Rainbow Mars

by Larry Niven

“Aren’t we?”

  * * *

  They counted ten strobes and dropped out at midnight. Miya and Svetz went out with mag specs.

  The Portuguese ship was still at anchor. A glare on shore near the ship was the remains of a cookfire. Oblong wooden structures reflected infrared light.

  Nothing interesting had happened to the Hangtree, so Zeera jumped them again.

  Miya stayed to tend Thaxir. Svetz and Zeera went out.

  The line from the sky was no thicker, but for a swelling several meters above the tuft. Zeera found another lump six meters higher, and another, and another.

  “Pumps,” she said. “You can’t get fluid very high with just capillary action.”

  “Look, Zeera, those little bulges are crawling. Moving up the line. Not pumps. More like little cargo vessels.”

  “Svetz, we’re going to have to stay and watch this.”

  They dipped into the green forest to collect a variety of leaves for the Martian. Svetz asked, “Zeera, what about Thaxir? She could float if you put her in a pressure suit.”

  “Well, yes, if her faceplate wasn’t smashed!”

  Svetz lifted again for another look at the swellings on the cable. “Thirty to forty meters apart. A tablespoon of water each. Hey, Zeera, what’s wrong with this picture?”

  “Maybe they pull apart as they climb. You know, accelerating.”

  “They’d better. Otherwise … add it up and it’s enough mass to pull the tree down.”

  “Is that what happened at Mars?”

  “A million tonnes of war fleet. If the center of mass of an orbital tether drops below geosynchronous orbit, something’s got to fall.”

  Zeera said, “Maybe we can fix that faceplate.”

  * * *

  That part turned out to be easy. Zeera cut two lenses out of a fishbowl helmet and embedded them in a meteor patch, size large. That fit across Thaxir’s pressure suit mask.

  They waited for night and high tide.

  Thaxir watched on the airlock platform while her captors worked at putting the pulley system together. Then, suddenly losing patience, she began climbing down the pulley ropes.

  Svetz found it a startling sight. Thaxir had been sloughing her exercise, but now she was a tremendous insect climbing head down, all six appendages gripping the ropes. Despite Earth’s gravity, six limbs were enough.

  There were hot spots in the jungle. Svetz wondered what the soldiers thought they saw.

  Thaxir descended into the surf. “Zzz,” she said, and the translator said, “Pleasure.”

  Svetz and Miya swam around Thaxir. She seemed to be comfortable for the first time since her capture. She asked for her pouch, with her food and her harp, and they dropped that down to her.

  * * *

  Times had become too interesting for the locals. They were gone, leaving time travelers and Portuguese in possession.

  Miya and Zeera went to pick leaves for Thaxir in the forest. They took the trade kit; after all, they might meet Portuguese.

  The Minim’s cameras were mounted to watch the black knot where all the anchor trees now merged, where the root trailing from the Hangtree was now thick as Miya’s calf.

  The cameras found several Portuguese sailors on a climbing expedition. The near-horizontal trunks were easy going, but climbers were stalled near the peak. Still, why had he assumed that sailors couldn’t climb? They must spend half their lives in the rigging of sails!

  So Svetz might have gone with the women, but he stayed to watch.

  He had thought the Portuguese might approach him. They had seen golden coins, then golden eggs, and now they must have glimpsed a sea creature moving about the Minim. But nobody had come. Perhaps their religious father figure had warned them away from wizards.

  * * *

  The women returned at sunset. They took turns cleaning up in the Minim before they would talk to Svetz.

  “We met some conquistadors in the woods,” Miya told him.

  “Learn anything?”

  “Don’t talk to strange men,” Zeera snapped.

  Miya said, “We did some teaching too.” The women wouldn’t meet his eyes, nor each other’s.

  Svetz let it go. Eventually he’d get the story.

  34

  Thaxir had slept floating. This morning she played in the water, getting her exercise without fighting gravity. Svetz sat on the launch platform, watching.

  He felt restless. They were wasting time, and there was no need.

  How did a Hangtree grow? Could it survive to the present? Would it move on to some other star? What would kill it and what was its life span? The only things left to learn would all be learned using the Fast Forward device. With the FFD they would watch it all happen, wait for present time, and ultimately report it all to the Institute—

  Thaxir! A breaking wave had caught her and was washing her toward shore!

  A Martian might well find an ocean terrifying, and indeed she seemed paralyzed, borne headfirst toward the beach on her belly plates.

  Svetz considered rescue. The tide was in. He could reach shore with a flight stick and risk being seen; or let the waves wash him in … but then he’d be stuck onshore for hours … though it might be the only way to help Thaxir.

  Waves rolled her up the sand.

  Wouldn’t it be better to hail her, using the translator, and ask her to wait? Futz no, if the tide went out he’d have to roll her back to the water! But now she was on all sixes, crawling headfirst back into the waves.

  And shelled men at the edge of the woods were shouting, gesticulating, then dropping to one knee and aiming their kinetic weapons tubes—

  They fired into green water and foam. Thaxir was gone.

  * * *

  Miya and Zeera were both sleeping. Svetz caressed Miya’s foot. She snapped alert in an instant.

  “Portuguese onshore. I’m going to have to talk to them. Is there anything I’ll have to apologize for?”

  Behind his shoulder a chilled voice said, “Do not apologize for anything. That’s an order, Svetz.”

  Miya said, “Believe it, Hanny.”

  “Anything to make them apologize for? No? Great. And what do I tell them about Thaxir? She was onshore. They saw her.”

  Miya said, “Let me sleep.”

  * * *

  In the sshh, hisss of waves there was a music born of madness. Svetz tried to ignore it, but his mind ran away from him, chasing the beat.

  The water was withdrawing from the land. Svetz glanced down to be sure, but yes, Thaxir was in the shadow of the Minim, safely hidden in floating weed. She was playing her windstorm-minor harp in time with the waves.

  Svetz called a cheery good morning to six Portuguese.

  The conversation that followed was all shouting over diminishing distance and hissing waves, but Svetz didn’t have to do his own shouting.

  The Captain was missing a man. Had Svetz or his wives seen Alfonso Nunes?

  Svetz answered, “Well, but men in armor all look alike from a distance. Was there anything distinctive—?”

  “Alfonso Nunes is short, Captain, very hairy, and lost his helmet long ago, so his face is dark.” The translator was picking up normal voices again.

  Captain Magalhaes shouted, “Six went out to the woods yesterday afternoon. Five returned. There was no blood on the survivors. They will not speak to any but the priest, and Father De Castro will not speak. I must not violate a covenant, but I must know. Has any soldier tried to rob you, Master Svetz?”

  “Nobody has troubled us here.”

  “Not even the great sea creature? I saw it myself, Master Svetz. We fired on it to protect you.”

  “I think it harmless. I armed myself and swam with it yesterday, Captain, and it did not trouble me.” Svetz was beginning to enjoy himself. Remembering Whale’s undying hatred for its captors, he said, “Many large sea creatures enjoy the company of men.”

  “It is known that you and your women have gold. No?”

  “We gave
you what we had. Why would we need such stuff here?”

  “He lies, Captain, let me try my surgical skills on his tongue—”

  “Why, Peter, would you wade into the sea to shout your threats up at him on his platform? Peace, Peter. Patience. Master Svetz, where did you find these golden eggs?”

  The Portuguese were growing hoarse. The shouting was wearing them down, and Thaxir’s music, that might have been the sound of the sea hereabouts. They were losing subtlety; their greed showed through.

  An antic whim took Svetz. Futz, they’d never trust him anyway, and now he was sure that they’d offended his women. He pointed straight up along the Hangtree.

  “From up there. I got the coins there too, but I’m not wanted back.”

  By their questions he let them add their own details. Together they concocted a wild tale in which Svetz climbed to orbit, robbed a giant of coins, returned and captured a bird that laid golden eggs—who had escaped, and must be still at large in the jungle. “Maybe Jack saw it. Shall we talk to Jack?”

  “Jack has gone exploring,” said Captain Magalhaes. “We should join him, I think. I thank you for the suggestion.” Captain Magalhaes turned away, but some of his soldiers were looking toward the green jungle, and others toward the Hangtree/Beanstalk rising to infinity. And the voices went on.

  “Alvarez, you thieving son of a dog, tell me what that sorcerer’s women will have told him! Will he kill us all with his magic?”

  “Captain, they are not hurt. We only wanted to have our way with them.”

  “But they are hiding gold, you understand, Captain!”

  “No, we would not have hurt them even if—”

  “Alfonso threatened the dark woman. Truly, he might have hurt her, not just had his way with her, yes, Peter?”

  “Peter Alvarez da Orta, if you lie to me now, God will never find your soul.”

  “They were not hurt! Sir, sir, they were not hurt! We blocked their way. Alfonso Nunes set the edge of his sword against the black woman’s throat and spoke his threats, and then we all fell over and could not move. Evil was the day we came to this unholy place.”

  “But you could see and hear?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Two women. Six men. Pitiful. What happened to Alfonso Nunes? Did they drag him away?”

  A pause. Then: “Yes—”

  “No—”

  “We didn’t see—”

  “Captain, Captain, no! Stay your hand! We will show you. Peter, we must.” And they were among the trees, and their voices fuzzed out.

  * * *

  Thaxir was elated. She tried to describe the sensation of riding a rolling wall of water down onto powdered rock in two and a half Mars gravities, with all her limbs pulled against her body to make her into a great unstoppable missile. The translator was losing phrases. An epiphany, Svetz gathered.

  How did she feel?

  Her soul was complete!

  But physically?

  Water was her natural element! She could float, waking or sleeping, and rest, or she could swim against water’s resistance and exercise her whole body.

  “We need to be about our mission,” Svetz said. “Will you come with us into the future?”

  Thaxir was startled. She took some time to think, then, “Would you leave me behind if I asked?”

  “Why not? But I don’t think it’s a good idea. Earth’s gravity will kill you young, even if you could find a food supply. In the present we can levitate you. We’ll take care of you in the Vivarium until Willy Gorky knows how to make Mars habitable again.”

  Thaxir asked for details: Vivarium? Levitate? Then she rolled on her back to look up at the Minim. “How will you get me back up there?”

  “Do you think you can climb?”

  “Well, let me try.”

  Svetz watched her climb the ropes of the half-completed pulley. She didn’t have trouble until she was nearly free of the water. There she stalled. Miya came out on the platform to watch. Thaxir dropped back, and tried again, and failed again.

  “We’ll set up the pulleys,” Miya said.

  Thaxir disappeared underwater.

  Svetz and Miya went to work. They weren’t surprised when the green giant didn’t surface at once. It might be her last chance to swim. The oceans of the thirty-second century were polluted to a green-and-black goo.

  During a rest break he turned his mag specs on the Hangtree. There had been attrition, but he saw at least two climbers in the black tuft. The root that ran into the sky had become as thick as a man’s leg. A third man was climbing it, eighty meters up. Another was pulling on the root.

  He could hardly be needed to hold it steady. He too must intend to climb it.

  The view through the Minim dome was the same as the camera’s, almost straight up the anchor trunks, past the underside of the black tuft, and up into infinity. Anyone might be in the tuft.

  Zeera came out. “What’s this about?”

  “Getting out of here, I thought.” They’d been having trouble arranging the pulley system. It was new to them both. “Now I’m not sure. Zeera, did you kill someone in the woods?”

  Silence. Miya ignored them both. Svetz said, “Alfonso Nunes. Short, very hairy, almost as dark as you. Didn’t wear a helmet.”

  “Six of ’em thought they were going to rape us and torture us,” Zeera said. “Miya stunned them down. We talked a little about what to do with them, but we couldn’t move them without letting them wake up. Just putting them to sleep didn’t seem like much of a lesson. Miya wanted to steal their pants and dye their, uh, pubic region.”

  “Not enough?”

  “They think we’ve got gold. They would’ve tortured us to get it. Rape, that’s just entertainment. Svetz, they take it as their due. A woman doesn’t walk alone or speak to a man if she has a protector to speak for her. A woman alone is, is anyone’s. They have to be taught, Svetz! And you’d steal their pants?”

  “They’re showing something to Captain Magalhaes right now.” Svetz asked, “What is he going to see?”

  Zeera turned away.

  Miya answered. “They’re going to take him to that temple Jack showed us. He’s going to find a gold statue. Life-sized. Reclining. Obscene. Why didn’t Thaxir toss us her pack?”

  “Don’t know.” Right, the Martian had left her pack underwater when she tried to climb.

  “Where is she?”

  “Don’t know. Am I being distracted, Miya? Always talk it out, remember? Let’s talk about a gold statue. I take it you,” turning to Zeera, “used the trade kit on Alfonso Nunes.” Svetz looked into the forest, but the Portuguese were all gone. “Why him?”

  Miya answered. “He had his pants off. He had Zeera down on that stone dais before I got to my stunner. Knife at her throat. I had to stun them both and then wait for Zeera to wake up. He stank like nothing I’ve ever smelled—”

  “Like the ostrich cage after the roc broke loose,” Zeera said. “And he was hard—”

  “He had an impressive erection. Nunes could have had a great media career if he’d waited a few centuries, right, Zeera?”

  “Right. You could have stopped me.”

  “Zeera, I had a different impression,” Miya said coolly.

  Svetz said, “They’re showing that statue to Captain Magalhaes right now.”

  “Why’d they wait this long?” Miya wondered.

  Zeera laughed. “Gold,” she said, mocking. “They don’t know how to move it or hide it or sell it, but they want it.”

  Miya said, “Hanny, we turned some of those stoneware things to gold too, and that row of knives. They might think it was all native work. Hide him in plain sight. What is it, Hanny?”

  Svetz touched his mag specs. What he thought he’d seen—

  “Thaxir.”

  Thaxir was out of the surf and almost to the trees. Her pack was on her back. Six-limbed, Thaxir managed a fast crawl. “What’s she doing?” Miya wondered. “Escaping?”

  “I told her we�
��d leave her here if she wanted,” Svetz said.

  She was into the forest, shouldering trees aside.

  A Portuguese came running out. He ran down the beach, southeastward, never slowing.

  * * *

  They made a meal while they talked it over.

  “The default option is that we can leave her,” Zeera said. “Any objection? Willy Gorky wanted us to negotiate with her, but she’s not negotiating and she’s not in contact with the tree anyway.”

  “She’ll starve,” Miya said. “Hanny, don’t you have an opinion?”

  Svetz had been letting them run on while he watched the anchor grove. They were wasting time, but Svetz himself shied from abandoning a story half finished.

  Jack was on the Hangtree, a hundred and twenty meters above the anchor grove. He’d left his metal shell below. This would not be much like climbing rigging. Ropes would have some slack to them, would run horizontal in spots. Still, he climbed on. Two men, Portuguese but without their shells, waited below him in the black foliage.

  Thaxir was not to be seen.

  Svetz said, “She knows what she can eat. You know, I’ve taken a lot of prisoners in my time. I’m used to considering them property, but they don’t talk to me. I’m inclined to consider that Thaxir owns herself. I’m surprised at what she can do in Earth gravity. Maybe she’ll maim herself. Maybe she’ll crawl back to the sea for rest and sleep, and forage on land, or just eat seaweed. Maybe the conquistadors will kill her, but she knows the risks as well as we do or better! So the question is, how long will it be before she needs rescue? Do we stay or go? Or Fast Forward by a year and look again? Hyah!”

  “What?”

  “It’s her!” A great yellow-green insectile shape poked itself above the black fluff. Jack’s companions flung themselves away, out of the tuft, and how they fell was not to be known. The Martian began to climb, six limbs around a silver thread.

  Miya was scrambling for mag specs; Zeera had hers. “There. She can climb. She was faking us out, sure as futz. How high can she expect to get?”

  “Whatever. We can’t do anything about it. The Minim won’t fly and the flight sticks won’t carry anything like that much weight.”

  Thaxir wasn’t moving fast.

  Jack was hardly moving at all.