The Smoke Ring t-2

by Larry Niven

  Rather said, “You know this is no big deal, don’t you? It happens all the time.”

  “I don’t know. Rather, I still get the shivers in your crawling huts! Your parents just don’t understand that. And poor Gorey, he is frightened.”

  “Sure. Carlot’s coming with Mother’s matchet. Send her after me. I need it to cut my way through.” It didn’t feel odd to be speaking thus peremptorily to his second mother. Mishael wasn’t that much older than Rather; she was new to all this, and it showed.

  Rather crawled west.

  Memories tried to surface around him. His parents’ bedroom: he’d lived in a basket, in a corner too small for a baby now. The private dining area, and ghosts of wonderful smells: were they in his nose, or in his mind? The common room, and too many strangers: he’d cried and had to be taken away. The spaces were distorted and tiny, a green-black womb. The spine branches were still growing. He tore them away with his fists; tore through an old partition.

  He didn’t like this. His past was too small to hold him.

  “Gorey!”

  From west by north, Gorey yelled piercingly. He sounded more angry than frightened. How had he gotten thereat What had been a kitchen wall had crumpled and grown half a meter thick! He must have found some way around—

  “Rather?”

  Carlot, behind him. He reached far back and took what was pushed into his hand. “Thanks.” He pulled it to the level of his face, turned it with some difficulty and pushed the blade further.

  “Can you get to him?”

  “One way or another.”

  For years the matchet had been no more than a part of the wall. He’d never really looked at it. The handle was long and a bit too wide for his short fingers. The blade was sixty ce’meters of black metal, tinged red by time. Time and use had serrated the edge. It had once belonged to a Navy man of London Tree.

  In this restricted space he must use it as a saw. He didn’t try to cut the wall. He cut branchlets west of him.

  He turned starboard, still sawing through miscellaneous branchlets. “Gorey?”

  Cautiously, doubtfully: “Rath?”

  “Here. Give me your hand. Can you reach me?”

  “I can’t move!”

  Rather saw a thrashing foot. He pulled on it experimentally. Gorey was pinned between a spine branch and a smooth dark wall: the main branch itself. He must have tried to crawl between them. Rather wriggled forward.

  He sawed the spine branch half through, reached farther and broke it with his hands. Gorey wriggled out and wrapped himself around his brother and clung. Presently he asked, “Are they mad?”

  “Sure they’re mad. How did you get here? Hide and seek?”

  “Yeah. Harry said he was gonna catch me and feed me to the triunes, so I kept going. Then I was afraid the treemouth would get me and I got really scared.”

  “Harry wouldn’t get that close to a triune family. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but I was mad.”

  “You’d starve to death before you reached the treemouth. Here, grab my foot and follow me.”

  The boy’s fingers were long enough to overlap Rather’s ankle. He was already taller than Rather. They crawled out, with easier going at every meter.

  In the common room Rather’s mothers greeted him as a hero, while Gorey was scolded and petted. Rather took it with what grace he could. He wondered if Carlot was laughing at him; but in fact she seemed to think he had done something actively dangerous.

  It made him uncomfortable. He was vastly relieved when Gavving poked his head through the door. “Treadmill runners!” he called. “Rather?” And Rather was rescued.

  Harry and Carlot came with them. As they neared the treemouth Gavving said, “Harry, Carlot, why don’t you see if they need help with the laundry pot?”

  They split off. Harry grumbling.

  Rather followed his father up through the tunnels toward the treadmill. His nerves were prickling. Something odd was going on. “Father? Do they really need treadmill runners?”

  “No,” Gavving said without looking down.

  The treadmill was at rest. Debby and Jeffer lay in the foliage nearby, eating and talking. They sat up when Gavving appeared. “Got him,” Gavving said.

  This must have something to do with the Serjent family; and the conference before the last sleep, from which children were barred; and the arguments that divided half the families in the tree. Do my mothers know about this? Would they approve? Rather asked instead, “Should we have brought Carlot?”

  “No need. Rather, we have to find out something.” Gavving pointed at a short, faceless fat man made of silvery metal. “Try that on.”

  “The silver suit?”

  “Yeah. See if you can get into it.”

  Rather looked it over. This thing had a fearsome, quasiscientific reputation. It was a flying fighting machine, stronger than crossbow bolts, stronger than the airlessness beyond all that was known. Rather had never before seen it with its head closed.

  Jeffer instructed him. “Lift this latch. Take the head and turn it. Pull up. Turn it the other way.”

  The head came up on a hinge.

  “This latch too. Now pull this down…now pull it apart…good.”

  The suit was open down the front, and empty.

  “Can you get in?”

  “Where’s Mark?”

  “Debby?”

  “No problem. We relieved him and he took Karilly to the kitchen.”

  “Father…wait. Listen. I’m the only boy in the tree with two mothers and two fathers.” Rather plunged on despite the sudden hurt in Gavving’s face. “We’ve never talked about this, but I always knew…sooner or later I’d…does Mark know what you’re doing with the silver suit?”

  “No.”

  “What’s it all about?” Four big adults could make him do whatever they wanted; and it didn’t matter. They needed his cooperation, and he didn’t know enough to give it.

  Jeffer the Scientist said, “It’s about seeing what’s outside Citizens Tree. It’s learning about the Smoke Ring, what we can use, what we need to be afraid of. Or else it’s about staying savages until someone comes out of the sky to teach us the hard way.”

  “We’re going to the Clump,” Gavving said. “We’ll be safer if we can take the Silver Man.”

  “Uh-huh. Mark doesn’t want to go?”

  “Right.”

  They watched as Rather tried to get into the suit. He had to get his legs in first, then duck under the neck ring.

  He closed the sliding catches, the headpiece, the latches.

  The suit was loose around his belly, snug everywhere else. “It fits.”

  Jeffer closed the helmet on him. He rotated it left until it dropped two mi’meters, then right.

  Rather was locked in a box his own size and shape.

  The suit smelled faintly of former occupants, of exertion and fear. He moved his arms, then his legs, against faint resistance. He turned and reached and plucked a handful of foliage…good. He could move. He could move like a normal man.

  The air was getting stale…but Jeffer was already turning the helmet, lifting it. The adults were smiling at each other. Gavving said, “Okay. Get out of it.”

  Getting out of the silver suit was as difficult as getting in. Rather said, “Now tell me.”

  “Some of us are going to visit the Clump. Do you want to come with us?”

  “Who’s going? How long will it take?”

  “Me,” said Jeffer. “Gavving. Booce and Ryllin. Anthon and Debby. The Clump is all jungle giants. We need people that size.”

  “How does the Chairman—”

  “He’ll try to stop us.”

  “Father, I don’t really like the thought of not ever coming home.”

  Gavving shook his head. “They’ll want the CARM back. They’ll want us back too. Citizens Tree isn’t so crowded that they can afford to lose anyone who breathes. They’ll want to know what we learned. They’ll want what we bring back.
Half the citizens are on our side anyway; they just don’t want to buck the Chairman.”

  “You’re taking the carm?”

  “We are.” Gavving clapped him on the shoulder. “Think about it. We’ve got two sleeps to get ready. Whatever you decide, don’t mention this to anyone, particularly your mothers.”

  “Father, you’d better tell it all.” Rather didn’t consider whether he had the right to ask. Clave wouldn’t like this; Minya wouldn’t like it; and if he agreed to this — it was only just coming to him — if Rather agreed, then he was the Silver Man.

  Jeffer said, “It isn’t just the wealth of the Clump Admiralty. It’s—”

  “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

  They told him.

  Chapter Six

  The Appearance of Mutiny

  from Disciplined log, year 1893 State = 370 SM:

  MEDICAL READOUTS SHOWED THAT THE INHABITANTS OF CARM #6 LIED TO ME. THEY REACTED STRONGLY TO ACCUSATION OF MUTINY. I LOST MY CHANCE TO QUESTION THEM IN DETAIL. THEY MAY HAVE MUTINIED AGAINST LEGITIMATE HOLDERS OF THE CARM. HEREDITY WILL TELL.

  IT’S A BAD HABIT. I WILL BREAK THEM OF IT.

  — SHARLS DAVIS KENDY, CHECKER

  CLAVE PULLED HIMSELF OUT OF THE ELEVATOR FIRST.

  Wings were tethered next to the cage, and he pulled one free and tied it in place along his left shin. “This was a good idea, Gavving. Wings aren’t much use in the tuft.”

  “Oh, we’ll keep some there too. Hunters used to carry jet pods. Wings are better. But there’s no point porting them up and down every time someone wants to fly. What are you doing?”

  “Fixing this.” He chopped with his matchet at his other wing. When ten ce’meters were gone, he tied the wing to his right shin. He felt distinctly lopsided.

  Jeffer and Gavving were also winged now. The three flapped out toward the CARM, spurning the convenient handholds the bark afforded. Clave’s flight wavered, then steadied. He’d been right. This was easier on the warped muscles in his thigh.

  Jeffer was first through the airlock. “Prikazyvat Voice.”

  The CARM’s deep voice said, “Ready, Jeffer the Scientist—”

  A woman’s voice broke in. “Jeffer, it’s Lawri. I think I want to join you.”

  “Come on up. Bring something to eat. We’ll be running the main motor for maybe two days.”

  “Will do. Lawri out.”

  “What was that about?” Clave asked.

  “Lawri doesn’t trust me with the CARM.” Jeffer laughed. “Now we refuel the beast.”

  Clave sighed. “Pump?”

  “Right. You pump while I do a checklist. Otherwise we’ll lose the pondlet when we go under thrust.”

  Some pumping had been done, but megatons of water still nestled against the trunk. Clave ran the hose from the CARM to the pondlet. The pump was a wheel and a tube and piston, all carved from hard branchwood. Clave braced his back and arms against the bark and kicked the wheel around with his feet on the spokes. “Help would be appreciated,” he grunted.

  Gavving joined him.

  The pump leaked. The pond didn’t dwindle fast, but it dwindled. They broke to drink thirstily, then resumed pumping. The sun had dropped from zenith to nadir — which at the midyear was not behind Voy, but north by three full degrees — when Jeffer poked his head through the airlock. “Stop! The tank’s full!”

  Clave tossed his head to shake some of the sweat out of his hair.

  “Come inside.” Jeffer ushered them forward to the front row of seats. “Strap down.”

  He tapped, and vertical blue dashes appeared in the panel below the window. Four clusters of four each at the corners of a square, and a larger dash in the center. He tapped the central dash.

  The sound within the cabin was like the roaring of wind at the treemouth. Clave felt a featherweight of tide and knew the tree was in motion.

  Jeffer told them, “We’re already placed right, with the motor aimed west. We thrust eastward. That puts Citizens Tree in a wider orbit, so we slow down and drift west, away from the Clump.”

  Clave wondered if he wanted to watch from outside. “Is it dangerous out there?”

  “Could be. You don’t want to fall into the flame. Anyway, the view’s better in here.” Jeffer’s fingers danced, and the CARM window sprouted five smaller windows.

  “The ventral view got ruined when we fell back into the Smoke Ring—”

  “Jeffer, you don’t lecture this much unless you’re nervous. What’s wrong? We’ve moved the tree before.”

  Gavving laughed. It appeared that he had a touch of nerves too. “Remember how twitchy we were then? Merril was sure we’d break the tree apart and kill ourselves.”

  Clave shrugged. He went aft and braced himself in the airlock.

  What remained of the pondlet stretched itself out from the trunk, then broke into one big drop and a line of little ones. The mother pond they’d robbed twenty-two sleeps ago drifted west. The sun passed Voy and began to climb.

  A fat triple-finned bird, dead west by a klomter or three, suddenly went into an epileptic seizure, split into three slender birds, and scattered. Clave was late in understanding what he’d seen: a triune family suddenly washed by the invisible heat of the CARM’s exhaust.

  Clave went in and strapped down again.

  He had been anticipating Lawri’s arrival for some time, but the CARM’s roar covered her entry. He turned to see her halfway up the aisle…and Debby behind her. And Ryllin. And Booce and Carlot. Clave fumbled to release the buckle that bound him to the chair.

  It took too long. He was between Jeffer and Gavving, with Lawri behind him. He sighed. “What’s it all about?”

  Jeffer’s fingers danced. The board went blank. He said, “We can fight or we can talk. Or we can talk and then fight, but there’s only one»of you. Clave. Cripple me and Lawri flies the CARM.”

  Call for help? If he could get past Jeffer to use Voice, the elevator would still take a day to get up…forget it. Voice connected to the silver suit, which Rather was now pulling headfirst through the airlock.

  It would have felt good to hit somebody. Clave said, “I’ll be good. Now what’s it all about?”

  “We’re going to visit the Admiralty,” Jeffer said.

  Rather and Booce were moving things inside: two smoked turkeys, a huge amount of foliage, water pods.

  “All of us?”

  “Not you. Clave. Lawri’s staying too. Citizens Tree needs a Chairman and a Scientist.”

  “How did you decide—”

  There was a bit of an edge in Lawri’s voice. “We knew one of us would have to stay. Now I’ve missed my time of blood. I’m hosting a guest. I wondered why the copsik was being so affectionate.”

  “You should all be staying. You’re taking the CARM?”

  “The CARM, the silver suit, and the pipe from Logbearer.”

  They all looked very serious. The background roar prompted Clave to ask, “Are you planning to set the tree moving first? Or was that a lie too?”

  “We’ll give you a day’s thrust,” Jeffer said. “No more. I won’t be here to decelerate you, and I want to be able to find you again.”

  “With what? Would London Tree have let you keep the CARM? The Admiralty won’t either!”

  Patiently Gavving said, “We’ve talked that over. We won’t take the CARM into the Clump. They’ll never know it exists. Jeffer will hide the CARM somewhere. The rest of us will go in as loggers, with Booce and Ryllin to show us how.”

  Clave’s mind was racing. “Now listen to me. Will you listen?”

  “Yes, Chairman.”

  “First, are you all volunteers? Rather, how did they suck you into this?”

  “They can’t go without the silver suit,” the boy said.

  “Oh, they’d go. Wouldn’t you, Jeffer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going anyway,” Rather said.

  He didn’t look like he’d change his mind. Rather didn’t even bother to argue, th
ough the boy was good at that. Clave knew how he would enlist a fourteen-year-old boy. Put him in the silver suit, call him the Silver Man, offer him status and adventure… “Carlot?”

  “I’m going home,” the girl said defiantly.

  “Debby?” But aglance told Clave he’d lost that battle.

  Debby was fiercely happy. He hadn’t seen her like this since the War of London Tree. “What about Anthon?”

  Debby said, “I never told him. Jeffer, I did get him talking. He likes Citizens Tree just fine and he doesn’t want any changes. Have you noticed how fat he’s getting?”

  “Too bad,” Jeffer said.

  Clave said, “Stet. I accept that you’re going to do this. I’ve heard your speeches, and you’ve heard mine, and the treemouth can have them both. But don’t you see that this will tear Citizens Tree apart? It’s mutiny. Hold it! I mean it’s mutiny the way you’ve planned it. If we don’t fix that. Citizens Tree will never recover. It’s got to look better than it does.”

  The mutineers looked at each other.

  “Here’s how it’s got to be,” said Clave. “First, I’m going. Gavving isn’t. You said it and you’re right. The tree needs a Chairman and it’s Gavving.”

  Gavving said, “That’s silly. You’re—”

  “I’m the treefeeding Chairman, and if I go the expedition is official. Besides that, I’ve got to see to it that you return the CARM and the silver suit. The citizens would be crazy to settle for less. I hereby appoint you my Chairman Pro Tem until I return.”

  Coolly Gavving asked, “Anything else?”

  “Yes. You don’t get both Booce and Ryllin. One of them stays. There has to be some reason for the Serjents to bring us home.”

  “We can’t do that,” Ryllin said. “Booce takes care of Logbearer. I take care of business. I do all the buying and selling. Anyone who sees one of us in the Clump will expect to see us both.”

  Clave was massaging the lump on his thigh. Sometimes that helped him think. Think! “The citizens you deal with, the…merchants? If they deal with Booce, what will happen?”