by John Varley
“They’re not very maneuverable. They don’t have much fine control, and it takes them a long time to get moving. A fire can trap them sometimes. If they can’t get away, they go up like a bomb.”
“What about all these creatures in here?” Cirocco asked. “Do they need all of them to digest their food?”
“No, just the little yellow ones. Those things can’t eat anything but what a blimp prepares for them. You won’t find them anywhere but in a blimp’s stomach. The rest of these critters are like us. Hitchhikers or passengers.”
“I don’t get it. Why does the blimp do it?”
“It’s symbiosis, combined with the intelligence to make his own choices and do as he pleases. His race gets along with other races in here, the Titanides in particular. He does them favors, and they return it by—”
“Titanides?”
He smiled uncertainly, and spread his hands. “It’s a word I substitute for a whistle he uses. I only get a hazy idea of what they’re like because I can’t do too well with complex descriptions. I gather they’re six-legged, and they’re all females. I call them Titanides because that’s the name in Greek mythology for female Titans. I’ve been naming other things, too.”
“Such as?”
“The regions and the rivers and the mountain ranges. I named the land areas after the Titans.”
“What … oh, yeah, I remember now.” Calvin had studied mythology as a hobby. “Who were the Titans, again?”
“The sons and daughters of Uranus and Gaea. Gaea appeared from Chaos. She gave birth to Uranus, made him her equal, and they produced the Titans, six men and six women. I named the days and nights here after them, since there’s six days and six nights.”
“If you named all the nights after women, I’m going to think up names of my own.”
He smiled. “No such thing. It’s pretty much at random. Look back there at the frozen ocean. That seemed like it ought to be Oceanus, so that’s what I called it. The country we’re over now is Hyperion, and that night over there in front of us, with the mountains and the irregular sea, is Rhea. When you face Rhea from Hyperion, north is to your left and south is to your right. After that, going around the circle—I haven’t seen most of these, you understand, but I know they’re there—I call them Crius, which you can just see, then around the bend are Phoebe, Tethys, Thea, Metis, Dione, Iapetus, Cronus, and Mnemosyne. You can see Mnemosyne on the other side of Oceanus, behind us. It looks like a desert.”
Cirocco tried to string them all together in her head.
“I’ll never remember all that.”
“The only ones that matter right now are Oceanus, Hyperion, and Rhea. Actually, not all the names are Titans. One Titan is Themis, and I thought that would be confusing. And, well …” He looked away, with a sheepish grin. “I just couldn’t recall the names of two Titans. I used Metis, which is wisdom, and Dione.”
Cirocco did not really care. The name were handy, and in their own way, systematic. “Let me guess about the rivers. More mythology?”
“Yeah. I picked the nine largest rivers in Hyperion—which has got a hell of a lot of them, as you can see—and named them after the Muses. Down south over there is Urania, Calliope, Terpsichore, and Euterpe, with Polyhymnia in the twilight zone and feeding into Rhea. And over here on the north slope, starting at the east—is Melpomene. Closer to us are Thalia and Erato, which look like they make a system. And the one you came down is a feeder of the Clio, which is just about below us now.”
Cirocco looked down and saw a blue ribbon winding through dense green forest, followed it back to the cliff face behind them, and gasped.
“So that’s where the river went,” she said.
It arched from the cliff face, nearly half a kilometer below where they had been standing, looking solid and hard as metal for fifty meters before it began to break up. It fragmented rapidly from that point, reaching the ground as mist.
There were a dozen more plumes of water issuing from the cliff, none so close or spectacular, each with its attendant rainbow. From her vantage point, the rainbows were lined up like croquet wickets. It was breathtaking, almost too beautiful to be real.
“I’d like to have the post card concession for this place,” she said. Calvin laughed.
“You sell film for the camera, and I’ll sell tickets to the rides. What do you think of this one?”
Cirocco glanced back at Gaby, still frozen to the window.
“Reactions seem mixed. I like it okay. What’s the name for the big river? That one that all the others join?”
“Ophion. The great serpent of the north wind. If you’ll look closely, you can see that it comes out of a small lake back there at the twilight zone between Mnemosyne and Oceanus. That lake must have a source, and I suspect it’s Ophion flowing underground through the desert, but we can’t see where it goes under. Other than that, it flows without a break, into seas and out of them on the other side.”
Cirocco traced the convoluted path and could see that Calvin was right. “I think a geographer would tell you that it’s not the same river going into a sea as it is coming out,” she said. “But I know all the rules were made for Earth rivers. Okay, so we’ll call it a circular river.”
“That’s where Bill and August are,” Calvin said, pointing. “About halfway down the Clio, where that third tributary—”
“Bill and August. We were supposed to try and contact them. With all that commotion about getting on the blimp—”
“I borrowed your radio. They’re up, and waiting for us. You can call them now, if you like.”
Cirocco got her helmet ring and radio from Gaby.
“Bill, can you hear me? This is Cirocco.”
“Uh … yeah, yeah? I hear you. How are you doing?”
“About as well as you’d expect, riding in the stomach of a blimp. What about you? Did you come through all right? No injuries?”
“No, I’m fine. Listen, I wish … I wish I could say how good it feels to hear your voice.”
She felt a tear on her cheek, and brushed it away.
“It’s good to hear you, Bill. When you fell out that window—oh, damn! You wouldn’t remember that, would you.”
“There’s a lot of things I don’t remember,” he said. “We can straighten it all out later.”
“I’m dying to see you. Do you have any hair?”
“It’s growing in all over my body. We’d better let all this wait. We’ve got lots to talk about, me and you and Calvin and …”
“Gaby,” she prompted, after what seemed like a very long pause.
“Gaby,” he said, without much conviction. “You see I’m a bit confused about some things. But it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” She felt cold suddenly, and rubbed her forearms briskly.
“Sure thing. When will you be here?”
Cirocco asked Calvin, who whistled a short tune. He was answered by another tune from somewhere overhead.
“Blimps don’t have much idea of time,” he said. “I’d say three or four hours.”
“Is that any way to run an airline?”
Chapter Eight
Cirocco chose the front end of the gondola—it didn’t help anything to think of it as a stomach—to be by herself. Gaby was still petrified and Calvin was not much fun to talk to once he’d said everything he knew about Whistlestop. He wouldn’t discuss the things Cirocco wanted to know.
A handrail would have been nice. The gondola wall was clear as glass right down to her feet, and would have been clear there too but for the carpet of half-digested leaves and branches. It made for a dizzying view.
They were passing over thick jungle, much like the country higher up on the cliff. The land was dotted with lakes. The river Clio—broad, yellow, and sluggish—wound through it all: a rope of water thrown to the ground to coil where it wished.
She was astonished at the clarity of the air. There were clouds over Rhea that built to thunderheads on t
he north shore of the sea, but she could see over them. She could see to the limits of the curve of Themis in both directions.
A school of big blimps hovered at various heights around the suspension cable nearest Whistlestop. She couldn’t tell what they were doing there, but thought they might be feeding. The cable was massive enough that trees could very well grow on it.
Looking straight down, she could see the huge shadow Whistlestop cast. The lower they went, the larger the shadow became. After four hours it was tremendous, and they were still above the treetops. Cirocco wondered how Whistlestop proposed to set them on the ground. There was no clear area remotely large enough to accommodate him.
She was startled to see two figures standing at a bend in the river, on the west shore, waving at her. She waved back, unsure if she could be seen.
“So how do we get down?” she asked Calvin.
He grimaced. “I didn’t think you’d like this, so I didn’t bring it up. No sense in having you worry. We parachute.”
Cirocco did not react, and he seemed relieved.
“It’s a cinch, really. Nothing to it. Safe as can be.”
“Uh-huh. Calvin, I love parachuting. I think it’s loads of fun. But I like to inspect and pack my own chute. I like to know who made it, and if it’s a good one.” She looked around her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t see you carrying any aboard.”
“Whistlestop has ’em,” he said. “It never fails.”
Again Cirocco said nothing.
“I’ll go first,” he said, persuasively. “So you can see.”
“Uh-huh. Calvin, do I understand this is the only way down?”
“Short of going about a hundred kilometers east to the plains. Whistlestop will take you there, but you’ll have to walk back through a swamp.”
Cirocco looked at the ground, not really seeing it. She breathed in deeply, then exhaled.
“Right. Let’s see these chutes.” She went to Gaby and touched her shoulders, pulled her gently away from the side wall, and guided her toward the back of the gondola. She was docile as a child. Her shoulders were stiff, and she was shaking.
“I can’t really show them to you,” Calvin said. “Not until I jump. They’re produced when you bail out. Like this.”
He reached up and grasped a handful of dangling, white tendrils. They stretched. He began separating them until he had a loose netting. The stuff was like taffy, but held its shape when it wasn’t pulled.
He forced one leg through a gap in the netting, then the other. He pulled it up around his hips and it formed a tight basket. He pushed his arms through more holes until his body was wrapped in a cocoon.
“You’ve jumped before; you know the drill. Are you a good swimmer?”
“Very good, if my life is at stake. Gaby? You swim well?”
It took her a few moments to become aware of them, then a flickering interest grew in her eyes.
“Swim? Sure. Like a fish.”
“Okay,” Calvin said. “Watch me, and do what I do.” He whistled, and a hole irised into being on the floor in front of him. He waved, stepped over the lip, and fell like a stone. Which was not all that fast in one-quarter gravity, but fast enough, Cirocco felt, with an untested chute.
The shrouds spun out behind him like spider silk. Then came a solid, pale blue sheet, tightly bunched together and gone in a second. They looked down in time to see and hear the flutter and crack as the chute opened and grabbed air. Calvin floated down, waving to them.
She gestured to Gaby, who donned the harness. She was so eager to be out that she jumped before Cirocco could check the arrangement.
That’s two out of three, she thought, and put her foot through the third set of webs. They were warm and elastic, and comfortable when she had them in place.
The jump was routine, if anything inside Themis could be so. The chute made a blue circle against the yellow sky above her. It seemed smaller than it should be, but apparently it was enough in the low gravity and high pressure. Grabbing a handful of shrouds, she guided herself toward the river’s edge.
She hit standing up and got out of the harness quickly. The chute collapsed on the muddy bank, almost covering Gaby. She stood in knee-deep water and watched Bill coming toward her. It was hard not to laugh. He looked like a pale, plucked chicken with short stubble growing on his chest, his legs, arms, face, and scalp.
She put both hands on her forehead and rubbed them back over her fuzzy scalp, grinning wider as he got closer.
“Am I like you remember me?” she said.
“Even better.” He splashed through the last few steps between them. He put his arms around her and they kissed. She did not cry, did not feel the need to though she was brimming over with happiness.
Bill and August had done wonders in only six days, working with just the sharp edges of their suit rings. They had built two shacks; a third had two sides and half a roof. They were made from branches tied together and caked with mud. The roofs were slanted and thatched.
“The best we could do,” Bill said, as he showed them around. “I was thinking in terms of adobe, but the sun won’t dry the mud fast enough. They keep out the wind, and most of the rain.”
Inside, the huts were two by two meters, covered with a thick layer of dry straw. Cirocco could not stand erect, but didn’t think of objecting. Being able to sleep inside was nothing to laugh at.
“We didn’t have time to finish the other one before you got here,” he went on. “One more day, with the three of you helping. Gaby, this one is for you and Calvin. Me and Cirocco will move into the one over there that August used to have. She says she wants the new one.” Neither Calvin nor Gaby said anything, but Gaby was sticking close to Cirocco.
August looked like hell. She had aged five years since Cirocco last saw her. She was a thin, hollow-eyed ghost with hands that shook constantly. She looked incomplete, as if half of her had been hacked away.
“We didn’t have time to make a fresh kill today,” Bill was saying. “We were too busy on the new house. August, is there enough left over from yesterday?”
“I think so,” she said.
“Would you get it?”
She turned away. Bill caught Cirocco’s eye, pursed his lips, and shook his head slowly.
“Nothing at all from April, huh?’ he said softly.
“Not a word. Gene, either.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen to her.”
After the meal Bill put them to work finishing the third hut. With two for practice, he had it down to a routine. It was tedious, but not physically difficult; they could move large logs easily, but had a terrible time cutting even the smallest ones. As a result, the fruit of their labors was not pretty to look at.
When it was done, Calvin went into the hut he had been assigned while August moved into another. Gaby seemed at a loss, but finally managed to stammer that she was going to look around the area, and would not be back for several hours. She wandered off, looking forlorn.
Bill and Cirocco looked at each other. Bill shrugged, and gestured toward the remaining hut.
Cirocco sat awkwardly. There were many things she wanted to ask, but she was hesitant to start.
“How was it for you?” she asked finally.
“If you mean the time between the collision and waking up in here, I’m going to have to disappoint you. I don’t remember any of it.”
She reached over and probed gently at his forehead.
“No headaches? Dizziness? Calvin should take a look at you.”
He frowned. “Was I hurt?”
“Pretty bad. Your face was bloody and you were out cold. That’s all I could see in a few seconds I had. But I thought your skull might be broken.”
He felt his forehead, ran his fingers around to the sides and back of his head.
“I can’t find any tender places. There weren’t any bruises, either. Cirocco, I—”
She put her hand on his knee. “Call me Rocky, Bill. You know you�
��re the only one I didn’t mind it from.”
He scowled, and looked away from her.
“All right, Rocky. That’s what I need to talk to you about. It isn’t just the … the dark period, August called it. It isn’t just that I can’t remember. I’m pretty hazy about a lot of things.”
“Just how many things?”
“Like where I was born, how old I am, or where I grew up or went to school. I can see my mother’s face, but I can’t remember her name, or if she’s dead or alive.” He rubbed his forehead.
“She’s alive and very well in Denver, where you grew up,” Cirocco said, quietly. “Or she was when she called us on your fortieth birthday. Her name’s Betty. We all liked her.”
He seemed relieved, then downcast again.
“I guess that means something,” he said. “I did remember her because she’s important to me. I remembered you, too.”
Cirocco looked into his eyes. “But not my name. Is that what you’re having trouble telling me?”
“Yeah.” He looked miserable. “Isn’t that a hell of a thing? August told me your name, but she didn’t tell me I called you Rocky. That’s kind of cute, by the way. I like that.”
Cirocco laughed. “I’ve been trying to kill that name most of my adult life, but I always weaken when somebody whispers it in my ear.” She took his hand. “What else do you remember about me? You recall I was the Captain?”
“Oh, sure. I remember you were the first female Captain I’d ever served under.”
“Bill, in free-fall, it doesn’t matter who’s on top.”
“That’s not what I—” He smiled when he realized he was being kidded. “I wasn’t sure about that, either. Did we … I mean were we … ?”
“Did we fuck?” She shook her head, not in negation, but in wonder. “Every chance we got, as soon as I stopped chasing Gene and Calvin and noticed that the most man on board was my chief engineer. Bill, I hope I don’t hurt your feelings, but I kind of like you like this.”
