by Larry Niven
“I never thought there was. While I’ve got your attention, Kendy, I found a listing on the Clump. Lagrange points, it’s called. What do these words mean? Equipotential, saprophyte — Something’s happening.”
A steam rocket emerged from the fog and rain. It came to a halt fifty meters from the helmet camera. “Navy,” Jeffer said unnecessarily. “I wonder…that’s Booce. And a silver suit!”
“I see them. An equipotential is the curve on which some force or energy level is everywhere equal. It might be gravity or tidal force or magnetic force. A -saprophyte is a family of plants that don’t use light. We’ll see some if Clave can take the helmet into the Dark.”
Four men flew toward the camera: two in Navy armor, one standard-issue pressure suit, and Booce Serjent. The pressure suit was better kept, cleaner and shinier, than the Citizens Tree suit. There were big Navy-style fins at the ankles. The design painted on the back was repeated on one shoulder and on the fins: a broad green ring with a blue dot at the center.
Kendy tried to make contact with the suit radio. He found nothing. Either it wasn’t on, or the frequency had wandered over the centuries.
The helmet was thrown back on its hinge despite the rain. The face inside was a rounded anglo face, without the soft elfin look of most Smoke Ring citizens: a “dwarf” face, shaved, sprouting an Earth day’s worth of dark shadow.
The “dwarf” looked around him. “This was clever, Booce. Do you have torches?”
“I’m sorry, Captain-Guardian. We can make some up.”
“No need. How do I get through this muck?” The dwarf had no accent.
Kendy gloated. No accent! He spoke exactly as a State citizen would have. The officers must learn their speech from the Admiralty Library!
They were drifting out of view. Kendy switched to the fisheye lens. He and Jeffer watched the Captain-Guardian take his wings off and tether them to lines on his chest, shin-sticks uppermost. The two lower-rank Navy men pulled up an edge of the termite nest. The “dwarf” squirmed in. Sudden yellow light flashed through the hole.
Jeffer asked, “Does that light come from the pressure suit?”
“I’ll show you how to work the helmet light. Later.”
The “dwarf” popped out of the hole. “There’s a respectable store of metal here. We’ll have to wait for the Council to convene before we make an offer per kilton delivered. Unless you’re prepared to accept an immediate offer of, say, two times ten-to-fifth chits for the whole chunk?”
“I can get two or three times that on the Market.”
“Perhaps. If we come to an agreement I can give you payment within ten days.”
“No, thank you, Captain-Guardian. I’ll wait. Maybe I can earn some money Dark diving. Can I offer you tea?”
“You wouldn’t want to have to sell your new house. Two and a half.”
“No. I should point out that you’ve been seen coming here. There’s a happyfeet jungle in dock, and they might guess what that means. Also I’ll be expected to hire an exterminator. I can’t hide the metal much longer.”
The Captain-Guardian snorted and waved to his escort.
They departed.
Booce waited until they were well away. Then he moved face-on to the camera. “Jeffer?”
“Here.”
“That was Captain-Guardian Wayne Mickl. Officer by birth, but his effective rank is Guardian. Keeping him happy is a good idea.”
“He didn’t look happy.”
“If he’s too happy, we got robbed. Jeffer, how sure are you that spinning a tree will make burl?”
Jeffer laughed. “I never tried it myself.”
“Yeah. Are you all right?”
“It isn’t too bad. Something like being young again, just old enough to hunt alone. I’ve got the cassettes when I get bored. I miss Lawri.”
“Well, I’m going to move the silver suit. We can’t leave it here.”
“Where, then?”
“My house. I’ll set it up so you can see the commons room. We can talk any time, and when I have guests you’ll see them too.”
“That’s good,” said Jeffer.
VERY GOOD. LOSING CONTACT.
Chapter Seventeen
Serjent House
from the Citizens Tree cassettes, year 6 SM:
SHARON LEVOY SPEAKS OF THE ARCHETYPAL REBELLIOUS COMPUTER, HAL 9000, FROM GILLESPIE’S OPERA 2001. CAROL BURNES CLAIMS FRANKENSTEIN AND FAUST TO BE OLDER AND MORE APPROPRIATE IMAGES. ONE-UPMANSHIP IS ALIVE AND WELL IN THE SMOKE RING. ONE AND ALL, THEY EXPECT ME TO TELL THEM HOW IT HAPPENED.
FOR THE RECORD: I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH KENDY.
— CAPABILITY JASPER GRAY, CYBERNETICIST, DISCIPLINE
DEBBY WAS IN A HURRY THE NEXT MORNING. IT SEEMED she’d arranged something at Half Hand’s: she was to meet Grag Maglicco for flying lessons. Booce drilled her to make sure she wouldn’t get lost in the sky, then sent her on her way.
The rest shared out the meal from Half Hand’s for their breakfast, then got to work. They fueled and fired Logbearer and set it steaming along the trunk. A half turn brought the rocket to a halt opposite the Wart.
Clave, Carlot, and Rather swarmed out and attacked the termite nest with matchets. When Logbearer blocked the Market, and floating chaff and chips of bark and wood blocked most of the sky. Clave and Rather ducked into the nest. Clave retrieved the body of the silver suit. Rather the helmet. Booce had kept the rocket hot. He jetted water into it, and away they went.
Secrets. Rather was starting to get the knack of it.
Half the termite nest had been scraped away, not by a hired team but by amateurs. What would the Market think? Booce must be hurting for money. His crew has exposed damage to the log: a gaping, ugly hole behind the termite nest. They’ve quit in disgust. Unlikely that anyone else would pry into that bug-infested darkness.
The house had drifted about the sky since its completion a year and a half since. Debby had relayed Grag’s message: it was fifteen klomters skyward and some degrees to spin from the Market. The house was closer than it had been when Grag spotted it, but it was still a threeday trip.
The house was five cubes arrayed around a concrete core. A small puff jungle grew on the roof. The main door was a huge slab of wood five meters long by four wide, half a meter thick. Booce set massive triangular braces to lock it vertical to the doorway. Mountings covered the inner surface: tethers for wings and cloaks, and coils of line, and big knobs to serve as moorings for winches and pulleys.
They tethered Logbearer to the door. In its shadow they moved the silver suit and helmet inside.
Secrets. What has been seen? Logbearer flies to Serjent House. The crew stays for some hours while Booce inspects his new home and shows it off to visitors. Presently Booce will be spending money.
Navy: Booce has retrieved funds from some hiding place. He can outwait the Navy to sell his metal.
Belmy House: Booce came as misdirection.
The Market: Any hiding place in Booce’s house must be empty now.
“Where do we put it?” Rather held the helmet like a severed head.
“Look around,” Booce said. “Something will occur to you.”
The citizens smiled at each other. They began to tour the house.
Doorways led from one section to another through the star-shaped concrete core. There were only two ways to move. Rather had to squeeze past Clave circling the other way.
The house was roomy: as big as a Citizens Tree hut, though much harder to build. The public room was lined with handholds and with hooks for outer garments and weapons, and a rack for a teapot.
The outer wall of the kitchen had long slots in it for ventilation, a concrete fireplace with a bellows attached, and racks for wood and cookware. Rather found Carlot making tea. He asked, “You already know?”
She nodded brightly.
The sleeproom: tethers and some wiry foliage padding four of the walls.
What was this next room? Curtains fixed across both interior doors, hand
holds and tethers mounted next to small windows with hatches over them…
Ah. This was the treemouth. And the fifth was a storage room, with another oversized door and moorings for tethers, but nothing stored yet.
Rather returned to the public room.
Debby was moving slowly around the perimeter. She seemed more cheerful than she had been lately. “Hi, Rather. Grag brought me back. I gather we’re looking for some secret hiding place. Any luck?”
“Not yet. Booce, how do you get rid of the treefodder after you feed the tree?”
Booce stared. “What? — Oh. The wind floats it away and fisher jungles gather it in. Now you know why everyone doesn’t just tether his house to the Market. Find anything?”
“I didn’t see any hiding places. I’ve never seen a house before.”
“You were all somewhere else, so I searched here,” Debby said. “Nothing. Booce, are there holes in the concrete?”
Booce laughed. “I could have done that. Access through the walls? Well, any burglar could tear the core apart and all he’d find is concrete and two chunks of sporing fringe buried along the hub. Meanwhile, what do you think of my door?”
“Thick. Like you’re afraid someone might kick his way through.”
“We tend to make them massive. Not just for burglars. It has to stand up to rough treatment when you’re moving heavy stuff.”
Clave shook his head in disgust. “We’d know who our thief is. We’d kick him into the sky. Booce, your trouble is, you’ve got too many people in the Clump.”
Booce was taken aback. “I never thought of it that way. Anyway, let me show you what I did—”
When the door was fully open, one could slide aside a panel in the edge that faced the hinges. The half-meter thickness of the wood had been hollowed out. The silver suit went in easily. The helmet was barely small enough.
“Now we need a hole,” Booce said.
“Kendy for the State. Jeffer, would you rather sleep?”
“Mpf? No. Hello, Kendy.” Jeffer stretched. “If I didn’t want you waking me up I’d sleep outside.” He looked at the view in the bow window. “Oho!”
It was dark, but Jeffer could make out Clave’s anxious face. His voice sounded faint, distant. “Jeffer? Talk to me, Jeffer.”
“Prikazyvat Relay to pressure suit. Scientist here.”
“What do you see?”
“You. And a ragged border. What did you do?”
“You’re looking through a hole in a door. Booce ripped a hook out. From here it looks like he just put too much tension on it.”
“Good enough. I take it we can talk. Rather, you there?”
Rather floated into view, smiled, and waved. Others joined, until five citizens floated in a star with their heads inward.
Booce said, “I’ve made a deal with the Belmys. Jeffer, would you like to learn something about the Dark?”
“You mean the Clump interior? Sure.”
“That’s good, because I’ve agreed to bring back some mud for Belmy’s burl tree.”
“You’re going? All of you? Logbearer?”
“Ah…no. I think I’d better stay here. I’ve been weaving financial threads into one very complicated net. Carlot, you can handle Logbearer alone, stet? And I gather Raym Wilby is at liberty. He can guide you.” Carlot was nodding eagerly. “Oh, and Hilar hadn’t thought of spinning the burl log, but he’s going to try it.”
“Sounds good. Carlot, will you take the helmet so I can see these marvels?”
Carlot looked to her father, who said, “Why not?”
“Good. Rather, tell me about the Navy. Take your time.”
Rather talked. Kendy guessed that the boy wasn’t hiding anything, but he kept jumping back and forth. Kendy printed questions across the bow window; Jeffer solicited descriptions of Petty Wheeler, Bosun Murphy, Navy armor, the Navy ship, Murphy’s description of Navy life, Wheeler’s offer…
“Is this standard, Booce? Anyone can join the Navy?”
“Not just anyone. They wouldn’t have Carlot because of her legs. Otherwise…well, any savage could join, but he might not get beyond Spacer First until they’ve watched him for years. The Navy wants loyalty. They take more men than women, and they won’t take you if you’re too old to be trained.”
“Loyalty?”
“If you’re loyal to your tribe, you’re not loyal to the Navy. Navy above all, even family.”
“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 $ou 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 leam 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 straigh
t 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 UNDEFENDABLE, 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.