by Ларри Нивен
The weaponry in my wonderful suit hadn't helped me against Jinxian strength and speed. But flatlanders are less than limber, and so are Jinxians. Forward had tied my hands and left it at that.
I wrapped two sets of toes around the buttons and tugged.
My legs were bent pretzel-fashion. I had no leverage. But the first button tore loose, and then the thread. Another invisible weapon to battle Forward's portable bottomless hole.
The thread pulled the fourth button loose. I brought my feet down to where they belonged, keeping the thread taut, and pushed backward. I felt the Sinclair molecule chain sinking into the pillar.
The Grabber was still swinging.
When the thread was through the pillar, I could bring it up in back of me and try to cut my bonds. More likely I'd cut my wrists and bleed to death, but I had to try. I wondered if I could do anything before Forward launched the black hole.
A cold breeze caressed my feet.
I looked down. Thick fog boiled out around the pillar.
Some very cold gas must be spraying through the hairfine crack.
I kept pushing. More fog formed. The cold was numbing. I felt the jerk as the magic thread cut through. Now the wrists –
Liquid helium?
Forward had moored us to the main superconducting power cable.
That was probably a mistake. I pulled my feet forward carefully, steadily, feeling the thread bite through on the return cut.
The Grabber had stopped swinging. Now it moved on its arm like a blind questing worm as Forward made fine adjustments. Angel was beginning to show the strain of holding himself upside down.
My feet jerked slightly. I was through. My feet were terribly cold, almost without sensation. I let the buttons go, left them floating up toward the dome, and kicked back hard with my heels.
Something shifted. I kicked again.
Thunder and lightning flared around my feet.
I jerked my knees up to my chin. The lightning crackled and flashed white light into the billowing fog. Angel and Forward turned in astonishment. I laughed at them, letting them see it. Yes, gentlemen, I did it on purpose.
The lightning stopped. In the sudden silence Forward was screaming, «— know what you've done?»
There was a grinding crunch, a shuddering against my back. I looked up.
A piece had been bitten out of the Grabber.
I was upside down and getting heavier. Angel suddenly pivoted around his grip on Forward's chair. He hung above the dome, above the sky. He screamed.
My legs gripped the pillar hard. I felt Carlos's feet fumbling for a foothold and heard Carlos's laughter.
Near the edge of the dome a spear of light was rising. Hobo Kelly's drive, decelerating, growing larger. Otherwise the sky was clear and empty. And a piece of the dome disappeared with a snapping sound.
Angel screamed and dropped. Just above the dome he seemed to flare with blue light.
He was gone.
Air roared out through the dome — and more was disappearing into something that had been invisible. Now it showed as a blue pinpoint drifting toward the floor. Forward had turned to watch it fall.
Loose objects fell across the chamber, looped around the pinpoint at meteor speed, or fell into it with bursts of light. Every atom of my body felt the pull of the thing, the urge to die in an infinite fall. Now we hung side by side from a horizontal pillar. I noted with approval that Carlos's mouth was wide open, like mine, to clear his lungs so that they wouldn't burst when the air was gone.
Daggers in my ears and sinuses, pressure in my gut.
Forward turned back to the controls. He moved one knob hard over. Then he opened the seat belt and stepped out and up and fell.
Light flared. He was gone.
The lightning-colored pinpoint drifted to the floor and into it. Above the increasing roar of air I could hear the grumbling of rock being pulverized, dwindling as the black hole settled toward the center of the asteroid.
* * *
The air was deadly thin but not gone. My lungs thought they were gasping vacuum. But my blood was not boiling. I'd have known it.
So I gasped and kept gasping. It was all I had attention for. Black spots flickered before my eyes, but I was still gasping and alive when Ausfaller reached us, carrying a clear plastic package and an enormous handgun.
He came in fast, on a rocket backpack. Even as he decelerated, he was looking around for something to shoot. He returned in a loop of fire. He studied us through his faceplate, possibly wondering if we were dead.
He flipped the plastic package open. It was a thin sack with a zipper and a small tank attached. He had to dig for a torch to cut our bonds. He freed Carlos first, helped him into the sack. Carlos bled from the nose and ears. He was barely mobile. So was I, but Ausfaller got me into the sack with Carlos and zipped it up. Air hissed in around us.
I wondered what came next. As an inflated sphere the rescue bag was too big for the tunnels. Ausfaller had thought of that. He fired at the dome, blasted a gaping hole in it, and flew us out on the rocket backpack.
Hobo Kelly was grounded nearby. I saw that the rescue bag wouldn't fit the air lock, either, and Ausfaller confirmed my worst fear. He signaled us by opening his mouth wide. Then he zipped open the rescue bag and half carried us into the air lock while the air was still roaring out of our lungs.
When there was air again, Carlos whispered, «Please don't do that anymore.»
«It should not be necessary anymore.» Ausfaller smiled. «Whatever it was you did, well done. I have two well-equipped autodocs to repair you. While you are healing, I will see about recovering the treasures within the asteroid.»
Carlos held up a hand, but no sound came. He looked like something risen from the dead: blood running from nose and ears, mouth wide open, one feeble hand raised against gravity.
«One thing,» Ausfaller said briskly. «I saw many dead men; I saw no living ones. How many were there? Am I likely to meet opposition while searching?»
«Forget it,» Carlos croaked. «Get us out of here. Now.»
Ausfaller frowned. «What —»
«No time. Get us out.»
Ausfaller tasted something sour. «Very well. First the autodocs.» He turned, but Carlos's strengthless hand stopped him.
«Futz, no. I want to see this,» Carlos whispered.
Again Ausfaller gave in. He trotted off to the control room. Carlos tottered after him. I tottered after them both, wiping blood from my nose, feeling half-dead myself. But I'd half guessed what Carlos expected, and I didn't want to miss it.
We strapped down. Ausfaller fired the main thruster. The rock surged away.
«Far enough,» Carlos whispered presently. «Turn us around.»
Ausfaller took care of that. Then, «What are we looking for?»
«You'll know.»
«Carlos, was I right to fire on the tugs?»
«Oh, yes.»
«Good. I was worried. Then Forward was the ship eater?»
«Yeah.»
«I did not see him when I came for you. Where is he?»
Ausfaller was annoyed when Carlos laughed and more annoyed when I joined him. It hurt my throat. «Even so, he saved our lives,» I said. «He must have turned up the air pressure just before he jumped. I wonder why he did that.»
«Wanted to be remembered,» said Carlos. «Nobody else knew what he'd done. Ahh —»
I looked just as part of the asteroid collapsed into itself, leaving a deep crater.
«It moves slower at apogee. Picks up more matter,» said Carlos.
«What are you talking about?»
«Later, Sigmund. When my throat grows back.»
«Forward had a hole in his pocket,» I said helpfully.
The other side of the asteroid collapsed. For a moment lightning seemed to flare in there.
Then the whole dirty snowball was growing smaller.
I thought of something Carlos had probably missed. «Sigmund, has this ship got automatic sunscreens?»
«Of course we've got —»
There was a universe-eating flash of light before the screen went black. When the screen cleared, there was nothing to see but stars.
GHOST: SIX
«Sigmund Ausfaller killed three miners without a thought,» I said.
«He was right, though.»
«That weapons shop he built aboard Hobo Kelly: he was in love with it. No sane man toys with such things.»
«Saved your life.»
«He was wearing an asymmetrical beard when I first saw him. He's too short and stocky to pass for a Wunderlander. I've wondered about that for twelve years.»
«None of my business, nor yours,» Ander said. «Maybe someone was supposed to take him for a gullible tourist, or a fool, or a crazy.»
«He's not to be trusted, Ander.»
Ander laughed suddenly. Stared me in the face and laughed harder. «That's it! He needed to look crazy. He needed to look crazy enough to plant a bomb aboard a crashlander's ship!»
All I had for answer was a wordless snarl. Tanj, he could even be right.
Our dinners arrived, and Ander's chuckle died. He stared at what was on my plate. Crew snapper is a sea creature as big as a short man's leg, with rows of fins down each side and a jaw built to crush bones. It took up most of the table. It was hideous.
«Have some,» I said. «It's an order for two.»
We ate in silence for a bit. Ander's eyes kept straying to the crew snapper. He wouldn't touch it. He wouldn't speak of it. Presently he said, «For the record, any further contact with Pierson's puppeteers?»
I said, «Ander, this was an amazing expenditure just so you can hear Beowulf Shaeffer's barroom description of a species that no longer deals with any known world.»
Ander Smittarasheed nodded. «What if I say I talked Sigmund Ausfaller out of a free vacation?»
«Maybe, if I didn't know you were recording.»
He was losing patience. «Any further contact —»
«None. I've seen enough kzinti to last me. Don't they scare the ARM anymore?»
Ander Smittarasheed said, «You wouldn't remember the old Soviet Union? They used a technical term that translates as 'neutral. 'Neutral' was any nation that could not conceivably damage the Soviet Union. Puppeteers think like that. If you can hurt them, you have to be rendered neutral.»
«Better keep an eye on the planets they'll be passing on their way to nowhere.»
«They'll be in range of some Patriarchy worlds, including at least three slave species. After that they're out of known space.»
«And the Core explosion is twenty thousand years away. They'll have to turn first. Plenty of time.»
«Yeah —»
«Ander?» I set down my hashi. «Never mind.»
«What?»
«They're moving at near lightspeed through normal space? Everything comes on as gamma rays at that velocity! Those planets are repelling gamma rays that'll make the Core explosion look sickly!»
He stared. «But. They could have built … whatever … built it and never … If they can shield planets against gamma rays, they didn't need to go!»
I felt a grin pulling my lips way-y-y back. Ander had lost his aplomb. I wondered, «What are they running from, then? What are they up to?»
«Maybe it's not dependable, this shield. No, that's stupid,» he said. I dug into my fish, letting him run on. «So … what are they running from?»
I said, enjoying myself, «Consider this. Puppeteers don't like hyperdrive. Humans do. Kzinti do. By the time their traveling worlds reach the Clouds of Magellan, we'll have been there for thousands of years. After all, the Core explosion is coming for us, too.»
«We wondered if they didn't like the kzinti for neighbors,» Ander said. «Or humans. Or all of us together. Known space seems to be packed with sapient species. Maybe the rest of the universe isn't like that.»
«They could even be running from their own reputation, but they're not, Ander. They're going too slowly. They'd find all of us waiting, every species that uses hyperdrive, or else something tougher that ate us. And they're not going to where territory is cheap.»
«Cheap?»
«Well, they've got their own planets, but even Outsiders pay rent when they use somebody's sunlight. The Clouds will be packed with refugee species and locals, too. If … Ander, I can't see why they would want the Clouds of Magellan at all. They could find something closer. Something in the plane of the galaxy, for the shielding effect, maybe a spherical cluster. Did I mention I was out of the aliens business?»
He scowled. «Yeah, and settled down forever, except you weren't. What happened?»
I thought it through before I spoke. Here was my tale, and whatever Ander could check had better be the truth.
«We ran,» I said. «Bad mistake, but I still don't know what I could have done differently. Puppeteers don't come into it. Or … well, I got money from them years ago. I thought the ARM couldn't trace that.»
Of course the ARM had, and it wasn't much. But General Products had indemnified Elephant for his hull, and Elephant had given that to me when we were ready to flee Earth. They wouldn't trace that.
Ander said, «Beowulf, what if they've got a low-thrust drive big enough for a planet? The Outsiders could boost them up to speed. They'd use their own drive to turn and then stop over the next two hundred thousand years.»
I thought it over. «They wouldn't have to depend on anyone else, then. Yeah. Puppeteers wouldn't trust Outsiders for their species survival.»
«Do you think Outsiders trust puppeteers?»
Nobody knew very much about Outsiders. «Ander? There's a place where there's no Outsiders.»
«What are you thinking? Close to a sun?»
«Outsiders and starseeds. We only guess at the relationship, but the best guess is they'll try to rescue the starseeds. Stet?»
«Stet. Maybe they'll make for the Clouds of Magellan.»
«The shock wave will drive the starseeds ahead of it, wherever they're going. There won't be Outsiders near the Core. Ander, there won't be anybody near the Core.»
I was trying to picture it. Worlds in flight — «Drive up along the galactic pole, then turn toward the hub. In ten thousand years they'd meet the shock wave from the Core explosion. I saw it, Ander. A shell of exploding suns, fairly tight, fairly narrow. They'd be through it in another five thousand years. The Outsiders are gone. All the sapient species are gone, too, dead or fled or hopelessly mutated and still mutating. Thousands of worlds would have been sterilized — maybe millions — but they'd still be covered with free oxygen and organic sludge and maybe even deep-sea life. All ready for easy terraforming. That's it. They're headed for the Core.»
He said, «Well.» And thought again and said, «At least it's different.»
«Is this what you came for?»
«Beowulf, I believe I can tell Sigmund it was worth the trip. Now, will you tell me what happened to Feather Filip and Carlos Wu?»
«Yeah. And Carlos Wu's autodoc?»
He shrugged it off. «Feather Filip vanished from the same time and locale as you and Carlos Wu and Sharrol Janss. I'm supposed to find out who's dead.»
It wasn't a slip of the tongue. He put the question that brutally quite deliberately. Maybe it got him what he wanted; because the blood was draining out of my face again. I found my hand at my throat, massaging.
I said, «Nobody should have to eat with you, Ander.»
He looked at the monster on my plate and again wouldn't give me the satisfaction. «Who's dead?»
Me! I said, «At least Carlos. You want it from the beginning?»
«Why not?»
PROCRUSTES
Asleep, my mind plays it all back in fragments and dreams. From time to time a block of nerves wakes:
That's some kind of ARM weapon! Move it move it too late blam. My head rolls loose on black sand. Bones shattered, ribs and spine. Fear worse than the agony. Agony fading and I'm gone.
Legs try to kick. Nothing moves. Again,
harder, move! No go. The 'doc floats nicely on the lift plate, but its mass is resisting me. Push! Voice behind me, I turn, she's holding some kind of tube. Blam. My head bounces on sand. Agony flaring, sensation fading. Try to hang on, stay lucid … but everything turns mellow.
My balance swings wildly around my inner ear. Where's the planet's axis? Fafnir doesn't have polar caps. The ancient lander is flying itself. Carlos looks worried, but Feather's having the time of her life.
Sprawled across the planet's face, a hurricane flattened along one edge. Under the vast cloud fingerprint, a ruddy snake divides the blue of a world-girdling ocean. A long, narrow continent runs almost pole to pole.
The lander reenters over featureless ocean. Nothing down there seems to be looking at us. I'm taking us down fast. Larger islands have low, flat buildings on them. Pick a little one. Hover while flame digs the lamplighter pit wider and deeper, until the lander sinks into the hole with inches to spare. Plan A is right on track.
I remember how Plan A ended. The Surgery program senses my distress and turns me off.
I'm in Carlos Wu's 'doc, in the intensive care cavity. The Surgery program prods my brain, running me through my memories, maintaining the patterns lest they fuzz out to nothing while my brain and body heal.
I must be terribly damaged.
* * *
Waking was sudden. My eyes popped open, and I was on my back, my nose two inches from glass. Sunlight glared through scattered clouds. Display lights glowed above my eyebrows. I felt fine, charged with energy.
Ye gods, how long had I slept? All those dreams … dream memories.
I tried to move. I was shrink-wrapped in elastic. I wiggled my arm up across my chest, with considerable effort, and up to the displays. It took me a few seconds to figure them out.
Biomass tank: nearly empty. Treatment: pages of data, horrifying … terminated, successful. Date: Ohmygod. Four months! I was out for four months and eleven days!
I typed, Open:
The dark glass lid retracted, sunlight flared, and I shut my eyes tight. After a while I pulled myself over the rim of the intensive care cavity and rolled out.
