by Larry Niven
The face in the CARM’s window had not been seen since. It was the face of a dwarf, a brutal throwback. The jaw and orbital ridges were more massive even than Mark’s, the musculature more prominent.
“We lived through the reentry,” Jeffer told him. “Ilsa and Merril are dead now. There are children.”
“Jeffer, your tribe has possessed the CARM for fourteen of your years. In that time you have moved the tree twice and thenceforth done nothing at all. What have you learned of the people of the fourth Lagrange point?”
The what? “I don’t understand the question.”
“Sixty degrees ahead of Goldblatt’s World on the arc of the Smoke Ring and sixty degrees behind are regions where matter grows dense. They are points of stability in Goldblatt’s World’s orbit. Material tends to collect there.” The dwarf’s brutal features registered impatience. “East of you by twelve hundred kilometers, a vast, sluggish, permanent storm.”
“The Clump? You’re saying there are people in the Clump?”
“I sense activity there. A civilization is growing twelve hundred kilometers from where your tree has floated for fifteen Earth years. Jeffer, where is your curiosity? Has it been bred out of you?”
“What do you want from me, Checker?”
Kendy said, “I can be in range to advise you every ten hours and eight minutes, once every two of your days. I want to know more of the people of the Smoke Ring. In particular, I want to know about you and about the Clump civilization. I think you should link with them, perhaps rule them.”
Jeffer’s one previous experience indicated that Kendy was harmless. For good or ill, he could only talk. Jeffer gathered his courage and said, “Kendy, the tales say that you abandoned us here, long ago. Now I expect you’re bored and—”
“I am.”
“And you want to talk to someone. You also claim authority 1 won’t grant you. Why should I listen?”
“Are you aware that you are being invaded?”
“What?”
The face ofKendy was suddenly replaced by a dizzying view. Jeffer looked into a river of storm, streaming faster as the eye moved inward toward a tiny, brilliant violet pinpoint. Jeffer had seen this once before: the Smoke Ring seen from outside.
Before he could remember to breathe, the view jumped. He was looking at what had been the center of the picture, vastly enlarged.
“Look.” Scarlet arrowheads appeared, pointing — “Here, your tree.”
“Citizens Tree, from the out tuft? Yeah, and that must be the pond.” Both were tiny. Opposite the pond was… another tree? And dark cloud clinging to the trunk?
The view jumped again. Through the blur and flicker in the illusion of a window, Jeffer watched a tree on fire.
Moving between the two trees were creatures he had never seen before.
“Treefodder! Everybody’s on the other side of the trunk. Those bird-things will be on the tree before anyone knows it.”
“Look in infrared.” The picture changed again, to red blobs on black. Jeffer couldn’t tell what he was looking at. The scarlet arrowhead pointed again. “You are seeing heat. This is fire in the intruder tree. Here, these five points are just the temperature of a man.”
Jeffer shook his head. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
The enlarged picture returned…and suddenly those tiny “creatures” jumped into perspective. “Winged men!”
“I would have called those enlarged swimming fins rather than wings. Never mind. Have you ever heard tales of winged men?”
“No. There’s nothing in the cassettes either. I’ve got to do something about this. Prikazyvat Voice off.” Jeffer made for the airlock without waiting to see the face fade.
His citizens wouldn’t have a chance against winged warriors!
The sun was at three o’clock: dead east, just above where the Smoke Ring began to take definite shape.
Kendy can only talk, sure, but he talks with pictures, and he tells things nobody can know. He’ll be in range every other day at this time. Do I want to know that? But Jeffer had other concerns, and the rest of that thought lay curled unfinished in the bottom of his mind.
Jill was leaving Rather behind. She glanced back once and moved on, and there was laughter in the sound of her panting.
Jill was his elder by half a year. When he wanted company it was generally Jill he wanted; but they did compete.
There had been a year during which she could beat him at wrestling, when she suddenly grew tall and he’d lagged behind. She’d taught him the riblock the hard way: she’d held his floating ribs shut with her knees so that he couldn’t breathe. He could wrestle her now — he was a boy and a dwarf — but her longer arms and legs gave her an unbeatable advantage at racing. He’d never catch her.
So he moved outward at his own pace, giving due care to his handholds and footholds in the rough bark, following the blond girl in the scarlet tunic. Her long-limbed mother had already reached the CARM ahead of them.
At fourteen-plus. Rather was considered an adult. He was built wide and muscular, with heavy cheek, jaw, and orbital bones. His fingers were short and stubby, and his toes, though strong, were too short to be much use. His hair was black and curly like his mother’s. His beard was sparse, without much curl to it yet. His eyes were green (and green tinged his cheek, with a growth of fluff that would be many days healing). He stood a meter and threequarters tall.
Dwarf. Arms too short, legs too short. He should have gone around the trunk. Jill could have told the Scientist about the burning tree; Debby might already know. He could have been getting a closer look!
The CARM loomed ahead of him. It was as big… no, bigger than the Citizens Tree commons.
Debby shouted into the airlock. Someone emerged:
Jeffer. They talked, heads bobbing. Debby moved to the front of the CARM; Jeffer was about to go back inside—
Rather heard Jill calling. “Scientist! There’s a burning tree coming toward us!” She paused to catch her breath.
“We saw it, me and Rather, we — while we were swimming—”
Jeffer called back. “Debby told me. Did you see anything like winged men?”
“…No.”
“Okay. Help Debby with the moorings, there at the bow.” He noticed Rather struggling in Jill’s wake. “Get Rather to help you.”
Debby and Jill were both fighting knots, and Jill was muttering “Treefodder, treefodder, treefodder,” when Rather caught up. “I bent my finger,” she said.
Debby said, “I hate to cut lines. See what you can do.”
The CARM’s tethers hadn’t been moved in years, and the knots were tight. Rather’s stubby fingers worked them loose. Dwarf. Clumsy but strong. Presently the CARM was held by nothing but its own inertia. Jill did not look pleased. Debby and Rather grinned at each other. It was something, to do a thing an adult warrior could not!
Jeffer called from the airlock, twelve meters beyond the bark. “Come aboard!”
Debby jumped and Jill followed. Rather hesitated until he saw them bump against the airlock door. The jump looked dangerous. Tide was gentle, but one could fall into the sky. Rather had never been inside the CARM, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be. The starstuff box was like nothing else in or on the tree.
But he had to follow. He caught the edge of the outer door as it passed, pivoted on the strength of his arms, and entered feet first. Can’t jump right, can’t reach far. What if I missed?
It was weird inside the CARM. There were openings in the back wall, and hard round loops sticking out of the dorsal and side walls. Farther toward the front were rows of cradles almost the size of an adult, ten in all, made of nothing like wood or cloth.
Rather made his way forward. The others were in the first row of cradles. “Take a seat and strap yourself in,” Jeffer ordered. “Here, like this.” He fastened two elastic tethers across Jill’s torso. “Lawri showed me how to work these, years ago.”
The cradle had a headrest that fitted nicely behind h
is ears. Jill’s and Debby’s dug into their shoulders. It’s true, Rather thought suddenly. The CARM was built for dwarves! He liked the thought.
“The winged men weren’t very close,” the Scientist said. “We’ve got time.” His fingers drummed against the flat panel below the window.
There was tide pulling Rather forward, and a whisperroar like a steady wind. The bark receded; the tree backed into the sky. Jill gripped the armrests of her cradle. Her mouth was wide. Debby said, “Clave didn’t say take off, Scientist. He said get ready.”
“No time. They’re headed for the trunk. Also the CARM is mine, Debby. We settled that once.”
“Tell it to Clave.”
“Clave knows.”
The invaders kicked themselves through the air, slowly, in the last stages of exhaustion. Five, it looked like, until Rather realized that the older woman carried a half-grown girl in her arms.
Jeffer nudged the CARM toward them, in along the trunk.
Smoke Ring people came long, longer, or dwarf. These invaders were of the longer persuasion, like jungle giants, born and raised in free-fall. They were quite human: an older man and woman and four girls. The wings were artificial, bound to their shins, made of cloth over splayed ribs. One girl trailed behind, struggling along with only one wing.
They were in sorry shape. Closer now, and Rather could see details. The man’s hair was burned, and the loose sheet that covered him was charred. The wingless girl was coughing; she didn’t even have the strength to cling to the woman who carried her.
Their legs stopped pumping as, one by one, they saw the CARM.
Debby said, “I don’t see anything like bows or harpoons. Can we take them aboard?”
“I thought of that, but look at them. The CARM scares them worse than being lost in the sky. Anyway, the man’s almost there.”
The burned man hadn’t seen them. Kicking steadily, far ahead of the others, he reached the bark and clung.
Without a pause he pounded a stake into the bark, moored a coil of line, and hurled the coil at the older woman. She freed a hand and caught it, pulled herself toward the tree, then snapped the line to send a sine wave rolling toward the trunk. The nearer girl caught the line in her toes as it bowed toward her.
Clave came around the bulge of the bark. He slowed when he saw the strangers. Gavving and Minya joined him. They moved toward the strangers.
There were four on the trunk now: a girl, the man, and the older woman with her coughing burden. Rather watched Clave take the burned man’s line, hurl a sine wave across the one-winged girl’s torso, and pull her in.
“Looks okay,” the Scientist murmured.
Clave looked up and waved. Jeffer nodded and set the CARM moving. “It’s all right,” he said. “They sure don’t look dangerous. I wonder what happened to them? Where are they now?”
“I never saw strangers before,” Jill said. “I don’t know what to think.”
“That burning tree is still coming at us,” Rather said.
Jeffer nodded. The CARM surged, turning.
Black smoke wreathed the middle section of the tree.
Flame glowed sluggishly from within, illuminating blurred curves and oblongs. Debby said, “There’s stuff in the fire. Made stuff, machinery. It’ll burn up.”
That was knowledge burning in the core of the fire.
Jeffer hated what he had to say. “We can’t save it. If we had Mark and the silver suit…no. That might burn even him.”
“You’re not taking us into the fire?”
“We can push anywhere. The tide will hold the tree straight.” Jeffer had already taken them below the inward limit of the firecloud, where a black plume drifted east.
The CARM was passing north of the trunk. Jeffer tapped: the CARM turned. “It’s still dangerous. The tree could come apart while we’re on it.”
He moved in on the trunk. The bow grated against bark; Jeffer’s crew surged forward against their elastic bands. “I think the CARM was built for pushing,” he said. He tapped a blue dash in the center of the panel, and the whisper of power became a whistling roar. Tide surged against his back.
This was what it was to be a Scientist. Knowledge, power, mastery of a universe. This was what Kendy the Checker had to offer. At what price? Who but a Scientist would have the strength to resist?
The sun passed zenith and started down its arc. Jeffer had changed the display; he watched sets of letters and numbers. The roar of the main motor strummed his bones.
Chapter Three
Refugees
from the Citizens Tree cassettes, year 4 SM:
TIME
WE’VE BEEN TRYING TO KEEP TO EARTH TIME, BUT THAT WORD “DAY” IS ABOUT AS USEFUL AS BALLS ON A CHECKER. THE CLOSER YOU GET TO VOY, THE SHORTER THE DAYS GET, DOWN TO ABOUT TWO HOURS. CLOSER THAN THAT, THE AIR’S TOO THIN AND THERE’S NO WATER TO SPEAK OF. AT A TEN-HOUR ORBIT, SAME THING, THERE’S NOTHING TO BREATHE. WE’VE BEEN KEEPING TO SHIP-TIME. TWENTY-FOUR HOURS CONSTITUTE A “SLEEP.” A “DAY” IS ONE ORBIT AROUND VOY, WHEREVER YOU HAPPEN TO BE. GOLD’S ORBIT IS A “STANDARD DAY.”
THE STATE TAKES ITS DATES FROM THE YEAR OF ITS FOUNDING. WE’VE DONE THE SAME, DATING SMOKE RING YEARS FROM FOUR YEARS AGO. OUR YEARS ARE HALF A ROTATION OF VOY AND ITS COMPANION SUN… HALF BECAUSE IT’S MORE CONVENIENT.
IF DISCIPLINE EVER DOES COME BACK FOR US, KENDY WILL HAVE TO LEARN A WHOLE NEW LANGUAGE.
— MICHELLE MICHAELS, COMMUNICATIONS
THE HUTS OF CITIZENS TREE WERE ENCLOSURES MADE BY weaving living spine branches into a kind of wicker-work. The Scientists’ hut was larger than most, and more cluttered too. The Scientists were the tribe’s teachers and doctors.
Any hut would have harpoons protruding from the walls and high ceiling; but here the wicker sprouted starstuff knives, pots of herbs and pastes, and tools for writing.
The hut was crowded. Lawri stepped carefully among five sleeping jungle giants.
She’d covered their wounds in undyed cloth. The strangers moaned and twisted in their sleep. The youngest girl, with her hair burned down to the scalp on one side of her head, was holding herself half in the air.
The noise from outside wasn’t helping. Lawri bent to get through the doorway. “Could you hold it down!” she whisper-snarled. “These citizens don’t need…oh. Clave…Chairman, I’m trying to give them some quiet. Can you take the talk to the commons?”
Clave and Anthon were intimidated into silence. Jeffer asked, “Can any of them answer questions?”
“They’re asleep. They haven’t said anything sensible.”
Her husband merely nodded. Lawri went back in. Rustling sounds receded. For a moment she felt remorse. Jeffer would want to see the strangers as much as anyone.
When the burns healed, the strangers would be handsome, but in weird fashion. Only birds wore the gaudy colors of their scorched clothing. Their skin was dark; their lips and noses were broad; their hair was like black pillows.
The youngest girl stirred, thrashed, and opened her eyes. “Tide,” she said wonderingly. The dark eyes focused. “Who’re you?”
“I’m Lawri the Scientist. You’re in Citizens Tree. You’re safe now.”
The girl twisted to see the others. “Wend?”
“One of you died.”
The girl moaned.
“Can you tell me who you are and how you came here?”
“I’m Carlot,” the girl said. Two tears were growing.
“We’re Serjent House. Loggers. There was afire…the whole tree caught fire. Wend got caught when the water tank let go.” She shook her head; teardrop globules flew wide.
“All right, Carlot. Have some water, then go to sleep.”
Carlot’s drinking technique was surprising. She took the pottery vessel, set two fingers to nearly block the opening, then jerked the pottery vessel toward her face.
The jet of water struck her lower lip. She tried again and reached her mouth.
“Would you like something to eat? Foliage?”
“What’s that?”
Lawri went out to strip some branchlets of their foliage. Carlot looked dubiously at the fluffy green stuff.
“Oh, it’s greens.”
“You know it?”
“I’ve been in a tree tuft.” She tasted it. “This is sweet. Older tree?” She continued eating.
Lawri said, “Later I’ll get you some stew. You should sleep now.”
Carlot patted the wicker floor. “How can I sleep with this pushing up against me? All my blood wants to settle on one side.”
London Tree, Lawri’s home, had been bigger, with a stronger tide. In Citizens Tree you could drop a stone from eye level and draw a slow breath and let it out before the stone struck. But this Carlot must be used to no tide at all.
She turned over, gingerly. Her eyes closed and she was asleep.
They moved through the green gloom of the corridor, back toward the commons. Anthon said, “I always wondered. Lawri doesn’t take orders from you either, does she?”
Jeffer laughed. “Treefodder, no!”
Clave said, “I really wanted to ask them some questions before we tackle the firetree.”
“We can’t wait,” Jeffer said. “Let’s go see what we can scavenge. This is the most interesting thing that has happened to us in fourteen years.”
“It’s bound to bring changes.”
“Like what?”
Clave grinned at Jeffer. “They’ve already changed your home life. You can’t sleep in the Scientists’ hut and Lawri won’t leave.”
“I’ve got the children too. I’m living in the bachelors’ longhut with my three kids and Rather. Look, I want to go now, before that burned tree drifts too far. Anthon?”
“Ready,” said the jungle giant.
Clave nodded, reluctantly. “Just us three? Stet. We’ll round up some kids to run the treadmill. And let’s take those wings along. I want to try them.”