by Larry Niven
Yoshii could not see that where he was, but he did spy the quickening and thickening of the wave fronts farther off. Understanding blasted him. “Douse your flash!" he yelled. “Get back inside!" He grabbed for the searchlight switch as for the throat of a foeman.
“Hey, what is this?" Carita called.
“Douse your flash, I said. Can't you see, bright light is what causes the trouble? Find your way by the stars." He clutched his shoulders and shivered in the dark. The boat shivered with him, diminuendo.
I read you," Carita said faintly.
Yoshii darkened the cabin as well. “Let's meet in my stateroom," he proposed. The sarcastically named cubbyhole did not give on the outside. He groped till he found it. When again he dared grant himself vision, he bent above the locker where a bottle was, shook his head, straightened, and stood looking at a photograph of Laurinda on the bulkhead.
Carita entered. Her coverall was wet and pungent. Sweat glistened on the dark face. “Haven't you poured me a drink?" she asked hoarsely.
I decided that would be unwise.”
“Maybe for you, sonny boy. Not for me." The Jinxian helped herself, tossed off two mouthfuls, and sighed. “That's better. Thank you very much.”
Yoshii gestured at his bunk. It was roughly horizontal, that being how the polarizer field was ordinarily set in flight. They sat down on it, side by side. Her bravado dwindled. “So you know what's happened to us?" she murmured.
I have a guess," Yoshii replied with care. “It depends on my idea of the supermolecule being correct. "
“Say on.”
“Well, you see, it grew. Or rather, I think, different ones grew till they met and linked up. There must have been all possible combinations, permutations of radicals and bases and-every kind of chemical unit. Cosmic radiation drives that kind of change. So does quantum mechanics, random effects; that was probably dominant in intergalactic space. So the chemistry... mutated. Whatever structure was better at assimilating fresh material would be favored. It would grow at the expense of the rest.”
Carita whistled. “Natural selection, evolution? You mean the stuffs alive?”
“No, not like you and me or bacteria or even viruses. But it would develop components which could grab onto new atoms, and other components that are catalytic, and-and I think ways of passing an atom on from ring to ring until it's gone as far as there are receptors for it. That would leave room for taking up more at the near end. Because I think finally the molecule evolved beyond the point of depending on whatever fell its way from the skies. I think it began extracting matter from the planet, whenever it spread to where there was a suitable substance. Breaking down carbonates and silicates and-and incorporating metallic atoms too. Clathrate formation would promote growth, as well as chemical combination. But of course metal is ultra-scarce here, so the molecule became highly efficient at stealing it.”
“At eating things." Carita stared before her. “That's close enough to life for me.”
“The normal environment is low-energy," Yoshii said. “Things must go faster during the day. Not that there is much action then, either; nothing much to act on, any more. But we set down on our metal landing gear, and pumped out light-frequency quanta."
“And it... woke. “
Yoshii grimaced but stayed clear of semantic argument. “It must be strongly bound to the underlying rock. It was quick to knit the feet of our landing jacks into that structure. "
“And gnaw its way upward, till I-”
He caught her hand. “You couldn't have known. I didn't. “
The deck swayed underfoot. The liquor sloshed in Carita's glass. “But we're blacked out now," she protested, as if to the devourer.
“We're radiating infrared," Yoshii answered. “The boat's warmer on the outside than her surroundings. Energy supply. The chemistry goes on, though slower. We can't stop it, not unless we want to freeze to death. "
“How long have we got?" she whispered.
He bit his lip. “I don't know. If we last till sunrise we'll dissolve entirely soon after, like spooks in an ancient folk tale."
“That's more than a month away.”
“I'd estimate that well before then, the hull will be eaten open. No more air.”
“Our suits recycle. We can jury-rig other things to keep us alive." “But the hull will weaken and collapse. Do you want to be tossed down into... that?" Yoshii sat straight. Resolution stiffened his tone. “I'm afraid we have no choice except to throw ourselves on the mercy of the kzinti. They must have arrived.”
Carita ripped forth a string of oaths and obscenities, knocked back her drink, and rose. “Shep is still on the loose," she said.
Yoshii winced. “Man the control cabin. I'm going to suit up and get back into the engine compartment."
“What for?”
“Isn't it obvious? The energy boxes are stored there. “
“Oh. Yes. You're thinking we'll have to take orbit under our own power and let the kzinti pick us up? I'm not keen on that.”
“No!. But I don't imagine they'll be keen on landing here." He rejoined her an hour later. By starlight she saw how he trembled. I was too late," dragged from him. “Maybe if I hadn't had to operate the airlock hydraulics manually. What I found was a seething mass of-of-The entire locker where the boxes were is gone.”
“That fast?" she wondered, stunned, though they had been in communication until he passed through into the after section. And then, slowly: “Well, the capacitors in those boxes are-were fully charged. Energy concentrated like the stuff s never known before. Too bad so much didn't poison it. Instead, it got a kick in the chemistry making it able to eat everything in three gulps. We're lucky the life-support batteries weren't there, too."
“Let's hope the kzinti want us enough to come down for us.”
Shielding a flashlight with a clipboard, they activated the radio, standard-band broadcast. Yoshii spoke. “SOS. SOS. Two humans aboard a boat, marooned , he said dully. “We are sinking into a-solvent-the macromolecule-You doubtless know about it. Rescue requested.
“We can't lift by ourselves. The drive units in our spacesuits have only partial charge, insufficient to reach orbital speed in this field. We can't recharge. That equipment is gone. So are all the reserve energy boxes. We can flit a goodly distance around the planet or rise to a goodly height, but we can't escape.
“Please take us off. Please inform. We will keep our receiver open on this band, and continue transmission so you can locate us.”
Having recorded his words, he set them to repeat directly on the carrier wave and leaned back. “Not the most eloquent speech ever made," he admitted. “But they won't care.”
She took his hand. Heaven stood gleamful above them. Time passed.
Occasionally the vessel moved a bit.
A spaceship flew low, from horizon to horizon. They had only the barest glimpse. Perhaps cameras took note of theirs.
Carita choked. “Alien.”
“Kzin," Yoshii said. “Got to be.”
“But I never heard of anything like “No, I. What did you see?”
“Big. Sphere with fins or flanges or-whatever they are-all around.
Mirror-bright. Doesn't look like she's intended for planetfall.”
Yoshii nodded. “Me too. I wanted to make sure of my impression, as fast as she went by. just the same, I think we have a while to wait." He stood up. “Suppose I go fix us some sandwiches and also bring that bottle. We may as well take it easy. We've played our hand out.”
“But won't they–Oh, yes, I see. That's no patrol craft. She was called off her regular service to come check Prima. We being found, she'll call Secunda for further orders, and relay our message to a translator there.”
“About a five-minute transmission lag either way, at the present positions. A longer chain-of-command lag, I'll bet. Leave the intercom on for me, please, but just for the sake of my curiosity. You can talk to them as well as I can.”
“There isn't a lot to s
ay," Carita agreed.
Yoshii was in the galley when he heard the computer-generated voice: “Werlith-Commandant addressing you directly. Identify yourselves.”
“Carita Fenger, Juan Yoshii, of the ship Rover, stuck on Prima-on Planet One. Your crew has seen us. I suppose they realize our plight. We're being... swallowed. Please take us off. If your vessel here can't do it, please dispatch one that can. Over.”
Silence hummed and rustled. Yoshii kept busy.
He was returning when the voice struck again: “We lost two boats with a total of eight heroes aboard before we established the nature of the peril. I will not waste time explaining it to you. Most certainly I will not hazard another craft and more lives. On the basis of observations made by the crew of Sun Defter, if you keep energy output minimal you have approximately five hundred hours left to spend as you see fit. “
A click signaled the cutoff.
Werlith-Commandant had been quite kindly by his lights, Yoshii acknowledged.
He entered the control cabin. “I'm sorry, Carita," he said.
She rose and went to meet him. Starlight guided her through shadows and glinted off her hair and a few tears. “I'm sorry too, Juan," she gulped.
“Now let's both of us stop apologizing. The thing has happened, that's all. Look, we can try a broadcast that maybe they'll pick up in Shep, so they'll know. They won't dare reply, I suppose, but it's nice to think they might know. First let's eat, though, and have a couple of drinks, and talk, and, and go to bed. The same bed.”
He lowered his tray to the chart shelf “I'm exhausted," he mumbled.
She threw her arms around him and drew his head down to her opulent bosom. “So'm I, chum. And if you want to spend the rest of what time we've got being faithful, okay. But let's stay together. It's cold out there. Even in a narrow bunk, let's be together while we can."
The sun in the screen showed about half the Soldisc at Earth. Its light equaled more than 10,000 full Luna’s, red rather than off-white but still ample to make Secunda shine. The planetary crescent was mostly yellowish-brown, little softened by a tenuous atmosphere of methane with traces of carbon dioxide and ammonia. A polar cap brightened its sintered northern hemisphere, a shrunken one the southern. The latter was all water ice, the former enlarged by carbon dioxide and ammonia that had frozen out. These two gases did it everywhere at night, most times, evaporating again by day in summer and the tropics, so that sunrises and sunsets were apt to be violent. Along the terminator glittered a storm of fine silicate dust mingled with ice crystals.
The surface bore scant relief, but the slow rotation, 57 hours, was bringing into view a gigantic crater and a number of lesser neighbors. Probably a moon had crashed within the past billion years; the scars remained, though any orbiting fragments had dissipated. A sister moon survived, three-fourths Lunar diameter, dark yellowish like so many bodies in this system.
Thus did Tregennis interpret what he and Ryan saw as they sat in Rover's saloon watching the approach. Data taken from afar, before the capture, helped him fill in details. Talking about them was an anodyne for both men. Markham entered. Silence rushed through like a wind.
I have an announcement," he said after a moment.
Neither prisoner stirred.
“We are debarking in half an hour," he went on. I have arranged for your clothing and hygienic equipment to be brought along. Including your medication, Professor. “
“Thank you," Tregennis said flatly.
“Why shouldn't he?" Ryan sneered. “Keep the animals alive till the master race can think of a need for them. I wonder if he'll share in the feast." Markham's stiffness became rigidity. “Have a care," he warned. I have been very patient with you.”
During the 50-odd hours of 3-g flight–during which Hraou-Captain allowed the polarizer to lighten weight-he had received no word from either, nor eye contact. To be sure, he had been cultivating the acquaintance of such kzinti among the prize crew as deigned to talk with him. “Don't provoke me.”
“All right," Ryan answered. Unable to resist: “Not but what I couldn't put up with a lot of provocation myself, if I were getting paid what they must be paying you.”
Markham's cheekbones reddened. “For your information, I have never had one mark of recompense, nor ever been promised any. Not one." Tregennis regarded him in mild amazement. “Then why have you turned traitor?" he asked.
I have not. On the contrary-" Markham stood for several seconds before he plunged. “See here, if you will listen, if you will treat me like a human being, you can learn some things you will be well advised to know." Ryan scowled at his beer glass, shrugged, nodded, and grumbled, “Might as well.”
“Can you talk freely?" Tregennis inquired.
Markham sat down. I have not been forbidden to. Of course, what I have been told so far is quite limited. However, certain kzinti, including Hraou Captain, have been reasonably forthcoming. They have been bored by their uneventful duty, are intrigued by me, and see no immediate threat to security.
I can understand that," said Tregennis dryly.
Markham leaned forward. His assurance had shrunk enough to notice. He tugged his half-beard. His tone became earnest: “Remember, for a dozen Earth-years I fought the kzinti. I was raised to it. They had driven my mother into exile. The motto of the House of Reichstein was 'Ehre-' well, in English, 'Honor Through Service.' She changed it to 'No Surrender.' Most people had long since given up, you know. They accepted the kzin order of things. Many had been born into it, or had only dim childhood memories of anything before. Revolt would have brought massacre. Aristocrats who stayed on Wunderland-the majority-saw no alternative to cooperating with the occupation forces, at least to the extent of preserving order among humans and keeping industries in operation. They were, apt to look on us who fought as dangerous extremists. It was a seductive belief. As the years wore on, with no end in sight, more and more members of the resistance despaired. Through the aristocrats at home they negotiated terms permitting them to come back and pick up the pieces of their lives. My mother was among those who had the greatness of spirit to refuse the temptation. 'No Surrender.' “
Ryan still glowered, but Tregennis said with a dawn of sympathy, “Then the hyperdrive armada arrived and she was vindicated. Were you not glad?" “Of course," Markham said. “We jubilated, my comrades and I, after we were through weeping for the joy and glory of it. That was a short-lived happiness. We had work to do. At first it was clean. The fighting had caused destruction. The navy from Sol could spare few units; it must go on to subdue the kzinti elsewhere. On the men of the resistance fell the tasks of rescue and relief.
“Then as we returned to our homes on Wunderland and many others for the first time in our lives-we found that the world for whose liberation we had fought, the world of our vision and hope, was gone, long gone. Everywhere was turmoil. Mobs stormed manor after manor of the 'collaborationist' aristocrats, lynched, raped, looted, burned-as if those same paroles had not groveled before the kzinti and kept war production going for them! Lunatic political factions rioted against each other or did actual armed combat.
Chaos brought breakdown, want, misery, death.
“My mother took a lead in calling for a restoration of law. We did it, we soldiers from space. What we did was often harsh, but necessary. A caretaker government was established. We thought that we could finally get on with our private lives-though I, for one, busied myself in the effort to build up Centaurian defense forces, so that never again could my people be overrun.
“In the years that my back was turned, they, my people, were betrayed." Markham choked on his bitterness.
“Do you mean the new constitution, the democratic movement in general?" Tregennis prompted.
Markham recovered and nodded. “No one denied that reform, reorganization was desirable. I will concede, if only because our time to talk now is limited, most of the reformers meant well. They did not foresee the consequences of what they enacted. I admit I did not myself
. But I was busy, often away for long periods of time. My mother, on our estates, saw what was happening, and piece by piece made it clear to me." “Your estates. You kept them, then. I gather most noble families kept a substantial part of their former holdings; and Wunderland's House of Patricians is the upper chamber of its parliament. Surely you don't think you have come under a... mobocracy. “
“But I do! At least, that is the way it is tending. That is the way it will go, to completion, to destruction, if it is not stopped. A political Gresham's Law prevails; the bad drives out the good. Look at me, for example. I have one vote, by hereditary right, in the Patricians, and it is limited to federal matters. To take a meaningful role in restoring a proper society through enactment of proper laws-a role which it is my hereditary duty to take-I must begin by being elected a consul of my state, Braefell. That would give me a voice in choosing who goes to the House of Delegates- No matter details. I went into politics.”
“Holding your well-bred nose," Ryan murmured.
Markham flushed again. “I am for the people. The honest, decent, hard-working, sensible common people, who know in their hearts that society is tradition and order and reverence, not a series of cheap bargains between selfish interests. One still finds them in the countryside. It is in the cities that the maggots are, the mobs, the criminals, the parasites, the... politicians.”
For the first time, Ryan smiled a little. “Can't say I admire the political process either. But I will say the cure is not to domesticate the lower class. How about letting everybody see to his own business, with a few cops and courts to keep things from getting too hairy?" I heard that argument often enough. It is stupid. It assumes the obvious falsehood that an individual can function in isolation like an atom. Oh, I did my share of toadying. I shook the clammy hands and said the clammy words, but it was hypocritical ritual, a sugar coating over the cynicism and corruption-”
“In short, you lost.”
I learned better than to try.”
Ryan started to respond but checked himself. Markham smiled like a death's head. “Thereupon I decided to call back the kzinti, is that what you wish to say?" he gibed. Seriously: “No, it was not that simple at all. I had had dealings with them throughout my war career, negotiations, exchanges, interrogation and care of prisoners, the sort of relationships one always has with an opponent. They came to fascinate me and I learned everything about them that I could. The more I knew, the more effective a freedom fighter I would be, not so? “After the... liberation, my knowledge and my reputation caused me to have still more to do with them. There were mutual repatriations to arrange. There were kzinti who had good cause to stay behind. Some had been born in the Centaurian System; the second and later fleets carried females. Others came to join such kinfolk, or on their own, as fugitives, because their society too was in upheaval and many of them actually admired us, now that we had fought successfully. Remember, most of those newcomers arrived on human hyperdrive ships. This was official policy, in the hope of earning goodwill, of learning more about kzinti in general, and of frankly having possible hostages. Even so, they were often subject to cruel discrimination or outright persecution. What could I do but intervene in their behalf? They, or their brothers, had been brave and honorable enemies. It was time to become friends.”