by Larry Niven
"You seem to have studied the subject rather thoroughly," he drawled.
She felt how she flushed. "Naturally, after I'd been with Rover's people, I was interested in their past experiences and went back to the database entries."
Was he watching her? She didn't look toward him. "For an opportunity like this, they'll take the risk. A bold venture, ingeniously thought out, and very possibly scientifically invaluable. We must find our way to cooperation with them."
She made no reply. Worse than useless, reviving that quarrel. He had likewise been careful after the crisis to say merely that Bihari could have shown more restraint. After all, Emil, Louise, and Birgit were back among them, uninjured albeit shaken. Once again, though, the relationship between Tyra and Craig was not quite cordial. That hurt worse than she cared to admit.
Kumukahi's image was slipping close to Pele's in its headlong rush around the sun.
"The polar orbiters are doing fine work," Takata was saying.
"At a distance," Kivi answered. "If we had had time to design and build a sundiver of our own—"
"We didn't," snorted Verwoort. "We can recommend the making and dispatching of several when we report home."
"Robots," said mate Deutsch a bit sadly. "Nothing but robots to keep watch after us."
"Well," replied Captain Worning, "decades or centuries would be a long and expensive time to maintain humans on station. They might grow bored."
Padilla laughed. "Besides," he put in, "when enough atmosphere is gone that the core drops below a critical threshold, it will explode. I would not want to be any closer than hyperspace escape distance."
"Yes," agreed engineer Koch, "better we live to see the images."
Kumukahi dropped below yonder restless horizon.
"Let us check with the boat," proposed Worning, and entered a command. Tyra's heart stumbled.
Josef Brandt was piloting for physical chemist Jens Lillebro. Raden had invited himself along. "Not my cup of tea, strictly speaking," he had said with his irresistible smile. "But one never knows what sort of clue lies where, does one? At least I can take a few observations of Pele from that angle. Those spots on her are acting downright eerily," as the planet's gravitational force swept through the photosphere.
The screen in Freuchen awoke again, to a view of Henrietta Leavitt's cabin. Brandt sat intent at his controls, Lillebro at his spectroscopic readouts. Raden saw that they were in communication and responded. "All's well," he proclaimed. "We're closing in on the asteroid, and will have velocities matched quite shortly, at about five klicks' distance. Behold."
No time lag was noticeable. They were only some 15,000 kilometers away. Kivi had identified the body among the data pouring in from the continuous automatic sky-scan and, retrieving earlier information, computed an orbit. Now they saw a rough gray lump, about three kilometers long and one at maximum thickness, slowly tumbling.
"Apparently chondritic," commented Raden. "You'll notice the remarkable sparsity of craters. You're right, Maria, it must be from the outer belt, lately perturbed into an eccentric path.
Pristine, Tyra knew, formed hardly more than a billion years ago, in a thinly bestrewn region where there had been scant occasion or time for collisions. Probes were to examine such rocks later. But who knew how much later? Composition and structure might well give unique insights into the early life of every planetary system. This chance was too good to pass up. Should Kumukahi make sudden call on Henrietta, she could boost back to Freuchen in well under an hour.
"Backing down on it, essentially," continued Raden's voice. The asteroid swelled fast in sight. "As you recall, we'll run parallel and let Jens stare while we send minisamplers—"
The thing erupted. A white cloud burst raggedly forth. Gravel and boulders sleeted outward.
Tyra heard herself scream.
The view swung wildly. The barrage became glints across a whirl of stars. Somebody in the boat yelled, "Almächtige Gott!" Somebody else ripped an oath.
The view returned to the cabin and steadied on Rader. Sweat studded his brow, but he grinned, well-nigh laughed. "Whoop, that was close! Thank Josef here. The autopilot isn't programmed for— He yanked us free. Barely, but he did it."
Brandt looked around, his own expression grim. "Barely is correct," he grated. "Some of those stones could have holed us, or even been bouncers."
Tyra shuddered. She knew what he meant. The boat lacked a protective screen-field. The hull was self-sealing. But a small object that punched through could lose too much energy thereby to make an exit, not too much to ricochet back and forth and quite likely hit a man.
"Was für den Teufel—what happened?" roared Worning.
Lillebro spoke almost calmly. "I can guess. The chondrules surrounded a mixture of ices, which also mortared them together. The agglomerate was metastable, and the impulses from our polarizer drive as we neared touched off volatilization and—it will be fascinating to learn what reactions."
"A bomb," added Raden. "I daresay they're not uncommon in young systems, but all of them are disrupted—solar input, impact energy, perhaps cumulative cosmic ray effects—long before intelligence evolves locally to notice them. What a discovery!"
"It has just begun," said Lillebro with rising excitement. "The gas spectrum, and we'll collect specimens—"
"No," decreed Worning. "You will return here. At once."
"What? But, sir, now that we're aware—"
"Of what are we still unaware? I will not risk one of our two boats and three of our lives for something that robots can examine at leisure. Return. That is an order."
"Yes, sir." Brandt did not sound unwilling. Lillebro sighed. Raden gave a wry grin and a rueful shrug.
When he cycled aboard, Tyra was waiting at the lock. She reached for his hands. "You might have been killed," she stammered, and could not altogether hold back the tears. "You might have been killed."
He drew her to him. "Do you care that much?" he whispered. "I dared not hope."
9
A bunk could be folded out to double width, though it then filled most of the deck space in a so-called stateroom. Lights could be turned down to softness. Music could be commanded, Là cì daremm' la mano, Liebestod, afterward the lilt and gentleness of Fynsk Foraar, though likewise softened to a background.
"That was amazing," he said as low. "I didn't quite expect a supernova."
"Thank you," she answered, snuggling, refusing to wonder if he'd used those words before or how often. "Same order of magnitude to you, sir. But let's settle for ordinary novas. They can repeat."
He chuckled. His lips brushed her cheek. "Shameless hussy."
"I'd better be. You too. How many bets will be paid off tomorrow?"
He looked away. She heard the sudden seriousness. "You told me you . . . don't do casual."
She confronted her own spirit. "I don't."
"It's far too early to make promises. On either side."
"I realize that. But I decided, nothing ventured, nothing gained." And, if this didn't last—certainly the obstacles were many—she would at least have a profit of memories. As he would; she'd see to that. And she had the strength to pay the price. Which maybe wouldn't be required of her.
His eyes met hers. "I'm being as honest as I'm able," he said, "because in fact I am in love with you."
"All right, it's mutual."
"I wish I could, well, give you more. Now, I mean, before we go . . . home. We have so little here."
Through the eased-off happiness she felt her mind sharpen. She had given thought to this too. She did not believe the idea had snapped the leash she kept on herself. His escape did that. Nor was it a price she set, a bargain she struck.
Nevertheless—
"You can," she said.
His head lifted off the pillow. "What?"
She moved slightly aside from his warmth and male odor to lean on an elbow and keep hold of his gaze. "When Kumukahi begins breaking up, you'll be out there to watch, won't you?"
"Of course. We haven't that many free machines, and we don't know enough to write adequate programs for any. Who can tell what human observers might catch?"
"Take me along."
"Eh?" he exclaimed, and sat straight. After a moment, he leaned back. "No, really, darling, it's not feasible. If the event begins in the next few days, and it probably will, Birgit won't yet be fit to pilot. That leaves Josef for one boat, crammed with scientists and their gear."
Tyra nodded. "I know," from what Rover's crew had told her. Neither they nor Eisenberg were weaklings, but kzinti captivity was at best unnerving. Given a stiff enough emergency, you could force yourself to carry on for a while. Thereafter medications merely helped time and nature. Eisenberg was absolutely right to disqualify herself for another week or two.
"And autopilot won't do for the other, not when we are bound to be surprised and must react fast if we are to collect the data," Raden went on. "I shall have to steer." Even now, she heard the relish.
"Exactly," Tyra said. "In that case, you can pick who comes with you, can't you? If you make a point of it."
"Well, I see where it could give you a spectacular story. But no, the hazard—no."
"What hazard?" she challenged. "You're skilled, you're not a fool, you won't take unnecessary risks."
"Not knowingly. Still, who can foresee what happens?"
"Who can foresee what will happen anywhere?" She moved back to his side and laid an arm around his neck. "Yes, I may get quite an eyewitness account, but that doesn't matter, Craig, truly it doesn't. This," she crooned, "is something you can give me, because it's something splendid we can share."
She was entirely wholehearted and honest. Well, almost.
Her free hand roved. She knew she could persuade him.
10
The three ranking kzinti met for their last time in the command lair of Strong Runner.
"Once more, master, I ask that you reconsider, and take me with you," said Rach-Scientist.
Ghrul-Captain growled negation. "And once more I tell you that you are wanted to oversee what other data collection this expedition can do, and bring the booty safely home, whatever may become of me. You have been less than enthusiastic about my plan. Do you challenge my decision?"
Rach-Scientist slipped his tail briefly between his hocks. "No, master, assuredly not."
Ghrul-Captain relented. "Bear in mind, this is a trial run, the first severe one. Yes, the instruments will peer and snuff, but foremost is to prove that the vessel can run such a course. That ride is for me alone." And for me alone the glory, and the triumph that it will be over the monkeys, he thought; it was as if he tasted fresh blood. "On later flights, yes, perhaps I will let you come too."
"Master, I have not questioned your wisdom, nor do I now," said Shayin-Mate. "However, I venture to ask that you record a summary of your intent. Should anything go awry, against my wishes—"
Then you will be acting captain, who takes the ship back, makes trophy of the prestige that that confers, and contrives to lay the full blame for the debacle with the monkeys on me, thought Ghrul-Captain sardonically. Not altogether against your wishes.
He did not resent it. In the mate's position, he would have done the same.
His rage at the humans flared. Because of their contumely, the exploit ahead of him would merely win back the standing Ress-Chiuu had lost for him. No net advancement. Unless, of course, he could do the foe a real injury. . . .
"The lords at Kzin will want a quick overview of events," Shayin-Mate went on. "The technical reports can be digested for them later."
Ghrul-Captain's fury smoldered back down. He expanded the ears he had folded and gibed, "Since you feel yourself incapable, I will pace the track for you."
"Master, it is simply that your own words will have the most force. I hope with all my entrails you will be on hand to deliver them personally."
"So be it." Ghrul-Captain set the intercom scanner to record. Having curtly stated the purpose, he declared:
"I am about to take the sundiver Firehunter on a swing around the sunward side of the giant planet we have come to spy out. The planet has just commenced its death struggle, so this is urgent. How things will go is unpredictable; they may become too violent for another such flight, although I am ready to dare whatever looks possible. For the same reason, unforeseeability, I make the flight piloted rather than robotic." As well as there being no honor in risking a few machines. "I will accelerate inward, cut the drive at a suitable point, and have the planet itself take me around. I will then be moving at high velocity on a hyperbolic orbit which, if allowed to continue, would carry me nearer the human ships than is . . . desirable. However, well before then, I will reduce the vector and start acceleration on a quartering path to rendezvous with Strong Runner. Available delta vee is ample.
"Perhaps observation of these extreme conditions at that close range will yield data of military value. It is sure that nothing like my mission has ever been attempted before.
"Glory to the race!"
He switched off and looked straight at Shayin-Mate. "Will that do?" he asked: a sarcasm, for it had better.
The other dropped his gaze. "Thanks and honor to our captain."
Rach-Scientist said nothing. En route he had expressed doubts about the utility of the scheme. The passage between star and planet would take less than four hours. What few instruments could endure the environment must be rugged, heavily shielded, basically simple, and therefore of very limited capabilities. His class was necessarily allowed a certain latitude, and Ghrul-Captain had been content to override his objections. But to pursue them, especially now, would be insolence meriting punishment.
And, yes, in the end he wanted to fare along. He too was a kzin.
"I go, then," said Ghrul-Captain. To linger when the game was afoot did not become a Hero.
He strode down passageways and sprang down companionways to the portside boat lock. Firehunter waited alongside. A guard made obeisance as he reached the gang tube between. He passed on.
The control den, the only section of the vessel with life support, was a hemispherical space less than five meters across, crammed with equipment and storage lockers, just enough room free for a kzin to curl up on a pad and get a little sleep—hardly a fit prison cell. The air hung chill and stale-smelling. Yet in the viewscreen above the main control panel blazed his goal. He exulted while he settled into the command seat, activated the systems, heard the purr of power and felt the slight tug on him when his craft cast free.
Heavily burdened with her surrounding shell of water, she could not accelerate as fiercely as he would have wished. But her speed did mount, second by second, sunward bound. Ghrul-Captain hissed his satisfaction.
11
Tyra and Craig would be alone aboard Caroline Herschel. They could take several days, perhaps as much as a week, depending on what they found. "Not long enough," he grumbled, "not by half. Well, I'll come back, make better arrangements, and set forth again."
"I don't thnk this arrangement is a bad one," Tyra purred.
He laughed. "Nor do I. But the idea is to do science."
"Don't worry, dear, I won't get in the way. Not of the science, at least. Remember, I'm supposed to report it. We won't be tied down twenty-four hours per daycycle, though, will we?"
"M-m, no. The instruments will generally operate themselves. I'm basically to oversee, and make decisions when the inevitable surprises jump at us. Otherwise . . . we'll often sit goggle-eyed, I'm sure. But no, not the whole time."
"Don't worry," she said demurely. "Some happenings won't be reported."
She could not have been accommodated in Henrietta Leavitt, in any case. That boat would be crowded with scientists and their equipment. The Dalmadys did best to stay aboard Freuchen, working up what results they had obtained so far. Likewise, Padilla was fully occupied with the data flooding in from probes and observatories. Verwoort remained also, having lost a coin toss with Takata; it was unwise to
send both planetologists together, and he'd have more than enough to keep him busy.
Henrietta departed in the prograde direction, boosting to a path that would take her as far sunward as was deemed safe. A boat from Samurai went along, just in case, and to keep a better eye on the kzin mother ship, orbiting ninety degrees ahead of her. Mainly, Bihari wanted her to follow the progress of the sundiver lately detected on a course for Pele itself. Furthermore, the navy craft had capabilities that would be substantially helpful to the scientists.
None accompanied Caroline. She was going retrograde, to study from a different angle what happened in the star rather than to the planet. The only kzin vessel she would see, and that from a considerable distance, was the sundiver when it swung half around Kumukahi and came out of the glare on a hurtling hyperbolic trajectory. Carrying two people, the boat could readily hold everything Raden needed for his work.
She even offered some extra space. He came upon Tyra when she was stowing a portable cooker-washer, kitchenware, tableware, and assorted things to eat. "What the deuce?" he asked.
She grinned. "I'll have more leisure to spare than you," she explained. "I want to show you I can cook too. I wheedled Marcus out of this—yes, the chill cabinet has room for it—and we'll have beer and wine as well. No need for us to pig it on dry rations and recycled water." She sighed. "Alas, no candles available."
"Well, we can turn the lighting way low—"
"Or block off the sun. Simply the stars . . . No, maybe that's best for later."
He cocked his head at her. "D'you know, you're the damnedest combination of the romantic and the practical."
"We women have to be."
"And we men get to enjoy it. How I pity the kzinti!"
Thus they took off merrily. The last thing they heard before the airlock closed behind them was Verwoort's bawdy farewell.
The next few days were sheer wonder. Personal joys became not separate, but integral with the whole. Tyra had an educated person's knowledge of science. Fascinated by what Raden told, especially about what was being newly revealed to him, she found that talking with her stimulated his thinking; she actually made a few suggestions that he called excellent. It was happiness merely to see and feel his glee; she could watch him in his preoccupation for hours, as she used to watch the sea at her childhood home or could lose herself in the splendor of open space. However, she seldom indulged idleness. Besides her cuisine and a few other minor things, there was her writing. How to find words for what she beheld, how to tell it? Personal impressions, text for a documentary, background for a novel, a cycle of poems—nothing could ever really capture truth, but the thrill of the quest was upon her.