by Vernor Vinge
The singleton was silent for a moment. Steel could hear its ill-concealed panting. “The last dayaround has gone well, My Lord.”
“Not here! We’ve lost almost all our cannon. We’re trapped inside these walls.” And the starfolk may arrive too late.
“I mean out there.” The singleton poked its nose toward the open spaces beyond the parapet. “Your scouts are well-trained, My Lord, and have some bright commanders. Right now, I am spread round Woodcarvers rear and flanks.” The singleton made its part of a laughing gesture. “‘Rear and flanks’. Funny. To me Woodcarver’s entire army is like a single enemy pack. Our Attack Infantries are like tines on my own paws. We are cutting the Queen deep, My Lord. I set the fire in Bitter Gorge. Only I could see exactly where it was spreading, exactly how to kill with it. In another four dayarounds there will be nothing left of the Queen’s supplies. She will be ours.”
“Too long, if we’re dead this afternoon.”
“Yes.” The singleton cocked its head at Steel. He’s laughing at me. Just like all those times under Flenser’s knife when a problem would be posed and death was the penalty for failure. “But Ravna and company should be back here in five hours, no?” Steel nodded. “Well, I guarantee you that will be hours ahead of Woodcarver’s main assault. You have Amdijefri’s confidence. It seems you need only advance and compress your previous schedule. If Ravna is sufficiently desperate—”
“The starfolk are desperate. I know that.” Ravna might mask her precise motives, but her desperation was clear. “And if you can slow Woodcarver—” Steel settled all of himself down to concentrate on the scheming at hand. He was half-conscious of his fears retreating. Planning was always a comfort. “The problem is that we have to do two things now, and perfectly coordinated. Before, it was simply a matter to feign a siege and trick the starship into landing in the castle’s Jaws.” He turned a head in the direction of the courtyard. The stone dome over the landed starship had been in place since midspring. It showed some artillery damage now, the marble facing chipped away, but hadn’t taken direct hits. Beside it lay the field of the Jaws: large enough to accept the rescue ship, but surrounded by pillars of stone, the teeth of the Jaws. With the proper use of gunpowder, the teeth would fall on the rescuers. That would be a last resort, if they didn’t kill and capture the humans as they came out to meet dear Jefri. That scheme had been lovingly honed over many tendays, aided by Amdijefri’s admissions about human psychology and his knowledge of how starships normally land. But now: “—now we really need their help. What I ask them must do double duty, to fool them and to destroy Woodcarver.”
“Hard to do all at once,” agreed the Cloak. “Why not play it in two steps, the first more or less undeceitful: Have them destroy Woodcarver, then worry about taking them over?”
Steel clicked a tine thoughtfully on stone. “Yes. Trouble is, if they see too much… They can’t possibly be as naive as Jefri. He says that humankind has a history that includes castles and warfare. If they fly around too much, they’ll see things that Jefri never saw, or never understood… Maybe I could get them to land inside the castle and mount weapons on the walls. We’ll have them hostage the moment that they stand between our Jaws. Damn. That would take some clever work with Amdijefri.” The bliss of abstract planning foundered for a moment on rage. “It’s getting harder and harder for me to deal with those two.”
“They’re both wholly puppies, for Pack’s sake.” The Fragment paused a second. “Of course, Amdiranifani may have more raw intelligence than any pack I’ve ever seen. You think he may even be smart enough to see past his childishness,” he used the Samnorsk word, “and see the deception?”
“No, not that. I have their necks in my jaws, and they still don’t see it. You’re right, Tyrathect; they do love me.”And how I hate them for it.“When I’m around him, the mantis thing is all over me, close enough to cut my throat or poke out my eyes, but hugging and petting. And expecting me to love him back. Yes, they believe everything I say, but the price is accepting unending insolence.”
“Be cool, dear student. The heart of manipulation is to empathize without being touched.” The Fragment stopped, as always, just short of the brink. Steel felt himself hissing at the words even before he was consciously aware of his reaction.
“Don’t … lecture … me! You are not Flenser. You are a fragment. Shit! You are a fragment of a fragment now. A word and you will be cut up, dead in a thousand pieces.” He tried to suppress the trembling that spread through his members. Why haven’t I killed him before now? I hate Flenser more than anything in the world, and it would be so easy. Yet the fragment was always so indispensable, somehow the only thing between Steel and failure. And he was under Steel’s control.
And the singleton was doing a very good terrified cower. “Sit up, you! Give me your counsel and not your lectures, and you will live… Whatever the reason, it’s impossible for me to carry on the charade with these puppies. Perhaps for a few minutes at a time I can do it, or if there are other packs to keep them away from me, but none of this unending loving. Another hour of that and I-I know I’ll start killing them. So. I want you to talk with Amdijefri. Explain the ‘situation’. Explain—”
“But—” The singleton was looking at him in astonishment.
“I’ll be watching; I’m not giving up those two to your possession. Just handle the close diplomacy.”
The Fragment drooped, the pain in its shoulders undisguised. “If that is your wish, My Lord.”
Steel showed all his teeth. “It is indeed. Just remember, I’ll be present for everything important, especially direct radio communication.” He waved the singleton off the parapet. “Now go and cuddle up to the children; learn something of self-control yourself.”
After the Cloak was gone, he called Shreck up to the parapet. The next few hours were spent in touring the defenses and planning with his staff. Steel was very surprised how much clearing up the puppy problem improved his quality of mind. His advisors seemed to pick up on it, relaxed to the point of offering substantive suggestions. Where the breaches in the walls could not be repaired, they would build deadfalls. The cannon from the northern shops would arrive before the end of the dayaround, and one of Shreck’s people had worked out an alternate plan for food and water resupply. Reports from the far scouts showed steady progress, a withering of the enemy’s rear; they would lose most of their ammunition before they reached Starship Hill. Even now there was scarcely any shot falling on the hill.
As the sun rose into the south, Steel was back on the parapets, scheming on just what to say to the Starfolk.
This was almost like earlier days, when plans went well and success was wondrous yet achievable. And yet … at the back of his mind all the hours since talking with the singleton, there had been the little claws of fear. Steel had the appearance of ruling. The Flenser Fragment gave the appearance of following. But even though it was spread across miles, the pack seemed more together than ever before. Oh, in earlier times, the Fragment often pretended equilibrium, but its internal tension always showed. Lately, it seemed self-satisfied, almost … smug. The Flenser Fragment was responsible for the Domain’s forces south of Starship Hill, and after today—after Steel had forced the responsibility upon him—the Cloaks would be with Amdijefri every day. Never mind that the motivation had come from within Steel. Never mind that the Fragment was in an obvious state of agonized exhaustion. In its full genius, the Great One could have charmed a forest wolf into thinking Flenser its queen. And do I really know what he’s saying to the packs beyond my hearing? Could my spies be feeding me lies about him?
Now that he had a moment away from immediate concerns, these little claws dug deeper. I need him, yes. But the margin for error is smaller now. After a moment, he grated a happy chord, accepting the risk. If necessary, he would use what he had learned with the second set of cloaks, something he had artfully concealed from Flenser Tyrathect. If necessary, the Fragment would find that death can be radio swift.
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Even as he flew the velocity match, Pham was working the ultradrive. This would save them hours of fly back time, but it was a chancy game, one the ship had never been designed for. OOB bounced all around the solar system. One really lucky jump was all they needed. (And one really unlucky jump, into the planet, would kill them. A good reason why this game was not normally played.)
After hours of hacking the flight automation, of playing ultradrive roulette, poor Pham’s hands were faintly trembling. Whenever Tines’ World came back into view—often no more than a far point of blue light—he would glare for a second at it. Ravna could see the doubts rising within him: His memories told him he should be good with low-tech automation, yet some of the OOB primitives were almost impenetrable. Or maybe his memories of competence, of the Qeng Ho, were cheap fakes.
“The Blighter fleet. How long?” asked Pham.
Greenstalk was watching the nav window from the Riders’ cabin. It was the fifth time the question had been asked in the last hour, yet her voice came back calm and patient. Maybe the repeated questions even seemed a natural thing. “Range forty-nine light-years. Estimated time of arrival forty-eight hours. Seven more ships have dropped out.” Ravna could subtract: one hundred and fifty-two were still coming.
Blueshell’s voder sounded over his mate’s, “During the last two hundred seconds, they have made slightly better time than before, but I think that is local variance in Bottom conditions. Sir Pham, you are doing well, but I know my ship. We could get a little more time if you only you’d allow me control. Please—”
“Shut up.” Pham’s voice was sharp, but the words were almost automatic. It was a conversation—or the abortion of one—that occurred almost as often as Pham’s demand for status info on the Blighter fleet.
In the early weeks of their journey, she had assumed that godshatter was somehow superhuman. Instead it was parts and pieces, automation loaded in a great panic. Maybe it was working right, or maybe it had run amok and was tearing Pham apart with its errors.
The old cycle of fear and doubt was suddenly broken by soft blue light. Tines’ World! At last, a wondrously accurate jump, almost as good as the shocker of five hours before: Twenty thousand kilometers away hung a vast narrow crescent, the edge of planetary daylight. The rest was a dark blot against the stars, except where the auroral ring hung a faint green glow around the south pole. Jefri Olsndot was on the other side of the world from them, in the arctic day. They wouldn’t have radio communication until they arrived—and she hadn’t figured out how to recalibrate the ultrawave for shortrange transmission.
She turned back from the view. Pham still stared upward into the sky behind her. “…Pham, what good is forty-eight hours? Will we just destroy the Countermeasure?”What of Jefri and Mr. Steel’s folk?
“Maybe. But there are other possibilities. There must be.” That last softly. “I’ve been chased before. I’ve been in bigger jams before.” His eyes avoided hers.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Jefri hadn’t seen the sky for more than an hour in the last two days. He and Amdi were safe enough in the great stone dome that sheltered the refugee ship, but there was no way to see outside. If it weren’t for Amdi, I couldn’t have stood it a minute. In some ways it was worse even than his first days on Hidden Island. The ones who killed Mom and Dad and Johanna were just a few kilometers away. They captured some of Mr. Steel’s guns and the last few days the explosions had gone on for hours, a booming that shook the ground beneath them and sometimes even smashed at the walls of the dome.
Their food was brought in to them, and when they weren’t sitting in the ship’s command cabin, the two wandered outside the ship, to the rooms with the sleeping children. Jefri had kept up with the simple maintenance procedures he remembered, but looking through the chill transp of the coldsleep coffins, he was terribly afraid. Some of them weren’t breathing very much. The inside temperature seemed too high. And he and Amdi didn’t know how to help.
Nothing had changed here, but now there was joy. Ravna’s long silence had ended. Amdijefri and Mr. Steel had actually talked to her in voice! Three more hours and her ship would be here! Even the bombardment had ended, almost as if Woodcarver realized that her time was near to ending.
Three more hours. Left to himself, Jefri would have spent the time in a state of wall-climbing anxiety. After all, he was nine years old now, a grown-up with grown up problems. But then there was Amdi. The pack was much smarter than Jefri in some ways, but he was such a little kid—about five years old, as near as Amdijefri could figure it. Except when he was into heavy thinking, he could not stay still. After the call from Ravna, Jefri wanted to sit down for serious worrying, but Amdi began chasing himself around the pylons. He shouted back and forth in Jefri’s voice and Ravna’s, and bumped into the boy accidentally on purpose. Jefri hopped up and glared at the careening puppies. Just a little kid. And suddenly, happy and so sad all at once: Is this how Johanna saw me? And so he had responsibilities now too. Like being patient. As one of Amdi came rushing past his knees, Jefri swept down to grab the wriggling form. He raised it to shoulder level as the rest of the pack converged gleefully, pounding on him from all directions.
They fell to the dry moss and wrestled for a few seconds. “Let’s explore, let’s explore!”
“We have to be here for Ravna and Mr. Steel.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll remember when.”
“Okay.” Where was there really to go?
The two walked through the torchlit dimness to the clerestory that ringed the inner edge of the dome. As far as Jefri could see, they were alone. That was not unusual. Mr. Steel was very worried that Woodcarver spies might get into the ship. Even his own soldiers rarely came here.
Amdijefri had investigated the inside wall before. Behind the quilts, the stone felt cool and damp. There were some holes to the outside—for ventilation—but they were almost ten meters up where the wall was already curving inwards toward the apex of the dome. The stone was rough cut, not yet polished. Mr. Steel’s workers had been in a frantic hurry to complete the protection before Woodcarver’s army arrived. Nothing was polished, and the quilts were undecorated.
Ahead and behind him, Amdi was sniffing at the cracks and fresh mortar. The one in Jefri’s arms gave a concerted wiggle. “Ha! Up ahead. I knew that mortar was coming loose,” the pack said. Jefri let all of his friend rush forward to a nook in the wall. It didn’t look any different than before, but Amdi was scratching with five pairs of paws.
“Even if you can get it loose, what good does it do you?” Jefri had seen these blocks as they were lowered into place. They were almost fifty centimeters across, laid in alternating rows. Getting past one would just bring them to more stone.
“Heh heh, I don’t know. I’ve been saving this up till we had some time to kill… Yech. This mortar burns my lips.” More scratching, and the pack passed back a fragment as big as Jefri’s head. There really was a hole between the blocks, and it was big enough for Amdi. One of him darted into the tiny cave.
“Satisfied?” Jefri plunked himself down by the hole and tried to look in.
“Guess what!” Amdi’s shrill came from a member right by his ear. “There’s a tunnel back here, not just another layer of stone!” A member wriggled past Jefri and disappeared into the dark. Secret tunnels? That was too much like a Nyjoran fairy tale. “These are big enough for a full-grown member, Jefri. You could get through these on hands ‘n’ knees.” Two more of Amdi disappeared into the hole.
The tunnel he had discovered might be large enough for a human child, but the entrance hole was a tight fit even for the puppies. Jefri had nothing to do but stare into the darkness. The parts of Amdi that remained at the entrance talked about what he had found. “—Goes on for a long, long way. I’ve doubled back a couple of times. The top of me is about five meters up, way over your head. This is kooky. I’m getting all strung out.” Amdi sounded even sillier than his normal playfulness. Two more of him went into the hole. Thi
s was developing into serious adventure—that Jefri could have no part of.
“Don’t go too far; it might be dangerous.”
One of the pair that remained looked up at him. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. The tunnel isn’t an accident. It feels like it was cut as grooves in the stones when they were laid. This is some special escape route Mister Steel made. I’m all right. I’m all right. Ha ha, hoohooo.” One more disappeared into the hole. After a moment the last remaining one ran in, but stayed near enough to the entrance so Amdi could still talk to Jefri. The pack was having a high old time, singing and screeching to itself. Jefri knew exactly what the other was up to; it was another of the games he could never play. In this posture, Amdi’s thoughts would be the weirdest rippling things. Darn. Now that he was playing within stone, it must be even neater than before, since he was totally cut off from all thoughts except from member to adjacent member.
The stupid singing went on a little longer, and then Amdi spoke in an almost reasonable tone. “Hei, this tunnel actually splits off in places. The front of me has come to a fork. One side is heading down… Wish I had enough members to go both ways!”
“Well, you don’t!”
“Hei ho, I’ll take the upper tunnel today.” A few seconds of silence. “There’s a little door here! Like a member-size room door. Not locked.” Amdi relayed the sounds of stone scritching against stone. “Ha! I can see light! Up just a few more meters, it opens onto a window. Hear the wind.” He relayed wind sound and the keening of the sea birds that soared up from Hidden Island. It sounded wonderful. “Oh oh, this is stretching things, but I wanna look out… Jefri, I can see the sun! I’m outdoors, sitting way up on the side of the dome. I can see all round to the south. Boy, it’s smoky down there.”
“What about the hillside?” Jefri asked the nearest member; its white-splotched pelt was barely visible through the entrance hole. At least Amdi was staying in touch.
