The Smoke Ring t-2

by Larry Niven

  Carlot. When he opened his helmet she kissed him breathlessly. “I thought I’d never see you again! Did you do it?”

  “Yeah. All of it, but the Captain-Guardian knows, or thinks he does.”

  She talked while she helped him out of the suit. “Raym got too much of the fringe. He’s in the cabin getting through the hangover. Debby’s with him. She’ll keep him quiet. We’ve got our mud and four tons of walnut-cushion. Two Dark sharks tried to open us up. Debby took them. Rather, I’d hate to have her mad at me. We’ve got the meat, and I’ll show you tooth scars on the wood—”

  “I hope they were big. I’m hungry.” He was out. He closed up the suit, leaving the helmet open. “Jeffer?”

  “Here. I’m above your position.”

  “I’m doing it.” He closed the helmet. He turned the pressure dial high and the temperature low. The suit grew rigid. “Now I want to start a fire.”

  “In the Dark that won’t be easy.”

  “Help me. That…fisher jungle, I guess it was.” He indicated a mass of dry brush with white things taking root in it. “Help me push the legs in.” They pushed the suit into the decaying fisher jungle. The branches still had some strength. Rather got a good grip, then closed a jet key with his toe. Flame blasted through the rotting fisher jungle; the suit tried to escape. He let the jet run for several breaths before he turned it off.

  “Jeffer should find that okay,” he said. He was guessing and he knew it. “Then tell me! What happened?”

  He told her some of it while they searched out Logbearer. The rest would wait. Clave and Debby would have to wait to hear the tale, since Raym could not be allowed to. And Rather would have his chance to eat and sleep.

  He was exhausted.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Silver Suit

  from the Library cassettes, year 200 SM:

  CITIZENS MAY NEVER ENTER THE LIBRARY ROOM. CITIZENS WILL BE GIVEN ACCESS TO THE LIBRARY ONLY THROUGH OFFICERS, AND THEN ONLY ON CERTAIN DATES…ON THESE DAYS THE LIBRARY WILL REMAIN AVAILABLE, WITH A PROGRAMMER ON DUTY, UNTIL ALL CITIZENS HAVE HAD OPPORTUNITY TO ASK THEIR QUESTIONS; THOUGH SOME QUESTIONS WILL CERTAINLY BE UNANSWERABLE…

  THEY STOPPED TWICE: ONCE AT THE MARKET, TO LET Raym off with half his pay in hand, and once at a pond, to refuel.

  Belmy’s log was very slowly turning end-for-end. A thread of steam poured from above the tuft. As Carlot made her final bum to bring Logbearer to rest near the midpoint, Woodsman cast loose and moved toward them.

  Serjent House was just visible to antispinward: west. Rather tried not to think about the dot visible alongside it. He welcomed the delay.

  Debby said, “I’d like to get this over with—”

  Clave shook her by the ankle. “Wrong! We went into the Dark for mud, and we’re back to get rid of it. We don’t know of anything urgent. We’re in no hurry at all.”

  Carlot shouted from where she and Rather worked the rocket. “Stet! Treefodder, they always make us wait!”

  They had it all figured out. But copter plants were launching their seeds in Rather’s belly.

  Woodsman eased alongside. Hilar and RaffBelmy flew toward Logbearer. “You’ll like Raff,” Carlot whispered. “Act like you like Raff.”

  “It’s all right. I’d make babies with him if it’d make you happy…or get me away from the Navy.”

  Hilar introduced his son. (Treefodder, but they were big!) Raff smiled much and said little. He was shy for an adult, Rather thought. He stared at the tree dwellers, but his eyes seemed to slide aside from Rather’s.

  The teapot passed. Carlot asked, “How are you doing with the log?”

  Hilar shrugged. “No burl yet.” The others laughed. “Give it time. We have some spin. I don’t think we want to overdo it. We’ve splashed a pond against the trunk; that gives us a water flow. How are you planning to deliver the mud?”

  “I…hadn’t thought past just bringing it here.”

  “Raff and I talked it over—”

  Raff spoke. “Dad always says keep it simple. We’ll just impact it against the tree, lee side, two, three klomters above the tuft. There’s already water running down to the treemouth. Let it carry the mud too. Easy, steady delivery system.”

  He can talk when it’s about something real, Rather thought. “Have you done a lot of logging?”

  Raffs head bobbed. “I spend more than half my life in the outer sky. Sometimes I wondered what living in a tree would be like.”

  They were getting used to that question. Clave said, “I miss it myself. Well, you grow up shorter and stronger. Cooking’s easier. Hunting’s different: the wind throws the prey at you…”

  Rather tuned it out. The dot next to Serjent House must be a Navy ship. He felt their long-sight devices on him. What the Navy saw must look puzzling. Let them wonder: he had an explanation both interesting and innocent.

  His attention snapped back when Hilar said, “Booce has been making deals. I expect he’ll pay back the loan well before crossyear.”

  Carlot asked, “Has the Navy bought the metal yet?”

  “No. In fact, something’s upsetting the Navy. I haven’t heard a rumor I can believe, but…stay alert, Carlot. You know you’ve got visitors?”

  “We can see them. Hilar, Raff, it’s time to deliver our cargo.”

  It took a day and a fraction and was entirely straightforward. Logbearer burned toward the turning tree. Her crew dismounted the spokes that braced the web that supported the mud. Mud and lines and wooden spokes smacked the trunk hard enough to stick. Water flow was already carving a runnel in the mud as Logbearer accelerated away. They’d be back to collect the beams and lines after they were washed clean.

  Gyrfalcon was not moored; it floated free a hundred meters from Serjent House. Two men working on the hull did not return Clave’s cheerful wave. Rather recognized one as Petty Wheeler. They watched fixedly while Logbearer’s crew swarmed out and set about the business of mooring their ship.

  Rather looked around the common room while they tethered their wings. One fast look and then he’d have to react:

  No teapot. Not a social occasion. Booce Serjent looked angry and unhappy. Bosun Sectry Murphy started to jump toward Rather, then pulled herself back. Three longlimbed Navy men were stationed around the walls, and a fourth: silver suit, helmet thrown back, bearded dwarfface within. Wayne Mickl.

  Rather let himself break into a delighted grin. It was surprisingly easy. He wanted to reassure Sectry; he was glad to see her. He let his eyes flick from Sectry to Wayne Mickl to Sectry again. He blurted, “Am I in?”

  Sectry flashed from unhappy to angry. Wayne Mickl broke into delighted laughter. “Very good! But, Rather, there just aren’t enough dwarves to make it work. Take him.”

  Two of the Navy crew were on him. They pulled him loose from his handhold, set him spinning in the air. He caught glimpses of them rebounding from walls. Then one had wrapped his arms and legs around Rather’s lower ribs from behind, and the other had a foot in Rather’s crotch and Rather’s two ankles in his hands, stretching his legs straight.

  There was a wrestling trick. Jill had shown him, in the brief period when she was stronger than he was. You wrapped your arms or legs around your opponent’s short ribs and tightened them. Your opponent couldn’t inhale.

  Presently he would faint.

  Rather had used it on others afterward, and been punished for it. Most of the children were smaller than he was. Jilly wasn’t, but she didn’t have the strength of a dwarf after they beth got older. Rather had been taught not to fight. He still got angry sometimes, but he learned to control it. Sometimes he wrestled with adults. He generally lost.

  The man behind him (call him Navy #1) was letting him breathe, but shallowly. The other (Navy #2) wasn’t kicking Rather’s seeds into his belly; but he could. Rather held the red rage in check. “Booce?”

  Booce answered the implied question. “You tell me. Where have you been?”

  “The Dark. We’ve delivered Hila
r’s mud. We’ve got some walnut-cushion and—”

  “The Navy went through this house like a whirlwind. I told them about the sporing fringe in the concrete. I was about to show them a hiding place I made in the door. I think they’d rather chop my house apart, and I get the distinct impression that it’s all your fault—”

  “Shut it, Booce,” Mickl said. “Rather, what did you think you were coming home to?”

  Anger made his thoughts murky, but he’d rehearsed this part in his mind. “I thought…I saw Sectry and I saw you. I thought the Captain-Guardian had come personally to tell me I was in. The Navy. You know. But—”

  “You must know that an officer wouldn’t care that much about a new inductee.”

  “Well, you’re here and…someone told me you’re very eager to put another dwarf in the Guardian slot. What me you doing here, Captain-Guardian?”

  “It’s a mistake!” Sectry burst out.

  Mickl didn’t shout; he projected his voice over hers. The walls shivered to it. “Let me tell you something about mistakes. There’s—”

  “No, allow me.” Rather reached for the foot in his crotch with both hands. He had it before the leg could snap straight, and he twisted. His rib cage closed. He stopped breathing and kept twisting. The leg buckled.

  Navy #2 was pulled close; he loosed Rather’s ankle and Rather kicked him twice under the jaw. Now his hands were free to pull the constricting arms apart and over his head and down. Torsion pulled the legs free too, and he could breathe.

  Navy #2 kicked at Rather with his good leg. Rather caught it on his foot. Reaction separated them: Navy #2 was headed toward a wall. There was blood on his mouth. Rather pulled the other’s arms around behind him. They came, not easily, and Rather kept pulling until he had pulled Navy #l’s shoulder from its socket.

  Clave had a rib lock on the third man.

  Rather pushed Navy #1 away. The man turned in the air, moaning, his arm at a crooked angle.

  Navy #2 had reached the wall. He jumped. They traded blows: Rather put his heel in the other’s midsection, but a fist smacked solidly into the side of Rather’s neck. Short arms and legs had cost Rather more than one match.

  Again the blows had thrown them apart. Rather’s ears buzzed; lights flared in his eyes. He was too far from the walls. He waited…but Navy #2 was curled in a tight ball. When a wall touched him he stayed there, winded, resting.

  Wayne Mickl was pointing a crossbow at Rather. “Cut it. I’ll shoot you someplace nonlethal. You too, Jonthan. Stay there. You, the tree man, let go of Doheen!”

  Clave released Navy #3. Doheen was unconscious.

  Panting, elated, Rather said, “Stet. But mistakes are something…somebody pays for, and that’s what… the word is for. Or am I going too fast for you?”

  “Yes. Pause a minute. — What is it now?”

  The men in the doorway both looked surprised. One was a Navy crewman. He had Raym Wilby in a rib lock. “Captain-Guardian, this one flew up like he was coming to the house. Then he saw the ship and turned around and flew away. The Petty and me chased him down.”

  “Who are you?” Mickl demanded.

  Raym only gaped. Carlot said, “It’s Raym Wilby. He guided us into the Dark.”

  “Wilby, what were you flying from?”

  “I…I just don’t like N-Navy.”

  “Stet. Jonthan, wipe your face, then take Wilby into the storage room. Ask him about the trip. Be polite.”

  Doheen blinked; his eyes opened. The man from the ship took charge of Navy # 1, the man with the dislocated arm. Rather heard him yell as his shoulder popped into place. Jonthan (Navy #2) wiped blood from his mouth with a cloth, then took Raym Wilby by the elbow and towed him away. Rather noticed for the first time that Sectry had a crossbow too. It was pointed at Clave.

  Mickl ignored it all. “Now, Rather, tell me about a pressure suit that looks like mine. Don’t forget the crossbow.”

  Rather was still panting a little. He took a moment more than he needed. “Pressure suit? Booce told me. You’ve got three. Nine crew to use them, but you’re short of dwarves.” Which ought to be a pun, he thought; but he’d irritated Micklenough without that.

  “A fourth pressure suit invaded Headquarters fifteen days ago. You were in it.”

  Rather stared. “No, I wasn’t. Fifteen days? I was in the Dark getting mud. Is that what this is about?”

  “Rather, it’s your bad luck that I’m interested in dwarves. I know where every dwarf in the Admiralty is right now. There are twelve. Ten are in the Navy. One is eighteen years old. He’ll be a Petty soon. Sectry already is. The rest are Guardians. There’s a Dark diver’s boy, but his brain was thick with spores before he could grow a beard. And there’s you.”

  “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 pokerfaced.

  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 Logbear
er 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.”