“All right, you’re excused. But don’t let it happen again. Gretchen?”
“Grandma Hazel, is he teasing? He talks just like Lazarus.”
“He’s teasing, love. Tell him what you’ve been doing and why you are older.”
“Well…the morning we got here I asked Grandma Hazel for advice—”
“No need to call me ‘Grandma,’ dear.”
“But that’s what Cas and Pol call you and I’m two generations junior to them. They require me to call them ‘Uncle.’”
“I’ll make them say ‘Uncle’! Pay no attention to Castor and Pollux, Gretchen; they’re a bad influence.”
“All right. But I think they’re kind o’ nice. But teases. Mr. Richard—”
“And no need to call me ‘Mister.’”
“Yes, sir. Hazel was busy—you were so terribly ill!—so she turned me over to Maureen, who assigned me to Deety, who got me started on Galacta and gave me some history to read and taught me basic six-axes space-time theory and the literary paradox. Conceptual metaphysics—”
“Slow down! You lost me.”
Hazel said, “Later, Richard.”
Gretchen said, “Well…the essential idea is that Tertius and Luna—our Luna, I mean—are not on the same time line; they are at ninety degrees. So I decided I wanted to stay here—easy enough if you are healthy; most of this planet is still wilderness; immigrants are welcome—but there was the matter of Mama and Papa; they would think I was dead.
“So Cas and Pol took me back to Luna—our Luna; not the Luna on this time line—and Deety went with me. Back to Dry Bones, that is, early on the afternoon of July fifth, less than an hour after I left in Cyrus Thorn’s jumpbug. Startled everybody. It was a good thing I had Deety with me to explain things, although our p-suits convinced Papa as much as anything. Have you seen the sort of pressure suits they have here?”
“Gretchen, I have seen one hospital room and one drop tube and this swimming pool. I don’t even know my way to the post office.”
“Mmm, yes. Anyhow, pressure suits here are two thousand years more advanced than those we use in Luna. Which isn’t surprising…but surely surprised Papa. Eventually Deety made a deal for me. I could stay on Tertius…but visit back home every year or two if I could find someone to bring me. And Deety promised to help with that. Mama made Papa agree to it. After all, almost anyone in Luna would emigrate to a planet like Tertius if he could…except those who just have to have low gravity. Speaking of that, sir, how do you like your new foot?”
“I’m just now getting used to it. But two feet are eight hundred and ninety-seven times better than one foot.”
“I guess that means you like it. So I came back and enlisted in the Time Corps—”
“Slow down! I keep hearing ‘Time Corps.’ Rabbi Ezra says that he has joined it. This baggage with the streaky red hair claims to be a major in it. And now you say you enlisted in it. At thirteen? Or at your present age? I’m confused.”
“Grandma? I mean, ‘Hazel?’”
“She was allowed to enroll as a cadet in W.E.N.C.H.E.S. auxiliary because I said she was old enough. That got her sent to school on Paradox. When she graduated, she transferred to the Second Harpies and went through basic training followed by advanced combat school—”
“And when we dropped at Solis Lacus on time line four to change the outcome there—then, and that’s where I picked up this scar on my ribs—see?—and was made corporal in the field. And now I’m nineteen but officially twenty to let me be promoted to sergeant—after we fought at New Brunswick. Not this time line,” she added.
“Gretchen is a natural for a military career,” Hazel said quietly. “I knew she would be.”
“And I’ve been ordered to officer’s school but that’s been placed on hold until I have this baby and—”
“What baby?” I looked at her belly. Baby fat all gone—not plumped the way it was four days ago by my reckoning…six years ago by the wild tale I was hearing. Not pregnant so far as I could see. Then I looked at her eyes and under her eyes. Well, maybe. Probably.
“Doesn’t it show? Hazel spotted it at once. So did Xia.”
“Not to me, it doesn’t.” (Richard old son, time to bite the bullet; you’re going to have to change your plans. She’s knocked up and, while you didn’t do it, your presence changed her life. Skewed her Karma. So get with it. No matter how stiff-lipped and brave a youngster appears to be, when she’s going to have a baby she needs a husband in sight, or she can’t be relaxed about it. Can’t be happy. A young mother must be happy. Hell, man, you’ve written this plot for the confession books dozens of times; you know what you have to do. So do it.)
I went on, “Now look here, Gretchen, you can’t get away from me that easily. Last Wednesday night in Lucky Dragon—well, it was last Wednesday night to me, but you’ve been gallivanting around strange time lines—and kicking up your heels, apparently. Last Wednesday night, by my calendar, in Dr. Chan’s Quiet Dreams in Lucky Dragon Pressure, you promised to marry me…and if Hazel had stayed asleep, we would have started that baby right then. As we both know. But Hazel woke up and made me get back on her other side.” I looked at Hazel. “Spoilsport.”
I went on, “But don’t think for one second that you can get out of marrying me merely by getting yourself knocked up while I’m sick-abed. You can’t. Tell her. Hazel. She can’t get out of it. Can she?”
“No, she can’t. Gretchen, you are going to marry Richard.”
“But, Grandma, I didn’t promise to marry him. I didn’t!”
“Richard says you did. One thing I’m sure of: When I woke up, you two were about to start a baby. Perhaps I should have played possum.” Hazel went on, “But why the fuss, darling girl? I’ve already told Richard how you proposed to me for him…and how I agreed, and now he has confirmed it. Why do you refuse Richard now?”
“Uh—” Gretchen took a grip on herself. “That was back when I was thirteen years old. At that time I did not know that you were my great great grandmother—I called you ‘Gwen,’ remember? And I still thought like a Loonie then, too—a most conservative mob. But here on Tertius if a woman has a baby but no husband, nobody pays it any mind. Why, in the Second Harpies most of the birds have chicks but only a few of them are married. Three months ago we fought at Thermopylae to make sure the Greeks won this time and our reserve colonel led us because our regular colonel was about to hatch one. That’s the way we old pros do things—no itch. We have our own crèche on Barrelhouse, Richard, and we take care of our own; truly we do.”
Hazel said stiffly, “Gretchen, my great great great granddaughter will not be raised in a crèche. Damn it, daughter, I was raised in a crèche; I won’t let you do that to this child. If you won’t marry us, you must at least let us adopt your baby.”
“No!”
Hazel set her mouth. “Then I must discuss it with Ingrid.”
“No! Ingrid is not my boss…and neither are you. Grandma Hazel, when I left home I was a child and a virgin and timid and knew nothing of the world. But now I am no longer a child and I have not been virgin for years and I am a combat veteran who cannot be frightened by anything.” She looked squarely into my eyes. “I will not use a baby to trap Richard into marriage.”
“But, Gretchen, you are not trapping me; I like babies. I want to marry you.”
“You do? Why?” She sounded sad.
Things were too solemn; we needed some skid. “Why do I want to marry you, dear? To paddle your bottom and watch it turn pink.”
Gretchen’s mouth dropped open, then she grinned and dimpled. “That’s ridiculous!”
“It is, eh? Possibly having a baby doesn’t call for marriage in these parts, but spanking is another matter. If I spank some other man’s wife, he might get annoyed or she might or both. Chancy. Likely to get me talked about. Or worse. If I spank a single girl, she might use it to trap me when I don’t love her and don’t want to marry her but was simply spanking her pour le sport. Better to
marry you; you’re used to it, you like it. And you have a solid bottom that can take it. A good thing, too—because I spank hard. Brutal.”
“Oh, pooh! Where did you get this silly notion that I like it?” (Why are your areolae so crinkled, dear?) “Hazel, does he really spank hard?”
“I don’t know, dear. I would break his arm and he knows it.”
“See what I’m up against, Gretchen? No innocent little pleasures; I’m underprivileged. Unless you marry me.”
“But I—” Gretchen suddenly stood up, almost swamping the float table, turned away and swarmed out of the pool, started running south, out of the garden court.
I stood and watched her until I lost sight of her. I don’t think I could have caught her even if I had not been breaking in a new foot; she ran like a frightened ghost.
I sat back down and sighed. “Well, Maw, I tried—they were too big for me.”
“Another time, dear. She wants to. She’ll come around.”
Xia said, “Richard, you left out just one word. Love.”
“What is ‘love.’ Xia?”
“It’s what a woman wants to hear about when she gets married.”
“That still doesn’t tell me what it is.”
“Well, I do know a technical definition. Uh… Hazel, you know Jubal Harshaw. A member of the Senior’s family.”
“For years. Any way you mean the word.”
“He has a definition—”
“Yes, I know.”
“A definition of love that I think would let Richard use the word honestly in speaking to Gretchen. Dr. Harshaw says that ‘the word “love” designates a subjective condition in which me welfare and happiness of another person are essential to one’s own happiness.’ Richard, it seems to me that you exhibited that relationship toward Gretchen.”
“Me? Woman, you’re out of your mind. I just want to get her into a helpless situation so that I can paddle her bottom whenever I like and make it turn pink. Hard. Brutal.” I threw out my chest, tried to look macho—not too convincingly; I was going to have to do something about that paunch. Well, hell, I’d been sick.
“Yes, Richard. Hazel, I mink the tea party is over. Will you two come to my rooms? I haven’t seen either of you for too long. And I’ll call Choy-Mu; I don’t mink he knows that Richard is now free of me Lethe field.”
“Good deal,” I agreed. “And is Father Schultz around? Would one of you ladies fetch my cane, please? I mink I could walk around there and get it…but I’m not sure I should risk it yet.”
Hazel said firmly, “I’m sure that you should not, and you’ve walked enough. Teena—”
“Where’s the riot?”
“May I have a lazy seat? For Richard.”
“Why not three?”
“One is enough.”
“Chop chop. Richard, stay with it; she’s weakening. Our knocked-up warrior.”
Hazel’s chin dropped. “Oh. I forgot we weren’t under privacy. Teena!”
“Don’t fret about it; I’m your chum. You know that.”
“Thanks, Teena.”
We all stood up to leave the pool. Xia stopped me, put her arms around me, looked at me and said, quietly but loudly enough to include Hazel: “Richard, I’ve seen nobility before, but not often. I’m not pregnant; it’s not necessary to marry me, I don’t need or want a husband. But you’re invited to honeymoon with me any time Hazel can spare you. Or, better yet, both of you. I think you’re a shining knight. And Gretchen knows it.” She kissed me emphatically.
When my mouth was free I answered, “It’s not nobility, Xia; I just have an unusual method of seduction. See how easily you fell for it? Tell her. Hazel.”
“He’s noble.”
“See?” Xia said triumphantly.
“And he’s scared silly someone will find out.”
“Oh, nonsense! Let me tell about my fourth-grade teacher.”
“Later, Richard. After you’ve had time to polish it. Richard tells excellent bedtime stories.”
“When I’m not paddling, that is. Xia, does your bottom turn pink?”
It appears that I had had breakfast at some hour past noon. That evening was most pleasant but my memory of it is spotty. I can’t blame it on alcohol; I did not drink all that much. But I learned that the Lethe field has a mild side effect that alcohol can potentiate; Lethe may affect the memory erratically for a while after the patient is no longer under it. Ah, well—tanstaafl! A few gaps in memory are not the hazard that addiction to a hard drug is.
I do recall that we had a good time: Hazel, me, Choy-Mu, Xia, Ezra, Father Hendrik, and (after Teena found her for us and Hazel talked to her) Gretchen. All of us who had escaped from the Raffles—even the two pairs of redheads who rescued us were with us part of the evening, Cas and Pol, Laz and Lor. Nice kids. Older than I am, I learned later, but it doesn’t show. On Tertius, age is a slippery concept.
Xia’s quarters were too small for such a number but a crowded party is the best kind.
The redheads left us and I got tired and went in and lay down on Xia’s bed. There was some murderous card game going on for forfeits in the other room; Hazel seemed to be the big winner. Xia went “broke” by whatever rules they were playing and joined me. Gretchen bet unwisely on the next pot and took the other side of the bed. She used my left shoulder as a pillow, Xia having already claimed the right one. From me other room I heard Hazel say, “See you and raise you one galaxy.”
Father Hendrik chuckled. “Sucker! Big bang, my dear girl, far triple forfeits. Pay up.”
That is the last I remember.
Something was tickling my chin. Slowly I woke and slowly I managed to open my eyes, and found myself staring into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. They belonged to a kitten, bright orange in color but with perhaps some Siamese ancestry. He was standing on my chest just south of my Adam’s apple. He buzzed pleasantly, said “Blert?” and resumed licking my chin; his scratchy little scrap of tongue accounted for the tickle that had wakened me.
I answered, “Blert,” and attempted to lift a hand to pet him, found I could not because I still had a head on each shoulder, a warm body against each side of me.
I turned my head to the right to speak to Xia—I needed to get up and find her refresher—and teamed that it was not Xia but Minerva who was now using my starboard shoulder.
I made a hasty situation assessment and found that I lacked sufficient data. So, instead of using an honorific to Minerva that may or may not have been appropriate, I simply kissed her. Or let myself be kissed, after showing willingness. Being pinned down from both sides and with a small cat creature standing on my chest I was almost as helpless as Gulliver, hardly able to be active as initiator of a kiss.
However, Minerva does not need help. She can manage. Talent.
After she turned me loose, kissed for keeps, I heard a voice from my left: “Don’t I get a kiss, too?”
Gretchen is a soprano; this voice was tenor. I turned my head.
Galahad.
I was in bed with my doctor. Well…with both my doctors.
When I was a lad in Iowa, I was taught that, if I ever found myself in this or an analogous situation, the proper gambit was to run screaming for the hills to save my “honor” or its homologue for males. A girl could sacrifice her “honor” and most of them did. But, if she was reasonably discreet about it and eventually wound up married with nothing worse than a seven-months child, her “honor” soon grew back and she was officially credited with having been a virgin bride, entitled to look with scorn on sinful women.
But a boy’s “honor” was more delicate. If he lost it to another male (i.e., if they got caught at it), he might, if lucky, wind up in the State Department—or, if unlucky, he would move to California. But Iowa had no place for him.
This flashed through my mind in an instant—and was followed by a suppressed memory: a Boy Scout hike when I was a high school freshman, a pup tent shared with our assistant Scoutmaster. Just that once, in the dark of
night and in silence broken only by a hoot owl—A few weeks later that Scout leader went away to Harvard…so of course it never happened.
O tempora, o mores—that was long ago and far away. Three years later I enlisted and eventually bucked for officer and made it…and was always extremely circumspect, as an officer who can’t resist playing with his privates cannot maintain discipline. Not until the Walker Evans affair did I ever have any reason to worry about blackmail.
I tightened my left arm a little. “Certainly. But be careful; I seem to be inhabited.”
Galahad was careful; the kitten was not disturbed. It is possible that Galahad kisses as well as Minerva does. Not better. But just as well. Once I decided to enjoy the inevitable I did enjoy it. Tertius is not Iowa, Boondock is not Grinnell; there was no longer any reason to be manacled by the customs of a long-dead tribe.
“Thank you,” I said, “and good morning. Can you de-cat me? If he stays where he is, I am likely to drown him.”
Galahad surrounded the kitten with his left hand. “This is Pixel. Pixel, may I present Richard? Richard, we are honored to have been joined by Lord Pixel, cadet feline in residence.”
“How do you do. Pixel?”
“Blert.”
“Thank you. And what’s become of the refresher? I need it!”
Minerva helped me up from the bed and put my right arm around her shoulders, steadied me while Galahad fetched my cane, then both of them took me to the refresher. We were not in Xia’s rooms; the refresher had moved to the other side of the bedroom and was larger, as was the bedroom.
And I learned something else about Tertius: The equipment of a refresher was of a complexity and variety that made the sort of plumbing I was used to, in Golden Rule and Luna City and so forth, look as primitive as the occasional back country backhouse one can still find in remote parts of Iowa.
The Cat Who Walks Through Walls Page 30