The Getaway Special

49

Trent unhooked his foot and pulled himself toward the camper door, but Donna said, “We gave the last of it to the roly-polys, remember?”

He slapped himself on the forehead. “Oh, dang, that’s right.” To Allen and Judy and Tippet, he said, “They loved the stuff. Didn’t get ’em drunk, near as we could tell anyway, but they took to it like cats to milk. I figure the first guy who sets up a brewery there will probably wind up runnin’ the place.”

“Is that your intention, then?” Tippet asked.

“Huh? Oh, hell no.” He looked at the radio on Judy’s waist, then at Tippet, no doubt trying to figure out which to address. He settled on Tippet himself. “Beer’s for drinking, as far as I’m concerned, and brewin’ the stuff is too much like work.”

“Even if you would wind up ‘runnin’ the place,’ as you put it?”

Trent shook his head. “That sounds like an even bigger headache to me. No sir, I’ll leave the runnin’ to people who like that sort of thing. Me, I just want to see what’s out there.”

Tippet made a low whistling sound over the radio, but didn’t offer any translation.

Judy was only a few feet from the Getaway; she reached out and pulled herself inside headfirst. The place was a disaster area—literally, she supposed, given that it had suffered explosive decompression—but she sorted one-handed through the debris until she found the stuff sack she and Allen had carried food in on their walk to the creek. There were still two cans of Budweiser there, still intact and even relatively cold. She took one in either hand and wriggled outside with them.

“Here,” she said, reaching out toward Trent. “Whoa!” Trent said when he saw what it was. “You still got some of that?”

“That’s the last of it, but yeah.” She handed one to Trent, and held out the other one for Donna.

Donna put her hands up, palms-out. “No, I’ll share Trent’s. You guys have the other.”

Judy didn’t argue. A beer would taste great, and she had no idea when she’d get the chance again. “Careful when you open it,” she said to Trent. “In zero-gee, it comes boiling out like nobody’s business.” She showed him what she meant, popping the tab and immediately slurping up the jet of foam that sprayed out. When she couldn’t hold any more in her mouth, she handed the can to Allen and let him take the rest.

Trent tried the same trick, but he got beer all over his beard, and when he handed the can to Donna, she let go of the camper shell and wound up doing a slow spiral into the air, amber droplets of beer making a miniature galaxy around her. Everyone burst into laughter, especially when Donna started going after the loose beer drops and slurping them down one at a time.

“I’ve got to get a picture of this,” Trent said, opening the driver’s door of the truck and retrieving a disposable Digimatic from inside. Donna hammed it up for the shot, sticking her tongue out and stretching her neck forward.

Trent took the shot, then rubbed his nose-print off the screen in back and showed the image to Judy and Allen. “This is your camera, by the way,” he said. “It was still in the house when you left.”

Allen shrugged. “That’s all right. We wound up bringing souvenirs home with us.” He took the camera and flipped through the images while Judy and Tippet watched over his shoulder. There were shots of an Earthlike planet from space, more shots from the ground of trees and rocks and flowers, shots of Trent standing next to the pickup with the parachute dangling from a tree branch overhead, shots of Donna with the beach-ball-on-stick aliens (who apparently came in varying shades of yellow, green, and red), and one group shot of Trent, Donna, and a bunch of aliens together, standing on a dock in front of a sleek metal boat, all of them holding stringers of fish and grinning like fools. At least Judy assumed that’s what the aliens were doing with their mouths open in wide ovals.

When Tippet saw that one, he said, “Were you certain these fish weren’t intelligent creatures as well?”

“Yeah,” Trent said, “we thought about that, but the roly-polys were catchin’ ’em and eatin’ ’em, so we figured it was okay.”

“And you weren’t worried about allergic responses, or poisoning?”

He shrugged. “We were careful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, you know?”

“Yes,” Tippet said. “Yes, I do know that.”

There was an embarrassing moment of silence, then from overhead Donna said, “Hey, nice tree. Every spaceship should have a tree in it.”

Judy looked over at the tree they had brought with them, now dormant in the light. “Actually, we picked it up on the same planet we found Tippet,” she said. “It’s intelligent, too. It only wakes up at night, but when it does, it can walk around.”

“Yeah? That must have been spooky.”

Judy laughed. “It was.”

Donna reached out for a hand back to the ground, and Trent stretched out toward her, but it took him and Allen together to bridge the gap.

When she was on the ground again, Trent took a sip of beer and said, “So, bring us up to speed. What’s happening on Earth?”

They weren’t happy to hear about the escalating tension between nations, or about the almost-war after the attack on the “overlord’s” ship. “The dumb shits,” Trent muttered when he heard about that, but when Judy described how Tippet felt about letting humanity loose in the galaxy, his eyes narrowed to little slits. With his dark beard and black hat, he looked like he might avenge his race’s death ahead of time. “You do that, buddy, you better get us all,” he said, staring straight at the little butterfly, who once again hovered well out of reach.

They were still in the garden with the Getaway and the pickup and the tree. Donna had brought out cookies and corn chips from the camper, and everyone was floating at odd angles around the open door like football fans at a zero-gee tailgate party, but the conversation was anything but festive.

“We could track you down if necessary,” Tippet said. “But we would rather not.”

“Then don’t,” said Trent.

“It’s not that simple.”

He shook his head. “It’s exactly that simple. If you don’t want to get into a fight, then don’t start one.”

“We have already started one,” Tippet pointed out. “At Judy and Allen’s urging, and reluctantly even then, but our masquerade has become real.”

“Only to you. The people on Earth think they blasted you out of the sky. They won’t come lookin’ for you unless you cause more trouble. But if you do, I guarantee you they will.”

Tippet bobbed up and down over the chrome camper, his wings quivering. “This is only slightly less terrifying than the thought of what humanity could do to us if we don’t strike first. We don’t like either option.”

Allen, anchored to the side of the pickup by one hand, said, “You have a possibility on one hand and a certainty on the other. It seems like the choice is pretty clear to me.”

“It isn’t,” Tippet said. “Ours aren’t the only races involved.”

Judy looked over the top of the Getaway at the tree, wondering what it would say if it were in on the conversation.

Wounded by a human nuclear attack, other members of its species cut down by would-be colonists; if it had spaceships and the hyperdrive, she didn’t think it would be as generous as Tippet.

The beach balls that Trent and Donna had discovered might be a little more sympathetic, but once people started dropping out of their sky by the thousands, building houses in their parks and catching all their fish, they would probably wish Tippet had prevented it while he could.

There were undoubtedly more species out there who would feel the same way. Even if Tippet did let humanity out of the cradle, they might still band together to stop the plague from spreading throughout the galaxy.

Judy nearly laughed at the irony of it. They had threatened the Earth with a fictitious galactic federation, but it wouldn’t be fictitious much longer. The only question was whether Earth was going to be around to join it once the dust settled.

Not that it would matter to anyone but humanity in the long run. The hyperdrive was out there. Even Tippet’s people couldn’t keep the secret from spreading like wildfire throughout the universe. Any contact with a spacefaring race was likely to make an intelligent but not-quite-there-yet race develop the capability, especially now that the hyperdrive had lowered the bar so drastically. And with every new race who learned how to use it, the same situation would arise.

“Holy shit,” she said. This was a much bigger problem than she had thought. Far from preventing war, Allen’s discovery could ignite it on a galactic scale. Would ignite it, over and over again, unless the cure could somehow be spread faster than the disease.

That was impossible. But what if the cure were at least spread with the disease? Would that be fast enough?

Everyone looked at her. Allen said, “What?”

“Give me a second.” She hadn’t thought it through, but there seemed only one logical thing to do. Humanity had started the problem; it was only fitting that they help stop it. And maybe save their own skins in the process. “It might work,” she whispered.

Tippet said, “You see a solution to our dilemma?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Allen asked.

She had to swallow before she could speak. This wasn’t the sort of thing she could back away from once she set it into motion. If she opened her mouth, she would just dig herself deeper into the very political mess she had been trying to leave behind. Her life, personally, would probably be much simpler if she just shut up now and let Tippet make up his own mind. But she had brought this on herself. She had brought it on all of humanity, back when she had decided to let Allen spread his secret. And if she had learned anything from the last couple of weeks, it was that running from her problems only made them worse.

So maybe it was time to run headlong into them instead. She took a big breath, then said, “Somebody’s going to start a real galactic federation; why shouldn’t that somebody be us?”