Larry Niven - Fate of Worlds - Return From the Ringworld

Alice offered Julia a drink bulb. When Julia took the coffee, Alice’s hand lingered on Julia’s shoulder. Julia chose to take the gesture as support for her deception.

“I propose that we meet here in an hour,” Captain Wu said. A new cartoon indicated a location a few light-hours from Endurance ’s present location. “Keep your present normal-space velocity and we’ll match course and speed with you.”

“Agreed,” Julia said. It would be easy enough to change velocity to what she had told him.

“Wu out.” The holo disappeared.

“For what it’s worth,” Alice said, “I think you made a smart call. There’s no reason to reveal our ship can outmaneuver theirs. They distrust us enough already.”

“Thanks.” Julia took a long swallow from her coffee bulb. “Jeeves, tell Long Shot we’re going on an errand and radio silent, but that we’ll get back in touch.”

TANYA JETTED ALONE THROUGH FRIGID DARKNESS, Koala shrinking behind her faster than her target grew. She was more than a kilometer from anything, and every twitch of the telltales in her HUD screamed “cosmic rays.” The local sun was scarcely a spark.

For an instant, purser duties had their charms.

After one look at Endurance, Dad had declined the offer to dock. “That’s a GP #2 hull,” he had growled. All that kept him from jumping back to hyperspace was that the ship at the rendezvous point reflected light differently than did a GP hull. It didn’t reflect like anything anyone on the bridge had ever encountered, or anything in Hawking’s databases.

Tanya saw the resemblance, too. She’d seen plenty of General Products-built ships during her posting to the Fleet of Worlds. Precious few humans, though: only her fellow ARMs, a few would-be traders, and the diplomats in the United Nations embassy on Nature Preserve Three.

So yes: the ship at the rendezvous point did resemble a GP #2 hull. Was a long, thin cylinder so unlikely?

“There’s one way we’ll find out,” Tanya had declared. She, specifically, had been invited aboard Endurance and had volunteered to go — knowing she had left Dad with no choice. To send anyone else or abort the contact now would look like he was protecting her. He had answered, only, “Stay in touch, Lieutenant.”

Midpoint in ten seconds, flashed on her HUD. A counter began decrementing to remind her when to begin braking.

With her visor at max magnification, she spotted someone in the open air lock of the still-distant Endurance. A biped, certainly, if not from this distance definitively human.

Tanya brought herself to a halt a half meter from Endurance, then holstered her gas pistol. Alice, wearing a simple jumpsuit, stood watching. Tanya reached through the pressure curtain, grabbed a handhold, and pulled herself aboard. The outer hatch began to close.

“Welcome to Endurance. ” Alice pointed to a row of lockers. “You can stow your gear here.”

In bare feet Tanya stood 190 centimeters tall. Alice, even stooped, was taller — like every Belter Tanya had ever met. Of course, people were tall on low-grav worlds like Wunderland, too. Alice’s height proved nothing.

As Tanya removed her helmet, text began flowing across her contact lenses. We have audio and visual. She twitched a finger twice to acknowledge, her gesture sensed by an implanted accelerometer. “I’m pleased to meet you, Alice.”

Once Tanya’s pressure suit was stowed, Alice asked, “Would you and everyone watching like to see the ship?”

They’re good, Tanya read, and had to agree. Her spy gear used microburst transmissions and top-secret crypto, not the simple — and known to be compromised — algorithms that sufficed for routine ship-to-ship chatter.

“It’s only medical telemetry,” she lied. “Standard protocol.”

Alice smiled knowingly.

Tanya said, “And yes, I would appreciate a tour.”

“Very good. We’ll start aft, in the engine room.”

Despite unending texted questions and prompts to turn her head this way and that, Tanya managed not to trip over her feet as she followed Alice. Endurance seemed like a ship configured by and for humans. In the relax room, randomly checking the synthesizer menu, Tanya recognized many options. The coffee it synthed tasted no worse than what she drank on Koala.

“Next stop, the bridge,” Alice said.

“Lead on.” They headed forward, which Tanya took as a good sign. The bow was the last place a Puppeteer would put a bridge: too exposed. Tanya was ready to chalk up the hull’s resemblance to a GP model to pure coincidence.

“Are you prepared to believe that New Terra is a human world?” Alice asked.

Tanya needed no prompting to answer, “Are you ready to tell us where New Terra is?”

Alice laughed. “Yes, actually, although I think that is more properly the captain’s prerogative. And we’re here.”

“Welcome aboard,” Julia called through the bridge’s open hatch. She stood (and wasn’t nearly as tall as Alice, who maybe was a Belter) and offered her hand.

Filling half the bridge was a padded, Y-shaped bench.

What’s that doing there? Tanya read. “That’s a Puppeteer bench, isn’t it,” she said, knowing tanj well that it was. So why didn’t you just contact an ARM vessel at the Fleet of Worlds?

Julia returned her hand to her side. “Come in and have a seat. It turns out New Terra’s history is more complicated than we’ve so far volunteered.”

TANYA QUIT TRYING to take it all in. Everything Alice and Julia said — and Jeeves, too, once Julia introduced the AI — streamed in real time from Tanya’s audio pickup to Koala. Hawking texted from time to time to corroborate bits of narration. After a while, Dad texted he was ready to open a channel.

“Have we convinced you, Captain?” Julia asked him.

“Enough to have recommended that we dispatch a ship to visit New Terra. The admiral asked if your government will extend a formal invitation.”

“I’ll call home to arrange that when we finish,” Julia said.

“One more thing,” Dad said. “You cracked our encryption in a few days? Truly?”

Julia nodded.

“Have you cracked codes for the other fleets in the area?”

“Jeeves?” Julia asked.

“No,” Jeeves said. “I would need to know the underlying languages first. If provided with dictionaries and grammar rules, then perhaps.”

“We can do that,” Dad said. “Hawking — that’s our AI, Julia — will send linguistic files for Hero’s Tongue and whatever information we have relating to Interworld evolution since Jeeves’s time.”

Why Kzinti and not also Trinoc? Tanya wondered.

Maybe Dad knew her well enough to read the question from her expression, or maybe he would have volunteered an explanation anyway. He said, “Messaging among the Kzinti warships has trebled in the last few hours. We need to understand why.”

“It’s too dangerous. We don’t know how the situation has evolved,” Nessus sang. The chords stuck in his throats, as though he were failing Baedeker. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he had hidden too long on New Terra, had lost all his skills. “For all we know, Achilles again rules.”

“We can’t discover the situation on Hearth until we go back,” Baedeker countered.

Both opinions were correct, and in the uneasy truce that followed the only sounds were faint whirrings from Long Shot ’s ventilation fans and the low hum of the autodoc.

Nessus arched a neck to study the still figure within the autodoc. “Perhaps Louis can undertake an exploration for us.” But the idea was ludicrous. Louis would awaken with his memories of New Terra restored, with personal priorities to pursue.