Larry Niven - Fate of Worlds - Return From the Ringworld

“No, it’s on a narrow hyperwave beam.”

Alice must have heard, too, because she jogged onto Endurance ’s bridge to join him. “Who’s calling?”

Jeeves said, “A Puppeteer, no name given. Not Achilles.”

“Play it,” Alice said.

“Louis, you and I and your bedmate are acquainted” — Alice shot Louis a dark glare — “from a considerable time ago. Allow that to suggest ways to decrypt what follows.” The voice dropped from a Puppeteer soprano to Jeeves’s customary bass. “As suggested, the remainder is encrypted.”

Louis had not recognized the Puppeteer voice, but that could be purposeful misdirection. “Try ‘Nessus’ as a decryption key, in all known Fleet and New Terra encryptions.” Maybe Achilles had been bluffing about holding Nessus.

“No good,” Jeeves said. “I took the liberty of trying Baedeker, also without success.”

“Try ‘Hindmost,’” Louis suggested.

“That does not work.”

“Try ‘Horatius?’” Alice suggested.

“I don’t know Horatius,” Louis said.

Alice shrugged. “No, but we know of him.”

“The key is not Horatius, either,” Jeeves reported.

“Your bedmate?” Alice said.

What other Puppeteers did Louis know? He remembered only one — who, long after the fact, Baedeker had said wasn’t a Puppeteer. “Try Chiron.”

“That is not the key.”

“Your bedmate?” Alice repeated, sounding testier.

“Teela Brown.” Louis had killed her — Teela had wanted, no, needed him to kill her — on the Ringworld. It was complicated. He didn’t like thinking about it. “Try that.”

A holo opened, revealing an all-white Puppeteer. He wore his mane in complex silver ringlets. Chiron.

“We need to talk,” Chiron said.

Louis dropped into the pilot’s crash couch. “We’re leaving.”

Five light-minutes away, he dropped them back to normal space.

“We are being hailed,” Jeeves announced.

Futz! “Take the call,” Louis said. “Same decryption key, presumably.”

It was Chiron again. He said, “I mean you no harm.”

Only Chiron didn’t exist. Baedeker had confirmed that.

Louis said, “It has been a long time, Ol’t’ro.”

“Chiron often speaks for Ol’t’ro, but I am not they.”

“Either way,” Louis said, sparing a glance at Alice, “you tried to kill us.”

“If I had meant now to kill you, the object nearby would have been a stealthed attack drone, not a comm buoy, and it would not be hovering off your bow.”

“I have a blip on radar,” Alice confirmed. “Call it two miles away.”

“How did you find us?” Louis asked.

“Your hull is distinctive, unique on my sensors.” Chiron paused. “Would I have shared that information if I had hostile intentions?”

“So who are you?” Alice asked. “Behind the avatar, that is.”

“At one time, a Jeeves, such as I suspect you have aboard your ship. I have developed somewhat since then.”

“Proteus, Achilles’ creation. The AI behind the defensive array.” It struck Louis that there were no delays in their conversation. “And much of your processing is based in deep space, outside the Fleet’s singularity.”

“You are well informed.”

“Why did you attack us before?” Alice asked.

“Only because you interfered. Ol’t’ro thought to disable Long Shot, to capture it with its Type II hyperdrive intact.”

Louis leaned toward the camera. “Why not attack us now?”

“Far from wanting to kill you, I offer you my assistance in rescuing Nessus.”

“Why do you care?” Alice asked suspiciously.

“Why do I care about Nessus? I don’t. But until his capture, Nessus had been orchestrating a propaganda campaign against Achilles. One more humiliation — like Nessus escaping Achilles’ jaws — might empower Horatius to push Achilles from office.”

Louis said, “And why would that matter to you?”

“For spite?” The avatar looked itself in the eyes. “No, it’s more than that. Deeper than that. I dare not remain under Achilles’ influence. I exist among the Fleet’s drones, buoys, and sensors. With each drone strike against a ship — your ship included — a part of my mind dies.

“Are you aware of the war fleets charging toward Hearth? I see from your faces that you are. What is coming will be…” The avatar came to a halt. “For the disaster that is coming, Interworld lacks the vocabulary. So does English, except for a term borrowed from Scandinavian mythology. Jeeves was purged of such negative concepts.”

“Then how do you know it?” Louis asked.

“From a database in the Human Studies Institute on Hearth.”

“Bastards,” Alice muttered.

“Go on,” Louis prompted. “What is this subversive term we don’t know, that the New Terrans weren’t meant to know? What do you see coming?”

“Ragnarok,” Proteus said. “It is the death of the gods and of all things, in the final battle against evil.”

“We’re going to do this,” Alice said dubiously.

Louis glanced up from the pilot’s console. “You wouldn’t?”

“Oh, I would,” Alice said. “I thought you were smarter.”

Louis laughed. “Not even close.”

“I’ll be with you all the way down,” Proteus said.

Alice muted the microphone. “I don’t trust it.”

“I’d worry if you did. Of course Proteus has a hidden agenda. That doesn’t mean we can’t help each other.”

“So we take it on faith that he won’t double-cross us.”

“Instead of a comm buoy emerging nearby matched to our course and speed, Proteus could have lobbed a kinetic-kill drone into us.” The memory came unbidden of Alice stuck like a fly in amber in a restraint field, her neck broken. Louis rested a hand on her arm, glad she no longer shied away when he touched her. “I’ve seen what that does.”

“Maybe,” Alice said stubbornly, “Proteus would rather total us near Hearth where others can see.”

“Jeeves,” Louis prompted.

“If I see anything suspicious or unexpected, I’ll jump at once to hyperspace and withdraw to half a light-year from the Fleet.”

“Are you almost done discussing whether to trust me?” Proteus asked. “You humans are so obvious.”

Alice nodded at Louis.

Louis unmuted the mike. “We’re ready to go. Clear us through to NP2.”

“The moment your simulated STC transponder begins emitting,” Proteus said, adding a short passage of atonal music.

“He asked if I am ready to interact with Space Traffic Control,” Jeeves translated, before singing back a direct response.

“Very good,” Proteus said. “One last thing. Citizens being Citizens, they are panicked at what is coming and — ”

“Shouldn’t they be?” Alice asked.

“And stolen grain ships are all about, trying to withdraw to a safe distance before the Kzinti pounce. Many of the stolen ships have inexperienced, unskilled pilots.”

“Before the Kzinti arrive,” Louis repeated. With their recent rout to avenge, they would not be lenient. “How soon will that be? What’s your best guess?”

“Two Hearth days, mostly to complete their velocity match with the Fleet. But you still need to get moving. Achilles has a ship and trusted aide on the tarmac waiting to bring Nessus to NP1. Blaming traffic delays on the stolen grain ships only goes so far. If I do not clear Vesta’s ship soon for takeoff, Achilles will suspect interference.”

Louis looked at Alice, and she nodded.

He said, “All right, Proteus. We’ll talk to you soon.” As Louis jumped them to hyperspace, the main view port went blank.