The getaway special (44 page)

But he finally shook his head and said, "Nope."

"You wouldn't do it."

"That's right. Sorry, but I'm not the type."

"And how many of your fellow humans do you think would feel the same way?"

"Hell, I don't know," he replied. "Probably a lot of 'em. Most of us just want to live our lives in peace, you know?"

"No," Tippet said. "We did not know. But it's encouraging to hear that." Whether he was being sarcastic or not was anyone's guess, but he didn't provide any more clues. The high-frequency speaker near the tree squealed to life with sound too high-pitched to register as more than a twitter of distant birds, and a moment later the tree's leaves rustled in response. Judy wished she could give the same answer to Tippet's question as Trent had. She hadn't gone into space to spread politics to the stars; she wanted to explore. But if Tippet went for her proposal, then she would bet money that she would have to have to play diplomat for years to come. Better than playing Overlord, she supposed, though probably not as satisfying. Tippet talked with the tree for nearly ten minutes, during which time he ignored the humans completely. While he was absorbed in conversation, Trent leaned forward in the dark and whispered,

"Should we make a break for it?"

They could bug out in the pickup. It would leave a hole in the starship, and they couldn't land when they got to Earth, but they might at least be able to warn people that their fate was being deliberated by aliens out in the asteroid belt. On the other hand, what could Earth do about it even if they knew? Come out here and bomb the ship again? Hell, if they just wanted to do that, she or Allen could simply leave in the
Getaway
. With its jump field set wide enough to collect the pickup in passing, it would probably yank the guts right out of the starship and kill everyone on board.

Even so, she couldn't believe that would be enough to stop the threat. Tippet hadn't said anything about sending a hyperdrive-equipped scout back to his home planet, but he would be a fool not to. He and the other hive minds were probably in constant communication with relay satellites by now. And if they were still trying to decide what to do, the loss of the ship would probably sway them toward war. She shook her head. "We've got to see what he decides first." Trent obviously didn't like it, but he stayed put. She didn't like it either. Now she knew how Tippet felt: Waiting to see what happened might doom her whole race, but acting too soon could be even worse. She would never have believed how frustrating it could be to sit tight and wait while the clock ran out, but that was the best option. She could only hope that Tippet would think so, too. And if he didn't? She steeled herself to leap for the
Getaway
. If it was going to be war, she could at least take out the flagship. She wouldn't be able to get into a spacesuit, but Trent and Donna and Allen could at least get to safety in the pickup before she jumped, and they could warn Earth what was coming. She slipped her good arm around Allen and gave him a squeeze. He squeezed back, and she nearly cried out from the pain of her broken ribs, but she wanted to feel his embrace no matter what the cost. It might be the last time.

At last Tippet spoke over the walkie-talkie again. "The tree says, 'The larger the forest, the bigger the fire.' "

That didn't sound good. Judy glanced toward the shadowy bulk of the
Getaway
, gauging the distance and flexing her legs, getting ready to make her move.

"It also says, 'A healthy forest is more than just trees.' " Tippet added.

"So which is it?" she asked nervously. It was hard to force the air out through the tight muscles in her throat. "Do . . . do we have a galactic federation, or not?" Tippet flew up to hover between her and the
Getaway
. "Considering that the critical moment in the human exodus from Earth has passed," he said, "we have no choice but to try it."

"What critical moment?" Trent asked.

"We estimate that enough members of your species have left your planet that your race will survive no matter what happens to Earth. At this point we would have to forge a galactic alliance to bring you back under our control anyway; therefore the most expedient measure would be to allow you to join the Federation to begin with."

Judy slowly relaxed the tension in her legs. It seemed she might live to see another day.
51

She floated before the window, looking out at Earth less than two hundred miles below while the camera crew packed up their things. It was hard to tell for sure through the clouds, but she thought that was Florida sliding up into view over the horizon. Or maybe it was Italy. It didn't matter; she was home again.

A roly-poly named Bzzweet floated to her right, admiring the view through the compound eyes in each of his four bulbous yellow-and-green body sections. In the week he'd been on board, he had spent nearly every moment staring out the windows, even while cramming his English lessons so he could participate in the summit meeting.

He seemed almost as shell-shocked as Judy over the speed of events. A week ago he had been an itinerant musician, the closest thing his society had to a global ambassador; now he was their representative as a charter member of the Federation.

Allen floated at an angle to Judy's left, and Trent and Donna drifted behind her, gripping the branches of the tree, which had shuffled forward to be in the camera's field of view during the negotiations. Nobody had bothered to tell the Secretary-General that the tree couldn't see a thing during the video conference; Tippet had kept a running translation going and had described anything nonverbal it needed to know about. That was still better than the situation might have been. One-third of the alien delegation would have been asleep if the butterflies hadn't made dark sheaths for its leaves so it could stay alert during the daytime.

Judy suspected that would be a minor adjustment compared to some of the things they would have to do to accommodate the alien races who would soon join their emerging union. People were finding new species everywhere. Dozens of reports had come in already, and the pace was accelerating as more and more people finished their homemade spaceships and headed out into the unknown. Televised news reports were full of video clips from alien planets, and whole programs were dedicated to showing the myriad different vessels that people had devised to hold air long enough to get from planet to planet. Judy imagined them dropping down through foreign skies like a rain of frogs and snakes. Heck, in a week it probably
would
be raining frogs and snakes, or something like them. Plenty of the newly discovered aliens were ready to take the plunge on their own; all they needed was the hyperdrive and they could join in the fun.

She shivered a little, and slipped her arm around Allen. "So how does it feel to know you've started the first interstellar civilization?" she asked him.

He looked over at Tippet, then at Bzzweet, then at the tree. "Not bad," he said. "Considering that wasn't even what I was trying for when I invented the hyperdrive. I was just trying to bust humanity out of the cradle."

"Well, you managed that." She snuggled into him and watched the Earth roll by. It was a familiar view, made exotic by the company, but to most people it had only been a dream until now. How long before it became commonplace to everyone?

She couldn't imagine anyone ever taking this sight for granted, but then her grandparents probably had never imagined anyone closing the window on an airplane, either. One generation's wonder was the next generation's yawn.

"You know," she said, "it never occurred to me until just now, but when you fulfill a dream, that's one less thing to strive for."

Allen pulled away from her. "What, you're saying around every silver lining, there's a dark cloud?"

"No, no, I don't mean it like that. It's just . . . I don't know. I've always thought of space as the final frontier, but now it's within reach for practically anybody. What's left to strive for?" He chuckled. "Oh, ye of little imagination. There's alternate dimensions, different timelines; heck, there's probably whole different universes just waiting for us to discover 'em."

"Yeah, but that's all theoretical. Not like the stars. We can
see
the stars."

"Who says we can't see alternate dimensions? I've been working on a gadget that can do just—hey!"

Quick as a whip, the tree had bent a branch down and wrapped it around his chest, just as the roly-poly leaped on him and stuffed one of its pillowy body sections into his face.

"Mmmph!" he yelled, struggling to pull them off.

Judy laughed, then winced when her ribs twinged. They had started to heal, but they still had a long way to go.

Allen managed to get his mouth free long enough to gasp for breath and shout, "Call 'em off!" Tippet said, "Not until you promise you'll submit the plans for your interdimensional device to the Federation."

"No!" He struggled some more, and Judy could see Trent thinking about coming to his aid, but she shook her head and poked Allen in the ribs herself. "Promise," she said.

"What, you too?" he demanded when Bzzweet gave him room to speak.

"Damn right, me too," she said. "I learn from experience."

"And I don't?"

"Not if you want to drop another magic gadget on everybody."

"It's not magic; it's science. And it's a logical extension of the hyper—mmmph!" Judy watched him turn red, then purple, as the roly-poly cut off his air. She was just starting to get worried when it pulled away and Tippet said, "Promise."

"All right, all right, I promise! Jeez, you don't have to strangle me."

"That would no doubt be the safest course of action," Tippet said. "But we'll settle for your word of honor."

Bzzweet backed off. The tree withdrew its rubbery branch, and Judy reached out to smooth Allen's wrinkled shirt. He was breathing hard and frowning, but she couldn't keep from grinning. The Galactic Federation had just averted its first crisis.