“Very well, Louis,” Hindmost said. “You have me. A lifeboat was always aboard. When Nessus sought you out for the Ringworld expedition. Even when Beowulf Shaeffer took this ship to see the galactic core.
“The Type II drive was new and experimental. Suppose it had stopped working far from Hearth, far from Known Space, beyond hope of rescue by conventional hyperdrive, beyond hope of the Outsiders rendering assistance. Then directions would have been hyperwaved to the pilot how he might release the lifeboat and perhaps, over a very long time, hope to return home.”
That answer Louis believed. “Thank you for not taking the lifeboat and abandoning me.”
“I brought you to the Ringworld against your will. If I can, I will take you safely away. Certainly I owe you that.
“If I have satisfied your curiosity for a while, may I hope you will permit me to continue my observations?”
STARING OUT THE MAIN BRIDGE view port at the stars, Hindmost let his mind wander. Invisible to the naked eye but (courtesy of Voice) prominent in an augmented-reality view was the endless swirl and shift of the ships of the Fringe War.
There was another dance to be seen, if he was not more devoid than usual of reason. At least he thought he saw a dance. Whenever Louis, still bursting with energy from the autodoc, ranging all about the ship, managed to leave him in peace.
From time to time Hindmost drank from a bulb of water. About the time it registered that the bulb seemed bottomless, he realized it must have been replaced. By Louis, on any of his several returns to the bridge.
Hindmost activated the intercom. “Thank you, Louis.”
“For what?”
“Indulging me. I am ready when you are.”
Louis soon appeared in the hatchway to the bridge. “What, exactly, do you see out there?”
As much as see, I hear. I feel. But perhaps it is only wishful thinking. “We will do a test, and then I will explain.”
Louis shrugged.
“Voice, run a correlation.” Hindmost sang out the cadence he had found — or imagined — in the display. “Across the Fringe War, how many ships leap about following that cadence?”
“Hold on,” Louis said. “How can it answer that?” Pause. “Hindmost’s Voice, can you tell ships apart?”
“To an extent,” Voice said. “The shadow-square sensors often catch the silhouettes of ships. By triangulation, I can determine distance, from which I calculate sizes. And I can distinguish hull compositions.”
“Hull compositions,” Louis repeated skeptically. “By spectral analyses?”
“Only rarely. In most cases the reflected light is too dim for that,” Hindmost said. “But among our sensor upgrades is something new. It appears that hull surface subtly influences the normal-space bubble that protects a ship from hyperspace. Those hints about hull material get imprinted onto the ripples made when ships enter and leave normal space.”
“That doesn’t sound possible,” Louis said.
“Hyperwave interacts with radio gear to perform hyperwave communications. These new sensors are little different, in principle.”
“In principle.” Louis laughed. “So we again have Tunesmith to thank.”
Hindmost shivered. “I am glad to be rid of protectors.”
“Back to identifying a particular ship for this correlation,” Louis said. “Among the larger formations, there must be many ships of a given type.”
“That is problematical,” Voice agreed. “When similar ships set out together and part ways in hyperspace, I cannot know which vessel went where.”
“Voice will tell us if he cannot do the correlation,” Hindmost said. As he will, because this may be the craziest idea I’ve had since … coming to the Ringworld.
“I have done the correlation,” Voice said. “While we spoke.”
Hindmost hesitated to ask. Suppose a correlation did exist. Would he dare to act on it? Hope and intuition struggled with innate caution.
“And?” Louis prompted.
“I find a correlation,” Voice said. “One ship.”
Louis blinked. “How did you know?” he asked Hindmost. “What was that pattern?”
“It is from a favorite performance of the Grand Ballet on Hearth. From a day I shared with someone very important to me.”
“Nessus?” Louis guessed.
“As you say.” Hindmost shivered, for how could Nessus be here? He had left Nessus on New Terra, the world that had for so long been their home. “Of course many know that ballet.”
“Is the dancing ship from the Fleet?” Louis asked.
“Doubtful,” Voice said. “It does not have a General Products hull.”
“You can be sure of that?”
“That it is not a General Products hull? That, Louis, I can say for certain. This one ship interacts with hyperwave quite differently from the obvious Fleet vessels.”
“Anything more?” Hindmost asked.
“Possibly. With so many hyperdrive emergences in this region I am uncertain. I first noticed that particular hull material only a day ago.”
“A new ship type,” Louis said. “An appearance two months after the Ringworld disappeared. It sounds like some new player came to see what’s happening here.”
Hindmost’s mind raced. After many years away, he could not know exactly where New Terra had traveled. Most likely, a New Terran ship could have reached here by now. It could be Nessus aboard that ship.
Assume for the moment that the new arrival had come from New Terra. Maybe, Hindmost thought, he could establish New Terran provenance another way. “Of what material is that new ship constructed?”
“I cannot tell,” Voice answered. “Our instruments sense differences among hulls, but they have not been calibrated to identify specific materials from hyperwave interactions.”
“And if we get a little closer? Perhaps, a light-hour?” Hindmost persisted. “Could you then remotely identify the hull material by spectral analysis?”
“Belay that,” Louis said. “Hindmost, I don’t understand. How does knowing the hull material tell you who is aboard?”
“Trust me that it might.” If the hull is of a particular material. The explanation would tread too close to secrets long kept from Louis. “Voice. How close?”
“Not where the ship is now,” Voice said. “Nearer the star, with brighter light, then yes.”
“Does the music in your head say where that ship will go next?” Louis asked.
Hindmost considered. The endpoints of jumps had not caught his eye, only the timing. Was he missing a vital clue? But no: the ballet was performed on a stage, the dancers’ graceful leaps circumscribed by gravity. The ship that he watched so hopefully darted about in three dimensions. “No. Only when.
“Keep watch on that ship,” Hindmost added to the AI. “Tell me when it is near enough to the star for spectral analysis from a light-hour away, and when Long Shot could approach it with no other ship any closer.”
“Approaching an unknown ship? That seems very brave of you,” Louis said.
Hindmost turned both heads to stare. “There is no reason to be insulting.”
HINDMOST HAD BEEN STUDYING bridge displays for hours. His eyes ached. His thoughts grew fuzzy. He needed sleep.
He sang aloud the next several bars of the libretto that echoed in his brain, ordering Voice to watch for the mystery ship’s next moves.
Louis wandered past the bridge yet again.