too late.

One eye turret swung down to the grubs and fruit he’d been eating. He was glad he’d just about finished his meal before such thoughts occurred to him. They would have robbed him of his appetite.

After he left the refectory, he thought about going out into Sitneff to call Pesskrag and see how her research team was coming. He’d taken several steps toward the door before he stopped and made the negative gesture. What good would that do? She’d said the research would take years. Asking her about it mere days after he’d last spoken to her wouldn’t gain him any new information. He would just be tugging at her tailstump, annoying her for no good reason.

But he wanted reassurance. He laughed, not that it was particularly funny. Back when Kassquit was a hatchling, he’d constantly had to reassure her that everything was all right, that he would go on taking care of her, that she was a good little female. Sometimes it had almost driven him mad. Hatchlings of the Race, being more independent from their earliest days, didn’t need that constant reinforcement. He’d probably been ill-equipped to give it. Whatever psychological problems Kassquit had were in no small measure of his making.