The Getaway Special

50

Her companions merely stared at her. “It’s going to happen anyway,” she said. “We know of four intelligent races so far, and there’s undoubtedly more out there. All of them are going to have the same worry that Tippet does, even if we’ve been bombed back to the stone age. Hell, Tippet, if you do that to us, everybody else will be afraid of you—at least until somebody succeeds in wiping you out. And then somebody will wipe them out, and it’ll escalate until there’s only one race left. The only way to prevent that is to band together so the federation is stronger than any one race. They can keep the peace.”

Trent snorted. “Just like the U.N. does on Earth?”

“They’re not perfect,” Judy admitted, “but they’ve kept us from getting into another world war.”

Tippet flew up to hover near her right shoulder. “Humanity has already shown what it thinks of the Galactic Federation.”

“That’s because we were trying to provoke a war. If we give them a chance to work together instead of fight, they’ll do it.”

“Would they not think we were bluffing again?”

She shook her head. “They don’t know it was us the last time. If we just show up and ask to talk, they’ll listen.” Assuming they didn’t shoot first, but she didn’t mention that possibility. Tippet no doubt understood that danger.

That didn’t seem to be his major concern anyway. “You would voluntarily give up your autonomy to join a group mind?” He sounded incredulous, almost offended by the idea. Then she remembered that he was from a hive that wouldn’t link with the others on its homeworld for fear of losing its identity.

“It wouldn’t be a group mind,” she said. “Just an alliance of partners.”

“An alliance whose purpose is to threaten its members with retaliation if any of them causes trouble. Would humans join such a thing?”

“We already have,” she pointed out. “The United Nations isn’t the strongest political force in the world, but it’s strong enough to make even the United States think twice about getting too far out of hand. The U.N. will join the Galactic Federation in a heartbeat if they can get in at the outset, because they’ll figure they can wind up running it.”

“What if they do?” Tippet asked.

“So what if they do? It’ll still work. Once there are enough members to keep the others in line, it won’t matter who plays host.”

“Perhaps not. I’m not convinced.” Tippet whistled for a moment, and the garden window began to constrict.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Trent asked.

“I need to confer with another potential member of the Federation.” As the garden darkened, Tippet said, “In the meantime, while we wait for it to wake up, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” said Trent.

“What?”

“Ask your question.”

“Oh. I see. Very well; you said I’ll leave the runnin’ to people who like that sort of thing.’ What about this? Would you help run the Federation if we decide to implement it?”

Trent ran his fingers through his beard, then took off his hat and scratched his head under his matted-down hair. He looked over at Donna, then back at Tippet, now just a shadowy night moth in the twilight. Judy knew just how he felt. No pressure.

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.