by Larry Niven
“And another pressure suit.”
“Yes. I want it.”
Rather wiped sweat from his face. He was thinking as carefully as if he were innocent. The trick was not to know anything he shouldn’t. This seemed safe: “Captain-Guardian, if a pressure suit got into the Admiralty without you knowing it, maybe there was a dwarf in it.”
Mickl didn’t answer. Rather said, “S—the Bosun and I are about the same size, but I think you’re bigger. How big was that fourth suit? Would I even fit?” He was stuttering a little; he had to think every word through first. How clearly had Mickl seen the silver suit? It always looked bigger than the occupant. “Maybe it’s smaller yet. Maybe it’s so small that it’ll fit in places you wouldn’t look, a closet in a happyfeet ship—”
“Why that?”
“Happyfeet tried to rob us before we got here. They don’t care much about laws. Isn’t there a Lupoff ship in dock?”
“True enough, but a closet is silly. He’d suffocate.”
“Somewhere else, then.” There’s air in the silver suit. Am I supposed to know that? What else am I not supposed to know? “What really happened? What is it you think I did?”
“You entered Headquarters in an unregistered pressure suit painted like mine. You got into the Library. You got rid of the Guardian. We haven’t been able to find out what you did there, or whether you got what you wanted, but Voice was running when you left. When I came in you scattered sporing fringe throughout Headquarters and got away.” Mickl’s throat worked, and Rather saw how close he was to uncontrolled rage. “I went after you. I couldn’t catch you.”
“Um…that doesn’t make sense. Booce told me never to try to outfly Navy. The wings are different—”
Mickl slashed the air with his arm. “The suit outflow me! This isn’t just another pressure suit. You’d be in enough trouble if it was only that. We’ve got to have this suit. It’s special.”
“How?”
“Classified, you little fungus!” Wayne Mickl closed his eyes. He pulled air in through his nose until his lungs were full, then let it all out. Calmly he said, “Booce, show me this hiding place.”
Booce showed him. We wouldn’t have been told this either, Rather thought. Secrets!
Mickl closed his helmet. When he peered into the compartment, light blazed from the forehead. He studied the interior at length. “Ingenious.”
“Maybe not. It weakened the door.” Booce pointed out the hole. Mickl nodded.
Jonthan was back. A long bruise was forming on his jaw. His glance at Rather seemed disinterested. He and the dwarf officer conferred in low voices. They disappeared toward the storage room.
That left only Navy #3, Doheen. He and Clave were holding a staring contest. Clave smiling, the other poker-faced.
Booce said carefully, “Rather, there’s something you should know. You’re trying to tell the Captain-Guardian that you’re probably innocent. It’s not enough.”
Rather had thought things were going well. “Raym was with us. He’d have to believe Raym was lying too. Raym doesn’t have the brains.”
“No, of course not. Mickl believes you now.” A quick glance at Doheen, who reacted with something like a shrug. “But just in case he’s wrong, he’ll stop Logbearer from ever leaving the Admiralty, because we might be smuggling that fourth suit. He’ll ruin me financially, in case I might say something to save myself. He’ll hound you. It’ll never be over.”
“Then…” What’ll I do? There can’t be a way to convince Mickl I’m innocent. I’m guilty!
Admiralty pressure suits don’t have working jets. No fuel. There’s a suit with jets, somewhere, and Mickl wants it. He’ll never settle for less.
Give him the silver suit? He’d know we’re guilty then.
If I could—Ah. He had something.
I can’t ask Booce. Doheen’s listening, and Booce doesn’t know what happened anyway. The others—
Fate and air currents had put Rather near Sectry. He moved closer. She moved the crossbow aside for him. Her face was hard to read.
“I shouldn’t have left,” he said.
“Why didn’t you wait?”
“They tell me the Navy takes forever to do anything. I couldn’t just hang around twitching, and we needed the mud.”
Their voices had dropped. She said, “I was here. I turned down a flight, but I can’t do that twice running. You left me for mud?”
It was a miserable thing to have to admit, but it was better than the truth. He nodded.
“Rather, nobody makes decisions when he’s on fringe. So tell me, am I too strange? Am I too old?”
“My mother’s older than my father. I like strange. I’m in the Clump because I like strange. Sectry, I don’t regret anything I said or did.” Which was not quite the truth. Secrets—“Hilar Belmy is trying to grow a burl tree.”
She said, “That never works.”
“Well, he’s trying something new. Booce bought a piece of the tree. And he owes us.”
“So it’s not just mud, it’s money. All right. Rather. I can understand money.”
“That’s more than I do. It’s power, but it doesn’t make you an officer. Are there un-rich officers?”
Her lips twitched. “They marry rich citizens. Their children are officers. The number of officers goes up. One day we’ll all be officers.”
“Why does Wayne Mickl want that suit so much? I’d think it would be the other way around—”
“It’s bad for the Admiralty if happyfeet hold old science. I think Wayne’s almost given up on taking his Captain’s seat. The pressure suit is as much power as he’ll ever have, and he takes his responsibilities—”
They were back: Wayne Mickl and Raym Wilby and Jonthan. Raym was unwontedly quiet. Mickl said, “And what were you discussing with the Bosun?”
Sectry was flustered; Rather answered first. “I was suggesting that if you did have a fourth pressure suit, you’d need twelve dwarves to man them.”
Sectry tried to cover her laugh with her hands. Booce laughed outright. Doheen’s mouth was rigidly straight. Mickl was about to explode.
And Rather had learned little from Sectry, but it might be enough. Go for Gold. Before Mickl could speak, he asked, “Does it fly better than your suits?”
Mickl’s face didn’t change. “Yes. How did you know that?”
“You said it outflew you. Besides, I heard something once.”
“You’ll tell me.”
“Privately, if you don’t mind, Captain-Guardian.”
They took the kitchen. Mickl said, “That fringe-addled Dark diver makes you a poor witness.”
“I don’t know anything about your Chairman’s Court.”
“You’ll see a court soon enough. Talk to me, boy.”
“I don’t know anything about your mutineer pressure suit either—”
“Then—”
“I once heard that there’s a way to make little holes on a pressure suit spray fire. Then it can fly without wings.”
“Go on.”
“Maybe I can find a man who can do it. He doesn’t have a pressure suit, so he’s never tried it.”
“Take me to him.”
“They don’t deal with Navy. They don’t even come into the Admiralty.” Rather visualized a mysterious happyfeet tribe, isolated and distrustful. “They sent copsiks once. The Scientists don’t come themselves.”
“Give me a name.”
He picked one he could remember. “Seekers.”
“There’s no such tribe.”
Rather shrugged.
“Well, what are we doing here, Rather?”
“What happens is, you give me your pressure suit—”
Mickl laughed.
“I take it somewhere.” Payment? Not money; the Seekers might not use money. “I take fringe too, maybe twenty kilos. I take tools. I bring the suit back. They keep the fringe and the tools. Maybe the jets work and maybe they don’t.”
“Let me tell you why I can�
��t give you my pressure suit,” Mickl said gently. “First, it belongs to the Admiralty. Second, it alternates among three Guardians. My triad would notice. Third, turning a pressure suit over to savages would certainly be judged as mutiny, especially since—fourth—you might not bring it back. Stet?”
“Not stet. Let me think.”
“While you’re thinking…This mysterious tribe, did they ever have a pressure suit to practice on?”
“They say they did—”
“Could they have got it working again?”
This was taking Rather into empty sky. Treefodder! Maybe it was lost, or stolen, or—
“Talk to me!”
“I was trying to remember. They threw it away.”
“What?”
“It killed three citizens.”
“How?”
“The…silver was only for one who was worthy. One day the old dwarf died while he was using it. Three dwarves wrestled for it—”
“That sounds like too many dwarves. Rather.”
It did. “I saw two myself, and I never got inside the jungle. I guess Seekers get more dwarves.”
“…Go on.”
“The winner put the suit on and died. The one who lost to him put it on and died. The last one was a woman. She started to get into it, but while the—” Rather patted his skull “—this part was still open she said she heard the voice of Kendy the Checker. Nobody else could hear it. They got scared and dumped it and moved to another part of the sky.”
“Sounds like the air feed went bad. What then?”
“That’s when they found the Admiralty. They say one of your ships tried to rob them—”
“Nonsense.”
“We say treefodder. They say you did.” It might have happened in the past: Navy robbing savages—
Wayne Mickl was looking disgusted. He said, “It’s possible. A ship low on provisions…this isn’t helping.”
“Wait. You three who trade your suit off. Are you always on duty at Headquarters?”
“No, of course not. Why?”
Rather took a deep breath. “Your fourth point: of course we’ll bring the suit back. Not all of us will go. You’ll keep friends of mine to answer for it if the suit doesn’t come back.
“Your third point: maybe it’s mutiny if you lose your chance at a pressure suit that can fly without wings, especially if it belongs to the Admiralty, which was my first point, and especially if you could get three! So let’s work on your second point. Can you get the Admiralty’s permission?”
“Admiral Robar Henling would rather give up his seeds. At his age it wouldn’t—No. Just no.”
He was getting somewhere. He had Mickl’s attention. Think! “Will your, uh, triad try to track down that flying pressure suit?”
“We will. We are!”
“You can go anywhere if you think it’s the right direction, stet? You’re Guardians. One of you is an officer. Nobody’ll ask. Am I completely off the track?”
“…Not yet.”
“So off you go, tracking rumors of a fourth pressure suit. Maybe you find it. You close in. But there’s a dwarf in it, and he sees you coming and flies away laughing. What he doesn’t know is that your triad was working without a pressure suit for a while. Then it came back. Now off goes the bandit dwarf, but he’s doomed, because your suit flies too and he doesn’t know it!”
Mickl’s grin was not quite a pleasant sight. “Were you a Teller, where you came from?”
Rather knew exactly what he meant. “Our Teller was Merril till she died. These days everyone does some telling. Captain-Guardian, I’m trying to help. I’ll bring the suit back whether it works or not.”
“But would your Seekers give it back?” Mickl sighed. “I don’t blame you for attacking my men, and I won’t charge you. We’ll leave it at that for the moment. This isn’t finished, Rather.”
The civilians watched the Navy people fly toward their rocket. Sectry was trailing; and when he saw her look back, Rather snatched his wings from the door and jumped after her.
She stayed in the air while he strapped his wings on. A voice spoke from the Navy ship’s cabin; she answered. Then she kicked away to avoid the rocket’s exhaust. She did not fly back toward Serjent House.
The Navy rocket departed.
Rather reached her. He didn’t have breath to speak. She said, “You’re involved in something.”
He shrugged helplessly.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want any part of it. I’ve decided I don’t want to live in a tree either.”
Rather had his breath back. He said, “We’re the right size.”
She shook her head violently. Teardrops flew. “Didn’t Wayne tell you how many dwarves there are in the Admiralty? Rather, it was a good offer. Nobody makes real decisions when she’s on fringe. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” His tongue was in knots and his thoughts were scrambled. The Scientist and the Checker, they caused this, they sent me into Headquarters! Would it be different if they hadn’t? Did I mean it, that offer? How will Carlot feel about this? Or Jill?
“I do want to see you again. After this is over, if it’s ever over. You’ll be going back to the tree, won’t you? You won’t like it here, not with the Captain-Guardian on your tail!” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Well, sooner or later there’ll be a mission to Citizens’ Tree, and I’ll be on it. I hope this is all cleared up by then.”
She flapped spinward, toward Headquarters or the Market. He called after her. “We have a rocket—”
“No. Thanks. I’ll go on foot.” She kept kicking. Rather turned back to Serjent House. He was going to have to do some fast talking…again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LOOP
Where had it all gone wrong? A message may become garbled across fifty-two light-years of distance and interstellar dust. But this was simple, unambiguous, and repeated—
from the CARM #2 cassettes, recorded year 76 SM, day 1412:
To Discipline, year 1435 State. Retrieve your crew and continue your mission.
—Frank Shibano, for the State
—as if he were a wayward computer in need of reprogramming. Arrival date: Feb 26, 1487 State. Recorded by CARM #2 sixty-one Earth days later.
He’d accomplished his mission! Why this?
He had attempted to follow his new orders. Of eight CARMs he had sent into the Smoke Ring, he located three. The rest must have been destroyed, or worn out, or their sending systems turned off.
From CARM #2 he had learned of the death of Claire Dalton. Claire had died at one hundred and thirty-eight, less than two months before the message arrived. No other survivors were known to the CARMs. Many deathdates had been recorded.
Amazing that Claire had lived so long.
There had been a mutiny. Kendy had stored it in CARM #2’s computer before he erased it from his own memory. Sharls Davis Kendy had mutinied against his crew. Fool, not to have seen that! Their descendants used mutineer as an insult!
He’d made an irretrievable mistake. But how? His reasoning was straight. His orders were unambiguous…weren’t they?
1)…You will visit each of these stars in turn. Other targets may be added…The State expects to settle these worlds, spreading humanity among variable environments, against dangers that might affect only Sol system.
2)…The human species is not invulnerable. There is finite risk that the crew of any interstellar spacecraft may find, on its return, that it has become the entire human race. Your crew and their genes are your primary cargo. CLASSIFIED.
3) Your tertiary mission is to explore…
—Ling Carther, for the State
How could it be clearer?
Kendy knew how the dinosaurs had died. The State had explored the ringed black giant planet that periodically hurled flurries of comets into the solar system. The State could stop comets now. The solar system was tamed. Ten planets were better than one; cities and industrial sites on thirty moons and hundred
s of asteroids were better than none; but the lesson of the dinosaurs remained. Planets are fragile.
Earthlike worlds had been found in the habitable zones of nearby stars. Green life had emerged on two. At Discipline’s departure they were in the process of final terraforming. On twenty-six worlds, poisonous air resembling Earth’s primordial reducing atmosphere had been seeded with tailored algae. In a thousand years some would be ready for further attention. The seeder ramship program had been running since seven hundred years before Kendy’s birth.
And Discipline had found a habitable nonplanet!
Humanity was to be spread as widely as possible.
The dangers here were not a planet’s dangers. The Smoke Ring and its enveloping gas torus were dense enough to protect Earthly life from radiation from the old neutron star, and from other radiation too. Radiation sources were normal throughout the universe. A supernova explosion near Sol…a passage of Sol and its companion stars through a region of star-creation…a catastrophe in the galactic core…events known and unknown could cause havoc through Sol system and all nearby systems. But none could harm the Smoke Ring!
His own message to Earth, sent in year 1382 State, was long and detailed. CARM #2 had the record:
Sharls Davis Kendy had abandoned his crew as they explored the Smoke Ring. Three who remained aboard had been invited to take what they needed from Discipline and join the others. He had never given reasons; his secondary mission was CLASSIFIED. He had shut down systems aboard Discipline in a pattern that forced them to the CARMs.
Ah, that explained something: those three had not loved cats. Pure coincidence.
Then, the message from Earth. Put it back the way it was.
How? His crew was dead!
Faced with conflicting orders, he could not function at all. He would be locked in a loop of reinforcing guilt. Kendy had sequestered all data relating to the mutiny and beamed it to CARMs #2, #6, and #7, then erased it all from memory.
How had he gone wrong? Could the message itself have been garbled? Through 200 repetitions?
To Discipline, year 1435 State. Retrieve your crew and continue your mission.
—Frank Shibano, for the State