Take us far from this awful place. Please.
“Right,” Louis said.
He watched Louis set off toward the bridge. The maze of access tubes was much expanded since Louis had tumbled into the autodoc. Hindmost, from time to time, offered directions from the nearest intercom speaker as his hologram followed Louis. As footsteps approached the bridge, Hindmost sang a chord to terminate the projection.
Louis dropped into the pilot’s chair and activated the hyperdrive. The bridge screens went dark. The crystalline sphere of the mass detector lit with radial lines pointing toward the nearby stars, rotated to show their new course.
He is taking us the wrong way!
“I don’t have the nerve to fly us to home,” Hindmost had admitted, moments before helping Louis-as-protector into the autodoc.
“Not Canyon?” Louis had asked.
Canyon was where, long ago, Hindmost had tracked down and abducted Louis. “Home,” he had corrected. Faster than explaining, he had dissembled. “I did not think I could hide us on Canyon. Too small. Home is very like Earth, Louis, and has a wonderful history.”
From the course Louis had set, he had heard — misheard — Home, the human planet.
But Hindmost had meant, simply, home. Where the hearts are. After two long exiles on a quite different human world, and with the loved ones he had left there, New Terra felt like home. He had planned to give Louis coordinates to fly them there.
And then it hit Hindmost:
— That only one place could ever truly be home to him, and that was the Fleet of Worlds.
— That at some level he had known it all along. Why else had he built up Long Shot’s velocity until it matched the Fleet’s?
— And that something in the bridge displays had been screaming for his attention for the past few hours.
Against all odds, Hindmost hoped he knew what it was. Who it was.
“Louis,” he said, “we must go back.”
REUNION
11
Alice pored over the bridge displays, at once fascinated and anxious. From the way Nessus tugged at his mane, he felt no such ambivalence. Alice couldn’t decide how Julia felt.
A poker face is a good skill in a commander.
Space seethed with hyperwave chatter. The longer Endurance skulked about, the more hyperspace-jump ripples its instruments detected. The ship stocked — and had widely scattered — sensors far better than anything the Ministry had had in her day. Compared to the tech with which Alice had, long ago, grown up in the Belt, the new sensors were scarcely distinguishable from magic. The sensors, like twing, were a gift from the Pak Library.
Alice froze her display on a ship so long and thin that it suggested a crowbar. At the limits of resolution, smaller dartlike ships buzzed around it. “We see lots of ships like this, a second type like thick lenses, and a third kind more like squat cones. Each shape seems to stick with its own. Fleets, do you suppose, Sigmund?”
“Almost certainly,” Sigmund answered a minute and a half later. “The formations look defensive. As makes sense when at least one faction has antimatter weapons.”
“But whose fleets are they?” Julia asked. “Sigmund, Nessus, do you know?”
Pausing his soft, rhythmic humming, Nessus looked up from the pilot console. “The Ringworld is gone. The danger it embodied is gone. The mystery of the hyperspace ripple is resolved. I do not understand why we tarry.”
Changing the subject, Alice noted. She waited for Sigmund to comment.
Sigmund’s answer eventually arrived. “When I left Known Space, most human warships, including ARM ships, had been built in GP hulls. Kzinti warships, too. Of course, General Products had just pulled out of Known Space and…”
Nessus turned one head toward the camera. “Not knowing whose fleets these are, we must consider them dangerous.”
Strange creatures, Alice thought. Puppeteers had no curiosity. And though Nessus yearned to flee, he stayed alert. Sigmund used to say something about no true coward ever turning his back on danger. And that Nessus always had undisclosed motives.
This was neither the time nor the place to let her mind wander. Damn old age.
“… Almost certain I recognize some ARM and Patriarchy vessels,” Sigmund was saying. “Cut off from their supply of General Products hulls, I suspect naval designers reverted to proven configurations.”
Sigmund’s brow furrowed in the manner Alice remembered so well.
Even … before, the closest of friends, working together every day, she hadn’t always understood what had plunged him into one of his dark moods. But this scowl held no mystery: General Products hulls were among his fiercest obsessions.
It turned out that a GP hull was a single nanotech-grown super-molecule, the interatomic bonds massively reinforced by an embedded power plant. Disable that hidden fusion generator, and a ship’s own air pressure blows apart the hull.
Not a feature General Products had chosen to disclose to its customers.
In his life on Earth, Sigmund had worried that Puppeteers could destroy the “indestructible” hulls they sold. Of course he had, but that had been only the paranoia speaking. The first time Sigmund truly knew, he had lost someone very close to him.
Lost, dead. Not just lost, gone far away. For a moment Alice forgot her ancient, simmering bitterness.
“… The long skinny ships remind me of ARM ships from archives of the first two wars with the ratcats. And before GP showed up, the ratcats favored lens-shaped ships like those Endurance is also seeing.
“No one can improve on Outsider hyperdrive technology, so maybe there hasn’t been a reason to radically redesign ships.” Shrewdly: “Or has General Products mastered the much faster drive used by Long Shot.”
“No.” Nessus shuddered. “Not while I lived on Hearth. As far as I know, Long Shot remains one of a kind.”
“Ratcats?” Julia asked.
Nessus twisted a lock of his mane. “An informal term for aliens who call themselves Kzinti. A Kzin looks something like an Earth animal called a cat and has a hairless tail like another Earth animal called a rat.”
To hear Sigmund speak of Kzinti, a very large cat: kind of like a bipedal tiger looming eight feet tall. Kzinti ate their prey — almost certainly, when Sigmund was a child, his parents. It might explain Sigmund, just a little.
That didn’t mean that Alice forgave him.
“What about the conical ships?” Julia asked. “Those are present in large numbers, too.”
“I don’t recognize them,” Sigmund admitted. “Do you, Nessus?”
Nessus shifted his humming to a single throat. “I do not, Sigmund. That scares me.”
Everything scared a Puppeteer. As for the claim not to recognize the third fleet, Alice did not believe it. Am I reading body language, or channeling Sigmund’s suspicions?
Sigmund broke the growing silence. “I guess I need to say it. The ARM is the military force of Earth’s government. Earth, people. The home world of humanity. New Terra’s long-lost roots. We have to make contact.”