Fate of Worlds

by Larry Niven

“A few.”

  “Such as impersonating humans?” Tanya gibed.

  “I’m as human as you,” Alice snapped back. “I grant I can’t prove it over a comm link.”

  “And seven hundred years old? Really?”

  “Bringing us back to tricks we’ve learned.” The lie was again simpler and more credible than the truth.

  Tanya’s eyes darted about once more. “How do you see this encounter playing out?”

  “We propose to jump Endurance into an ARM formation.”

  “I don’t recommend that. We’ll blow up any unfamiliar ship that tries.”

  We’re not Kzinti, Alice thought. But she and Long Pass alike had left Sol system before Kzinti first burst onto the scene. How would she explain knowing about Kzinti? Was she caught already in a web of her own lies?

  Text, this time from Nessus, flowed across Alice’s lenses: Time to move. Safety first. His forehoof ceased tapping a rhythm to begin clawing at the deck.

  Alice shook her head marginally: no. She considered swinging the camera to reveal Nessus—only that would beg the question why New Terra didn’t ask their Puppeteer friend for the way home. Finagle! She would not have believed the story she was spinning.

  Alice said, “Then give me coordinates for Earth, or to any human-settled world.”

  “It’s a dangerous galaxy, as you said.” Tanya laughed mirthlessly. “If a ship of strangers doesn’t know the way, I’m not about to tell them.”

  Julia typed: Plan B.

  Alice nodded. “Tanya, I understand. How about a one-on-one meeting? Endurance and your ship. You set the coordinates.”

  “And a swarm of ships swoops down on us the moment we appear.”

  For all Tanya knew, this could be an elaborate trap. Alice wanted to cry, to scream, to break things. Had they traveled so far, had they come so close, only to fail? It was tragic.

  “I have a question,” Tanya said. “Why me? Why in particular did you contact me?”

  Tanya Wu was a name recovered from the message stream, because she texted a lot. Alice might as well have contacted the friend, Elena.

  “Simple coincidence, most likely,” Alice said. “Wu was a common name the last time I visited Earth. Still, long after, I met a man named Louis Gridley Wu. You wouldn’t happen to know him?”

  Tanya blinked. “My great-grandfather. In a way he’s why I’m here. He discovered the Ringworld.” More eye darting. “I’ll be right back, Alice.”

  The video froze.

  “We’re overdue to jump,” Nessus said.

  “Not yet,” Julia ordered.

  As Alice was beginning to doubt they would ever hear back, the image flashed. An older man with a pencil-thin mustache had taken Tanya’s place. “I am Captain Wesley Wu. My grandfather was a wanderer and an incorrigible storyteller. Agent Jordan, see if you can convince me that you knew him.

  “And if you manage that, you can explain why Grandpa didn’t tell you the way home.”

  20

  “They missed a jump!” Hindmost said in alarm.

  Louis yawned. He hadn’t slept since emerging from the ’doc more than a day earlier. “Who? The ship you believe has Nessus aboard? That its maneuvers remind you of a ballet could be a coincidence.” Or, more likely, wishful thinking.

  “I do not believe that,” Hindmost’s Voice offered. “Too many jumps have matched the cadence Hindmost remembers.”

  “But you still see the ship?” Louis asked.

  “Yes,” Hindmost said.

  Louis yawned again. “If Nessus is aboard, he can’t pilot nonstop. Maybe he’s getting some sleep.”

  “Perhaps.” Hindmost plucked at his mane. “That his shipmates do not follow the rhythm suggests they are not a party to his signaling.”

  “Or maybe Nessus is alone on that ship,” Louis countered.

  “The ship just took a short jump,” Hindmost’s Voice announced. “It emerged as near as I have seen it to the star.”

  Scanning the tactical display, Louis saw nothing close to what might be Nessus’ ship. Louis said, “Hindmost’s Voice, how long will it take to gather data for a spectral analysis?”

  “No more than five seconds.”

  “What are you…?” The question trailed off into an anxious, two-throated bleat as the view port flashed to static.

  Seconds later, Louis dropped Long Shot back to normal space. “Start recording. Tell me when you’re—”

  “I have the data,” Hindmost’s Voice said.

  Louis jumped Long Shot to hyperspace, emerging four light-hours from where they had been. He turned to Hindmost. “Weren’t you tired of waiting?”

  “Very well.” With a shudder, Hindmost straightened. “Voice, did you identify the hull material?”

  “It is twing.”

  “What’s twing?” Louis asked.

  “It is—”

  With a short, sharp trill, Hindmost silenced the AI. “Louis, it is almost certain that ship was built on the world where I last saw Nessus.”

  What about a hull material is so secret? Louis wondered. “That’s good, I assume.”

  “It is encouraging.” Hindmost stared into the tactical display, crooning to himself.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Why aren’t you hailing that ship?

  Hindmost said, “That world is called New Terra. Most who live there are humans.”

  “Why haven’t I heard of it?” Louis asked.

  “It lies far outside Known Space.” Hindmost turned one head toward Louis. “But you are correct. The time has come to contact that ship. Will you make the call? Lest I am mistaken about Nessus being aboard, I prefer not to reveal myself just yet.”

  “Easier said than done. I don’t expect Kzinti comm software to know New Terran protocols.” Because if the Kzinti knew of an isolated human colony, that would not be the sort of place Hindmost would have stashed his family.

  “I know New Terran protocols,” Hindmost’s Voice said. “Shall I make the call?”

  “Louis,” Hindmost said, “do not disclose your true name.”

  Louis shook his head. “I’ve never heard of this world, and I’m supposed to use an alias? Explain.”

  “It is complicated. Please, Louis, we cannot know how long that ship will remain in the area. That it no longer signals in the form of the ballet may denote its imminent departure.”

  “But you will explain,” Louis said.

  “If need be, but it is more Nessus’ place to explain. Let us both hope he is aboard.”

  Louis rubbed his nose, intrigued. “Do New Terrans speak Interworld?”

  “They speak a dialect of a precursor language called English. Voice can translate.”

  “All right,” Louis decided. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Hindmost retreated to the adjacent tiny rec room, abandoning the equally tiny bridge to Louis. “Voice, hail the New Terran ship.”

  “Done, Hindmost.”

  They waited. After a minute a light began flashing on the comm console. Louis accepted, and a holo opened. He didn’t recognize the person who answered, a young woman, but he hadn’t expected to.

  “Endurance,” she said. “Who is this?”

  “Nathan Graynor,” Louis improvised. The name had just popped into his head. “May I speak with—”

  “Hold on. You’re not … at home. There’s no comm delay. Where are you?”

  “On a ship, of course. Look, I don’t have all day. May I speak with Nessus?”

  “He’s in his cabin, asleep. I’ll take a message.”

  Nessus was there. Why didn’t Hindmost stick a head through the door with some guidance? Louis kept improvising. “Actually, Miss, I’d—”

  “Captain.”

  “Sorry. Captain, I need to deliver this message in person.”

  “I’ll get him up.” She reached toward her console.

  “There is no need.” With a clatter of hooves, a Puppeteer cantered onto the bridge. His hide was off-white with scattered tan spots, and
his dark brown mane was unkempt. His eyes didn’t match: one was red and the other yellow. “Louis!”

  “Nessus!” Louis greeted back. “You look well.”

  “Two heads are better than one.” Nessus trembled. “I should have guessed I would find you here. And is … is…”

  The captain had stiffened at the mention of Louis’s true name. She interrupted Nessus’ nervous stammer. “You introduced yourself as Nathan Graynor.”

  “One and the same,” Nessus assured her. “I am surprised you remember, Louis.”

  Remember what? Louis wondered. And we met at my two hundredth futzy birthday, and now I look maybe twenty. How did he recognize me so quickly? And why doesn’t Hindmost come in and show himself?

  For the last question, at least, Louis had a guess: Hindmost chose to reunite in person. “You’re right, Nessus. I have company aboard.”

  “We should rendezvous, Julia,” Nessus said. “These are old friends.”

  The New Terran vessel, like most ships in the area, had no normal-space velocity worth mentioning. “We’ll need time to match velocities,” Louis said. “We’re doing about point eight light speed.”

  Julia took a while making up her mind. “What’s your location, Louis?”

  Hindmost didn’t object so Louis transmitted Long Shot’s coordinates. The AI knew the New Terran navigational conventions, too. “What about matching our velocities, Captain?”

  “Be right back,” Julia said. The holo froze.

  Hindmost’s Voice reported, “They’ve gone to hyperspace. We’ve lost comm.”

  “How far are, were, they from us?” Louis asked.

  “A few seconds by standard hyperdrive.” Pause. “They are here.”

  The holo unfroze and Julia said, “Matching course and speed … now.”

  A small ship hung, immobile, in Long Shot’s main view port.

  Outsider ships could start and stop in an instant, and Louis had seen a Puppeteer ship match speeds with the Fleet in about an hour. Before Hindmost had shanghaied Louis, he had never heard of a human world with similar technology.

  The New Terrans—whoever they were—looked more and more interesting.

  21

  Louis stepped from Long Shot to Endurance—into a skinny, cylindrical, clear-walled isolation booth. The entire booth floor was a stepping disc, and another disc sat on the deck just outside.

  Stepping discs had tiny control switches inset on their rims, but the tiny booth left him nowhere to stand but on the disc. He could not get at its controls, even if he had known the address of the other disc.

  “Déjà vu, Louis?” Nessus asked.

  Huh? Louis sensed more to the odd greeting than meeting each other after many years. He rapped on the booth wall. “I’ve had friendlier welcomes.”

  “Blame me.” With some kind of a handgun dangling from her belt, Julia emerged from a dim corner of the cargo hold. “The eyeball check was a final precaution. Nessus, you may extricate our guest.”

  Eyeball check? Precursor language or not, Louis thought he might have to link in Hindmost’s Voice to translate to and from English. Blame me was plain enough, though. He waited to be let out.

  In Nessus’ sash, some gadget made a pocket bulge. Nessus plunged a head into the pocket—

  And Louis found himself standing outside the booth.

  He and Hindmost had scattered stepping discs around the Ringworld and across Long Shot, and Hindmost had never mentioned that the discs could be controlled from a distance. Somehow it didn’t surprise Louis that the Puppeteer had kept a trick in reserve.

  “Welcome aboard, Louis. I’m Julia Byerley-Mancini, captain of this ship. If half what I’ve heard is true, you have some interesting stories to tell.”

  “And I won’t mind telling them,” Louis said. “Nessus. Someone is waiting for you aboard Long Shot. Someone with whom you shared a special night at the ballet.”

  “It has been a long time.” Nessus shivered. “I need a moment to compose myself.”

  “Go when you’re ready,” Julia said.

  “I’d like to see your ship,” Louis said.

  “Let’s see Nessus off first.”

  She wants Nessus to leave, Louis realized. What else was going on?

  With a tremulous and somehow eager glissando, Nessus stepped onto the disc and disappeared.

  “How about that tour?” Louis asked.

  “Soon.” Julia eyed him appraisingly. “You could pilot this ship to Earth, couldn’t you? Or tell me where to find it.”

  “No problem. Earth is about two hundred light-years from here, mostly to galactic south. Based on Earth years, that is. I’ll show you on a star chart.”

  Beaming, she said, “Then this mission has been a brilliant success.”

  “And I wouldn’t mind seeing your world. I’ve been called something of a tourist.”

  “New Terra will be our next stop. I sense Nessus won’t be coming back with us.”

  “My guess is he won’t.” Begging the question: would he go with Julia to this new world? Louis had been looking forward to exploring the Fleet. Free will could be a terrible thing.

  “Louis, there’s someone aboard waiting to see you.”

  “That doesn’t seem possible,” he said.

  “Nevertheless.” Julia turned toward the door. “Wait here, please.”

  Through the door Julia left ajar, Louis heard two indistinct voices. Two women’s voices. Who could he know here?

  The door swung open and a tall, white-haired woman entered. Did New Terra not have boosterspice? Maybe she wasn’t the oldest person Louis had ever seen, but she looked the oldest. She had a quiet, mature grace about her.

  She shuffled toward him, hope and confusion—and anger?—flickering in her eyes. “It is you. Louis, it’s been more than a century and you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m afraid I don’t know—”

  She caught him across the jaw with a right hook. “You no-good bastard.”

  * * *

  NESSUS STEPPED INTO A NARROW CORRIDOR. “Hello?” he called. His voices echoed a bit.

  “Here.” A mere chord of welcome, but laden with undertunes.

  Nessus edged toward the voices. He remembered them well, but after so long apart, how could he know?

  By being together. That’s how.

  He rounded a corner into a small room. And standing there—

  “Nessus. I had dared to hope it was you on that ship.”

  Years of worry melted away. Nessus bounded forward joyfully, chanting, “Baedeker. Baedeker.”

  * * *

  LOUIS LET HIMSELF be escorted to Endurance’s compact relax room. Alice insisted they knew each other and glowered at his denials.

  He synthed brandy for himself. “Can I get you something?”

  “Coffee.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t suppose you remember how I take it.”

  “Sorry.” He’d said that a lot since meeting her.

  “A dash of milk, no sugar.” She sat at the small table, looking lost in thought, till he handed her a drink bulb. “Our last evening together was dinner at our favorite restaurant.”

  “On New Terra?”

  “Of course, New Terra. You made a terrible scene, blaming Sigmund for ruining your family’s life.”

  Nothing like that had happened to Louis, nor did he know anyone named Sigmund, but he had stopped denying things because Alice refused to listen. She was old and her memories confused.

  Even so, she packed a mean punch.

  “The horrible, ironic thing, Louis? That scene was a sham, something you and Sigmund and I cooked up. But after the charade had served its purpose and we should have been together…”

  “Yes?”

  “You left. You abandoned your own unborn son. Alex was a great kid, and you missed him growing up. He is a good man. You would have been proud of him.”

  “I’m sorry,” he told her yet again. “I’ve never been to New Terra.”

&nb
sp; “Yes, you have. Not only that, you have grandchildren and great-grandchildren there.”

  “I wouldn’t have left,” he said, stubbornly.

  “You did leave. Sigmund curse him Ausfaller convinced you that leaving was for my own good. For my safety. I was off-world, and you didn’t even wait for me to get home. I had a right to take part in the decision, damn you, or to go with you. By the time…”

  Alice was less a woman scorned than an Amazon pissed off. To have such fire now, she must have been a force of nature in her prime. This was not someone he would forget, tanj it!

  The problem was, she didn’t seem the type to hallucinate imaginary lovers.

  What did he have to unlock this puzzle?

  Ausfaller. The name had a familiar ring to it, like the alias Louis had given himself. From Nessus’ reaction, Nathan Graynor wasn’t a random name plucked from the air. “Nessus was involved, too?”

  “Yes! He brought you to New Terra in the first place. Then he spirited you away.”

  Louis took a long swig of his brandy. Nessus had appeared from nowhere on Louis’s two hundredth birthday to recruit him for the first Ringworld expedition. Nessus had had his reasons—none of which had ever rung true.

  Not an hour earlier, Hindmost had urged Louis to use an alias. When Louis had asked why, Hindmost had said to ask Nessus.

  Maybe Alice wasn’t the one with a memory problem. Louis drained his brandy. “I’ll be having a long talk with Nessus.”

  * * *

  NESSUS LOST HIMSELF IN JOY and union as profound as two Citizens can know without a Bride. He and Baedeker huddled together for a while after, necks twined, in intimate silence.

  “How are the children,” Baedeker finally asked.

  “Well.” Nessus edged closer. “Children no longer, of course. Happy on New Terra.”

  “I never meant to be gone for so long.”

  A sad melody. A heartsfelt melody. And like so many Nessus had sung, an evasive melody? Long Shot had not been accelerated to the Fleet’s velocity because his mate planned a return to New Terra. Some terrible duty must yet remain.

  His dread came crashing down. “The New Terrans will soon reconnect with their roots. Either my shipmates will make contact here with the ARM, or Louis will reveal the way to Human Space.” He sang softly, “I fear disaster must follow.”