Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #2. Edgar Pangborn
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brought her coat and stared at Norris with childish contempt. “Can Daddy go, too?”
“Be on your way!” growled O’Reilley. “I got things to do.”
“We’re coming back?”
“Of course you’re coming back! Git now—or shall I get my spanking switch?”
Peony strolled out the door ahead of Norris.
“Oh, inspector, would you be punching the night latch for me as you leave the shop? I think I’ll be closing for the day.”
Norris paused at the head of the stairs, looking back at the old man. But O’Reilley closed himself inside and the lock clicked. The agent sighed and glanced down at the small being beside him.
“Want me to carry you, Peony?”
She sniffed disdainfully. She hopped upon the banister and slid down ahead of him. Her motor-responses were typically neutroid—something like a monkey, something like a squirrel. But there was no question about it; she was one of Delmont’s deviants. He wondered what they would do with her in central lab. He could remember no instance of an intelligent mutant getting into the market.
Somehow he could not consign her to a cage in the back of the truck. He drove home while she sat beside him on the front seat. She watched the scenery and remained aloof, occasionally looking around to ask, “Can we go back now?”
Norris could not bring himself to answer.
*
When he got home, he led her into the house and stopped in the hall to call Chief Franklin. The operator said, “His office doesn’t answer, sir. Shall I give you the robot locator?”
Norris hesitated. His wife came into the hall. She stooped to grin at Peony, and Peony said, “Do you live here, too?” Anne gasped and sat on the floor to stare.
Norris said, “Cancel the call. It’ll wait till tomorrow.” He dropped the phone quickly.
“What series is it?” Anne asked excitedly. “I never saw one that could talk.”
“It is a she,” he said. “And she’s a series unto herself. Some of Delmont’s work.”
Peony was looking from one to the other of them with a baffled face. “Can we go back now?”
Norris shook his head. “You’re going to spend the night with us, Peony,” he said softly. “Your daddy wants you to.”
His wife was watching him thoughtfully. Norris looked aside and plucked nervously at a corner of the telephone book. Suddenly she caught Peony’s hand and led her toward the kitchen.
“Come on, baby, let’s go find a cookie or something.”
Norris started out the front door, but in a moment Anne was back. She caught at his collar and tugged. “Not so fast!”
He turned to frown. Her face accused him at a six-inch range.
“Just what do you think you’re going to do with that child?”
He was silent for a long time. “You know what I’m supposed to do.”
Her unchanging stare told him that she wouldn’t accept any evasions. “I heard you trying to get your boss on the phone.”
“I canceled it, didn’t I?”
“Until tomorrow.”
He worked his hands nervously. “I don’t know, honey—I just don’t know.”
“They’d kill her at central lab, wouldn’t they?”
“Well, they’d need her as evidence in Delmont’s trial.”
“They’d kill her, wouldn’t they?”
“When it was over—it’s hard to say. The law says deviants must be destroyed, but—”
“Well?”
He paused miserably. “We’ve got a few days to think about it, honey. I don’t have to make my report for a week.”
He sidled out the door. Looking back, he saw the hard determination in her eyes as she watched him. He knew somehow that he was going to lose either his job or his wife. Maybe both. He shuffled moodily out to the kennels to care for his charges.
*
A great silence filled the house during the evening. Supper was a gloomy meal. Only Peony spoke; she sat propped on two cushions at the table, using her silver with remarkable skill.
Norris wondered about her intelligence. Her chronological age was ten months; her physical age was about two years; but her mental age seemed to compare favorably with at least a three year old.
Once he reached across the table to touch her forehead. She eyed him curiously for a moment and continued eating. Her temperature was warmer than human, but not too warm for the normally high neutroid metabolism—somewhere around 101°. The rapid rate of maturation made I.Q. determination impossible.
“You’ve got a good appetite, Peony,” Anne remarked.
“I like Daddy’s cooking better,” she said with innocent bluntness. “When can I go home?”
Anne looked at Norris and waited for an answer. He managed a smile at the flame-haired cherub. “Tell you what we’ll do. I’ll call your daddy on the phone and let you say hello. Would you like that?”
She giggled, then nodded. “Uh-huh! When can we do it?”
“Later.”
Anne tapped her fork thoughtfully against the edge of her plate. “I think we better have a nice long talk tonight, Terry,” she said.
“Is there anything to talk about?” He pushed the plate away. “I’m not hungry.”
*
He left the table and went to sit in darkness by the parlor window, while his wife did the dishes and Peony played with a handful of walnuts on the kitchen floor.
He watched the scattered lights of the suburbs and tried to think of nothing. The lights were peaceful, glimmering through the trees.
Once there had been no lights, only the flickering campfires of hunters shivering in the forest, when the world was young and sparsely planted with the seed of Man. Now the world was infected with his lights, and with the sound of his engines and the roar of his rockets. He had inherited the Earth and had filled it—too full.
There was no escape. His rockets had touched two of the planets, but even the new worlds offered no sanctuary for the unborn. Man could have babies—if allowed—faster than he could build ships to haul them away. He could only choose between a higher death rate and a lower birth rate.
And unborn children were not eligible to vote when Man made his choice.
His choice had robbed his wife of a biological need, and so he made a disposable baby with which to pacify her. He gave it a tail and only half a mind, so that it could not be confused with his own occasional children.
But Peony had only the tail. Still she was not born of the seed of Man. Strange seed, out of the jungle, warped toward the human pole, but still not human.
*
Norris heard a car approaching in the street. Its headlights swung along the curb, and it slowed to a halt in front of the house. A tall, slender man in a dark suit climbed out and stood for a moment, staring toward the house. He was only a shadow in the faint street light. Norris could not place him. Suddenly the man snapped on a flashlight and played it over the porch. Norris caught his breath and darted toward the kitchen. Anne stared at him questioningly, while Peony peered up from her play.
He stooped beside her. “Listen, child!” he said quickly. “Do you know what a neutroid is?”
She nodded