by Larry Niven
“The question is, if Rather goes in, can he get out? Booce?”
Booce mulled it. “Up to a point. It would be…convenient if Rather let Petty Wheeler make his pitch. Rather, the Navy could put certain kinds of pressure on me until I talk you into doing that. They want the Wart, but they can slow things down for me, and we don’t want the Navy taking a hard look at us.”
“No,” Clave said.
“But when Wheeler interviews you, he might learn that you’re simply not suited to Navy life. I can help you to help him reach that conclusion.”
Carlot said, “He could get out later than that. Rather, my cousin Grag says they treat you like a copsik in Basic, but after that you’re supposed to think you’re better than the citizens. They do think they’re better than us, and they don’t take just anyone. When you’re ready to leave, just do something wrong. Or get sick and stay sick. Tree dwellers do get sick in the Clump. They’ll bounce you out.”
“You think I should do this?”
She shrugged unhappily. “Whatever you want.”
Jeffer said, “I’d really like to get him into the Library.”
Booce shook his head. “No dwarf gets beyond Guardian unless he was born an officer, and even then…well, Wayne Mickl is officer and dwarf. They need him as a Guardian, so he’ll never use his higher rank. Guardian is the lowest rank that can reach the Library, but they can’t use it because they aren’t taught to read. And you wouldn’t be a Guardian for years, Rather.”
Jeffer jumped on it. “But he could reach the Library. And Rather can read, and I can teach him how to use a carm keyboard!”
Rather was feeling trapped. He knew how to talk to Jeffer the Scientist, but how could you argue with a door?
“I hate to pass up the chance,” Clave said. “Rather, you’re reluctant. How do the rest of you feel? Debby?”
“It feels like we’re selling him as a copsik. I’m against it.”
Thank you, Debby!
Clave stared at her. Then: “Rather, does it feel like that? I wouldn’t do that. We’re just talking now—”
“They want his loyalty, stet, Booce? They’ve been doing this for going on four hundred years,” Debby said. “Maybe they can get his loyalty—”
Clave snapped, “Treefodder, Debby. London Tree was keeping copsiks for about that long. When the chance came to bust loose, they did it!”
“Not all of them, Clave!”
“…Uh-huh. Booce?”
Booce said, “We’re talking about power. Navy power, and it cuts two ways. If Rather was Navy, the Serjents would see a certain friendliness emerge. I’d love to put a son in the Navy.”
“Carlot?”
She spoke to Rather, not Clave. “If you can stand it. Remember what I said about Basic. They worked Grag’s tail off…hey. You’re stronger than Grag. You lived in a tree. You just might give them a shock.”
“We know you can fit a silver suit,” Booce added. “Even Bosun Murphy doesn’t know that.”
“I’m scared.”
Clave just nodded, but Jeffer snarled like static. “Oh, Rather! We’re here already! Back in Citizens’ Tree, that was the time to be scared.” Pause. “What are you scared of?”
“It’s all too strange.” Rather was suddenly, unbearably homesick. This wooden house, all angles—
“It’ll keep being strange. Nobody fooled you on that.”
“Scientist, I came here looking for strange. I wouldn’t be here if it was going to be just like Citizens’ Tree—”
“Then—”
But Rather had the words straight in his mind now. “I followed you here, but the idea was to face the Admiralty in the company of my friends and my elders! And my father. Are we all going to join the Navy now? Is that what we’re talking about?”
Clave said, “Jeffer?”
The door said, “I’m for it, of course, but the boy’s got a point. It’s his risk, not ours.”
Rather wasn’t finished. “You’re asking me to swear to something that isn’t true. I am not loyal to the Navy. If you thought I was, you wouldn’t like it.”
Nobody wanted to answer.
“You can feed your secrets to the tree. I will not join the Navy. But I can go talk to Wheeler, if you think it’ll help. I’ll do that.”
“I go with him,” Debby said firmly.
“And Booce, you tell me how to look unsuitable.” A black depression was settling over him. He felt rejected by all of his companions save Debby; but Carlot wanted him out of the way. For Raff Belmy.
Chapter Eighteen
HEADQUARTERS
from the Citizens’ Tree cassettes, year 384, day 2050:
Jeffer the Scientist speaking. Candidates are considered unsuitable for the Navy if they are sickly, or undependable, or easily lost or distracted, or loyal to some entity other than the Navy. They may have unacceptable motives for joining. If a family member accompanies, candidate may be reluctant or may need supervision.
Acceptable candidates would presumably have opposite traits. Data are as acquired from Booce and Carlot Serjent.
Headquarters was a pillbox: a short, wide cylinder, blurred to Rather’s weeping eyes. The rim was dark wood. The nearer flat face was concrete covered with a variety of doors, platforms, winches, coils of line…and a broad strip of glittering stuff very like the hull of the carm. Two rockets were moored near the hub. A third, larger, was being winched in nozzle-foremost.
Debby looked back. Rather was far behind. When she stopped flapping, a gust of wind caught her wings and turned her on a random axis. She sighed and flapped back to rejoin him. “I wish I could help,” she said.
Rather made himself laugh. “I did it to myself. Debby, you fly better than me.”
“I watched the crew when we went to Market. Keep up a steady kick. Don’t try too hard. If you kick with all your might the wings just bend and don’t take you anywhere.”
“What I need is longer legs.”
“Longer wings might do it. Try the Navy wings too. Now, what door did Carlot say?”
“I can’t tell. Pick one.”
“No, I—”
“Debby, pick one at random. I don’t mind if Wheeler thinks I got lost.”
“Oh. The one in the middle, with the guards. We’ll ask them.”
It was big and round and rimmed in scarlet paint. The four guards wore helmets and torso and leg armor and carried harpoons. Debby back-pedaled to stop within a meter of the harpoon points. She said, “Looking to join up.”
One smiled and said, “I hope they take you, beautiful.” His harpoon pointed. “That one, just next to the rim.”
“Thanks.” She rejoined Rather. Half blind, he’d been afraid to fly close to sharp spears. “It’s over there.—Lovely beard on that one. Like goldenwire plant, and clean. The crew keep themselves cleaner than Carther States people ever did. Maybe I’ll see him again.”
“Jeffer’d like that.”
“He would, wouldn’t he. He probably likes my seeing Grag too. I wonder what they’re guarding?”
The door they sought was a rectangle with curved sides, marked in print along one edge: RECRUITMENT.
The room within was sizable, but of the same odd shape. A man made marks on thin white sheets fixed to a slab of sanded wood. His pants and tunic were blue with Navy markings. No armor. He ignored them for a bit, then looked around. “Yes?”
Rather pointed to the wooden rectangle. There were clips along the edge, and stacks of paper leaves in the clips. “What would you call that?”
The man frowned. “You never saw a desk before? What do you want?”
“Petty Mart Wheeler wants to interview me for recruitment. I’m Rather Citizen.”
“I’ll see if he’s available.” The man kicked against the table and disappeared down a corridor. Lack of wings didn’t hamper him: he touched the wall and disappeared into a doorway in one smooth flow.
Debby smiled at Rather. “Easily distracted?”
“That’s why
I did it, but look at how the grain of the wood curls around! I think it must be burl. How did they get it?”
“There had to be burl somewhere or Booce wouldn’t know it was possible.”
When the desk man reappeared, Rather was mopping at his eyes with his tunic. The man said, “Come with me.”
Debby said, “May I come too?”
“I’m afraid not. Would you be his mother?”
“Stepmother. I really think I ought to be with him.”
“That’s not permitted.”
The office was small, a cube with two curved walls. Petty Wheeler was at a desk, lightly gripping the rim while he talked to another man…and that one was Rather’s height.
Their talk stopped. Wheeler said, “Rather, good to see you. This is Captain-Guardian Wayne Mickl.”
Mickl nodded but said nothing. He seemed relaxed and disinterested. Wheeler said, “We want to ask you a few questions. You probably have questions too—”
“A hundred. Um, whereabouts is Bosun Murphy?”
“Mpf? Last I saw of her she was on her way to the Purser’s office. After that she’ll be on leave…Why?”
“I thought I might see her before I go.”
(Booce had told him, “Try to talk to Bosun Murphy. Your interest in the Navy comes straight from your seeds. If you see her, make a pass.”
(“What’s a pass? Do you mean propose marriage?”)
(“No…yes. That’s got just the right touch. All seeds and no judgment.”)
Wheeler asked, “Rather, is there something wrong with your eyes?”
“They get this way sometimes.”
“When?”
“Lack of sleep. Dry air.” His eyes were clearing up now, but they still hurt. To Wheeler they must appear pink and weeping. He was sniffling too.
Wheeler took writing implement in hand. “Where were you born?”
“Citizens’ Tree, year 370. It’s a tree sixty klomters long, six or seven hundred klomters west of the Clump.”
“What’s your height and mass?”
“One point nine meters. I don’t know my mass.”
“We’ll weigh you on the centrifuge. How did you know the year?”
“The Scientist keeps track. Was I off? This is 384, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Put your arms straight forward, fingertips touching. Now your legs, big toes touching.” Wheeler made a note. “Symmetrical. How much do you know about the Admiralty?”
“Not much. We tasted some of the food you grow and had a wild dinner at Half Hand’s Steak House.” Wheeler laughed at that. Rather went on, “The Serjents told us a lot. I’ve seen houses and the Market. The ride on the steam rocket was—well, I’ve never been through anything like it.”
“Scary?”
“No, not that.” He knew instantly that he should have said yes.
“Why do you want to join the Navy?”
“I came to find out if that was true. Petty. And you asked if I had questions.”
Petty Wheeler stiffened a little. “Well?”
“I’ve seen the ships. They’re all over the sky. I think I ought to ask, if I become a Navy man, will I in fact be riding one of those ships?”
“More than one, I expect. Over the years you’ll fly every style.”
“Will I be flying them, or just riding them?”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Yes sir. Once I thought I’d be a hunter for Citizens’ Tree.” No need to mention the silver suit. “When I joined Booce and went logging, that was a big jump. I didn’t know what I’d find here. The Market, it’s frightening to think such a thing could be built. So many people!”
Wheeler was smiling, nodding. (In the corner of Rather’s eye, Wayne Mickl was clinging to a wall tether, merely observing.) “Daunting, is it?”
Rather nodded.
“The ships, the Market, Headquarters, we built them all. And more. We built a civilization,” Wheeler said gently. “Now that you’ve seen it, how can you not be a part of it? Yes, you’ll fly a ship before you’re much older.”
“I want to know whether I’ll be able to visit Citizens’ Tree.”
“Mph. The answer’s yes, but I don’t know how often. We’ll want to contact Citizens’ Tree at once. Set up some form of trade. There’ll be visits, and you’ll be useful as an intermediate.”
It was the right answer, Rather thought, except for two things. The tree was in the wrong place; and if the Navy did find it, the citizens would have to hide the carm every time the Navy came visiting.
So Rather only said, “That’s good. I’d hate to be cut off from my family.” (Booce had said, “They want your loyalty. They won’t like it if you’re loyal to your family, your tribe, me—”)
“How often do you get these allergy attacks?”
“Usually just when the air’s too thin. I had them while we were moving the log; we were too far in. It’s like knives in my eyes. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately. It happens then too.”
“Would you describe yourself as sickly?”
Rather told himself that nobody would come to a recruitment office if he considered himself sickly, and said, “No. It’s just something that happens. A day later I’m fine. It’s almost over now.”
“I see. All right, Rather. Go ask Able Jacks to put you on the centrifuge. We’ll get in touch with you through Booce Serjent.”
Debby and the desk man were ignoring each other. Debby seemed nervous.
“Rather! How’d it go?”
“Fine. Are you Able Jacks?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re to take me to the centrifuge. What’s a centrifuge?”
“I’ll show you.”
The wicker structure resembled the treadmill that ran the elevator in Citizens’ Tree. It was wider: twenty meters across. Rather was instructed to cling to the rim and wait. Two ratings spun it up, timing it with a handheld device. The wheel rolled eccentrically with his mass to throw it off. A rating measured the divergence of the hub. “Your mass is eighty-one kilgrams,” he said.
They locked the centrifuge in place and made him run.
Pushing himself round the rim gave him the sensation of tide. They had him run as fast as he could. It made him dizzy; the tide became fiercely strong. Then they made him slow down and run at a measured rate, until his legs burned and his eyes blurred. He would have stopped then if he had not noticed Bosun Murphy watching him.
He waved. The motion almost sent him tumbling. She didn’t respond. But she watched, and he ran.
…It came to him that he was rolling around the centrifuge. He’d blacked out.
A rating snatched at his ankle and pulled him out. “Take a rest. Here.” He handed Rather a towel, and Rather, gasping for air, mopped a sheath of water from his body.
Murphy said, “That was quite a performance. I could win bets on you.”
“I grew up in a tree.”
“I know.”
There was no animation in her voice, her face, her body language. Navy thinks they’re superior, Carlot had said; but that wasn’t it. “Bosun, are you all right?”
“I’m a little down,” she said. “Call me Sectry, Rather. I’m not on duty.”
“Does down mean something like miserable?”
“Yeah. Guys, are you finished with him?”
“He’s all yours, Bosun. No need to be careful, he ain’t fragile.”
Sectry Murphy flashed them a fleeting smile. To Rather she said, “I can’t picture the Petty rejecting you after he hears about that performance.”
Treefodder. Booce hadn’t thought to tell him to hold back on a stamina test. “What’s got you down?”
“Not here, stet? I need someone to talk to, not Navy. I just came from the Purser’s and I’m ready to tie one on. Want to join me?”
“I’m with Debby. My stepmother.”
“Stet. Let’s go get her. How does Half Hand’s sound?”
Rather was coming down the
corridor. There was a woman with him.
Once upon a time Debby had seen Rather and Mark talking in the Citizens’ Tree commons. Both dwarves, but they hadn’t looked at all alike: Mark’s face nearly square, Rather’s nearly triangular…She remembered it now, because Rather and the dwarf woman looked right together, though they were clearly from different branches of humankind.
And both, in different fashions, looked worn out. Debby asked, “What happened to you?”
Rather said, “Centrifuge. They ran me to death. I could have lifted an elevator all the way to Discipline. Debby, you remember Sectry Murphy—”
Clasping toes felt odd: Sectry’s reach was so short, her toes so stubby and strong. “Hello, Sectry. I take it you’re off duty.”
“Right. On our way to Half Hand’s. Join us?”
“Sure.”
Sectry led them in. “The place is nearly empty,” she said.
It wasn’t. There were a good dozen people scattered around Half Hand’s. But windows were clear, and Sectry led them to one. “It’s nice to have a view,” she said over her shoulder.
Rather flinched. Debby grinned; she’d seen Rather watching Sectry’s kicking legs.
“Grab a pole, someone will come. You hungry?” When one of the women from the kitchen appeared, Sectry said, “Fringe tea and sausages for three, Belind. You two should try the sausage.”
“Stet,” Rather said. “What’s got you down?”
The false gaiety ran out of her, and Debby saw pain. “I’ve been trying on pressure suits. I don’t fit.”
Debby said nothing. Rather said nothing.
“They don’t let you try the suit till you qualify for Guardian in all other respects. So they got me into the small one and I couldn’t breathe.” Murphy wasn’t wearing armor now. Her breasts stretched her tunic tight. Debby had never had trouble feeding her children, but her own breasts didn’t have that vulnerable look. “I could have faked it, but the suits aren’t all quite the same size. So I tried the bigger suit. My feet wouldn’t reach the toes. There are controls in the boots. My fingers don’t quite reach either.”
“That leaves one,” Debby said.
“The large? It’s in use. It won’t fit. If my damn toes were longer! I’m out. I can’t be a Guardian.”