Juliet nodded grimly as she handed him a towel. He looked at her. "Uh, oh. Bad news, huh? Is she okay?"
"Physically, yes. She may even be able to have other children, though she'll always need a C-section. Robin had twins," She took a deep breath, feeling the memory wash over her, and told him about the birth. ". . . and since then, the little girl's molted every few days. She eats like a piranha, every other day, anything we give her, and then she'll go off to sleep, and we'll find a shed skin in the crib. She gets bigger and more mature-looking with every molt. She's taller and older looking than little Katie now."
He shook his head, water spattering off him. "Poor Robin! That's weird." He toweled his hair. "But you said there were twins—"
"Yeah." She took a deep breath; "There was something else in the uterus. It looked very reptilian, but with human-appearing blue-green eyes. It only lived a few hours."
Mike stepped out of the shower, the towel around his waist, and sat down on the hamper facing her. "Julie, how could there be twins like that?"
"I don't know. It goes against every principle of biology I've ever learned. I wonder if even Diana could explain it—frankly, I doubt it. Father Andrew says it's God's way of demonstrating to our two species that all life is one, and that's a better explanation than any Cal and I have been able to come up with."
"The reptilian one died?"
"Yeah. But we saved the body, testing it—don't mention that to Robin, she's close enough to the brink. The day before yesterday, Robert discovered a bacterium in its intestines. Though it's harmless in itself, it excretes a waste product that we think killed the creature. When we tested Elizabeth—that's what Robin named the human-appearing little girl—we found it in her intestinal tract too. But it hasn't harmed her."
Donovan looked at her intently. "But if it killed the other twin, which was more like the Visitors, then maybe—"
Julie nodded. "Yeah. Maybe. We're testing it now on our terrestrial reptiles, to make sure it won't harm them. In a week we'll know whether it might be useful."
"Why do you care whether it hurts—" He broke off. "Sorry. Stupid question. We can't screw up our own ecology worse than it already is just to get the Visitors."
"Well, we cultured the bacterium and exposed the reptiles to it this morning, and so far none seem to be affected. The next step, of course, will be testing it to see if it'll produce the same effect in the Visitors as it did in the dead twin. If it does—" She looked up at Mike, watching the implications sink in.
"If it does, and we can make sure it's harmless to humans, then we've got our weapon! The one we've been searching for all along!"
She nodded, trying to keep her face composed, but she couldn't stop a smile from breaking through. "Maybe."
He stood up, pulling her to her feet. "Hey . . . I just remembered something. I'm not filthy anymore."
Julie put her arms around him and they leaned together in the tiny steamy room. "I'm so glad you're back, Mike. It sounds corny to say it out loud, but every time I wasn't doing something that required my full attention, in the back of my mind I was praying you'd come back safely."
"Maybe that was part of what kept me from giving up that last day. I was so hungry and thirsty I wanted to, but something wouldn't let me." He stroked her hair gently, then kissed her cheek. "I'm getting you all scratched."
"I don't know . . . I kinda like the beard," she said.
He was silent for a long time, holding her, and when he spoke, there was a slight catch in his voice. "I've never been one for organized religion either, but the whole time I was gone something in me was praying I'd see you again."
He hesitated, and his arms tightened around her. "You know, maybe there will be a life for all of us after this thing. I never dared think there'd be any end to it, but now maybe there will be a time that I can go back to working at something other than fighting, have some kind of normal existence, with my son—and I'd like to think you'd be part of it, too, Julie."
She laid her head on his chest, not looking at him. "I don't know, Mike. I can't think about that—not until this is over."
Silence above her head, for many heartbeats. Finally Julie looked back up at him. His eyes told her he was trying to understand, but that she'd hurt him. Juliet made a frustrated little motion with her hands against his chest, groping for words. "It's not what you think. You know how I feel—or you should. It's just that having the responsibility for this whole group has left me with nothing that's capable of assuming any responsibility for anything or anyone else—even my own feelings. Am I making sense? Can you understand that?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I think I can. I had nothing permanent to give while I was trying to fill your shoes, and that was just for three weeks. Don't let it bother you. It'll wait. I'll wait. It's just that I had a lot of time to think and get things sorted out on that Mother Ship." He shrugged. "I got some priorities straight. You're a big one with me, you and Sean."
He stood up, then glanced over at the doorway. "Guess you'd better dig me up some clothes. And then, I'm gonna scrounge something to eat."
"All right. I'll even cook for you. What would you like?"
"Anything but rats."
She looked at him for a long moment, then gulped. "I have a feeling that remark wasn't nearly as facetious as it sounded."
"You're right."
When they reached the kitchen, they found Ham Tyler waiting for them. He gave Donovan his old, thin-lipped grin. "Talk about bad pennies!"
Mike looked around the room ostentatiously as he sat down. "You got a fly swatter, Julie? Seems I just heard some insect buzzing around."
Tyler snorted. "How'd you get away from the lizards, Gooder? Moralize 'em to death? Can we all go home now?"
Donovan looked at him as though he'd just seen him. "Ham Tyler, as I live and breathe. Hasn't anybody shot you yet?"
Tyler shrugged, "No significant enemy encounters since you left, Gooder."
"I meant somebody here."
Juliet had begun scrambling eggs. "Right back to normal. Don't you two ever get tired of this adolescent macho-put-down stuff?"
Tyler ignored the rhetorical question. "You get him briefed on the current situation, Julie?"
"Yeah." Juliet turned from the stove at the sound of soft, small footsteps. "Oh, hello, Elizabeth."
Donovan stared at the little tow-headed girl who stood in the doorway, unspeaking, clutching a battered old doll. She appeared to be about five years old. "This is Robin's daughter?"
"Yes, that's Elizabeth. I told you her growth patterns were . . . unusual." She put a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the table before Donovan. "Willie says that the Visitor young molt for the first time when they're about six years old, and the change at that time is minimal. He says this kind of growth is unprecedented among their kind also."
Juliet ruffled the little girl's fair hair. "Hi, honey. Want a piece of raisin toast?" She held out a slice to the child, who took it and vanished, munching.
Mike looked up from his eggs with an appreciative grin. "This tastes wonderful, Julie. Thanks. Can Elizabeth talk?"
"Nobody's ever heard her say anything. She spends most of her time looking at books. Even technical manuals. She just sits there staring, turning the pages hour after hour. She got hold of one of those spelling toys Polly had, and I caught her one day spelling out the words, perfectly, time after time. But she didn't say a word."
"She must be pretty smart to figure that out by herself."
"Yeah. Harmy and Willie have spent a lot of time with her, and I've helped when I had any to spare. Father Andrew tells her Bible stories, and reads to her. She appears to understand, but she doesn't speak . . . poor little thing. It's hard enough in this world to be a mixture of two races—imagine what it would be like to be a mixture of two species."
As if hearing his name mentioned, Willie came into the kitchen. "Donovan, I was glad to hear you have retired."
"Returned, Willie," Julie corrected, smiling. "I
t is nice to have him back, isn't it?"
"Hi, Willie," Mike said.
"I have finished feeding the animals in the lab, Julie," William said.
"Thank you, Willie."
"Were they all okay?" Ham Tyler asked, glancing over at the Visitor with sharp interest.
"Yes they were fine," William replied.
Ham gave Juliet a significant glance. "Looks like the stuff has passed the test on our own lizards."
"We'll need at least five days to be sure," she said.
"Then we can really see if this stuff is worth anything," Ham said, eyeing Willie speculatively. "I heard you brought another of 'em in with you, Gooder. That was good thinking."
Mike looked at him balefully over the rim of his orange juice. Setting down the glass, he leaned across the table. "No, you don't, Tyler."
"Even you wouldn't do that!" Julie exclaimed, casting a worried glance at Willie.
Ham grinned wickedly. "What are you all getting so bent out of shape about? Some of my best friends are reptiles!"
Chapter 30
Ham Tyler stood in the kitchen of the Bernstein house, putting a chicken casserole into the microwave oven. Caleb Taylor stood behind him, at the breakfast bar, twisting a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. From the dining room they heard Daniel Bernstein's voice. "Hey! Pop! More champagne in here."
Caleb smoothed down his formal butler's tails, with a wry grin at Tyler. "Yassuh, massa. I'se comin'," he mumbled in an undertone, picking up the bottle and carefully drying it on a towel. Flipping the towel over his arm, he went through the swinging door into the dining room.
Daniel, Maggie, Brian, and a short, strawberry-blonde girl Maggie had introduced only as Carol Ann sat at the table with Lynn and Stanley. Places were set with the best formal crystal, china, and silver. A bouquet of tea roses made a splash of color in the center of the damask tablecloth. Daniel turned around as Caleb entered. "Hurry up, Pop! We've got a lot of celebrating to do today!"
"Very good, Mr. Bernstein," Caleb said tonelessly, uncorking the bottle and expertly catching the overflow with the towel. He began to pour.
"Where's the Dom Perignon '79?" Daniel protested, eyeing the bottle of Moet & Chandon disdainfully. "We can't drink that swill."
"I am sorry, Mr. Bernstein. There were only two bottles of the Dom Perignon."
"Well . . . okay. Where's the food?" Daniel said.
"It will be ready in a moment, sir"
Stanley leaned forward with his champagne glass raised. "Before we eat, I'd like to propose a toast to our son, Daniel, who has just been named Junior Security Chief for the entire Visitor Fleet. Good work, son. Keep safe, and keep us safe."
Congratulations filled the air as all of them drank Daniel's health. Daniel smiled broadly. "I owe it all to Brian."
"Nonsense, Daniel," Brian said earnestly. "You did it. All I did was supply the opportunity. You're the one who made that spectacular capture of the resistance leader, you're the one who eliminated that saboteur. The credit is yours."
Daniel had tears in his eyes as he patted Brian on the shoulder, then pulled Maggie close to him. "I've got the best friends on the whole damned planet!"
Carol Ann, the freckled little strawberry blonde, smiled vapidly. "Well, I think it's all so exciting! Just like having dinner with the FBI or something!"
Daniel rolled his eyes at Maggie. Under his breath, he asked, "For God's sake, where'd you dig her up?"
Maggie shrugged. "I didn't know what type he'd like," she whispered back, "and lots of girls are squeamish about the Visitors."
"The FBI," Brian. said thoughtfully. "That was—" he corrected himself hastily, "is one of the law-enforcement agencies that help your United States government run the country? The Federal Bureau of Investigation?"
Carol Ann smiled at him. "Is that what it stands for? Hmmm, I didn't know that."
There was a short silence. Finally Maggie said brightly, "Carol Ann is a hairdresser, did you know?"
"Really?" asked Brian. "What does a hairdresser do?"
"Fixes hair." Carol Ann said. "You know, cutting, styling, perms. Stuff like that. You've got pretty hair, Brian." She stood up and ran her fingers through his bronze-colored waves. "Gee, that feels strange. That's not a toupee is it? Did you get a hair weave, baby?" She peered at the roots of his hair as Brian looked vastly uncomfortable.
"Nope," she said consideringly, sitting down. "Just weird hair."
Brian changed the subject, waving at the kitchen door where Caleb stood, watching them impassively. "These people. These black people. We learned they used to be your slaves, isn't that correct?"
"Yeah." Daniel grinned, deliberately provocative, with a sideways glance at his father, "Y'know, it's too bad we got rid of some of the old ways."
Caleb, who had taken a quick glance into the kitchen, turned back, nodding, in time to catch the remark. Daniel noted his parents' mortification at his comment with satisfaction.
Brian nodded. "It's much simpler to have a class that knows its place is to serve. That leaves the upper class with time to pursue more important matters."
Stanley Bernstein set his champagne glass down, his mouth thinning to a hard line. "We have a word for that kind of thinking in this country."
"Father!" Daniel glared at Stanley. Quickly he beckoned to Caleb. "Hey, Pop, I'm empty over here. Snap it up."
With another glance into the kitchen, the black man moved toward the table.
Brian spoke to Stanley Bernstein. "What is your word for my kind of thinking?"
With a broad grin, Caleb poured the remaining champagne over Brian's head, saying, "It's called racist, Brian." As the Visitor leaped to his feet, Caleb flipped the champagne bottle over and brought it crashing down on the Youth Leader's head. Brian crumpled onto the carpet.
Daniel stood, his hand going to his sidearm, yelling incoherently. Whirling, Carol Ann stabbed his hand with a fork, making him drop the weapon. With a grin, Maggie retrieved the Visitor gun and pointed it at him unwaveringly.
Ham Tyler, Elias, and Juliet Parrish emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large rug. Nursing his bleeding hand against his chest in mute amazement, Daniel looked out the dining room window, seeing that a rug cleaner's van stood across the street. He watched, stunned, as the three resistance fighters began matter-of-factly rolling Brian up in the rug.
Elias grinned up at his father. "Rollin' down to Georgia . . ."
"When we get back to HQ, let's sing him some spirituals. He wanted to know all 'bout slavery, didn't he?"
"You know what they say, Pop. Experience is the best teacher,"
Daniel looked pleadingly at Maggie, who blew him a kiss, then raised her weapon in a very businesslike fashion, casually clicking off the safety. "Don't move, Danny honey. Or I'll blow one of your extremities off—and I've got the perfect one in mind."
Seething, but not willing to challenge the hatred in her eyes, Daniel turned to his parents. "Mom? Dad? You're not gonna let this happen in our house, are you?"
His mother stared at him, making no effort to hide her contempt. "So it's 'Mom' and 'Dad' now, is it? No. You're a stranger. A killer stranger who moved into our house, and started off by killing the son we loved. We don't know you."
"I've saved you! Fed you!"
"Disgraced our name," Stanley said inexorably. "Betrayed our faith. Caused your grandfather's death, and cold-bloodedly murdered one of our friends. We have no son."
Stanley put his arm around Lynn's shoulders, and together they walked out the front door. Caleb, Elias, and Juliet finished taping the rug and carried the bundle out through the kitchen. Daniel looked up at Ham Tyler. "Did you hear that? They set me up! My own parents!"
"You deserved to be drowned at birth, you shifty little Judas," Ham said, his eyes like pale blue marbles.
"If you expect me to beg for my life, you're crazy!" Spittle flicked his lips as Daniel laughed hysterically. "I'm glad my parents are gone! I've done better on my own than I ever did with everyb
ody on my case all the time. I've done what no other human has managed to accomplish! I'm one of their officers! They take orders from me! I'm proud of that! Proud!"
"Aw, shut up," Ham said, and flattened him with one blow. Blood trickling from his nose and mouth, Daniel lay sprawled, half under the table. With a flourish, Ham plucked the roses out of their vase, handing them to Maggie. "You done good, lady. You're a winner."
She took the roses, frowning down at Daniel. "I guess we nailed him, Ham—but somehow it's not enough. I want him dead for what he did. To Ruby. To me."
Ham's gray eyebrows went up. "Did I say we were finished wlth him?"
"What do you mean?"
He grinned at her, then explained, in detail, what he intended. Maggie began to grin too. Walking over to the telephone in the living room, Ham dialed quickly, then spoke to Maggie. "Come on over here. They might recognize my voice. I've called in a lotta bomb threats to 'em."
Maggie took the telephone, listened to the ringing on the other end. A voice said, "Visitor Headquarters."
"I would like to speak to Steven, the Security Officer. Tell him it's a matter of extreme urgency concerning internal Visitor security." She looked up, seeing that Ham was timing the call and would warn her if a trace became likely.
"Yes?" said a male Visitor voice, after a minute. "This is Steven. Who is this?"
"Never mind my name," Maggie said swiftly, "but I'm a human who believes in law and order, and I appreciate the help the Visitors are giving my planet to maintain that law and order. I just saw one of your officers get captured, a Youth Leader named Brian, and I know who set him up. It was Daniel Bernstein. I overheard him say that without Brian around he'd be the eventual head of Visitor Security. He said that to a gray-haired man whose name I don't know, but he called him The Fixer. I hope this will be of help to you."
Maggie hung up, then grinned at Ham, hugging her roses. "Now that's more like it."
"You bet, lady."
"How'd it go?" Mike Donovan asked, when Julie stuck her head into the sifting room. Juliet gave him a "V" signal. Donovan left Sean, who had been watching television on the couch beside him, to the pertorations of He-Man and Skeletor, and followed the others into the big lab.
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