The Smoke Ring

Chapter Nineteen The Dark

from the Citizens Tree cassettes, year 54 SM:

BOOCE HAD BOUGHT A SMALL PUMP. RATHER WAS working it to fill Logbearer’s fuel tank. A Navy ship was doing much the same on the other side of the pond. Water had to be shared, this close to the Market. Greetings had been exchanged, and now the two crews were ignoring each other.

Carlot said, “Raym’s been running messages for Dave Kon and Mand Curts. They’ll know where he is. You’ll have to track him down, though.”

“No problem,” Booce said. “How did he lose his rocket?”

“I didn’t want to ask. He’s far gone on fringe spores, Dad. We want him, but I don’t want him in charge of anything.”

“Fine. Rather, stop, it’s full.”

Rather began packing up the pump and hose. “That was quick,” he said, remembering how long it took to fill the CARM.

“A pretty good pump for something that’s all hardwood. Let’s get going. Carlot, you drop me and Clave at the Market and then go on to the house. Clave, you get the rest of the seeds. I want to buy us some clothes. You’re all still wearing tree-dweller pajamas.”

“You’ll bring Raym?”

“I’ll send him to the house. If he’s too fringey to find it, I don’t want him aboard any ship of mine.”

Rather had not found the chance to confide in anyone but Debby and Carlot. Maybe that was good. Booce seemed to take it for granted that he would stay where the Navy could find him. Rather’s plans were quite different.

Would Carlot help him? He wasn’t sure. The way she was acting—

The Market swarmed like a hive. When the rocket came near, a dozen citizens separated from the pattern and flew to look. Booce delayed his exit for dramatic reasons. When he emerged he was surrounded. He stayed to talk, and Carlot joined him. Clave grew bored and flapped off toward the Vivarium at the far rim. Booce took an order for a thousand square meters of wooden planks…and the sun crossed half the sky and was behind the Dark before Logbearer moved on.

Serjent House continued to drift. It was now radially out from the Market. The Dark eclipsed the sun; Voy shone from the side. Half violet, half black, the cluster of cubes made an eerie sight.

“We’ll have to tell Clave,” Debby said. “First chance we get.”

Carlot said, “I’m still not sure about this.”

Rather said, “Booce was right, wasn’t he? I want to look undependable. So—”

“They’ll think you had Dad’s permission!”

“The Navy doesn’t own me. Booce doesn’t own me. Even you don’t own me, Carlot, and if you’re holding me as a copsik I want to know it so I can think about escaping!”

“No, I don’t own you.” The ship was turning, decelerating. Carlot was very busy tending the rocket, too busy to look him in the face. Her voice was almost inaudible. “But it was a fool stunt, running off to make babies with that Navy woman.”

“You’re going to marry Raff Belmy.”

“I said probably. Skip it. It was a fool stunt. So tell me this. Does Clave own you? Your Chairman?”

“…Maybe.”

“So ask him whether you’re going.”

“I want to talk to Jeffer too. And one other.”

“You keep hinting—”

“You’ll see for yourself. You too, Debby. I am treefeeding tired of keeping secrets.”

A random comet had impacted Levoy’s Star. It had reached the surface as a stream of gas moving at thousands of miles per second. The neutron star had rung like a bell. There were two hot spots on the rapidly spinning body, at the impact point and the point opposite, where the shock waves had converged. The violet ion streams that normally rose from the magnetic poles of Voy, which natives called the Blue Ghost and Ghost Child, were brighter than Kendy had ever seen them. Radiation was beginning to sleet against Discipline’s hull.

But Kendy spared instruments for the CARM.

He ran the record as it came in. Jeffer had been idle: not much there. The house had been empty most of the time. Ah, here was something—

The motley collection of metal and plant tissue the savages called Logbearer bumped the wall nozzle-first. Rather, Debby, and Carlot emerged. They tethered the steam rocket to the door, close enough to block the sky.

Rather said, “Jeffer. Come in, Jeffer.”

Jeffer had been reviewing records from the cassettes. He set up the link. “I’m here. Hello, Debby, Carlot, Rather.”

“I’m in trouble,” Rather said.

“Tell me.”

“Petty Wheeler interviewed me for the Navy.”

“How did it go?”

The depth of Smoke Ring atmosphere was blocking most of the radiation and X-rays, and Kendy’s instruments too. He could still watch events on the star itself via neudar. A plasma cloud hovered over the impact site, several centimeters high and spreading at terrific speed along lines of magnetic force—

Rather said, “Scientist, I did everything right except only two things. I did what Booce told me. I slept in the silver suit with the humidity turned low, and got there sniffling and crying. Debby came with me, and I really did need supervision. I could hardly see where I was flying. I asked for Sectry Murphy: all seeds and no brain, stet? But Booce didn’t tell me not to show off my muscles, so I did.”

“You’re strong but sickly.”

“And I’m a dwarf. If enough dwarves get into the Navy, a certain Captain-Guardian Mickl gets to act like an officer. I’m quoting Sectry. Mickl was there to watch the interview.”

“Two mistakes. Did you suggest marriage to Bosun Murphy?”

Laughter, chopped off. “We got high on fringe tea. Then we dived into a puff jungle and—” Quick sidewise glance at Carlot, whose face was like stone. “Jeffer, none of us ever thought she might take me up on it. Now she thinks I’m joining the Navy and making plans to marry her. Maybe she can hold me to it!”

“This is not to your taste?”

“Sectry…I don’t know. I don’t want to join the treefeeding Navy and I don’t know how to tell her that!”

“Okay, I’m thinking…Rather, they already know you’re allergic. Let them train you. Carlot said they don’t give you much sleep in training. Stay awake even when you don’t have to. Get sick a lot. They’ll give up.”

“I thought of something better.”

“Listen—”

“No, you listen. I went running to Carlot and Debby. Help, I said. I’m in trouble, I said. The Navy wants me. What do I do? And we talked it over, and what I want to do now is talk to Kendy.”

Jeffer’s medical readings showed his shock. Kendy stopped paying attention to the impact on Levoy’s Star.

Paydirt!

“Rather? You told them?”

“I’m letting you tell them. You and Kendy.”

“Kendy isn’t in range yet. When he gets the record—”

Carlot said, “Kendy the Checker?”

“The same,” Jeffer said. “Kendy made contact with us fourteen years ago…fifteen now. I made a mistake with the CARM. Kendy told us how to get home. We didn’t hear from him again till…well, it was just before you showed up, Carlot. He wanted this expedition.”

Debby was seething. “Jeffer, you treefeeding mutineer! What game did you think you were playing, hiding a thing like this?”

Carlot exclaimed, “You can’t deal with the Checker! We know all about—”

The record was finished. He’d reached present time.

Kendy printed I’LL HANDLE IT across the bow window in front of Jeffer. He sent, “We told Clave. Rather was there, so we told him too. Hello again, Debby. Carlot, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last. Rather, you did the right thing.”

“And I suppose you’ll try to talk me into joining the treefeeding Navy! But I won’t do that, Kendy. I want out of this.”

Rather wasn’t aboard the CARM. Kendy couldn’t get medical readings; but he sensed truth here. Never give an order that won’t be obeyed! Try something else… while Discipline moves steadily out of range. Wrap it up fast, but wrap it tight—

Kendy asked, “Rather, what are you planning?”

“Remember Booce telling me to look undependable? The Navy expects me to stay in touch. I’m going Dark diving. Carlot and Debby and Clave are taking Logbearer to get mud for Belmy’s burl tree. I’m going with them.”

“Just to look undependable?”

“It’s not a crime. Sectry’ll hate me, and I don’t like that, but it’ll get me off the harpoon.”

Kendy finished putting details on his own plans. The speed of his thoughts was one powerful advantage to being a computer. It helped win arguments too. He said, “That’s good, but it’s not enough. Not if this Wayne Mickl wants you so badly. We need to get you out of the Clump entirely. Mmm…Rather, I think I may have something. Booce was planning to take the helmet with him so that Jeffer and I can see the Dark. Still true? Carlot?”

“Stet. Dad wants it out of the house.”

“Good. Take the whole suit. Take Rather too. Go into the Dark. Rather, the suit’s fully fueled. When you’re out of sight of the Market…”

They heard him out, looking at each other. The silence that followed lasted only five or six seconds, but Kendy found it excruciating. Then Jeffer asked, “How long have you been planning this?”

“About thirty seconds…twelve to fifteen breaths. I think faster than you do, Jeffer.”

Carlot’s voice held doubt, not anger. “It’s mutiny—”

“We steal nothing,” Kendy said. “We won’t harm the Admiralty at all. The information doesn’t disappear, but I can read it, and then it becomes available to Jeffer the Scientist. Rather, Debby, don’t you see? We came to learn. Clave and Jeffer won’t leave until they know what to tell Citizens Tree about the Admiralty. This way we’ll learn everything we want in half a day.”

Rather said slowly, “You say you can tell me how to do this.”

“I’ve taken neudar readings. I can see the gross structure of Headquarters. It’s most of a CARM surrounded by a concrete shell.” The neudar shadow of the CARM was splayed around its aft end, and the back third was missing. The explosion must have pulped any passengers. It had ripped away the outer door of the airlock too. “The Library must be the control room. I’ll guide you. We’ll time it so I’m in contact the whole time. Even if someone sees something funny, it’ll be too funny. He won’t believe it. Afterward you take Logbearer home.”

Carlot looked at Rather. “I don’t owe you this.”

“Losing contact,” Kendy said. There might have been time for three words more, but what would they have been? He’d simply have to wait.

The redhead found Booce as he was returning from Market. She looked funny, flying. Her legs chugged faster than a normal woman’s and made shorter strokes. She wouldn’t have caught up if Booce hadn’t been pushing baggage.

She wasn’t breathing hard, though. She had a charming smile. “Booce Serjent, do you remember me?”

“Bosun Sectry Murphy. We met when Gyrfalcon came to collect customs. How do you do. Bosun?”

“I do okay. Rather’s been accepted for training. I’d like to tell him.”

Rather wouldn’t like that. “He’ll be at the house.”

“I’ll come. Shall I help with those?”

They kicked slowly along. Behind them the Dark moved in uneasy turgid patterns, out and east; the sun crept toward Voy; western rain clouds crawled in long curves. To fill the silence Booce said, “We’ve finished repairing Logbearer. After breakfast we cruised past the Market—”

“Moving slow. I saw it.”

“Clave went for the rest of his seeds, and I picked up some clothing and toothbrushes. Can’t have my crew looking like savages.”

“My superiors may be wondering where you found the money.”

“It’s not easy. The Navy’s taking its own sweet time to bid a decent price for our metal. But I’ve got some orders for wood, and my crew is going Dark diving.”

“Did Rather say anything about…yesterday?”

“Not to me. He didn’t seem to want to talk. It must have been a strange experience.”

She laug’hed, then grew pensive. Presently she said, “Isn’t that Serjent House?”

“Yes, but…” Logbearer wasn’t there.

Booce invited her in. The Navy woman waited while he made the circuit of the rooms. He found nobody. There were no seeds: Clave hadn’t arrived yet.

“They must have left already,” he told her. “I stayed to bargain for wood. Clave should have come back well ahead of me.” It was puzzling. “Was Rather going with them?”

“No. He should be back soon, wherever he is.”

She accompanied him to the kitchen and watched while he made tea. They returned to the common room and passed the pot between them, all in near-silence. Booce wondered if Jeffer had noticed the Navy woman. What they really needed right now was a metallic voice bellowing out of the door.

“You’d think he’d leave a message,” she said. Booce nodded. But they’d have left it with Jeffer! Murphy was frowning. “Is it normal for Rather to do…something like this?”

Booce was quick on the uptake. “He’s never done this before. Well, he’s been worried about whether the Navy’ll take him. Maybe he got terminally antsy. A trip to the Dark—” And Booce knew he was right. If they think you’re undependable — Rather had gone into the Dark.

“ — could be just what he needs,” he finished.

“It’s not what we need.” Murphy rejected the offered teapot. “How long do you expect them to be gone?”

They weren’t seriously hunting treasures such as fringe or blackbrain. All they wanted this trip was mud, so — “Thirty, forty days.” But they wouldn’t have left without Clave, so they must have taken the seeds he was carrying too. Why?

“Tell Rather we’re unhappy. Booce, I’ve got to be leaving.”

Booce hovered at the door to watch Murphy depart. He whispered, “Jeffer?”

Nothing.

Of course, they took the helmet too. He waited until Sectry was no more than a speck before he opened the compartment in the door.

The whole damn illegal pressure suit was gone.

For one magical moment he was nothing but relieved. But something was going on here, and Booce didn’t like it at all.

Carlot made her burn with the bow pointed straight into the Dark. East takes you out, out takes you west. That a rocket might go where it was pointed was contrary to Rather’s experience; but he didn’t want to argue with Carlot.

The Market passed them at impressive speed. A few citizens turned to watch, and were gone.

Raym Wilby had never kept silence in his life. “This first part of a trip is fun, but you can still get hurt. Carlot, the tank’s near dry, stet? Turn us. Cut the water flow. Go in facing sideways.”

Carlot looked at him.

“See, if something comes at us, you run the last of the water in. Doesn’t matter what way you’re facing, long as it isn’t forward. Something’s ready to hit us, you change course. If it’s gonna miss, you don’t.”

“Oh.” She and Clave tilted the nozzle. Log bearer started its turn as she cut off the water flow. The slow turn continued as the sky began to darken.

“Birds are the worst. A pond, a glob of mud, a jungle, they don’t follow you if you dodge. Everybody got harpoons? Stet. Hey, smell that. First whiff of the Dark. State, it’s good to be back!”

Logbearer fell straight in. It was like entering a huge storm cloud…a granular-looking storm cloud. The air smelled of wet and rot and mustiness.

They strung line, using beams on the nose as mooring points. Raym watched and frowned and told them to put the lines closer together. “It’s got to hold the mud while you make the burn.” When they finished, Logbearer’s nose was the center of a great web. “I always string my extra clothes across the middle of the web. That way you know the mud won’t go through and all over the cabin. You bring any extra clothes, Carlot?”

She spoke through gritted teeth. “You didn’t tell me to. But yes, I brought extra clothes, and I don’t much like getting them covered with mud.”

“So wash them after. You do it when you’re ready to leave. Then you use what’s dirty. Look there, aft of center. Kerchiefs!”

Kerchiefs looked like a score of scraps of pink and green cloth afloat on the wind. “Those’re flowers,” Raym said. “Not fungus. They’ll—”

“Could you spread those to hold the mud?”

“Carlot, they’re not strong enough. Touch them and they shred. Hey, you don’t mind dirty clothes when you’re Dark diving!”

They took turns sleeping. The sky thickened and darkened over five or six days. Then Voy and the sun were hidden and it was impossible to know day. Rather’s eyes adjusted. He saw colors emerging from the dark: blue tinges, green, orange. Behind them the murky sky was a blaze of light, suddenly bluer as Voy passed, too bright to look at.

Raym was forward, inspecting the web again. Or maybe he only liked the view.

Clave said, “It isn’t the risk that bothers me. It’s the fact that I’m not taking it. Feels like this should be my job.”

Rather didn’t answer, but Carlot did. “Oh, you’re taking a risk. If Rather gets caught, the Navy’ll want us all. Clave, it’s not too late to change our minds!”

“Yeah. I know how persuasive Kendy is. And I think I should have been consulted.” Rather started to speak.

Clave snapped, “Yes, Rather, it couldn’t be done. Besides, Kendy’s right. It gets us everything we came for. Rather, if you don’t come back in a decent time, we’re leaving. I’ve got the seeds. We’ll just bum straight out and let Jeffer find us in the sky.”

“Stet,” said Rather.

“And what about Dad?” Carlot demanded. “Why should the Navy believe him when he tells them he didn’t know?”

“I won’t get caught. One big risk and we go home.”

“I don’t owe you this,” Carlot said, as she had said before. This time nobody answered. (But Jeffer had said, “You owe Citizens Tree for your life,” and it was true.)

“I think we’ve gone far enough,” Clave said. “Nobody’s going to see us from the Market.”

Rather nodded. “But there’s still Raym.”

“He’s easily distracted.”

The rocket had slowed considerably. They were drifting, not flying. The murky sky was busy with soft, shadowy shapes. Once there was a jagged rock the size of Logbearer, half covered by…Rather stared. That had to be a fungus. But it was convoluted like the moby’s brain Half Hand had tried to serve them.

Raym pointed through the net of lines. “You can eat that.”

Clave said, “Treefodder! I mean literally. That’s a tuft off an integral tree!”

It could have been, Rather thought. There was the curved blade of the branch. But where foliage should have been, now there was a great misshapen lump of soft gray curves. “I pushed one of those home once,” Raym said. “Had to. My nets were torn up. It was all the food I had left, and I barely made a dent in it getting home. Half Hand served slices of it for the next twenty days, but he didn’t pay much…”

Rather tuned him out.

The orange tinge ahead grew gradually stronger. Orange light shining through shadows. Rather had grown used to the wet, musty smell, but something else was in it now. “Raym, what’s that?”

“I’ve been living with Exec ever since the accident. My son, Exec Wilby. He only went into the Dark but once — What?”

“That.”

“That’s the fire. Carlot, we have to turn.”

Carlot jerked around. “Fire?”

Now Rather knew that smell. Fire burning in something wet and rotten.

“It’s been burning down here since…I don’t know when. All my life, anyway. Never gets much bigger, never gets much smaller. Now, don’t hurry. Look around and find a pond and steer for that. We need more water anyway.”

They looked. There was no mistaking the shape of a pond, of course, even in darkness. Rather found no spheroids in evidence. Carlot said, “I don’t see anything!”

“There.”

“But that’s…oh.” Raym was pointing to a fungus jungle, a maze of thick white threads…and the orange light glinted off something reflective inside. The mass, in fact, was mostly pond, but it was laced with fungus.

Clave used the bellows. The pipefire that had been estivating in the windless murk now blazed up. Carlot blew the last of their water into the pipe while Rather and Clave tilted the rocket.

The fungus jungle drifted across the orange light. Logbearer impacted softly against resilient fungus fingers, and recoiled.

“What kind of pump you got? Good. Boy…Rather, you want to pump?”

“You pump, Raym,” Carlot said. “Debby, you go with him. Keep your harpoon handy.”

“Stet, that’s good thinking, Carlot. No guessing what’s lurking in there.” The imaginary horrors didn’t diminish Raym’s enthusiasm as he flapped away with the pump. The hose slowed him. Debby kissed Rather’s cheek before she picked up a loop of hose and flew after him.

Raym disappeared among interlocked white strands that broke where he touched them.

Clave said, “Now, Rather.”

They entered the cabin together. The bags of seeds nearly filled one compartment. Rather pulled them out, reached further, and had the silver suit.

Debby saw only kicking wings among finger-thick white pillars of fungus. “Nothing dangerous yet,” Raym called cheerfully. “Watch for stinkbirds. Great State! Girl, get me a bag, a big one!”

Debby dropped the hose and worked her way in. “What—”

“Fringe!”

“Oh. Here.” She’d taken to carrying the big bags they’d used to collect honey while logging. She passed one in. She couldn’t see what Raym was doing in there, but the air had turned dusty. She sneezed.

Raym wriggled out in a cloud of dust motes. There was something shapeless in the bag. “Sixty, seventy chits worth,” he said. “I’ll just take this back—”

“I’ve linked up the hose. What have you got?” Carlot had come at his shout.

Raym showed her the bag.

“Dammit, Raym, that’s sporing fringe! Debby, get away from it.”

“Yeah.’’ Debby kicked out into the air. She was feeling dreamy…light-headed…happy. But if she’d breathed spores, Raym must have breathed more.

Keep him away from the ship! Debby pulled on the hose until she had the pump. “Raym, take this around to someplace else and start pumping.”

“I’ll take this back,” Carlot said. “Raym, you shouldn’t get near sporing fringe! Sure it’s worth money—” She gave up. Raym was laughing.

Clave had stuck the helmet to a wall with a dab of glue. It watched him in stoic calm. “Try to do the circle in one sweep,” it said.

“Is that how the original was done?”

“First painting was probably a template, but templates wear out. The suits must be painted over and over. Every so often the junior Guardian has to paint it. I’m guessing, of course, but the original looks a little sloppy in Kendy’s pictures.”

Clave pointed the brush like a pencil and moved in a single graceful sweep. The resulting greenish-white circle wasn’t half bad. “Bring it close,” said the helmet. “Too narrow and also a little small. Go around again and add some bulk to the outer rim. Rather, when you leave, drape a cloth over yourself. We don’t want to get it dirty while it’s wet…Stet, Clave. Now the dot in the middle. Stet, leave it tiny. Give me another look at the shoulder—”

“Raym found you something, Silver Man.”

Clave jumped. “What? Carlot, don’t do that.”

“Rather, take it. It’s sporing fringe. Bring it back if you can. It’s worth money.”

Rather took the bag. “What’s it for?”

“If you’re in trouble, throw it. Everyone around you will have a wonderful time while you get away. Make sure you don’t breathe it.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“I’m ready to go.”

There was something more that he ought to say, something she expected, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what it was.

“You get tired, I’ll take over,” Debby said. “No, no, the tank must be nearly full by now.” Sweat slicked Raym wherever his skin showed. He was grinning and panting and pumping his legs with the vigor of a much younger man.

The tank must be full already, Debby thought. They wouldn’t let Raym stop until—

Raym stopped. “What was that?”

Debby turned to where he was looking. “I don’t see anything.”

Tiny twin flames burned in the Dark, receding.

“Huh.” Raym resumed pedaling. “Hope that isn’t the fire getting closer. You never know where it’s gonna be. It doesn’t just drift like everything else, it spreads in spots and goes out in spots—”

Carlot called from the rocket. “Raym! Enough. Let’s go find our mudball.”

Chapter Twenty The Library

from Discipline’s records, year 926 State:

MATTER WAS TOO THICK IN HERE TO USE BOOT JETS.

Rather used them to get clear of Raym’s sight, then donned his wings. He wanted to fly straight north, along the axis of Clump and Smoke Ring both. Matter should thin out rapidly in that direction.

There were no ponds; but sometimes you could catch a glint of light from one of the fuzzy-edged fungus jungles. There were white pillow shapes, and flat white lenses streaked with yellow and crimson, and networks of interwoven pale stalks. He took care to avoid touching anything; he flew around clouds of dust or spores. The paint on him would still be wet.

Rather began to understand the beauty Raym found in the Dark.

Straight lines, rare in a tree, were unheard of here, save (rarely) for long beams of blue-white or yellow-white sunlight breaking through the murk. Where he saw these, he corrected his course to cross them. This close to crossyear, north would be at right angles to Voy and the sun. After what felt like a couple of days he was seeing many more. The Dark had grown rarified. Now there was room for jets.

He fired a burst of five breaths’ duration. Mist flowed past him as he coasted out of the Dark.

The day brightened. Too bright. His eyes were slow to adjust.

“Jeffer the Scientist calling Rather. Can you hear me yet?”

Jeffer’s voice was scratchy. Rather turned up the volume. “Reception isn’t good, but I’m hearing you. I’m nearly out, moving north, coasting. The rest of us are in good shape. How long till we get Kendy?”

“A quarter day to spare. Rather, did you bring wings?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You can’t approach Headquarters on jets. I didn’t think of it.”

“I did.”

“I have you located. Make your burn now. You’re well north of the Smoke Ring. The air’s thin, it won’t slow you much, but in less than a half day you’ll be back in the plane.”

“I know, north and south bring you back. So. How long a bum? What direction? I’m well and truly lost.”

“I’ll time you. Three minutes, about sixty breaths. Can you see Voy? The Market is ten degrees west of out from you, and you have to cross four hundred klomters. You didn’t actually get very far into the Dark.”

By now he’d fallen into clear air, with the Dark spread out below. Rather wriggled to point his feet ten degrees east of Voy. He would move nearly at a tangent to the flow patterns in the Dark.

He lit the jets. His body tried to sag into his boots.

The Dark skimmed below him, a storm with granulations in it, and sudden red and golden and purple glows where the sun shifted just right. Jeffer counted aloud and told him when to fall free.

Flying. The Dark was thinning out, but coming closer too. He skimmed through the fringes of a raineloud—

“Kendy for the State,” said the familiar deep voice.

“Rather, are you on schedule?”

“No problems. Expedition’s in good shape. Raym will probably swear I was there the whole time.”

“Repeat after me. ‘There’s a respectable store of metal here.’ ”

“There’s a respectable—”

“Try to say it like I did. Listen a few times. ‘There’s a respectable store of metal here.’ ”

Rather deepened his voice and tried to spit the syllables. “There’s a respectable store of metal here.”

They rehearsed “You wouldn’t want to have to sell your new house,” and “I need to consult the Library,” and “I relieve you.” Rather was lethally sick of it when Kendy quit. “It’ll have to do. Try to be in a cloud when you sight Headquarters. Don’t make your approach without me.”

“Right.”

“I’ve displayed a neudar map of Headquarters for Jeffer. He can guide you if I’m out of range. Back in two days. Kendy out.”

“Jeffer?”

“Here. Rather, you should try to sleep.”

“Sleep?”

“Nothing natural can hurt you in the silver suit. Sure, sleep. You’ll be less hungry. You’ve got no food.”

“I’ll give it a try.”

He slept not a wink. The turning of the Clump spiral caught him up and he had to make a correcting burn. Houses and decorated puff jungles passed, none close enough to see more than a passing pressure suit. Citizens would wonder what the Navy was doing out here.

Within a layer of haze he found the unmistakable shape of the Market. Headquarters to spinward… “Jeffer? I have it.”

“How close?”

“Forty klomters.”

“Get a lot closer. Approach from the Market side if you can. Rather, it just struck me: there are two ways into the Library, and they have to guard both.”

“So?”

“I don’t think it was ever meant to be guarded. The Library was supposed to be free to all. Just a guess.”

“What’s the word from Kendy?”

“Any breath now.”

“I’ll come in through that cloud bank. You see it? I think there’s a pond in there. I’ll come around that.”

“Kendy for the State. Rather, are you in place?”

The boy sounded edgy. “Ready. You missed some interesting stuff.”

Headquarters was four hundred meters distant. They’d lose a few minutes crossing that. Kendy sent, “Something I should know?”

“No, just interesting. I watched two triune families arrange a marriage.”

“If your helmet faced it I didn’t miss it. Time to move. Just wings.”

Kendy watched the guards as Rather approached.

Would they expect him to have an escort? They spread arms and legs as he came near, with a hand and foot to hold the harpoon. That position had been Attention! for any military man in free-fall since long before Kendy’s birth. The door behind them was large and massive, and closed.

“Just go in unless they do something,” Kendy said. “I’ve watched them every orbit. You won’t need a password because your helmet’s closed. Don’t hurry. Let them open the door for you.”

Checklist: Communications systems nominal. Drive warming. Course correction ready. Kendy didn’t intend to bum fuel until everything else had gone right.

The guards waited until they could read Rather’s insignia. One rapped the door with his spear butt. It slid open in time to let Rather pass.

“Left. There’s a hall, then another door.” Kendy noticed pads of cottony-looking vegetation on the far wall. “Pause. Wings off, then clean your suit. You’ll be expected to. Pat, don’t rub. Remember the paint.”

Rather patted muddy rainwater off his suit. Kendy wished he could see the result. There were paint smears on the pad. The boy moved down the corridor.

The inner door had one guard. He starfished the way the others had. “Captain-Guardian? You’re early, sir.”

“I want to consult the Library.”

“But that’s…yessir.” The man didn’t move.

Kendy sent, “You’re still carrying your wings. Tether them to your chest plate.” The guard must expect that, and it would give Kendy time to think. “No hurry. Aristocrats don’t hurry. Shin sticks toward your chin.”

To door: no hinges visible. It would swing in. What was protocol here? Have to guess. “Open it yourself, Rather.”

“How?”

“Paired handles on door and wall. Grip both. Push the door inward. No, pause—”

As Rather finished tethering his wings, the guard finished pushing the door open and moved aside. “In,” said Kendy.

Rather entered. He turned at the sound of the door closing. There was no handle on the inside, though a sear showed that one had been removed.

The light source was electric. Would that bother Rather? No, he was used to electric lights in the CARM.

A man in a pressure suit waited. He held a crossbow. The bow and quarrel were both hullmetal: lengths of stiff CARM wiring, with superconducting cores. So this was how they used their heritage.

The Guardian’s voice had to echo through helmet and faceplate. He sounded tinny (as Rather would; Kendy had counted on that) and surprised. “Captain-Guardian?”

“’I know I’m early. I relieve you. I need to use the Library.”

Rather was slow. “I know I’m early—”

“That’s all right, Captain-Guardian.”

“I need to use the Library. I relieve you.”

“Yes, sir. For what purpose, sir? I’m required to ask.”

While Kendy mulled possible answers, Rather had started to speak. Kendy listened. Rather said, “We want to locate an integral tree west of here. I want its probable orbit.”

No way to read the silver man’s face. The Guardian said, “Yes, sir,” and rapped on the door. It opened for him and closed after him.

“Alone at last,” Rather said.

The room was much bigger than the machinery it housed. The CARM control system had been remounted in a wooden cradle. There were wooden handles on its four sides. Hadn’t Booce Serjent said that it was sometimes displayed to the citizens?

Cradled against an adjacent wall was a small portable fusion generator. The Library’s light source was a panel running around its rim. The power cable was coiled against its side. “Rather, do you see a coil of line, thick as your wrist, black—”

“Got it.” Rather moved toward the generator.

“The free end has to go into a hole in the CARM controls. At the near end, near the wall.”

“There are a lot of holes.”

“I’ll guide you.”

They played “cold” and “warm” with the end of the plug. It was taking too long. The power plant might be dead. The computer might be dead. The programs might be scrambled. There would be no second chance: Rather Citizen was probably trapped behind locked doors, with Wayne Mickl already on his way. Once Kendy had established contact with the Admiralty, he might be able to buy Rather loose. The boy was doing his best, after all, fumbling, but doing his best—

“Just push it in hard and turn it counterclockwise. Stet. Face the controls. Tap the white key.” A white cursor appeared. “Say ‘Prikazyvat Voice.’ ”

“Prikazyvat Voice.”

“State your authority,” said a voice so like Kendy’s that Rather squeaked in surprise.

“Say ‘Rather Citizen for Discipline. Open contact.’ Watch your accent.” With another part of his attention he began beaming his signal to the old CARM computer. Voice was activated; the computer would hear. Kendy for the State. Discipline to all CARMs. Kendy for the State.

The computer must be trying to answer. It wouldn’t be able to find Discipline with its navigational instruments severed. He sent a signal beam to pressure suit 26.

“Something just started humming in my head.”

“Everything’s fine, Rather.” The signal was being relayed. He sent, Status?

CARM #2 sent its tale of woe. Massive malfunctions. Internal sensors out, external sensors out, motors not responding, life support systems not responding, navigational systems not responding, power low. Records intact. Presiding officer: Admiral Robar Henling…

Kendy sent, Copy.

All?

Y.

The Admiralty Library accepted the Copy program, hummed thoughtfully, and began beaming its records. That would take twenty-six minutes. Kendy activated the course change he’d worked out hours ago. Discipline was about to use a good deal of fuel. It would hold him over the Lagrange point for long enough.

The records arrived in reverse order. Common practice. Recent records were likely to be more urgent. Kendy dipped into the flow. The control board had seen little while housed in the Library room. There were glimpses of the sky during ceremonies. Records of births, deaths, marriages. It had been dismounted in year 130 SM. The CARM hadn’t crashed; it had deteriorated over the years, helped by deteriorating maintenance…

He couldn’t spare attention with so much else going on. The drive ran smoothly. Tank less than a fifth full.

Discipline accelerated, drive swinging out to point at the stars, to hold the ship close above the L4 point against its own spin. Rather was exploring the room; his pulse and breath rate were rapid. He was bored and anxious.

Jeffer, crouched above CARM #6’s control board, was in similar shape. The neudar view of Admiralty Headquarters showed fog-spots clumping, then moving in two streams toward the Library.

Something was happening. Little lights brightened and dimmed on the CARM control panel. His helmet hummed. It wasn’t particularly entertaining. Rather said, “Kendy?”

“It’s working, Rather. Don’t bother me.”

“Jeffer?”

“Here.”

“Kendy’s busy and happy.”

“You’ve got more than two hours — about half a day — before Mickl’s on duty. Nobody should bother you.”

“I’m hungry enough to eat a swordbird, and may the best entity win.”

“Did everything go all right?”

“I’m scared, Jeffer. I may never get over being scared. Why on Earth are we doing—”

The door opened.

Rather saw a silver suit pointing a crossbow a few degrees wide of his navel. The insignia was familiar. He and Booce had spent half a day painting it on the silver suit, from pictures taken by the silver suit’s camera.

The door—

Rather’s radio spoke in his helmet. “I know who you are,” said the voice he’d been trying to imitate. “What I want to know is why. Let’s—”

Rather leapt straight at Wayne Mickl, and fired a burst from his jets for extra force. He couldn’t let the door close.

The silver man swung his crossbow aside and braced to kick, too slowly. He’d expected the jump but not the jets. Rather slammed into him. Mickl bounced away. Rather struck the jamb and, spinning, was through the door and out into a horde of Navy crew.

“I know who you are—” Wayne Mickl’s voice, pressure suit #5, radio frequency badly distorted by time, and Kendy locked on it. He beamed instructions to the Library: Record the view through pressure suit #5 cameras, one snap per ten minutes, henceforth.

It was a nice bonus. He welcomed it, because he was about to lose Rather Citizen. A dozen Navy crew in the fisheye view, unknown numbers out of camera range—

Jeffer bellowed, “Rather! What’s going on?”

“Wayne Mickl came back. Can’t talk.”

Kendy sent, “Get outside if you can, Rather. Mickl’s jets aren’t fueled.”

“I’ve got the whole treefeeding Navy here!” They were hesitating, but they wouldn’t for long. “They’ll swarm all over me like honey hornets — Hey!” Rather’s hands came in view holding a bag; ripped it open and flung it. The corridor became vague and golden.

Wayne Mickl could pull the cable! Was he still in the Library? CARM #2 had a hundred years of records to go…a solid block of data was running now, data that must have been beamed long ago by Discipline itself. Kendy knew he wouldn’t want to read that in full, not if it was records of the mutiny. He’d spot-check.

The other pressure suit emerged from the Library and jumped to join the fight. Good!

Rather’s camera view shot down the corridor, through dust and bodies. Navy crew grabbed at him, clung… and let go. It began to look as if he might make it.

What was running through Discipline’s receivers was a message from the State, from Earth.

Nothing in his own memory matched. Kendy pulled it and ran it. It was brief.

Rather jumped down the corridor, arms raised to block the men who blocked his path. Impacts slowed him. A burst from the jets compensated. Somebody was riding him, legs around his hips…a man impacted heavily against his helmet, slid across his chest, and was gone.

The silver man jumped him. The man who clung to Rather took the force of impact. They tumbled. Rather reached the door, kicked, swung himself around the jamb and was out in the sky. A burst of jets took him clear.

He paused then.

The silver man emerged and, twenty meters away and receding, stopped to put on his wings. Navy crew emerged behind him. Two flailed; they had no wings at all. The third couldn’t get his on. Fringe spores must have reached their brains.

That left only the silver man.

Rather grinned. He put on his own wings and kicked away strongly. “Kendy? Jeffer? Are you watching?”

“Jeffer here. I can’t get Kendy. He may be out of range.”

“Well, watch. This is going to be good.”

Mickl was catching up.

Rather’s radio sounded calm and a bit supercilious. “Rather Citizen, you can’t escape. Your wings are the right color, but they’re not Navy wings. You know I don’t want to hurt you. I had the chance to kill you and I didn’t. But the crossbow is all I have, and it will penetrate — make holes in a Navy pressure suit. There’s a hole in one of our suits because one of our Guardians turned mutineer once.”

“Don’t answer,” Jeffer said. “He’s guessing. Don’t give him a chance to test it.”

Mickl was meters behind him, but the drugged Navy crew were nearly out of sight. Rather pulled his wings loose, pointed his feet at the silver man, and fired his jets.

He was head-down to the Dark. Mickl was kicking hard, falling rapidly behind. A scream of shock or frustration burst in Rather’s ears; he found the volume control and turned it down fast.

The Dark was around him. He couldn’t see the other silver man, he couldn’t see the Market.

Jeffer spoke in his helmet: a tiny squeak until Rather turned the volume back up. “…due to rendezvous. I’ve got a ship moving north out of the Dark. Stand by…There’s a dark blob bigger than the cabin—”

“That’s Logbearer. They’ve got their mud.”

“Turn seventy degrees clockwise from where you were pointed and, oh, ten degrees north. Make your bum.”

Rather obeyed. Jeffer counted off twenty seconds: seven breaths. The Dark thinned.

“We’ve got to get rid of the silver suit,” Jeffer said.

“No.” I’m the Silver Man!

“I don’t mean feed it to the tree! I mean don’t have it when Logbearer gets home.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, and Kendy isn’t answering. I don’t even know what course he’s on now.”

“What if I don’t go back? You can pick me up with the CARM.”

“Sure, and what does Wayne Mickl say to the Serjents? You’ve got to face him and lie.”

Rather could see the Market far behind him. Was he in view of Navy instruments? But they’d have to find him, and he’d changed direction.

The deep voice of Wayne Mickl was small and full of the chattering sound of distance. “Rather Citizen, I will wait for you at Serjent House.”

“I heard that,” Jeffer said. “I’ve spotted you. Can you see Voy? Sixty-five degrees east, bum for five seconds. Zero north, there’s no point in getting higher. You’ll both be back in the Dark before you meet.”

“Jeffer? Why don’t you come get the silver suit?”

“…Stet. Here I come.”

Rather himself had spotted Logbearer now, above the plane of the Dark, foreshortened and trailing steam.

Jeffer said, “I’m on my way, but it’ll take me nearly a day. If you just ditch the suit it’ll fall back into the Dark.”

“It’s doing that now. You’ll have to find it somehow. I’ve got an idea.”

Rather flew through the Dark. He was using wings. There couldn’t be much left of his fuel.

He glimpsed a man-shape through the murk.

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:

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 Hilar’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 Logbearer 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.”

“Why does Wayne Mickl want that suit so much? I’d think it would be the other way around—”

“It’s bad for the Admiralty if happyfeet hold old science. I think Wayne’s almost given up on taking his Captain’s seat. The pressure suit is as much power as he’ll ever have, and he takes his responsibilities—”

They were back: Wayne Mickl and Raym Wilby and Jonthan. Raym was unwontedly quiet. Mickl said, “And what were you discussing with the Bosun?”

Sectry was flustered; Rather answered first. “I was suggesting that if you did have a fourth pressure suit, you’d need twelve dwarves to man them.”

Sectry tried to cover her laugh with her hands. Booce laughed outright. Doheen’s mouth was rigidly straight. Mickl was about to explode.

And Rather had learned little from Sectry, but it might be enough. Go for Gold. Before Mickl could speak, he asked, “Does it fly better than your suits?”

Mickl’s face didn’t change. “Yes. How did you know that?”

“You said it outflew you. Besides, I heard something once.”

“You’ll tell me.”

“Privately, if you don’t mind, Captain-Guardian.”

They took the kitchen. Mickl said, “That fringe-addled Dark diver makes you a poor witness.”

“I don’t know anything about your Chairman’s Court.”

“You’ll see a court soon enough. Talk to me, boy.”

“I don’t know anything about your mutineer pressure suit either—”

“Then—”

“I once heard that there’s a way to make little holes on a pressure suit spray fire. Then it can fly without wings.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe I can find a man who can do it. He doesn’t have a pressure suit, so he’s never tried it.”

“Take me to him.”

“They don’t deal with Navy. They don’t even come into the Admiralty.” Rather visualized a mysterious happyfeet tribe, isolated and distrustful. “They sent copsiks once. The Scientists don’t come themselves.”

“Give me a name.”

He picked one he could remember. “Seekers.”

“There’s no such tribe.”

Rather shrugged.

“Well, what are we doing here, Rather?”

“What happens is, you give me your pressure suit—”

Mickl laughed.

“I take it somewhere.” Payment? Not money; the Seekers might not use money. “I take fringe too, maybe twenty kilos. I take tools. I bring the suit back. They keep the fringe and the tools. Maybe the jets work and maybe they don’t.”

“Let me tell you why I can’tgive you my pressure suit,” Mickl said gently. “First, it belongs to the Admiralty. Second, it alternates among three Guardians. My triad would notice. Third, turning a pressure suit over to savages would certainly be judged as mutiny, especially since — fourth — you might not bring it back. Stet?”

“Not stet. Let me think.”

“While you’re thinking…This mysterious tribe, did they ever have a pressure suit to practice on?”

“They say they did—”

“Could they have got it working again?”

This was taking Rather into empty sky. Treefodder! Maybe it was lost, or stolen, or—

“Talk to me!”

“I was trying to remember. They threw it away.”

“What?”

“It killed three citizens.”

“How?”

“The…silver was only for one who was worthy. One day the old dwarf died while he was using it. Three dwarves wrestled for it—”

“That sounds like too many dwarves. Rather.”

It did. “I saw two myself, and I never got inside the jungle. I guess Seekers get more dwarves.”

“…Goon.”

“The winner put the suit on and died. The one who lost to him put it on and died. The last one was a woman. She started to get into it, but while the—” Rather patted his skull “—this part was still open she said she heard the voice of Kendy the Checker. Nobody else could hear it. They got scared and dumped it and moved to another part of the sky.”

“Sounds like the air feed went bad. What then?”

“That’s when they found the Admiralty. They say one of your ships tried to rob them—”

“Nonsense.”

“We say treefodder. They say you did.” It might have happened in the past: Navy robbing savages—

Wayne Mickl was looking disgusted. He said, “It’s possible. A ship low on provisions…this isn’t helping.’’

“Wait. You three who trade your suit off. Are you always on duty at Headquarters?”

“No, of course not. Why?”

Rather took a deep breath. “Your fourth point: of course we’ll bring the suit back. Not all of us will go. You’ll keep friends of mine to answer for it if the suit doesn’t come back.

“Your third point: maybe it’s mutiny if you lose your chance at a pressure suit that can fly without wings, especially if it belongs to the Admiralty, which was my first point, and especially if you could get three. So let’s work on your second point. Can you get the Admiralty’s permission?”

“Admiral Robar Henling would rather give up his seeds. At his age it wouldn’t — No. Just no.”

He was getting somewhere. He had Mickl’s attention. Think! “Will your, uh, triad try to track down that flying pressure suit?”

“We will. We are!”

“You can go anywhere if you think it’s the right direction, stet? You’re Guardians. One of you is an officer. Nobody’ll ask. Am I completely off the track?”

“…Not yet.”

“So off you go, tracking rumors of a fourth pressure suit. Maybe you find it. You close in. But there’s a dwarf in it, and he sees you coming and flies away laughing. What he doesn’t know is that your triad was working without a pressure suit for a while. Then it came back. Now off goes the bandit dwarf, but he’s doomed, because your suit flies too and he doesn’t know it!”

Mickl’s grin was not quite a pleasant sight. “Were you a Teller, where you came from?”

Rather knew exactly what he meant. “Our Teller was Merril till she died. These days everyone does some telling. Captain-Guardian, I’m trying to help. I’ll bring the suit back whether it works or not.”

“But would your Seekers give it back?” Mickl sighed. “I don’t blame you for attacking my men, and I won’t charge you. We’ll leave it at that for the moment. This isn’t finished, Rather.”

The civilians watched the Navy people fly toward their rocket. Sectry was trailing; and when he saw her look back, Rather snatched his wings from the door and jumped after her.

She stayed in the air while he strapped his wings on.

A voice spoke from the Navy ship’s cabin; she answered. Then she kicked away to avoid the rocket’s exhaust. She did not fly back toward Serjent House.

The Navy rocket departed.

Rather reached her. He didn’t have breath to speak. She said, “You’re involved in something.”

He shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want any part of it. I’ve decided I don’t want to live in a tree either.”

Rather had his breath back. He said, “We’re the right size.”

She shook her head violently. Teardrops flew. “Didn’t Wayne tell you how many dwarves there are in the Admiralty? Rather, it was a good offer. Nobody makes real decisions when she’s on fringe. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” His tongue was in knots and his thoughts were scrambled. The Scientist and the Checker, they caused this, they sent me into Headquarters! Would it be different if they hadn’t? Did I mean it, that offer? How will Carlot feel about this? Or Jill?

“I do want to see you again. After this is over, if it’s ever over. You’ll be going back to the tree, won’t you? You won’t like it here, not with the Captain-Guardian on your tail!” She didn’t wait for his answer. “Well, sooner or later there’ll be a mission to Citizens Tree, and I’ll be on it. I hope this is all cleared up by then.”

She flapped spinward, toward Headquarters or the Market. He called after her. “We have a rocket—”

“No. Thanks. I’ll go on foot.” She kept kicking. Rather turned back to Serjent House. He was going to have to do some fast talking…again.

Chapter Twenty-Two Loop

from the CARM #2 cassettes, recorded year 76 SM, day 1412:

WHERE HAD IT ALL GONE WRONG? A MESSAGE MAY BECOME garbled across fifty-two light-years of distance and interstellar dust. But this was simple, unambiguous, and repeated—

—as if he were a wayward computer in need of reprogramming. Arrival date: Feb 26,1487 State. Recorded by CARM #2 sixty-one Earth days later.

He’d accomplished his mission! Why this?

He had attempted to follow his new orders. Of eight CARMs he had sent into the Smoke Ring, he located three. The rest must have been destroyed, or worn out, or their sending systems turned off.

From CARM #2 he had learned of the death of Claire Dalton. Claire had died at one hundred and thirty-eight, less than two months before the message arrived. No other survivors were known to the CARMs. Many deathdates had been recorded.

Amazing that Claire had lived so long.

There had been a mutiny. Kendy had stored it in CARM #2’s computer before he erased it from his own memory. Sharis Davis Kendy had mutinied against his crew. Fool, not to have seen that! Their descendants used mutineer as an insult!

He’d made an irretrievable mistake. But how? His reasoning was straight. His orders were unambiguous… weren’t they?

How could it be clearer?

Kendy knew how the dinosaurs had died. The State had explored the ringed black giant planet that periodically hurled flurries of comets into the solar system. The State could stop comets now. The solar system was tamed. Ten planets were better than one; cities and industrial sites on thirty moons and hundreds of asteroids were better than none; but the lesson of the dinosaurs remained. Planets are fragile.

Earthlike worlds had been found in the habitable zones of nearby stars. Green life had emerged on two. At Discipline’s departure they were in the process of final terraforming. On twenty-six worlds, poisonous air resembling Earth’s primordial reducing atmosphere had been seeded with tailored algae. In a thousand years some would be ready for further attention. The seeder ramship program had been running since seven hundred years before Kendy’s birth.

And Discipline had found a habitable nonplanet!

Humanity was to be spread as widely as possible.

The dangers here were not a planet’s dangers. The Smoke Ring and its enveloping gas torus were dense enough to protect Earthly life from radiation from the old neutron star, and from other radiation too. Radiation sources were normal throughout the universe. A supernova explosion near Sol…a passage of Sol and its companion stars through a region of star-creation…a catastrophe in the galactic core…events known and unknown could cause havoc through Sol system and all nearby systems. But none could harm the Smoke Ring!

His own message to Earth, sent in year 1382 State, was long and detailed. CARM #2 had the record:

Sharls Davis Kendy had abandoned his crew as they explored the Smoke Ring. Three who remained aboard had been invited to take what they needed from Discipline and join the others. He had never given reasons; his secondary mission was CLASSIFIED. He had shut down systems aboard Discipline in a pattern that forced them to the CARMs.

Ah, that explained something: those three had not loved cats. Pure coincidence.

Then, the message from Earth. Put it back the way it was.

How? His crew was dead!

Faced with conflicting orders, he could not function at all. He would be locked in a loop of reinforcing guilt. Kendy had sequestered all data relating to the mutiny and beamed it to CARMs #2, #6, and #7, then erased it all from memory.

How had he gone wrong? Could the message itself have been garbled? Through 200 repetitions?

No explanations, no elaborations. He’d been reprogrammed like a wayward computer. Why? He’d accomplished his mission!

Was the message genuine? Check the dates:

Kendy’s own mission report, sent 1382 State. Message from the State dated fifty-two point two Earth years later. He was fifty-two point one light-years from Earth. This Shibano had not lingered over his decision, but…it checked.

— Arrived fifty-two point one years after that. Check.

…Odd. Why would the State expect any crew to remain alive? That Claire had survived was partly due to low gravity, good conservative health habits (her mind was that of an elderly corpsicle), youth (via the body of some bright, healthy criminal), and luck. The rest must have been dead decades earlier (and their descendants called him murderer and mutineer and damaged machine).

Shibano for the State. Kendy found it difficult to consider Shibano as separate from the state, but…what could Shibano have been thinking? Rescue after one hundred and four years: it was insane.

Perhaps the State’s medical resources had improved?

Times change. Every generation of mankind has sought longer lives. Thousand-year lifespans might have become common…

Speculative.

But times change. Goals change. Kendy’s route here had been circuitous. The state that had given Kendy his orders was four hundred and fifty-five years old when he reached the Smoke Ring. Five hundred and seven when Shibano spoke. Five hundred and fifty-nine when his message arrived.

Kendy did not normally question orders. Conflicting orders could throw him into a loop. But he had been round and round this loop, while some voiceless subsystem sought desperately for a way out.

Somewhere in a pattern of magnetic fields there was a change of state…and Kendy the man would have laughed. A change of State, yes. Sharls Davis Kendy’s State was a thousand years in the past. Dead. Somehow he must serve anyway. His own goals had been spelled out in detail; he would serve those.

Humankind was to settle varied environments. So be it. What was his present situation?

The receding Smoke Ring covered forty degrees of sky. His mind had been following a loop for just under two months! He’d missed the final stages of the explosion of Levoy’s Star, the foray into the Admiralty might have disintegrated by now…

To work. Discipline’s drive had shut down without his attention. Good! He still had fuel.

He started the drive warming. His orbit was a comet’s, highly eccentric. Equations ran through his mind…fire a short burst at aphelion. Shed some velocity by aerobraking, by dipping into the gas torus around the Smoke Ring, twice. Use Goldblatt’s World as a gravity sling, save a few cupfuls of deuterium that way…

Glowing in direct sunlight, the Clump was green-and-white chaos in Logbearer’s steam trail. Clave felt good: loose and free, cruising through an uncluttered sky.

Rather crawled out of the angular cabin. His head was metal and glass. “The suit’s too big, but I can wear the helmet.”

Clave smiled at the sight. “Getting anything?”

“Getting…? No, Jeffer hasn’t called. Maybe he can’t call this suit. I tried Kendy too.”

“Too bad.” Clave had been watching a distant brownish smudge of vegetation. Now he shouted aft. “Carlot? Could that be a fisher jungle?”

“Be with you in twelve breaths.” Carlot finished what she was doing to the motor and crawled to them over the cabin. “Where?”

Clave’s toes jabbed east and out.

“I don’t see the root…right, that’s what it is. I’d better turn off the motor or we’ll go past. Rather?”

Rather followed her aft. Clave stayed at the bow while they worked the motor. Presently the tide behind him went away.

Closer now, the fisher jungle looked dead enough. Brown foliage and bare branchlets. Tufts and patches of vivid green: parasitical growths. The fisher root was half extended, like a dead man’s hand with three scarlet fingernails. He looked for the CARM…and found a man flapping toward him.

Jeffer pulled himself aboard, panting. “Moor to the root. Treefodder, I’m glad to see you, but what are you doing here? Is everyone here?” He looked over the edge of cabin and shouted, “Hello, Carlot! Rather, what… is that a pressure suit helmet?”

“Yes. The rest of it’s inside.”

They told it in tandem while they moored Logbearer.

“I never did quite know if the Captain-Guardian believed me,” Rather said, “but he left Serjent House without taking any copsiks—”

“The Navy watched us for the next forty, fifty days,”

Clave said. “We weren’t doing anything peculiar. Booce sold wood and hired people to cut it. We bought more seeds and some tools and stuff. We’re carrying all that. Mickl kept coming around, interrupting us, trying to get Rather to tell him more about Seekers—”

“I tried not to talk too much. I built up a picture of these Seekers in my mind, and maybe I got it across. Secretive. Not very many of ’em. Too many Scientists, maybe half a dozen. They’ve got a cassette and reader but they don’t show it to outsiders. They threw away their silver suit, but they’ve got records on how to maintain it. And they swear to kill anyone who tells their secrets. The citizen who told me disappeared. He was high on fringe and I was just a kid, but I had a better memory than most kids…That part’s true anyway,” Rather said. “I haven’t told Mickl all of this.”

“Dangerous,” Jeffer said. “You’ll have Mickl desperate to meet them.”

“Not if I read him right. Scientist, you know the story now, and you can back me up. Give him details I didn’t.”

Clave asked, “Jeffer, did Kendy get the records he wanted?”

“I haven’t heard from him.”

“If we’re lucky the treefeeder never will call back. Anyway, we must have looked innocent enough. We never did anything odd because we didn’t know anything. So. Twenty days ago three dwarves pulled up to Logbearer in a Navy rocket. Mickl and another man and awoman, all the same size. Weird. They gave us the pressure suit and went away. We’re supposed to get the jets going and pay off the Seekers. Would you like ten years’ supply of fringe?”

“No. You’d better leave it here if you’re supposed to.”

They carried the suit and helmet into the dead foliage. Rather and Carlot set to moving their cargo while they looked about.-

Entropy and parasites had eaten a deep cavity into the fisher jungle’s dead trunk. The CARM was there, and Jeffer’s camp: rocks for a fireplace, a rack of poles for smoking meat, a midden a decent distance away. Jeffer had made a third wing for himself, a prudent move for a man alone. From the blackened look of it he’d been using it to fan his fire.

Jeffer had the pressure suit splayed like a bird’s flayed skin. “Rather, did you try it?”

“It’s too big for me. — And the air feed doesn’t work. I got the panel open. A little wheel isn’t connecting to anything, and there’s a spoke with nothing on it.”

Jeffer grinned. “I see.”

Rather laughed. “Mickl doesn’t want the Seekers stealing his silver suit! If they try it they’ll find out nobody’s worthy!”

“I’ll refuel it. No guarantee the jets still work.”

“Well, if they do work, I get the impression that Booce will get a decent offer for the Wart. Mickl never actually said so.”

“Three pressure suits?”

Clave said, “Stet. We may have to do this twice more. And they’re searching Dark and sky for a fourth pressure suit. They must be looking hard at where Logbearer went.

You may want to move the CARM.”

Carlot arrived pushing the last of the cargo: not seeds, but tools. “You’re going to love this, Scientist.” She separated something out.

Jeffer took it with glad cries. “A pump! Wonderful! The CARM’s low on water, and I hate the way I filled it last time. Can I keep it?”

“Stet. We’re supposed to bribe the Seekers with it. Here, this is a bellows from the Market. You anchor one end. It’s easier.”

“Nice. Can you stay for a couple of sleeps? I’ve got food and—”

“Lonely?”

It showed in his face. “You know it.”

“We’ve got food you never tasted. Dark fungus and earthlife. You’ll love it.”

Their exotic dinner was nothing unusual for Rather, not any longer. What made it fun was watching Jeffer react.

Jeffer talked while he ate. “I had some trouble getting the silver suit. I found it okay, but it was right in the fire. I had to get the bow up against it and push it out along with a kilton of burning goo. I just wonder how many Admiralty citizens saw me.”

“The stories won’t match,” Clave said. “In sixty days it won’t matter at all. I’ve been thinking. We’ll bum the fringe here. If a Navy ship comes they’ll find that the Seekers had a hell of a party and then went away.”

“Good. I’ll have to take the CARM someplace you can find it—”

“No. You find us. Logbearer will be returning to Citizens Tree in due course, maybe another thirty days. Keep watch. Pick us up well outside the Clump.”

“Another fifty days of this? Treefodder. And I never even saw the treefeeding Clump.”

“We’ll leave you most of our food,” Clave said.

Carlot carefully wasn’t looking at Rather. “I’ll be bringing a guest. Raff Belmy and I’ll be married as soon as we get back to the Admiralty. I want to bring him back to the tree. What he tells his father is up to him, but he’ll have at least a quarter year to think about it.”

“So you decided,” Rather said. He felt he had almost gotten used to the loss.

“I’m like you. I’m tired of secrets.”

“There’s a plant here that grows good foliage,” Jeffer offered. “Dessert.”

Carlot tossed an orange sphere at him.

Jeffer’s acting like a happy eight-year-old. Rather thought as he tethered himself into a foliage patch for sleep. Being alone out here must be rough on him. Maybe all adults stay children someplace in their heads…

“Rather?”

“Yuh. Carlot?”

She wriggled under the lines and was alongside him. Rather opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he said, “I don’t like lying to you.”

“What now?”

“I was going to not say, ‘What would Raff think?’ ”

She didn’t move away. Presently she said, “You don’t understand us.”

“Nope.”

“We like to spread the genes around. Nobody talks about it in public, but you hear. A man and a woman get engaged. They make babies together. Sixty, seventy days later, they get married. Maybe the first kid looks like the rest and maybe he doesn’t.”

“But why?”

“It’s the last chance. See, I’m going to marry Raff, but there are men I turned down. They’re not going to just vanish. I wasn’t with Raff off those sleeps I was away. Raff’s been seeing friends too, I don’t know who. Rather, it’s just different. The officers say it’s good. They talk about gene drift.”

“Okay.”

“What Raff thinks about it is, he’d rather not know. I never did wonder what Jill would think.”

Jill. “We never made promises.”

“Sure. But who else is there? There’s nobody anywhere near her age in the tuft. Just you.”

“I suppose. I wish I could have told her I was leaving.’’

She said nothing. Rather couldn’t drop it. “I wish I could tell her it was worth it. You never wanted that raid on the Library. You were right. If Kendy’s really gone, then why did it happen? The Navy’11 never stop being suspicious ofus,and we didn’t learn anything, and I can’t even tell Jill about the raid because I can’t tell her about Kendy.”

She stirred. “You don’t want me?”

“Sure I want you. Every sleep we’re here, I want you. I wanted you for keeps.”

“You can’t have that. When we marry, that’s the end of that. Understand?”

“Stet.”

Kendy had run the records from CARMs #2 and #6 over and over. He’d built up a sublibrary of sorts under RESOURCES, LOCAL USAGE.

Here: Citizens Tree was firing mud to make a cookpot.

Here: firing the laundry vat. Both had been recorded by the silver suit as it moved unharmed through the fire. One clip every ten minutes.

Here: curing the lines from the spaghetti jungle. Mark the Silver Man unharmed in the smoke.

Here: the elevator in Citizens Tree. Here, recorded years earlier by Klance the Scientist: the London Tree elevator, run with stationary bicycles.

Here: CARM #6 changing the integral tree’s orbit.

Here: Logbearer moving another tree.

Here: Rather collecting honey. Booce’s voice explaining that it was usually done with handmade armor. Here: a set of hornet armor made to show the Navy customs collectors, lest they seek for such and find the silver suit instead.

The natives used materials from Discipline when they had it. When they didn’t, they made do. They were doing very well without Kendy.

Discipline was making its second aerobraking pass, ass-backward through the gas torus. The cone of the fusion drive approached fusion temperatures. That was hardly a danger, but the plasma streaming back along the hull had to be watched.

Velocity, Smoke Ring median: 11 kps. Velocity at Kendy’s distance: 3 kps. Discipline’s, relative velocity: 20 kps and falling. Discipline reached perihelion and began to rise, embedded in hot plasma. The animals were frantic. Kendy couldn’t spare attention for them. Nothing had melted on his first pass…but the gas ahead of him thickened as he rose, because Goldblatt’s World was ahead.

Visual: a raging, endless storm the size of Neptune.

Neudar: a core the size of two and a half Earths spun once every seven hours, carrying the storm around with it, until the atmospheric envelope trailed off into the Smoke Ring. Instruments: impacting plasma increased in temperature and density; velocity decreased. The ship was surviving. There’d been the risk that he would have to blow hydrogen ahead of him for cooling.

Goldblatt’s World passed below, warping the ship’s path into something nearer a circle. Now the plasma density dropped fast.

Fifteen minutes of that was enough excitement for any computer program. In an hour he’d be over the Admiralty and out of the gas torus. He’d make his last short bum then. It would hold him near the Admiralty for a good half hour.

Discipline would be glowing bright enough to see, if anyone looked in just the right direction. That might or might not be good. Kendy had taken his time returning.

His long-range plans were in tatters and he didn’t know what to do about it.

Chapter Twenty-Three Beginnings

from the Citizens Tree cassettes:

THE LIFT CAGE DROPPED. IT WAS CROWDED WITH EIGHT people and several bags from the CARM. Lawri and Gavving, Scientist and Chairman Pro Tern, seemed distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to guess why. Raff Belmy was uncomfortable too. Carlot clung tight to his arm, possessively, protectively.

“I had some trouble finding the tree,” Jeffer said.

“Your problem,” Gavving answered. “After all, you took the silver suit. How were we supposed to tell you where we were?”

“Yeah, but you moved the tree, didn’t you? That thing next to the lift, is that what I think it is?”

“Yes. Lawri’s doing, mostly.”

“Hah. Scientist, I thought you’d be twiddling your toes waiting for me to come home.”

“We found ways to occupy ourselves, Scientist.” Lawri’s pregnancy was growing conspicuous. The formality between her and her husband did not seem unfriendly.

Gavving said, “I hope you brought something to make us look good.”

The rest of them laughed; but Clave said, “Trouble?”

“Treefodder, yes, trouble! I’d have flown to a new tree if I’d been sure they’d let me have wings. One thing, the children are on our side. They’ve been crazy with waiting to see what you bring back. And Minya stuck with me.”

“She did? Good,” said Clave.

“She did, in public.”

Clave reached into a bag. He sliced an apple in half and passed it to Gavving and Lawri. They bit, distrustfully, and continued eating. “That’ll do it,” Gavving said.

“Fine. Here. Don’t eat the hull.” He’d cut an orange into quarters.

They gnawed the insides out of the oranges. Lawri chewed and swallowed a bit from the peel, but did not take another. Gavving said, “Yeah!”

“We’ve got seeds,” Clave said. “This and a lot of other earthlife. We’ll plant them in the out tuft.”

Faces like afield of flowers below the falling cage. Two meteor-trails of golden blond hair: Jill next to Anthon, she a meter shorter than her father, both scanning the faces in the lift cage. Rather knew when -Till’s eyes met his, but her face didn’t change.

The cage thumped into its housing. Children piled out of the treadmill, and Mark with them. Everyone in Citizens Tree was here.

They looked short: a field of dwarves in which Anthon and the Serjent women stood out as normal. Rather had become used to giants. Children and some adults crowded around the cage. Jill and Anthon hung back, not quite hostile, but suspending judgment. Mark had that look too.

For all these hundreds of days Rather had wondered what the tribe would think of his mutiny. He’d almost managed to forget that he had never told Jill, could not have told her that he was going to leave the tree.

His mothers were crowding close around the lift, and Karilly and Ryllin with them. The Serjent women hugged Carlot, then Carlot’s new husband. Karilly hung back a little. She was conspicuously carrying a guest. Raff beamed like sunlight at seeing someone he knew. They fell into rapid conversation, moving away, taking Karilly with them. “Damn, but I missed oranges…Booce had to stay? I’m not surprised, but…”

Karilly was silent.

Clave folded his wives into his arms and forced apples on them.

Anthon slapped an orange from Debby’s hand. Rather heard: “You took this Admiralty man aboard the carmT’ before his First Mother picked him up to hug him.

“You treefeeding fool,” Minya whispered. “You fool mutineer, you. Drillbits in your brains, both of you, you and your father. He never stopped wishing he’d gone too. Are you all right?”

“I’m in good shape. Mostly.” She pulled back to look into his face. He tried to look earnest. “First Mother, I’m allergic to dry, thin air. Not enough sleep does it too. It’s like knives in the eyes. I go blind. It lasts for hours.”

She started laughing. She said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and hugged him hard, still laughing. There were tears in her eyes. She put him down and saw him smiling slyly. She said, “It’ll never happen again. We’ll keep the tree where the air’s thick. You’d better go talk to Jill.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Talk to her first. Then I think—”

Jeffer shouted for attention. “I here present Raff Belmy. Raff and Carlot are married by Admiralty law. The record is in the cassettes.”

Over the heads of his brothers and sisters, Rather saw thejudging-look fade from Jill’s face. She moved forward at last. Rather said, “Harry, can you give me some privacy? Take them along?”

Harry said, “Oh. Sure.” Somehow he got his siblings moving away before Jill reached him.

The judging look was back. She said, “Rather. How are you?”

“Fine. Nobody made me a copsik. I didn’t get killed. Jill, I wanted to tell you.”

“Were you afraid I’d run tell my father?”

“If I wasn’t, the rest of us would have been. I couldn’t, Jill.”

He saw her reject that. She asked, “What was it like?”

“I’ll be a lot of days telling you that!” And suddenly it was a pain in him, that he couldn’t tell her about the raid, ever.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “I was remembering how close I came to joining the Admiralty Navy. I got out of it though. Jill, dinner has to be something special. Is there time to cook some of this earthlife?”

“Couple of days yet.”

“I’ll show you what to do.” Take the kids too? He’d thought he wanted to be alone with Jill, but now he knew he didn’t. “Harry! Gorey! Bring those bags to the cookpot.”

The Admiralty slid west below him. Kendy began his burn, then turned to his instruments. Neudar and the telescope array caught Admiralty Headquarters as it emerged from behind the Dark. The Library didn’t respond. It must be turned off. CARM #6 was nowhere in evidence. No pressure suit responded to his query.

Sharls Davis Kendy had made more than one mistake.

For half a thousand years he had been frantic to begin guiding his citizens in the Smoke Ring. Now he could begin, and now he almost knew how. Opportunities would come.

A part of his attention scanned his growing file on RESOURCES, LOCAL USAGE: Debby described Half Hand’s kitchen for Jeffer’s benefit. Clave carried the helmet on a slow trip through Serjent House.

The camera viewpoint spun erratically through a cloud of children. Children had knocked the helmet off its usual perch at the lift, then played with it like a basketball. Kendy viewed the commons as a series of stills. Corridor openings, the water trap, the communal cooking area, children laughing as they bounded in slow arcs.

A series of angular Clump houses, wildly various.

Mark’s hut in various stages of construction. The silver suit had been housed there for a time.

Abruptly the CARM #2 control board came to life.

Kendy sent his signal. Records came back: stills of various bored Guardians in their shared pressure suits, culminating in (present time) six jungle-giant men in a half circle around the control board, wearing anxious faces and spotless new uniforms. These must be officers; and now Kendy had their insignia.

The signal disintegrated with distance.

He rounded forty degrees of Smoke Ring before he made contact with CARM #6.

The vehicle was in its wooden dock at the midpoint of Citizens Tree. It was empty of citizens and cargo. That was Logbearer next to the left cage, and some smaller structure next to that. Kendy “stared”: he enlarged the image and examined it in detail.

They’d built a steam rocket.

They didn’t have a metal pipe or sikenwire, so they’d used ceramics. Fired mud! The laundry vat was part of it!

Records: the CARM on its way home. Logbearer was strapped along the hull. Booce was missing. Rather was present(!). The jungle-giant stranger matched the still of Hilar Belmy’s son.

Raff Belmy’s medical readings, originally ominous, settled down over passing days. Carlot must have helped to calm him down. Rather was being abnormally polite to both, and keeping his distance. The two spent considerable time out of sight aboard Logbearer.

Records: moving toward the Citizens Tree midpoint.

The ceramic rocket returned ahead of the CARM. It puffed toward the in tuft, pushing a huge glob of black mud, and passed out of range.

Records: “Year 384, day 2400, Jeffer speaking as Scientist. Carm and Logbearer are both docked at Citizens Tree. This will be my last log entry until Kendy calls.

“Kendy, for your information, Rather got out of Headquarters safely. We refueled the jets on an Admiralty pressure suit and returned it. Captain-Guardian Mickl could have had the other suits refueled too, but he never brought them. Now he’s got a pressure suit with jets. We gave him some time to play, and then we told him what to do when they run out of fuel.

“We’ve had no further trouble. Booce got a good offer on the metal. The Navy was carving it up when we left.

“Rather suggests that Mickl wants the flying suit for himself. It’s something even the Admiral doesn’t have. He’s got a secret now, and we know it, and he’ll need us to keep it flying. That gives us a certain edge with the Captain-Guardian if we ever want to exploit it.

“We have some wealth and some influence in the Admiralty. We got it without your help. We do not appreciate your abandoning Rather in the middle of the raid.

“I’ve spent as much time waiting for your call as I care to. I’ll be back from time to time. If you haven’t called by the crossyear, which is three hundred and ninety-one days from now, I will turn Voice off.”

Nobody was near the CARM. The lift wasn’t running.

The CARM drifted out of range. Kendy scanned the far arc of the Smoke Ring out of habit; he had never seen signs of industrial activity there.

The Admiralty flowed below him. The Library had been turned off again.

Their ancestors hadn’t listened to him either. They’d turned off the Voice subsystems; they’d cut the fibers that allowed Kendy to fly a CARM by remote. He’d been completely cut off for half a thousand years. As he was now.

Rather was scrubbing his teeth and thinking about breakfast when the Silver Man came into the bach hut. He spit and said, “Mark?”

“Who else?” Mark threw back his helmet. The silver suit was filthy and stank of smoke. “I tried that. I felt silly.”

“Sure, silly. Mark, I saw their teeth. The older Admiralty citizens still have half their teeth! I bet Ryllin and Mishael have been scrubbing their teeth all along.”

Rather remembered that this man wasn’t his father… and didn’t know it, and had a legitimate grievance. All in a rush he said, “I stole it. We thought we needed it and we did. It was right to go. Treefodder, Mark, you’re from a bigger tree! Don’t you feel cramped here?”

“Fifteen years I’ve felt cramped. Relax. You brought back some wonderful things. You brought back the CARM and the suit and you didn’t ruin the suit.”

“You looked mad enough to kill when we came down.”

“That was three good dinners ago. I never thought I’d taste potatoes again. I know a better way to cook them.”

“You forgive me? Mark, I’m really glad.”

“What are my choices? Sure I forgive you. We’re firing the new laundry pot.”

“Is it that late? I slept like a rock. Needed it too. These first few sleeps I just lay there wondering why one of the walls was pushing against me.”

“I’ve spent some sleepless nights here myself,” Mark said. “It’s lonely in the bach hut. We built it too big. Big enough for the next crop of men.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“Have you talked to Jill?”

“Minya asked me that. We’ve talked. Why?”

“Yeah. Well.” Mark sometimes had trouble finding words. “Citizens Tree is strange. None of us grew up the way you did. There are adults and children and a big gap in between, so you couldn’t tell much from just watching older children grow up. Maybe there are things we should have said—”

“I know about sex, if that’s what you mean…Maybe I need to know more. Two women have told me to feed the tree. It hurts. What could you have told me about that?”

Mark whistled. “You started young. Well, someone could have said, There’s only one suitable mate for you and there’s only one for Jill in this whole tuft, and she thinks she owns you, and maybe she’s right.’”

Rather let that percolate through his head. “Jill wants to make babies with me? Did she tell you that, or are you guessing?”

“I’m guessing. All I know is, when Instant Chairman Gavving told us you’d gone off with all the wealth of Citizens Tree, Jill was madder than I was, and that took some doing. She wanted you thrown into the sky with no wings. A hundred sleeps later she was sure you’d all be killed and she couldn’t see for crying.”

“I’ll go see her. Where is she?”

“Go easy, stet? You know you can find other mates. Jill doesn’t.”

“I don’t either. Sectry wants no part of me—” He couldn’t say why. Secrets. “And Carlot married someone else. You can’t imagine how bad that was. All the way home, Carlot and Raff. They spent most of their time in Logbearer. It wasn’t any better when I couldn’t see them.”

Mark said, “When nobody wants you in the first place, that’s worse. Trust me.”

“Mark, I’ve gotten very good at lying. I’m trying to stop.”

“Good. Go talk to Jill.”

“Where is she?”

“Everybody’s watching us fire the laundry vat except Jill. I’ve got to go back and see if anything needs doing. Try the miz hut. Then the commons.”

The deep voice hailed him as he entered. “Hello, Jeffer the Scientist. This is Kendy.”

Shouldn’t that have been Kendy for the State? Jeffer said, “Uh-huh. You missed all the excitement.”

“Not all. A large Navy ship is moving toward your position. They’ll reach you in eighty standard days.”

Jeffer took a moment to absorb the shock. He should have known. It wasn’t over; it never would be. There was no going back from the Clump expedition. No going back from knowing about the Admiralty.

He pulled himself forward to the control board. “That gives us some time to talk.”

The square, hard face in the bow window had always lacked expression. It said, “A bad thing happened to me, Jeffer. I learned too much about myself. There was no way I could communicate until now.”

“Lie to me, Kendy. Say there was something wrong with Voice.”

Kendy said, “The glitch was in myself. I think I have it fixed. Machines go bad, Jeffer. I left you a file under HISTORY. It’s selected records from the settling of the Smoke Ring. It explains some of what went wrong. Play it after I’m out of range.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“No.”

“Your timing was lousy. We thought you’d left Rather for treefodder. If you ever—”

“I can’t talk about it. It hurts my mind. Damage might be permanent. Do you seek vengeance against me?”

The trouble was that Kendy looked and sounded as calm as death. Kendy never showed anger, nor relief, love, pain. It was hard to believe he was hurting…yet he was not a man. Maybe. Maybe.

Jeffer said, “Well, we got home. I assume you got most of it from the log. The earthlife food stopped most of the arguments. Now all the reunited couples are busy making babies. The arguments haven’t gone away, though. They’re just simmering. It won’t help if there’s a Navy ship coming.”

“It’s coming. I couldn’t resolve details of design. There’s alcohol in the exhaust, and it’s coming from the Clump. Definitely Navy. What have you done with the seeds?”

“Seeds? We’ll plant them in the out tuft. Mark’s talking about building an extension to the lift before anything gets ripe enough to pick.”

“Cut some foliage so the sunlight can reach the plants. I can show you how to use water flow to move the lifts with less effort. You haven’t mentioned the fired mud rocket.”

“That’s nice, isn’t it? We don’t need the Admiralty’s treefeeding pipes.”

“You don’t need me,” Kendy said. He knew the risk he was taking. It was acceptable. “I’ve been looking at records. Most of what can be done with materials from Discipline can also be done with Smoke Ring resources. Lifts, housing, clothing, food, domestic animals. Now rockets. The Admiralty even has a heliograph.”

“No, we don’t need you,” Jeffer said, “but I never thought you’d know it.”

“A bad thing happened to me. I don’t trust my judgment any more. My intention has always been to make a civilization in the Smoke Ring, modeled on the State that shaped your ancestors. The Smoke Ring will never be that. How can I make a State in a place where I can’t even make maps?”

“Would we even like your State? Skip it. What do we do about that ship? I hope Sectry Murphy’s aboard. We’ll get some notion of what they want if Rather talks to her—”

“Hide the CARM in another tree. Tear out the dock too, or put the ceramic rocket there. Show them that. It’s not advanced, but it doesn’t need starstuff resources. It may impress them. Keep the CARM manned. There are two ways you might need it—”

“I won’t burn them!”

“One way, then. You can’t ignore the Admiralty. You’d really like to join as officers. You may have to show them the CARM before they’ll listen to that. Demand officer status, but they may settle for giving it to just the Chairman and Scientist—”

Jeffer laughed. “For a man who doesn’t trust his own judgment, you certainly—”

“I think fast. I plan fast. I make mistakes.”

“Anything else?”

“Mark might want to join the Navy. Sound him out. See if the Navy personnel might want him. I gather they don’t like older recruits, but Mark was trained in London Tree. Karilly may benefit from going back. Is she still mute?”

“Yes, but she’s also pregnant and happy. I’m not sure I want to fiddle.”

“I’m almost out of range. Back in two days. The code is HISTORY. Tell nobody of what you are about to learn.”

“K—”

“Unless in your judgment it would be beneficial.”

Kendy had never talked like this. “Stet.”

The face faded. Jeffer didn’t move for some time. Finally he tapped the white button. “Prikazyvat Voice.”

“Hello, Jeffer the Scientist.”

“Link to the pressure suit.”

“Done.”

“This is Jeffer calling anyone. Anyone home?”

“Hello? Scientist?” It was Jill’s voice.

“I want to talk to my wife.”

“I’ll get her. She’s on the branch.”

That would take most of a day. Jeffer started the HISTORY file and listened to it all the way through. Then he started it again.

Lawri climbed in through the airlock. “I didn’t have anyone but Rather and Jill for a treadmill team. Everybody else is on the branch. Now, what’s all the excitement, Scientist?”

“Prikazyvat Voice. Run HISTORY.”

Dead voices spoke. Discipline’s crew reported the discovery of a weird cosmological anomaly. Some of what followed was familiar from the cassettes. Some was entirely cryptic.

“How long have you had this?” Lawri demanded.

“Kendy only just filed it. I…I’ve been in contact with him since before we left for the Clump.”

Lawri was coldly angry. “That was mutiny! How could you not trust me?”

“I’m trusting you now. Listen.”

They heard a highly formalized quarrel. Some of the participants argued for settling the Smoke Ring; some were for moving on to an unnamed destination. Kendy spoke in favor of staying, then tried to terminate the argument. It continued.

There were parts of a broadcast from Discipline to Earth: it had been decided that they would settle the Smoke Ring environment.

There was a message from Earth: Retrieve your crew.

“And that’s it. Kendy got conflicting orders,” Jeffer said. “It tangles his mind. He can’t go for new orders because Earth is too far away, and he can’t make up his own mind because he’s a machine, and he can’t talk about it because it drives him nuts. If that’s all true, he must be close to crazy all the time. The question is, what do we do now?”

Lawri said, “We can play it through the silver suit. Play it for the whole tribe. Tell everyone.”

“It’ll start some fights.”

“Feed the—”

He rode her down. “There’s a Navy ship coming. The fights’ll have to be over when it gets here. A hundred days.”

“Stet. Play it at dinner.”

“…Stet.”

The situation was ideal in its way. They were together, but they couldn’t talk. There were only the two of them to run the lift. It took all their breath. Jill scrambled over the rungs, keeping up with him. Her tuftberry-red tunic was dark with sweat at chest and armpits. Her hair was a golden halo, as interesting and as beautiful as Sectry’s scarlet.

After the cages passed each other, they let the treadmill carry them round and round. Then it was time to throw their weight on the brake. The lower cage settled. Rather and Jill dropped into soft foliage and panted.

Rather found his breath…and found Jill watching him solemnly.

He said briskly (he hoped), “Mark says you own me. This is a thought that never crossed my mind.”

“He says that?”

“Yes. He says I own you too. What do you think?”

“I think Mark doesn’t have the right to say it.”

He was an arm’s length away. He couldn’t read her expression. He said, “It’s not just Mark. My parents — all four, or all three and a half, and everyone else too, including you, Jill. You all seem to know just where I fit and what I’m supposed to do for the rest of my life.”

“Well, you don’t take orders worth treefodder.” He was not sure that was a smile. “What’s bothering you, Rather? You came home on purpose. You’re on the cookpot because you volunteered to cook the earthlife. You’re the Teller because you’ve got stories and you like telling them. It gets you offtreemouth duty.”

“I like all of that. But I’m told where to sleep and I’m told who to marry, and everyone looked at me funny till I changed back into tuftberry red, and the whole damn tribe sent me to talk to you.”

“Okay. Talk.”

“Rather doesn’t take orders worth treefodder. You talk. Are you unsatisfied with me?”

“You went into the sky and left me behind.”

“I did.”

“Is that over now? Are you back for keeps?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Rather sighed. “I like coming home. I like seeing new things too. Some of us will have to go back to the Admiralty anyway, Jill. Ryllin wants to join Booce. Then there’s a whole sky out there! Lawri says our gene pool is too little. Fine. We’ll go find some other trees and get mates there.”

“Should I do that?”

Running endlessly up the treadmill, he’d had some time to think. “Maybe. Or you could marry me, but I’ll take trips, and you’d have to put up with that—”

She flared. “You’d be making babies with every woman who talks funny!”

That was manifestly unfair. Rather let it pass. “Or you could come with me.”

“Stet.”

“That quick? Are you sure?”

“Sure.”

This was working out better than he’d hoped. “Did you work on that new rocket?”

“No. Why?”

He hadn’t thought it all the way through after all.

“We’ve got time. In a couple of years a dozen kids will be ready to find mates. That’s when we’ll start visiting other trees—”

“I see it. I’d have to know the rocket inside out, how to steer it, how to fix anything that goes wrong, because I’m the oldest.”

“You and the rest of the crew too. Can you fly?”

“Sure. Oh, all right, I don’t do much flying. Rather?”

“Here.”

“You seem to have a very good idea of where I fit and what I’m supposed to do.”

It was a smile. “Sorry.”

“Maybe this is what being married is like. Anyway… I’ll go on the next trip. That’ll tell us everything we need to know. Whether I can stand it. Whether citizens can stand my company aboard a rocket. Whether I’m any good. Whether I want a mate from somewhere else. Whether you do.”

“Next trip will be the Admiralty.”

“Stet,” said Jill. She stood up. “Let’s go flying.”

“There’s nobody to run the lift for us.”

“Off the branch,” said Jill. “Fly to the midpoint. Surprise Lawri.”

It would do that! Rather began to understand that Jill would go where he would, and try to beat him there too.

“We’ll have to fly more than thirty klomters out. Can you handle it?”

“Sure. We’ll go off the branch and put wings on afterward. Otherwise someone’ll stop us. Come on.”

Kendy had assembled the HISTORY file with some care.

It was unaltered records, but it gave the distinct impression that Discipline’s crew had themselves decided to settle the Smoke Ring.

The population of the Smoke Ring was between two and three thousand (Kendy included children). By his original orders, Kendy must consider that they might now be the entire human race. The temptation to meddle was very strong.

He would not shape them. They were shaping themselves, and they were doing it well. For agonizing moments he had even considered severing communications entirely.

But he had things to teach them!

The Library was off when he passed the Admiralty. It wouldn’t stay that way, though. Day 2791 was the midpoint of the crossyear, three hundred and fifty-odd days away. If Kendy knew his citizens, they would celebrate, and the Library would be involved. Perhaps he can reach Wayne Mickl. Kendy had a handle of sorts on Captain-Guardian.

Meanwhile a Navy ship was moving on Citizens Tree.

He’d see what terms he could arrange.

Plenty of time. Kendy waited.