A Deepness in the Sky (54 page)

Birbop grabbed the tip of the rope from Alequere and raced ten or fifteen feet up the wall, nimbly taking advantage of every grasp point the way only the very young can. He wiggled the rope at his sister, daring her to try to drag him down. When she did so, he jerked it back and climbed upward another five feet. He was just like Rhapsa used to be, maybe even a bit more nimble.

"Not so high, Birbop, you'll fall!"—and Viki was sounding just like Daddy now.

The walls stretched up and up above the baby. And at the top, fifty feet above them, was the tiny window. Behind herself, Viki saw Gokna start with surprise. "Are you thinking what I am?" Viki said.

"P-probably. When she was little, Rhapsa could have climbed to the top." Their kidnappers weren't as smart as they thought. Anyone who had looked after babies would know better. But both the male kidnappers were young, current-generation.

"But if he falls—"

If he fell, there would be no gymnet base web, not even a soft carpet. A two-year-old might weigh fifteen or twenty pounds. They loved to climb; it was as if they sensed that once they got big and heavy, they'd be stuck with climbing stairs and making only the most trivial jumps. Babies could fall a lot farther than grown-ups without serious injury, but long falls would still kill them. Two-year-olds didn't know that. A simple suggestion would send Birbop off for the window at the top. The chances were good that he would make it... .

Normally, Viki and Gokna would jump into any wild scheme, but this was someone else's life....The two stared at each other for a moment. "I—I don't know, Viki."

And if they did nothing? The babies would likely be killed along with the rest of them. There could be terrible consequences whatever they chose. Suddenly Viki was more frightened than she had ever been before; she walked across the floor to stand under the grinning Birbop. Her arms reached up as if with a life of their own, to coax the baby back down. She forced her arms down, forced her voice into a light, teasing tone. "Hi, Birbop! Do you think you can carry the twine all the way to that little window?"

Birbop tilted his head, turned his baby eyes upward. "Sure." And he was off, scuttling back and forth from weld patch to pipefitting, upward and upward.I owe you, little one, even if you don't know it.

On the ground, Alequere squawked outrage that Birbop should have all the attention. She jerked hard on the twine, leaving her brother dangling by three arms from a narrow ledge twenty feet up. Gokna scooped her off the floor and away from the twine, and handed her to Jirlib.

Viki tried to shake off the terror she felt; she watched the baby climb higher and higher.And if we can get to the window, then what? Throw out notes? But they had nothing to write with—and they didn't know just where they were or where the wind might carry a note....And suddenly she saw how one thing might solve two problems. "Brent, your jacket." She jerked her hands, waving for Gokna to help him take it off.

"Yes!" Gokna was pulling at the sleeves and pants almost before Viki finished talking. Brent stared in surprise for a second, and then he got the idea and started helping. His jacket was almost as big as Jirlib's, but without the slits down the back. The three of them stretched it flat between them and sidled this way and that, trying to track the lateral movements of the high-climbing Birbop. Maybe, even if he fell...It was the sort of thing that always worked in adventure stories. Somehow, standing here holding the jacket, it seemed absurd to imagine such success.

Alequere was still screeching, struggling to get out of Jirlib's grasp. Birbop laughed at her. He was quite happy to be at the center of attention, doing something he normally would have gotten whacked for. Forty feet up. He was slowing. The foot- and handholds were scarce; he was beyond the main ventilator fixtures. A couple of times he almost lost the twine as it slipped from hand to hand. He gathered himself on an impossibly narrow ledge and leaped sidewise up the remaining three feet—and one of his hands snagged the window grille. An instant later, his body was silhouetted in the light.

With only two eyes, and those in front, babies almost had to turn around to see behind themselves. Now for the first time, Birbop looked down. His triumphant laughter choked as he saw just how far he had come, so far that even his baby instincts told him he was at risk. There were reasons parents didn't let you climb as high as you wanted. Birbop's arms and legs clamped reflexively to the grillework.

And they couldn't persuade him that no one could come up to help him, and that he could get down by himself. Viki had never imagined that this would be a problem. On the occasions that Rhapsa or Little Hrunk had escaped to unholy heights, neither had any trouble getting back down.

Just when it seemed that Birbop was in a permanent state of paralysis, his sister stopped crying and began laughing at him. After that, it wasn't hard to persuade him to thread the twine through the grillework and then use it as a kind of pulley to support his descent.

Most babies came on the idea themselves, sailing downward on play twine; maybe it went back to some animal memories. Birbop started down with five limbs wrapped securely around the descending strand and three others braking the ascending strand. But after he had descended a few feet and it became clear how smoothly the play twine worked, he was holding with just three arms—and then two. He bounced off the walls with his feet, flying downward like some pouncing tarant. Below him, Viki and the others hopped around in a vain effort to keep their makeshift net under him... and then he was down.

And they had a loop of play twine extending from the floor to the window grille and back. It glowed and twitched as it released stretch energy.

Gokna and Viki argued about which of them would do the next step. Viki won that one; she weighed under eighty pounds, the least of any of them. She pulled and swung on it while Brent and Gokna ripped the silk lining out of his jacket. The lining was dyed with red and ultra splotches. Better yet, it was constructed of folded layers; cutting it along the stitching gave them a banner that was light as smoke, but fifteen feet on a side. Surely someone would notice.

Gokna folded the lining down to a neat square and handed it to her. "The twine, you really think it'll hold?"

"Sure." Maybe. The stuff was slick and stretchy, like any good play twine—and what would happen when she stretched it all the way?

What Brent said comforted her more than any wishful thinking: "I think it will hold. I like to hang things in my designs. I took this from the mechanics lab."

Viki took off her own jacket, grabbed the homemade flag in her eating hands, and started up. In her rear view, the others dwindled into an anxious little pattern around the "safety net." Lot of good that would do if someone as big as her fell. She swayed out and in, bouncing step by step up the wall. Actually, it was easy. Even a full-grown adult wouldn't have trouble climbing a vertical with two support ropes—as long as the ropes held. As much as she watched the twine and the wall, she watched the doorway down below. Funny how she hadn't started worrying about interruptions until now. But success was so close. It would all be for nothing if one of the goons chose now to look in on them. Just a few more feet...

She slipped her forehands through the window grille, and hoisted herself close to the open air. There was no room to perch, and the grille bars were too close-set for even a baby to sneak through—but, ah, the view! They were at the top of one of the giant new buildings, at least thirty stories up. The sky had become a tumbling overcast, and the wind swept fiercely past the window. Her view downward was partly blocked by the shoulders of the building, but Princeton spread before her like some beautiful model. She had a straight view down one street, could see buses, automobiles, people. And if they looked in her direction...Viki unwrapped the jacket liner and poked it through the grille. The wind almost pulled it from her grasp. She caught hold more firmly, tearing the fabric with points of her hands. The stuff was so flimsy! Gently, carefully she pulled the ends back, tied them in four separate places. Now the wind spread the colored square out from the side of the building. The fabric snapped in the wind, sometimes rising to cover the window, sometimes falling against the stonework below her view.

One last look at freedom: Out where the land met the overcast, city hills disappeared in the murk. But Viki could see enough to orient herself. There was a hill, not quite so high as the others, but with a spiraling pattern of streets and buildings. Hill House! She could see all the way home!

Viki sailed down from the window, gleeful out of all proportion. They would win yet! She and the others pulled down the sparkling twine, hid it back in Brent's jacket. They sat in the gathering dimness, wondering when their jailers would show up again, arguing about what to do when that happened. The afternoon got awfully dark and the rain started. Still, the sound of fabric snapping in the wind was a comfort.

Sometime after midnight, the storm tore the banner free and lost it in the darkness.

THIRTY

The Right of Petition to the Podmaster was a convenient tradition. It even had a basis in historical fact, though Tomas Nau was sure that centuries ago, in the middle of the Plague Times, the only petitions granted were matters of propaganda. In modern times, the manipulation of petitions had been Uncle Alan's preferred way of maintaining popularity and undermining rival factions.

It was a clever tactic, as long as you avoided Alan's mistake of allowing assassins as petitioners. In the twenty-four years since their arrival at OnOff, Tomas Nau had passed on about a dozen petitions. This one today was the first that had claimed "time is of the essence."

Nau looked across the table at the five petitioners. Correction: representatives of Petitioners. They claimed one hundred backers, and on just 8Ksec notice. Nau smiled, waved them to their seats. "Pilot Manager Xin. You are senior, I believe. Please explain your Petition."

"Yes, Podmaster." Xin glanced at his girlfriend, Rita Liao. Both were Emergents from the home world, from families that had contributed Focused and Followers for more than three hundred years. Such were the backbone of the Emergent culture, and running them should have been easy. Alas, nothing was easy out here, twenty light-years from civilization. Xin was wordless for a second more. He stole a nervous glance at Kal Omo. Omo's returning look was very cold, and Nau suddenly wished he'd taken time to be briefed by the podsergeant. With Brughel currently off-Watch, there would be no one to blame if he had to deny the Petition.

"As you know, Podmaster, many of us are working with the ground analysis. Many more have a general interest in the Spiders we watch—"

Nau gave him a gentle smile. "I know. You hang out at Benny's and listen to the translations."

"Yes, sir. Um. We very much like ‘The Children's Hour,' and some of the story translations. They help us with our analysis. And..." His eyes got a faraway look. "I don't know. The Spiders have a whole world down there, even if they aren't human. Compared to us, sometimes they seem more—"Real, Nau was sure he was going to say. "I mean, we've come to be fond of some of the Spider children."

As planned.The live translations were heavily buffered now. They had never discovered precisely what caused the mindrot runaway—or even if it had been connected with the live show. Anne figured that the current risk was no more than that of their other operations. Nau reached to his right, gently touched Qiwi's hand. She smiled back. The Spider children were important. This was something he might never have understood if not for Qiwi Lisolet. Qiwi had been so good for so much. Watching her, talking to her, deceiving her—there was so much to learn. Real children would be an impossible drain on L1's resources, butsomething had to substitute. Qiwi and her schemes and her dreams had shown him the way. "We're all fond of the cobblies, Pilot Manager. Your petition has something to do with the kidnapping?"

"Yes, sir. It's been seventy Ksec since the abduction. The ‘Accord' Spiders are using their best comm and intelligence gear more intensely than ever before. It's not doingthem any good, but our zipheads are getting a lot from it. The Accord microwave links have been full of intercepted Kindred messages. Most of the Kindred encryption is algorithmic, not one-time pads. The Accord can't break any of it, but the algorithms, are easy for us. For the last forty Ksec, we—I—have been using our translators and analysts. I think I know where the children are being held. Five analysts give near certainty that—"

"Five analysts, three translators, and part of the snoop array over on theInvisible Hand. " Reynolt's voice was loud and implacable, overriding Xin's. "In addition, Manager Xin has been using almost a third of the support hardware."

Omo came on like a chorus, perhaps the first time Nau had ever seen Reynolt and Security in such concert: "And furthermore, it couldn't happen unless the Pilot Manager and a few other privileged managers were using emergency resource codes." Sergeant Omo's glance flickered across the petitioners. They shrank before his gaze, the Emergents more fearfully than Qeng Ho.Abuse of the community's resources. It was the primal sin. Nau smiled to himself. Brughel would have been still scarier, but Omo would do.

Nau raised his hand, and silence spread across the room. "I understand, Podsergeant. I want a report from you and Director Reynolt as to any lasting damage that might result from this..." He wouldn't actually use the words. "...activity." He was silent for a moment more, schooling his expression as if to hide the conflict of a just man trying to reconcile the desires of individuals with the long-term needs of the community. He felt Qiwi squeeze his hand. "Pilot Manager, you understand that we can't reveal ourselves?"

Xin looked completely cowed. "Yes, Podmaster."

"You of all people should know how thin we are stretched here. After the fighting, we were short on Focus and staff. After the rotting runaway of a few Watches back, we are even more lacking in Focus. We have no capital equipment, few weapons, and scarcely even an in-system transport capability. Wemight be able to intimidate a Spider faction or ally ourselves with one, but the risks would be enormous. Our surest course is the one we have pursued ever since the Diem Massacre: We must wait and lurk. We are just a few years short of this world's Information Age. Eventually, we will establish human automation in the Spiders' networks. Eventually they will have a civilization that can restore our ships, and one that we can safely manage. Till then...till then, we dare not take any direct action."