by Larry Niven
“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 l
ine, 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 beh
ind. 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.
