“So it’s all my fault!”
“Yes,” said Loaf. “And you know it. When Rigg came in here, you deliberately misunderstood his motive for coming. You knew what he had said, and you chose to take offense as if he had said something else. And then you lied.”
“I did not lie!”
“It was a lie to say that you had taken control of the ship, when in fact you only took control of this ship, and only as Rigg’s subordinate.”
Umbo fell silent and looked Loaf in the eye. “How did you know that?”
Loaf smiled. “Oh, so you haven’t lost your ability to hear accurately what other people say.”
Umbo turned to Rigg. “The ship wouldn’t give me control because you were the commander. But Odinex was killing every Umbo he could find, and I had to stop him. So yes, I found a way to get control and stop him. But I’m not admitting that I’m subordinate to you, and I wasn’t about to say so. You would have leapt to false conclusions.”
Rigg had no answer; the loathing in Umbo’s face and voice were beyond his ability to understand or to deal with.
“The only reason the ship respected my control of the jewels on the knife was because you gave it to me,” said Umbo bitterly. “I only exist because you condescend to allow my existence.”
In answer, Rigg held out the bag of jewels. “Here,” he said. “Let the ship witness. Let this murderous expendable witness. I give the jewels to you.”
“I don’t want them!” cried Umbo. “I don’t want anything from you! I only used the knife because it was the only way to stay alive, I—”
At this point Umbo had drawn the knife, and Rigg saw that he was not holding it by the point, as if to offer it to Rigg, but rather as a weapon, ready for use. That was when Loaf’s hand lashed out—every bit as fast as the expendable’s had been, catching the table—and took the knife from him, leaving Umbo holding a painful wrist as he fell back onto his buttocks on the floor.
“Rigg, take up those jewels at once,” said Loaf. “And assert your control of them, right now.”
Rigg could see that Loaf was looking at the expendable, and without turning to see what Loaf was seeing, Rigg grasped the jewels and said, “I rescind my statement. I am still in command of this ship, and all ships; this expendable, and all expendables.”
Only then did he turn toward Odinex, who stood perfectly calmly, holding the tray.
“He was reaching for you,” said Olivenko, “until you spoke.”
“Umbo wasn’t going to stab me,” said Rigg to Loaf. “You didn’t have to hurt him.”
“Umbo didn’t know what he was going to do,” said Loaf.
Olivenko spoke to Loaf. “You never answered Umbo about how you knew that Umbo had taken this ship as Rigg’s subordinate.”
“I’ll answer as soon as Rigg commands this ship and all ships to share none of the information we’re about to discuss on any channel that the Odinfolders can intercept, record, or receive in any way.”
“They’ve already heard you say that,” said Olivenko.
“No they haven’t,” said Loaf. “I want to make sure that none of this gets into the ship’s log.”
“To this ship and all ships,” said Rigg. “To this expendable and all expendables. Nothing that gets said on this ship now and in the future, by me, Umbo, Loaf, or Olivenko, is to be recorded in the ship’s log or transmitted in any way that the Odinfolders can intercept.”
The ship’s voice interrupted. “They intercept all channels of communication.”
“Do they?” asked Loaf. “Or are they merely capable of intercepting those channels?”
The ship didn’t answer.
“Answer him,” said Rigg. “Whatever Loaf asks, answer aloud.”
“They are capable of intercepting all,” said the ship. “Whether they actually listen, I cannot say.”
“I can,” said Loaf. “The Odinfolders haven’t stationed a human to listen to communications in many years. Nor do they use machines to do it anymore, because such machines would easily be found by the Visitors when they come.”
“So they don’t listen at all?” asked Umbo.
“They listen through the mice,” said Rigg, realizing.
“But Loaf brought mice with him,” said Olivenko.
“Loaf communicates with the mice,” said Rigg. “Don’t you?”
“More to the point,” said Loaf, “they communicate with me.”
“How?” asked Umbo, no longer crying. No longer surly, either. It was nice to hear Umbo being curious.
“By talking,” said Loaf.
Both mice were on Loaf’s shoulders, but one was facing Loaf’s ear, moving its mouth.
“High-frequency voices,” said Rigg, as soon as he got it. “Outside the normal human range of hearing. But because of the enhancements of the facemask, Loaf can hear them.”
“I’ve heard them since we arrived here,” said Loaf. “At first I didn’t know where they were coming from, but I heard a constant commentary on everything we were doing, a repetition of everything we said, but in another language. I thought I was going insane. And then we saw the mice at work in the library, and I knew. I heard them issuing commands to each other, and to the machinery embedded behind the walls. The Odinfolders thought the mice only knew one language, but they understood us from the start.”
“That’s why you went out into the prairie,” said Umbo. “Alone.”
“The facemask created an auxiliary pair of vocal folds for me,” said Loaf. “At my request,” he added. “I can produce sounds that only the mice can hear. I can speak their clear and beautiful and very quick language.”
“And the Odinfolders don’t know?” asked Olivenko.
“The Odinfolders aren’t in charge anymore,” said Loaf. “Mouse-Breeder may have put the altered Odinfolder human genes into them centuries ago, but they’ve been in charge of their own breeding, their own genome ever since. They are, collectively, the human race in Odinfold, and the yahoos really are yahoos, compared to them.”
“I did not know this,” said Odinex.
“You don’t know it now, either,” said Rigg. “Expunge this information from your memory and the ship’s memory, and the memories of all ships and all expendables. This must not be available to the Visitors when they come and strip the memories of the starships.”
“No need,” said Loaf. “The mice have already put programs into the ships’ computers that erase all references to their abilities within thirty minutes. It allows the expendables to talk to them for a while and carry on an intelligent conversation, but then the memory clears and it’s as if it never happened. The mice don’t need the computers to help them remember.”
“But the mice are so tiny,” said Rigg.
“Their cooperation is perfect,” said Loaf. “Each mouse is about as smart as an ordinary human child—not an Odinfolder child, not like you two—but it’s still quite a bit of intellect. Mouse-Breeder did a superb job of putting an overcapacity brain into a very tiny space. But what the mice have done for themselves is specialize and cooperate perfectly.”
“They each store portions of the library,” said Rigg.
“That’s why there are dozens of mice in every room we visit,” said Loaf. “They’re in constant communication with the vast hordes outside. Each one processing whatever his particular job is, trusting the others to do what they’re supposed to do. Together, any four of them are a match for any Odinfolder. But dozens of them? The human race has never matched such intelligence.”
“Except with computers,” said Olivenko.
“Computers are imitation intelligence,” said Loaf. “Memory and speed, but no brains. Just programs.”
“Aren’t human brains a kind of computer running programs?” asked Rigg. Certainly the literature from Earth said so.
“Humans make a machine, and then fool themselves into believing that their own brains are no better than the machines. This allows them to believe that their creation, the computer, is as brill
iant as their own minds. But it’s a ridiculous self-deception. Computers aren’t even in the same league.”
“The man who called himself my father,” said Rigg, “was a computer, and I can tell you he was far smarter than me.”
“He was very good at pretending to be smarter. He could give you data, teach you how to perform operations. But he was never your equal when it came to actual thought. That’s what the mice quickly came to understand. They could think rings around the expendables. They were the equals of any humans.”
“I thought you said that dozens of them were more intelligent than humans,” said Umbo.
“More capable of feats of memory and calculation,” said Loaf. “But a mind is a mind. Thought is thought. The Odinfolders’ improvements have increased brain capacity, given better tools, but the mind is not identical with the organic machinery it inhabits.”
“Now the philosopher comes out,” said Olivenko. “You’ve discovered the soul.”
“Rigg did,” said Loaf. “And Umbo.”
“When?” Umbo demanded.
“Not me,” said Rigg.
“The paths, Rigg,” said Loaf. “The part of you that sees into the past. Where is that in the genome?”
“The Odinfolders said that they had clipped the genes that had those powers and . . .” Then Rigg fell silent. They had left him with that impression, but no, they hadn’t actually said so.
“If they could find the genes that produced time-shifting,” said Loaf, “what would they need you for?”
“They’re searching for those genes,” said Olivenko.
“They’ve spent all these months studying every genetic trace you’ve left behind,” said Loaf. “They have the mice gather them up. They have the mice study them.”
“And have the mice found nothing?”
“There’s nothing to find,” said Loaf. “It’s not in the genes. The part of us that lays down paths through time, tied to the gravity of a planet—it’s not in the brain.”
“Animals leave paths, too,” said Rigg. “Even plants, in their fashion.”
“Life is the soul,” said Loaf. “Living things have souls, have minds, have thought. Living individuals have their own relationship to the planet they dwell on. Their past is dragged along with their world through space and time. But it persists. Long after the organism dies, its path remains, and all that it was can be recovered, every moment it lived through can be seen, can be revisited.”
Rigg blushed with embarrassment before he could even speak aloud the thought he had just had. “I should have seen it all along.”
“Should have, but didn’t,” said Loaf.
“Seen what!” demanded Umbo.
“That the paths of the mice in Odinfold aren’t mousepaths,” said Loaf.
“You read minds now?” asked Olivenko.
“I knew what he had to be thinking about,” said Loaf. “And when he realized, and blushed—”
“Their paths are small,” said Rigg, “but they’re bright. And they have the same—it’s not color, but it’s like color—they have the same feel as human paths. It’s right there in front of me, and I didn’t even realize it, because—”
“Because you have a human mind,” said Loaf. “The brain sees all, but the mind has focus. That’s our great power, the ability to home in on something and understand it to its roots—the brain can’t do that. But that same focus shuts out things that the brain is constantly aware of. So we don’t notice what we can plainly see; and yet we understand things that we can’t see.”
“And all living things can do this?” said Umbo.
“At some level or other,” said Loaf. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about this. Because the facemask lets me see like a beast, even though I think about what I see the way a man does. I can see a range of detail that is impossible to an ordinary human. But the facemask, which perceives it all, can’t do anything with it, because its mind is at such a primitive level. When mice were bred with human genes inside them, it was as if humans were born in tiny bodies. They have human souls, or close to it.”
“What are they, where do they come from?” demanded Olivenko.
“They’re life,” said Loaf. “I can’t explain it better than that because it’s all I’ve figured out. All that the mice have figured out, either. Living things have this thing in them, this connection with the planet, with each other. And humans have more of it than any other living thing, just as animals all have more of it than plants. And that’s what Rigg sees: the life, the soul, the mind, whatever you call it, persisting eternally through time, linked to the gravity well of the world.”
Rigg thought of the paths of humans who had crossed the various bridges at Stashi Falls; as the falls eroded, lowering and backing away, the paths remained exactly where they had been, never shifting relative to the center of the planet Garden.
“So what happens when we go into space?” asked Rigg. “Do we lose our souls?”
“Of course not,” said Loaf. “Or the colonists would all have arrived here lifeless.”
Rigg looked at the oldest paths that had passed through this room. The colonists as they were revived, the paths faded with the passage of eleven thousand years, but still present, still accessible.
And one path in particular. The one who had walked through the ship long before the others were revived. The path of Ram Odin.
“Should I look at him?” asked Rigg aloud. “Should I talk to him?”
“And say what?” asked Loaf.
“Talk to whom?” said Olivenko.
“Ram Odin,” said Umbo.
“I don’t know,” said Rigg. “Ask him . . . what he was thinking. What he had in mind.”
“And what does that matter now?” asked Loaf. “What will you learn from him? His desires don’t matter to us right now—what matters to us is what the Odinfolders are planning. What the Visitors will conclude when they come. Why the Destroyers came a year later. What the ships and the expendables will do.”
“If you showed yourself to Ram,” said Umbo, “it might wreck everything.”
“Unless we already live in the future that was created by our going back and talking to him,” said Rigg.
“You’d be experimenting with the entire history of Odinfold,” said Olivenko. “You can’t do it. You might destroy everybody.”
“Not us,” said Rigg. “We’d be safe if we all went together.”
“And the billions of other people?” asked Loaf.
“But we don’t destroy them, do we?” said Rigg. “We know their lives happened because they remain part of our past.”
“The ships’ log keeps memories of lost futures,” said Umbo, “even if we carry the ship’s log back with us through the Wall.”
With that, they all insisted that Umbo recount what he had learned about the ship’s logs, the remote storage of their data on the jewels, the way the ship’s log became the official means of transferring authority and control from one captain, one admiral to the others.
When Umbo was finished, Rigg said, “Good job, Umbo.”
Umbo’s temper flared. “I don’t need your pat on the head,” he snapped.
Loaf reached out and slapped him again. Umbo cried out in pain.
“Stop that,” Rigg said to Loaf. “Stop hitting him.”
“You don’t have control of me,” said Loaf. “And I’ll hit him like the father he needs would have hit him.”
“My father hit me plenty,” said Umbo. “More than I needed!”
“He wasn’t your father. He hit you because of his needs. But I’m an experienced officer. I’m hitting you because you need to be slapped out of your self-pitying resentment and wakened up to your responsibilities.”
Rigg wanted to intervene, to say something, but he realized that he needed to trust Loaf to help Umbo in ways that Rigg was too young and inexperienced even to attempt.
“I don’t need anybody to wake me to anything!” said Umbo.
“Those very words
are proof of how much you need it,” retorted Loaf. “A soldier like you is a danger to every man in his unit. He can’t function as part of the team, he can’t do his part.”
“I’m not one of your mice!” said Umbo.
“But that’s how the mice learned how to do it,” said Loaf. “By getting the genes of humans, by become humans in mouse bodies. Humans who could subsume themselves in the group identity and do their part with perfect trust that others would do theirs—those are the humans who had a better chance to survive, the ones who became the primary vehicles of human evolution. The resentful, suspicious man alone—the alpha male—that’s the gorilla that beats up or drives away all the other males. He wants everything for himself, hates all comers, and he’s stupid and helpless against much weaker primates who act together.”
“You’re saying I’m like that,” said Umbo resentfully.
“I don’t have to say it,” said Loaf. “That’s the way you’ve been thinking and acting for a year. You’re the would-be alpha male who absolutely hates being in the same troop with another alpha. You’re getting ready to challenge, you’ve already challenged, but you back away, waiting, biding your time. But that knife in your hand—it wanted to spring, didn’t it. It wanted Rigg’s heart, didn’t it.”
Umbo’s hands flew to his head, as if to hide both sight and hearing at once, to hide from his own memory, but failing to hide from anything.
“No,” he said. “No, I wasn’t going to hurt him!”
“You feel like your life can’t even begin as long as Rigg is with us,” said Loaf. “You think I didn’t see, feel how you rejoiced when you were able to maneuver things so that Rigg went off by himself, and left you with the whole group?”
“That’s not how it happened!” cried Umbo.
“No, because you weren’t counting on Olivenko being the next leader, were you. He didn’t even want to be leader, but everybody followed him instead of you. Because here’s what you don’t get, Umbo. You don’t get to be boss of the troop because you want it so much and hate the person who has the job. You get to be boss of the troop because you’re fit to do it—or if you get the job, and you aren’t fit, then the whole troop suffers. The whole troop dies. If you weren’t thinking like a chimp, Umbo, you’d realize: Instead of trying to get Rigg out of your way and resenting everything he does, you should be trying to prepare yourself to be as valuable to the troop as he is.”
Ruins (Pathfinder Trilogy) Page 26
