“Except here I am,” said Ram Odin.
“You’re the twentieth Ram Odin left over from an earlier division, and you know it,” said Noxon. “You’re just being frivolous.”
“I am,” said Ram Odin. “I think the plan will work.”
“You talk about trusting us!” cried the mice. “But how can we trust you!”
“The mice are having trust issues,” said Noxon.
“The first time they tried to take over the ship, they signed their death warrants,” said Ram Odin. “Even if we never come back, they’ve had a day of life that they didn’t deserve.”
“Here’s why you can trust us,” said Noxon to the mice. “First, unlike you, we haven’t broken our word over and over again. Second, I could have you killed at any time and I haven’t, so why would I need to go to all this elaborate preparation to kill you now? If I don’t want you alive, you’re dead whenever I want. You can’t hide on my body if I take off my clothes, and you can’t hide anywhere else because the expendable can turn off the life support.”
“So I’m giving you continuous evidence that I am committed to your survival—provided you don’t endanger the survival of the human race, which means you stay in this ship and die with it.”
“I don’t know why you brought the mice along in the first place,” said Ram Odin.
“Because two of the wallfolds on Garden are shared with billions of sentient mice. I may need these as witnesses of what we do here. Or if I conclude that we do have to destroy the human race on Earth, then the mice can do it more easily and thoroughly than I can.”
“You’re the version of Rigg that isn’t murderous?” said Ram Odin.
“I’m here to save Garden,” said Noxon. “And it’s humans from Earth who destroy it. You do the math.”
“It’s ironic, that’s all,” said Ram Odin. “We created colony ships because that comet came so close to the kind of impact that would destroy all life on Earth. We had to create a colony so humans would exist on more than one world. And now you come back and destroy the human race on Earth.”
“I’ve come back to find out why Earth decided to destroy Garden,” said Noxon, “and talk them out of it, if I can. But I’m going to save the nineteen wallfolds of Garden, one way or another. Humanity may have arisen here, but that doesn’t mean they have a right to destroy Garden after 11,191 years of history there.”
“I agree,” said Ram Odin. “I’m just noting the irony.”
“Noted,” said Noxon.
“I’m afraid to die,” said one of the mice.
“You would hardly be sentient if you weren’t,” said Noxon. “But you are sentient, and that’s why I’m not going to leave you here, dead. I’m going to change the future if I can. Either way, I’ll come back and get you. Just remember that you will die, the first time through. But when I retrieve you, you’ll have no memory of that death. And you’ll know, once again, that I keep my word—even though you don’t.”
“So it’s settled,” said Ram Odin. “We park the ship where ice will cover it. Then you and I leave the ship and use the flyer to get us to a place that will someday be reasonably well-inhabited. From there we travel into the future, while the flyer—and our expendable friend—go back to the starship, kill everybody, and shut down all the systems. But we return in time to stop any of that from happening.”
“That’s the plan,” said Noxon.
“Only one problem,” said Ram Odin. “Fuel.”
“Oh?” asked Noxon.
“This ship can set down on a planetary surface,” said Ram Odin. “But on Garden, it was a bit of a sharp collision, right?”
“An extinction-level event,” said the expendable. “By design.”
“If we land more gently and nondestructively, can we get back up into space?” asked Ram Odin.
“We have been performing those calculations during your discussion of the ethics of temporary musicide,” said the expendable. “Since we made the return voyage to Earth without expending any fuel at all, and we began that voyage halfway through the huge energy expenditure of creating the fold and leaping into it, we definitely have enough fuel for a trivial task like rising from the surface of a small rocky planet and getting back to scoop velocity.”
Noxon had learned enough to know this meant the speed at which the powerful collection field could be extended to gather interstellar hydrogen and other dust to turn it into the plasma that fueled the ship.
“Then I think we’re all set,” said Noxon. “All that remains is to choose the right time. For that, Ram and I need to leave the ship for a while. And that means that the mice go back into the box.”
“No it doesn’t,” said a mouse.
Noxon took Ram Odin’s hand. “Expendable, please pick the mice off my body so I can begin time-slicing while you reduce the oxygen inside the ship to zero. It will mean I can’t come back and revive the mice, but that’s their decision.”
The mice scampered off his body and returned to the box, which the expendable was holding open for them. “You see we’re complying,” said a mouse.
“I’ll keep my word,” said Noxon, “but since I know you won’t, I can’t leave you in a position to alter the ship’s programming.”
“We already gave our word, but we understand your lack of trust,” said the mouse. “We’ll look forward to your return.”
“Come with us to the flyer,” said Noxon to the expendable.
When they were inside the flyer, Noxon ordered a complete disconnection from the ship.
“Now it’s time for you to tell us,” said Noxon. “Did the mice already alter the ship’s programming so that my instructions won’t be obeyed after I leave here?”
“They did not,” said the expendable.
Noxon thought for a moment, remembering how many times in the past Vadeshex and other expendables had told lies while adhering to the strict truth.
“I think I asked the wrong question,” said Noxon. “They wouldn’t have to alter the ship’s programming to make it so my instructions would be disobeyed, because I’m not the commander of this ship.”
The expendable said nothing.
“Ram Odin is the commander,” said Noxon. “Right?”
“Yes,” said the expendable.
“So any instructions I give are not binding. And he hasn’t given you any. So you could set the mice free, give them complete control of the ship, and you wouldn’t be violating any of your programming.”
“That is certainly possible,” said the expendable.
Ram Odin sighed. “I order you to obey all the instructions Rigg Noxon gave you, as if I had given them to you myself.”
“Yes, Ram Odin,” said the expendable.
“Now let me return to Noxon’s original question,” said Ram Odin. “Did the mice alter the ship’s programming, or your programming, so that once I’m away from the ship, you can disobey me?”
“No,” said the expendable.
“Try it again,” said Noxon. “They may not have altered the programs. All they would have to do is invoke a protocol naming them as your successors in command of the ship from the moment you physically leave it.”
“Is that what they did?” Ram Odin asked the expendable.
“If they did, the ship’s computers haven’t informed me of it,” said the expendable.
“Here on the flyer, with the doors sealed,” said Noxon, “is Ram Odin already considered to be away from the ship?”
“Yes,” said the expendable.
“Reconnect me to the ship,” said Ram Odin.
“Yes,” said the expendable.
Connections were reestablished. Doors opened.
“I don’t think you can come with me,” said Noxon.
“Oh, I think I can,” said Ram Odin. “There’s just something I need to do first.” Ram Odin led the way back onto the ship and into the room where the box of mice was sitting.