Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

"Your men are pretty flamboyant-with those blinding orange caps, aren't they?"

Gerd asked of no one in particular.

"Oh, there's a reason for it," Helton said. "That's a damned dangerous piece

of gear, especially when it's hot. They wear those gaudy caps so they can tell the players from the spectators. Anyone not wearing a loud orange cap gets within a hundred meters of that thing, the crew chief goes out and runs him off, be he captain, corporal, or general."

Holloway's itch of curiosity was getting the best of him. "Y'know, Phil, I've heard about those things, but I've never really seen one."

"That's not surprising," Helton said. "There are only six of them in the entire Federation Navy."

"Well, how does the damned thing work, is what I want to know," Holloway said.

"All I've ever heard is that it bores holes in solid rock-which makes no sense to me of itself." "In a nutshell," Helton continued, "there's a nuclear reactor inside the terrene itself. There are little bitty ones in the twenty centimeter models they use to bore drainage lines and air vents. There's a one-meter model. It makes a tube big enough for a man to crawl around in and string commo lines and fiber optic bundles along the walls. Then, there's this monster; two-meter tube. Makes nifty lift shafts and lateral drive tunnels to connect up underground complexes on places like Xerxes, where no-one can live on the surface."

"But how does it work?" Holloway insisted.

"I'm getting to that part," Helton said. "As the reactor heats up, a series of heat baffles raises the temperature of the outer skin until it's hot enough to vaporize rock-hotter for granite than for sandstone, for example. As the terrene proceeds through the rock, controlled by the operator in the collapsium cabin-who has to be a pretty brave guy, by the way-it also melts the rock around the periphery of the tunnel to a depth of several centimeters.

So, you see, it cases the tube as it goes, in a kind of crackle-finish glass-sometimes in very pretty colors, too."

"Hmmmm," Holloway said. "I see. What's the skin made of? Can't be collapsium.

Collapsium's a lousy heat conductor. Whatever it is, it must be wild stuff to take those temperatures."

"The answer to that is such a complicated secret that even I don't know it,

"Helton said. He laughed. "And even if I did, I probably couldn't explain it.

In any case, it must cost like crazy to build the things. Otherwise we'd have more of them."

"How do they operate the little ones?" Gerd asked. "They'd be too small to have a control cabin with a man in it."

"Remotely," Helton said. "The control signals are input through a cable bundle that the terrene drags down the hole behind it. The operator works from a stationary console. But, the M-79 is so big and has so much mass that it has to be run with a tighter set of reins."

Mr. Throckmorton inhaled deeply before delivering the last point of Colonial case law noted in his brief. "The point, your Honor, is even more clearly stated in the case of The People of Yggsdrasil Colony versus The Federation Resident-General, The Chartered Yggsdrasil Company, et al.

As Throckmorton droned on, Attorney General Gus Brannhard was the picture of serenity on the outside, eyes half closed, not a muscle of his huge frame moving. Inside, though, he was dancing with glee as he awaited the conclusion of Mr. Throckmorton's precedents in this absurd matter of The Federated Sunstone Co-operative versus The Colonial Government of Zarathustra-so he

could rip the fool's shoddy case to pieces. Hugo Ingermann hadn't chosen very well. Now that he was barred from practicing law before Zarathustran courts, he had chosen The Honorable Eustis Throckmorton as his own personal shyster.

Perhaps Mr. Throckmorton had come cheaply. Ingermann's penchant as a centisol-pincher was well known.

Throckmorton finally wound down and finished his argument.

Justice Pendarvis nodded toward him, then turned his gaze toward Brannhard.

"How say you, Mr. Attorney General?" he asked.

Brannhard cleared his throat with a rumble."I say that Mr. Throckmorton's case is no case at all, and, in any event, cannot at present be heard by this court."

"And why is that, Mr. Brannhard?" Justice Pendarvis asked, although he knew the answer as well as Gus did.

' "The element of conspiracy has been cited in the plantiff's causes of action. It is a widely known point in Colonial Law that a colonial government-or any of its agencies-cannot be made the defendant in any complaint which cites conspiracy among the causes of action-uh-without the specific permission of that government for the plaintiff to pursue his case."

"Are you suggesting, then, Mr. Brannhard," Justice Pendarvis said, "that Mr.

Throckmorton's case cannot be tried in this court?"

"Not at all, your Honor," Gus replied. "Merely that it cannot be tried as the issues are presently framed unless Mr. Throckmorton petition the Colonial Government and obtain its permission for trial. I, for one, would not be friendly to such a petition, having the acquaintance that I do with Mr.

Throckmorton's employer."

Throckmorton's eyes were getting wider and wider.

"Object!" Throckmorton said hastily. "The present Colonial Government of Zarathustra is not one duly elected under the Federation Constitution. It is merely a fiat government, set up by Commodore Napier to govern pro tempore during the period between those decisions which bear your Honor's name and such time as proper elections can be held."

Justice Pendarvis leaned forward on his elbows. "Overruled, Mr. Throckmorton,"

he said quietly. "An appointed colonial government has all the force of authority as an elected one, save on one point. It cannot levy taxes."

"I-I forgot," Throckmorton said.

Brannhard fluffed his gray-brown beard. "I suggest," he said to no one in particular, "that Mr. Throckmorton was hoping that the Court had forgotten."

"There is an alternative, Mr. Throckmorton," Justice Pendarvis said.

Throckmorton's face took on a glow of anticipation. Perhaps there was a way to salvage this mess, after all.

"You may take your case to a Terran Federation Supreme Court on the home planet. They, having superior jurisdiction over this Colonial Supreme Court, will be pleased to hear your case, although I might suggest that the calling of witnesses might occupy a few years-considering travel times involved-and amount to no small expense to your client."

Throckmorton's face fell.

Justice Pendarvis rapped his gavel lightly. "This case to be continued for a period of thirty days, in order to allow Mr. Throckmorton to prepare the petition in question. If such petition has not been secured by then, the case will be removed from the docket.

"Next case, please," Pendarvis said to the crier, as Throckmorton gathered up his brief and slunk out of the courtroom.

Great, noxious clouds of vapor and steam poured out of the tunnel as the terrene bored steadily into the rockfall. The remainder of the crew had cordoned off an area several hundred meters on a side with orange engineer's tape. Part of the men patrolled the perimeter, more for something to do than anything else. The rest, wearing breathing gear, were jockeying huge air-changers, each on its own contragravity sled, and blowing the fumes away with the prevailing breeze. Periodically, Byers, who was standing with his hands on his hips, talking to the operator over a commo attached to his earphones, would motion for the two work parties to switch off on their respective chores.

"That's very eerie," Hollo way said, as he stood and watched with Gerd and Phil. "I thought it would make more noise."

Helton shrugged. "Mighty engines must not always make a mighty noise. In this case, just the hiss of vaporizing stone and the noise of some of the glassed-up wall fracturing." He smiled. "You know what we call the three sizes of these things?"