Part 29 (1/2)
Before Gromyko could reply, the limousine started to roll. The Soviet emba.s.sy was only a few blocks from the Gray House. One thing that struck Molotov was how small a city Little Rock really was, and how new all the important buildings were. Before the Lizard invasion, before it succeeded Was.h.i.+ngton as a national capital, it had been nothing to speak of, a sleepy provincial town like Kaluga or Kuibishev.
Well, had the n.a.z.is or the Lizards broken through, Kuibishev would have had greatness thrust on it, too. ”This place seems pleasant enough,” Molotov said: about as much praise as he would give any town.
”Oh, indeed-pleasant enough, barring summer,” Gromyko said. ”And with air conditioning, even that is a smaller problem than it would have been twenty years ago.” Almost silently, the car pulled to a stop. The foreign commissar pointed. ”There is Sta.s.sen-President Sta.s.sen, now-speaking with General Dornberger.”
”Thank you for pointing him out,” Molotov answered. ”If you hadn't, I wouldn't have recognized him.” Like Dornberger, Sta.s.sen was bald. But the American was a younger man-probably still on the sunny side of sixty-and looked to have been formed in a softer school. He might not have had any trouble in his life from the end of the first round of fighting to Earl Warren's suicide. Well, he would have troubles now.
The driver opened the door to let out the Russian leaders. ”Shall I introduce you?” Gromyko asked. ”I speak enough English for that.”
His English was actually quite good, though he preferred not to show it off. Molotov nodded. ”If you would. I have never met Dornberger, either. Does he speak English?”
”I don't know,” Gromyko said. ”I've never had to deal with him. But we can find out.”
He and Molotov approached the American and German leaders. Sta.s.sen turned away from Dornberger and toward them. He spoke in English. ”Purely conventional,” Gromyko said. ”He thanks you for your presence and says it is a pleasure to meet you.”
”Tell him the same,” Molotov answered. ”Express my condolences and the condolences of the Soviet people.” As Gromyko spoke in English, Molotov extended his hand. The new president of the United States shook it. His grip, firm but brief, said nothing about him save that he'd shaken a lot of hands before.
Sta.s.sen spoke in English. Gromyko translated again: ”He hopes we can live in peace among ourselves and with the Race. He says staying strong will help in this.”
”Good. He is not altogether a fool, then,” Molotov said. ”Translate that last into something friendly and agreeable.”
As the foreign commissar did so, the new German Fuhrer Fuhrer came up and waited to be noticed. He was a poor man waiting for rich men to deign to see him: not a familiar position for a German leader these past ninety-five years. When Dornberger spoke, it was in English. ”He says he is pleased to meet you,” Gromyko reported. came up and waited to be noticed. He was a poor man waiting for rich men to deign to see him: not a familiar position for a German leader these past ninety-five years. When Dornberger spoke, it was in English. ”He says he is pleased to meet you,” Gromyko reported.
”Tell him the same.” Molotov shook hands with the Germans, too. ”Tell him I am happier to meet him now that the Reich Reich no longer has missiles aimed at the USSR.” no longer has missiles aimed at the USSR.”
Through Gromyko, Dornberger replied, ”We had those, yes, but we had more aimed at the Race.”
”Much good they did you,” Molotov said. After the Reich's Reich's misfortunes, he didn't have to worry so much about diplomacy. misfortunes, he didn't have to worry so much about diplomacy.
Dornberger shrugged. ”I did not make the war. All I did was fight it as well as I could once the people set above me made it. When no people set above me were left alive, I ended it as fast as I could.”
”That was wise. Not starting it would have been wiser.” Molotov wished more Russian generals showed the disinclination of their German counterparts to meddle in politics. Zhukov came close. But even Zhukov, though he didn't want the t.i.tle, wanted at least some of the power that went with it.
”Now I have to pick up the pieces and gather my nation's strength as best I can,” Dornberger said. ”Maybe the Soviet Union can help there, as it did after the First World War.”
”Maybe,” Molotov said. ”I can offer no promises, even if the idea is worth exploring. The Race has espionage far better than the Entente powers did after that war.” He turned away from the German Fuhrer, Fuhrer, who no longer led a great power, and back to the American president, who still did. ”President Sta.s.sen, I want to be sure you understand how brave President Warren was not to leave you at the mercy of the Lizards for the sake of a temporary political advantage.” who no longer led a great power, and back to the American president, who still did. ”President Sta.s.sen, I want to be sure you understand how brave President Warren was not to leave you at the mercy of the Lizards for the sake of a temporary political advantage.”
”I do,” Sta.s.sen replied. ”I also understand that he has left me at the mercy of the Democrats because he gave the Lizards Indianapolis. I do not expect to be reelected in 1968.” He smiled. ”Just for the moment, and just a little, I envy your system.”
Had he thought of it, Molotov would have envied the American tradition of peaceful succession when Beria mounted his coup against him. He would not have admitted that no matter what. Before he could say anything at all, an American started calling to the a.s.sembled dignitaries. ”Their protocol officer,” Gromyko said. ”He is telling us how to line up.”
The ceremony was not so grand as it would have been in the Soviet Union-as it had been when Stalin died-but it had a spare impressiveness of its own. Six white horses drew the wagon on which lay the flag-draped casket that held Earl Warren's remains. Behind it, a nice touch, a soldier led a riderless black horse with empty boots reversed in the stirrups.
President Warren's widow, his children, and their spouses and children walked behind the horse. Then came the new U.S. president and his family, and then the a.s.sembled foreign dignitaries, with Molotov in the first rank. Behind them marched military bands and units from the American armed forces, some on foot, some mounted.
At a slow march, the procession went east on Capitol Street-Emba.s.sy Row-for more than a mile, then turned south toward a barge church. Molotov cared little for any of that, except when his feet began to hurt. He took sardonic pleasure in the certainty that Walter Dornberger, who wore n.a.z.i jackboots, was suffering worse than he.
What really interested him were the people who crowded the sidewalks to watch the coffin as it rolled by. Some were silent and respectful. Others called out, as they would not have done in the USSR. Gromyko murmured in Molotov's ear: ”Some of them say he should have hit the Lizards harder. Others curse him for striking them at all.”
”Someone will take the names of those people.” Molotov spoke with great certainty. The United States might boast of the freedom of speech it granted its citizens. When they criticized the government, though, he was convinced they would be fair game.
He endured a religious service in a language he did not understand. Gromyko didn't bother translating. Molotov knew what the preacher would be saying: Warren had been important and was dead. One day, Party functionaries would say the same of Molotov. Not soon, he hoped.
.11.
Felless was about to taste ginger when the telephone hissed. She hissed, too, in frustration and annoyance. After sc.r.a.ping the herb off her palm and back into the vial, she touched the accept accept control and said, ”I greet you.” control and said, ”I greet you.”
Amba.s.sador Veffani's image appeared in the screen. ”And I greet you, Senior Researcher,” he replied. ”I hope you are well?”
”Yes, superior sir; I thank you.” Felless was glad she hadn't tasted before answering. Who could guess in what kind of trouble she might have found herself? Actually, the kind was easy enough to guess; the degree was a different question altogether. ”And you?”
”I am well,” Veffani said. ”I am calling to inform you that you are being placed on detached duty and transferred from Ma.r.s.eille to Cairo.”
”I... am being transferred to Cairo?” Felless had trouble believing her hearing diaphragms. ”After the unfortunate incident with the males from the staff of the fleetlord of the conquest fleet?”
”After they all mated with you, yes, as did I.” Veffani was at pains to spell out the details Felless would sooner have avoided. ”I trust you will not go there full of ginger. It would be unfortunate if you did.” He used an emphatic cough.
”That will not be a difficulty, superior sir,” Felless said, though it would have been had Veffani called a little later. ”I would like to know the reason why I am being summoned to Cairo, especially in light of the impression the unfortunate incident must have created.” She wouldn't call it anything else.
”The reason is simple,” Veffani answered. ”Fleetlord Atvar is forming a commission to examine the reason the American Big Uglies sacrificed one of their cities to us.”
”I should think it would be obvious,” Felless said: ”to keep us from devastating their land with warfare, as we devastated the Reich.” Reich.”
Veffani made an impatient noise. ”Why did they choose to sacrifice a city rather than weaken such s.p.a.ce installations as they possess? Superficially, that was the easier choice, and the Tosevites are nothing if not superficial. It was the choice we expected them to make. We offered the other primarily at Fleetlord Reffet's urging. Now that they have accepted it, they remain a major power-and a major danger to us.”
”I see.” Felless made the affirmative gesture to show she did. ”Yes, that is a worthwhile subject for consideration. Who will my colleagues be?”
”I know of Senior Researcher Ttomalss and Security Chief Diffal, both from the conquest fleet,” Veffani answered. ”Your inclusion with them and with whoever else will be present is a distinct compliment, as you are so recently come to Tosev 3.”
”Very well,” Felless said; for once, she could not argue with the amba.s.sador. ”When is the next flight from Ma.r.s.eille to Cairo?”
”Check your computer,” he told her. ”Bill the administrative system, when you give your own identification number as well, it will accept the charges.”
”It shall be done, ”she said. ”I thank you for not holding the past against me.”
”I had nothing to do with it, ”Veffani replied. ”Atvar asked for you by name, and I was in no position to refuse the fleetlord. Neither are you.” His image vanished.
Felless discovered a flight was leaving that afternoon. She checked; it had seats available. As Veffani had said, she could charge her reservation to the administrative system. She was on the aircraft. No one shot at it when it landed. On any other world of the Empire, that would have been a given. On Tosev 3, Felless was willing to accept it as something of a triumph.
No one shot at her armored vehicle as it traveled to Shepheard's Hotel, either. ”The Big Uglies seem to be more accepting of our rule,” she remarked to the female sitting beside her as the second armored gate closed behind the vehicle.
”So they do,” the female replied, ”at least until something else gets them bouncing like drops of oil in a hot pan.” Felless didn't answer. By everything she could see, cynicism that had been unique to the males of the conquest fleet was now infecting the colonists, too. Maybe that would make it easier for the males of the conquest fleet to fit in. Maybe it just meant the colonists would have a harder time in their efforts to form a stable society on this world.
Ttomalss was waiting for Felless when she came into the lobby of the Race's administrative center. ”I greet you, superior female,” he said. ”You could get a room number and a map from the computer terminal there, but this place is like a maze. Your room is across the corridor from mine. If you like, I will escort you there.”