The Collected Stories of Vernor Vinge (40 page)
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Authors: Vernor Vinge
BOOK: The Collected Stories of Vernor Vinge
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He gestured at the red and black landscape shimmering in the superheated air below them. “Are you sure you still want to come down with my landing party?”
She nodded. “I certainly do. It’s not as dangerous as it looks. We’ll be going many kilometers inland before we set down. I’m—doing a little reconnaissance here myself. I’ve never been in this part of the world.”
FURTHER CONVERSATION BECAME IMPOSSIBLE AS THE NUCLEAR JETS LIT UP TO angle the
Diligence
down toward the black ridges that thrust up between the rivulets of fire. The jets were just one of many anachronisms in the New Providencian military machine. Apparently they had been salvaged from one of the colony’s original helicopters. With them, the dirigible could make nearly fifty kilometers per hour in level flight.
Diligence
down toward the black ridges that thrust up between the rivulets of fire. The jets were just one of many anachronisms in the New Providencian military machine. Apparently they had been salvaged from one of the colony’s original helicopters. With them, the dirigible could make nearly fifty kilometers per hour in level flight.
The
Diligence
flew inland until the ground below was solid and cold. The airship descended rapidly, then leveled off just before its nose skid rasped across the jagged volcanic slag. Heavy grapnels were thrown out and the ship was drawn to Earth.
Diligence
flew inland until the ground below was solid and cold. The airship descended rapidly, then leveled off just before its nose skid rasped across the jagged volcanic slag. Heavy grapnels were thrown out and the ship was drawn to Earth.
Vicente called to Ship’s Captain Oswald, “Who’ll be in charge of my ground party?”
“Flight corporal Nord,” the officer said, pointing to a tall, muscular man, who together with three others was dragging explosives and equipment out of the
Diligence’s
cramped hold. “We’ll stay on the ground just long enough to drop you off, Citizen Quintero. We’re at the mercy
of every breeze down here. We’ll come back for you in twenty-two hours, unless you signal us earlier.” He glanced at Martha. “Citizen Blount, I suggest you forego this landing. The country is pretty rough.”
Diligence’s
cramped hold. “We’ll stay on the ground just long enough to drop you off, Citizen Quintero. We’re at the mercy
of every breeze down here. We’ll come back for you in twenty-two hours, unless you signal us earlier.” He glanced at Martha. “Citizen Blount, I suggest you forego this landing. The country is pretty rough.”
Martha looked back at him, and seemed faintly annoyed. “No, I insist.”
Oswald frowned, but did not press the matter. “Very well. See you in a day or so.”
Nord and two of the riflemen were the first to hit ground. Martha followed them. Then came Vicente, loaded down with his own special equipment. Two more riflemen with the explosives brought up the rear.
The landing site was a flat area at the top of a narrow ridge. The seven of them clambered down the hillside as the huge aircraft’s engines throttled up. By the time they reached the bottom of the ravine that followed the ridge, the
Diligence
was already floating five hundred meters over their heads.
Diligence
was already floating five hundred meters over their heads.
“Let’s follow this gorge inland a bit,” said Quintero. “From what I could see before we landed, it should widen out to where we can do some blasting without risking an avalanche.”
“Anything you say,” Nord replied indifferently. Chente watched the man silently as the other moved on ahead. One way or another, this would not be a routine exploration.
THE NEW PROVIDENCIANS SPENT MOST OF THE AFTERNOON SETTING OFF EXPLOSIVES in the slag. Their firecrackers were bulky and heavy, and the work went slowly. The bombs didn’t amount to more than half a ton of TNT, a microscopically small charge to obtain any information about conditions within the planet. Fortunately Chente’s instruments didn’t measure mechanical vibrations as such, but considerably more subtle effects. Even so he had to rely on coincidence counters and considerable statistical analysis to derive a picture of what went on hundreds of kilometers below.
Toward evening the sky became overcast and it began to drizzle. Chente called off their work. In fact, his survey was now complete, and his grim conclusions were beyond doubt. A stiff breeze kept anyone from suggesting that they call down the
Diligence
. Even with perfect visibility, Oswald probably couldn’t have brought the airship in against that wind.
Diligence
. Even with perfect visibility, Oswald probably couldn’t have brought the airship in against that wind.
By the time they set up camp in a deep hollow—almost a cave—beneath the cliff face, they were all thoroughly soaked. Nord put two of his men on watch at the entrance to the hollow, and the rest of the party took to their sleeping bags.
As the hours passed, the rain fell more heavily, and from the west the steady hissing of the lava masked nearly all other sounds. Abruptly,
the cylinder that rested in Chente’s hand vibrated against his palm: someone was tampering with his equipment. Chente raised his head and looked about the cavelet. The darkness was complete. He couldn’t even see the sleeping bag he lay in. But now the years of training paid off: Chente relaxed, suppressed all background noise and listened for nearby sounds. There! At least one person was standing in his immediate vicinity. The fellow’s breathing was shallow, excited. Farther away, toward the equipment cache, he could now hear even fainter sounds.
the cylinder that rested in Chente’s hand vibrated against his palm: someone was tampering with his equipment. Chente raised his head and looked about the cavelet. The darkness was complete. He couldn’t even see the sleeping bag he lay in. But now the years of training paid off: Chente relaxed, suppressed all background noise and listened for nearby sounds. There! At least one person was standing in his immediate vicinity. The fellow’s breathing was shallow, excited. Farther away, toward the equipment cache, he could now hear even fainter sounds.
Quintero slipped quietly out of the sleeping bag which he had prudently left unbuttoned and moved toward the cavelet entrance, lifting and lowering his feet precisely to avoid the irregularities he remembered in the rocky ground. He probably would have got clear anyway, as the distant hissing and the sound of rain covered whatever sounds he made. He didn’t dare pick up any equipment, however; he was forced to settle on what he’d kept with him.
Twenty meters out into the rain, he turned and lay down behind a small, sharp hummock of lava. He drew his tiny pistol. Several minutes passed. These were the most cautious assassins he had ever seen. As if to rebut the thought, two of the guards’ hand torches lit. Their yellow beams shone down upon his and Martha’s sleeping bags. The two other guards held their rifles trained on the bags, ready to fusillade.
Before the riflemen could utter more than gasps of astonishment, Chente shouted, “Out here!” All but one of the men turned toward his voice. Chente raised his pistol and shot the one who still had his rifle pointed at the sleeping bags. There was no report or flash, but his target virtually exploded.
The hand torches were doused as everyone scrambled for cover. “Martha!” he shouted. “Get out. Run off to the side!”
He couldn’t tell whether she had, but he kept up a steady covering fire, sending stone chips flying in all directions off the cavelet’s entrance.
Then someone stuck one of the torches on a pole and hoisted it up. The others moved briefly into the open to fire all at once down upon his exposed position. But the Earthman got off one last shot—into the explosives.
The concussion smashed the ground up into his face, and he never heard the cliffside fall across the cavelet, entombing his enemies.
SOMEONE WAS SHAKING HIM, AND HE FELT A NOSE AND A FOREHEAD NESTLED against the back of his neck. “Chente, please don’t die again, please,” came Martha’s voice.
Chente stirred and looked into the wet darkness. His ears were buzzing, and the left side of his head was one vast ache.
“You all right?” he asked Martha.
“Yes,” she said. Her hands tightened momentarily against him, but her voice was much calmer. Now that he was conscious she retreated again into a shell of relative formality. “The others must be dead though. The whole overhang came down on them. I followed the edge of the landfall trying to find you. You were not more than a couple of meters beyond it.”
“You knew about this plan beforehand?” Chente’s soft question was almost a statement.
“Yes—I mean,
no
. There were rumors that our Special Weapons Group killed the first Chente in an unsuccessful attempt to take his communications bomb. I believed those rumors. We used one of our bombs in the Nuclear Exchange of Year 317. The Special Weapons people have devised new uses, new delivery systems for our two remaining bombs, but what they really need are more nukes. In the last few months, I’ve had reports that the Weapons people are more eager than ever to get another bomb, that they have some special need for it. When you arrived, I was sure that between the Ontarians and our Weapons Group someone would try to kill you.”
no
. There were rumors that our Special Weapons Group killed the first Chente in an unsuccessful attempt to take his communications bomb. I believed those rumors. We used one of our bombs in the Nuclear Exchange of Year 317. The Special Weapons people have devised new uses, new delivery systems for our two remaining bombs, but what they really need are more nukes. In the last few months, I’ve had reports that the Weapons people are more eager than ever to get another bomb, that they have some special need for it. When you arrived, I was sure that between the Ontarians and our Weapons Group someone would try to kill you.”
Chente shook his head, trying to end the buzzing pain. The motion only made him want to be sick. Finally he said, “Their assassination attempt seems incredibly clumsy. Why didn’t they just do away with me once we were airborne?”
Now the Providencian ambassador seemed completely in control of herself. She said quietly, “That was partly my doing. I knew the Weapons people were waiting for another agent to be sent from Earth. When you came through, I made sure you were assigned to an airship crewed by regular Navy men. I was sure it was safe. For years Oswald has been part of the Navy faction opposed to the Special Weapons Group. But somehow they must have got through to him, and at least a few of his crewmen. Their murder attempt was clumsy, but it was a lot more than I had expected, under the circumstances.”
Chente sat up and propped his head against his hands. This morass of New Providencian intrigue was not completely unexpected, but it was ludicrous. Even if the conspirators could dig his bomb out of the avalanche, it could not be fused without a voice-code spoken by Chente himself. He saw now his mistake in not revealing that fact upon landing. He had thought that all his dire warnings about the colonists’ common peril would be enough to get cooperation. The situation was all the more ludicrous since he had seen how real the danger of core collapse was.
“MARTHA, DO YOU KNOW WHAT I DISCOVERED DURING MY SURVEY?”
“No.” She sounded faintly puzzled by this sudden change in topic.
“In one hundred fifty years or so there will be another core tremor,
about as serious as the one you call the Cataclysm. You people simply don’t have time to fight among yourselves. Your only option is to cooperate, to develop a technology advanced enough to ensure your survival.”
about as serious as the one you call the Cataclysm. You people simply don’t have time to fight among yourselves. Your only option is to cooperate, to develop a technology advanced enough to ensure your survival.”
“I see … Then the Special Weapons Group are fools as well as murderers. We should be working together to win the Ontarian war, so we can put all our resources into preparing for the next Cataclysm.”
Chente wondered briefly if he were hallucinating. He tried again to explain. “I mean the war itself must be ended; not through victory, but simply through an end of hostilities. You need the Ontarians as much as they need you.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “Chente, you don’t realize what a ruthless, hedonistic crew the Ontarian rulers are. Until they’re eliminated, New Providence will go on bleeding, so that no steps can be taken to protect us from the next Cataclysm.”
Chente sighed, realizing that further argument would get him nowhere: he knew his own planet’s history too well. He changed the subject. “Are there any settlements on the Fragge?”
“No cities, but there is at least one village about five hundred kilometers southeast of here. It’s in the single pocket of arable land that’s been discovered on the Fragge.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad. If we start out before dawn, we may be able to avoid Oswald’s—”
“Chente, between here and wherever that village is, there’s not a single plant or animal we can eat without poisoning ourselves.”
“You’d rather take your chance with Oswald?”
“Certainly. It’s obvious that not everyone aboard the
Diligence
was in on this.”
Diligence
was in on this.”
“Martha, I think we can make it through to that village.” He felt too dizzy to explain how. “Will you come along?”
Even in the darkness, he thought he felt a certain amount of amusement in her answer. “Very well … I could hardly return to the
Diligence
alone, anyway. It would give away the fact that you’re out here somewhere.” Her hand brushed briefly across his shoulder.
Diligence
alone, anyway. It would give away the fact that you’re out here somewhere.” Her hand brushed briefly across his shoulder.
THEY STARTED INLAND AT THE MORNING’S FIRST LIGHT, FOLLOWING ALONG the bottom of one of the innumerable tiny ravines cut through the black rock. A temporary but good-sized stream ran down the middle so that they had to walk along the steep, rough ground near the side of the ravine. The buzzing was gone from Chente’s head, but some of the dizziness remained. He was beginning to think that his inner ear had been “tumbled” by the explosion, giving him a permanent, though mild, case of motion sickness.
Martha appeared to be in much better condition. Quintero noticed that since she had made up her mind to come along, she seemed to be doing her best to ignore the fact that they were without food, or a reliable means of navigation.
Toward noon they drank rain water from a shallow puddle in the rocks. Twice during the afternoon Chente thought he heard the engines of the
Diligence
, nearly masked by the volcanic thunder to the west. By late afternoon, he estimated they were twenty kilometers inland—excellent progress, considering the ground they were crossing. The ravine became steadily shallower, until finally they left the lava fields and crossed into a much older countryside. The cloud cover swept away and the westering sun shone down from an orange-red sky upon the savannah-like plain ahead of them. That plain was not covered by grass, but by low, multiple-rooted plants that rose like thick green spiders from the ground.
Diligence
, nearly masked by the volcanic thunder to the west. By late afternoon, he estimated they were twenty kilometers inland—excellent progress, considering the ground they were crossing. The ravine became steadily shallower, until finally they left the lava fields and crossed into a much older countryside. The cloud cover swept away and the westering sun shone down from an orange-red sky upon the savannah-like plain ahead of them. That plain was not covered by grass, but by low, multiple-rooted plants that rose like thick green spiders from the ground.
Chente glanced at the sun, and then at the girl who trudged doggedly on beside him. Her initial reserves of energy were gone now and her face was set in lines of fatigue. “Rest break,” he said, as they entered the greenery. They dropped down onto plants which, despite their disquieting appearance, felt soft and resilient—something like iceplant back on Earth. The abrupt movement made the world spin giddily around Chente’s head. He waited grimly until the wave of dizziness passed, then pulled an oblong case from a pocket and began fiddling. Finally Martha spoke, her tired voice devoid of sarcasm, “Some Earthside magic? You’re going to materialize some food?”
“Something like that.” A small screen flashed to life on the wide side of the oblong. He sharpened the image, but it was still no more than abstract art to the uninitiated: a mixed jumble of blue and green and brown. He didn’t look up as he said, “Martha, did you know that the starship left several satellites in orbit before it landed on New Canada?”
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