The Smoke Ring

They split off. Harry grumbling.

Rather followed his father up through the tu

“No,” Gavving said without looking down.

The treadmill was at rest. Debby and Jeffer lay in the foliage nearby, eating and talking. They sat up when Gavving appeared. “Got him,” Gavving said.

This must have something to do with the Serjent family; and the conference before the last sleep, from which children were barred; and the arguments that divided half the families in the tree. Do my mothers know about this? Would they approve? Rather asked instead, “Should we have brought Carlot?”

“No need. Rather, we have to find out something.” Gavving pointed at a short, faceless fat man made of silvery metal. “Try that on.”

“The silver suit?”

“Yeah. See if you can get into it.”

Rather looked it over. This thing had a fearsome, quasiscientific reputation. It was a flying fighting machine, stronger than crossbow bolts, stronger than the airlessness beyond all that was known. Rather had never before seen it with its head closed.

Jeffer instructed him. “Lift this latch. Take the head and turn it. Pull up. Turn it the other way.”

The head came up on a hinge.

“This latch too. Now pull this down…now pull it apart…good.”

The suit was open down the front, and empty.

“Can you get in?”

“Where’s Mark?”

“Debby?”

“No problem. We relieved him and he took Karilly to the kitchen.”

“Father…wait. Listen. I’m the only boy in the tree with two mothers and two fathers.” Rather plunged on despite the sudden hurt in Gavving’s face. “We’ve never talked about this, but I always knew…sooner or later I’d…does Mark know what you’re doing with the silver suit?”

“No.”

“What’s it all about?” Four big adults could make him do whatever they wanted; and it didn’t matter. They needed his cooperation, and he didn’t know enough to give it.

Jeffer the Scientist said, “It’s about seeing what’s outside Citizens Tree. It’s learning about the Smoke Ring, what we can use, what we need to be afraid of. Or else it’s about staying savages until someone comes out of the sky to teach us the hard way.”

“We’re going to the Clump,” Gavving said. “We’ll be safer if we can take the Silver Man.”

“Uh-huh. Mark doesn’t want to go?”

“Right.”

They watched as Rather tried to get into the suit. He had to get his legs in first, then duck under the neck ring.

He closed the sliding catches, the headpiece, the latches.

The suit was loose around his belly, snug everywhere else. “It fits.”

Jeffer closed the helmet on him. He rotated it left until it dropped two mi’meters, then right.

Rather was locked in a box his own size and shape.

The suit smelled faintly of former occupants, of exertion and fear. He moved his arms, then his legs, against faint resistance. He turned and reached and plucked a handful of foliage…good. He could move. He could move like a normal man.

The air was getting stale…but Jeffer was already turning the helmet, lifting it. The adults were smiling at each other. Gavving said, “Okay. Get out of it.”

Getting out of the silver suit was as difficult as getting in. Rather said, “Now tell me.”

“Some of us are going to visit the Clump. Do you want to come with us?”

“Who’s going? How long will it take?”

“Me,” said Jeffer. “Gavving. Booce and Ryllin. Anthon and Debby. The Clump is all jungle giants. We need people that size.”

“How does the Chairman—”

“He’ll try to stop us.”

“Father, I don’t really like the thought of not ever coming home.”

Gavving shook his head. “They’ll want the CARM back. They’ll want us back too. Citizens Tree isn’t so crowded that they can afford to lose anyone who breathes. They’ll want to know what we learned. They’ll want what we bring back. Half the citizens are on our side anyway; they just don’t want to buck the Chairman.”

“You’re taking the carm?”

“We are.” Gavving clapped him on the shoulder. “Think about it. We’ve got two sleeps to get ready. Whatever you decide, don’t mention this to anyone, particularly your mothers.”

“Father, you’d better tell it all.” Rather didn’t consider whether he had the right to ask. Clave wouldn’t like this; Minya wouldn’t like it; and if he agreed to this — it was only just coming to him — if Rather agreed, then he was the Silver Man.

Jeffer said, “It isn’t just the wealth of the Clump Admiralty. It’s—”

“Tell me what you’re going to do.”

They told him.

Chapter Six

The Appearance of Mutiny

from Disciplined log, year 1893 State = 370 SM:

MEDICAL READOUTS SHOWED THAT THE INHABITANTS OF CARM #6 LIED TO ME. THEY REACTED STRONGLY TO ACCUSATION OF MUTINY. I LOST MY CHANCE TO QUESTION THEM IN DETAIL. THEY MAY HAVE MUTINIED AGAINST LEGITIMATE HOLDERS OF THE CARM. HEREDITY WILL TELL.

IT’S A BAD HABIT. I WILL BREAK THEM OF IT.

CLAVE PULLED HIMSELF OUT OF THE ELEVATOR FIRST.

Wings were tethered next to the cage, and he pulled one free and tied it in place along his left shin. “This was a good idea, Gavving. Wings aren’t much use in the tuft.”

“Oh, we’ll keep some there too. Hunters used to carry jet pods. Wings are better. But there’s no point porting them up and down every time someone wants to fly. What are you doing?”

“Fixing this.” He chopped with his matchet at his other wing. When ten ce’meters were gone, he tied the wing to his right shin. He felt distinctly lopsided.

Jeffer and Gavving were also winged now. The three flapped out toward the CARM, spurning the convenient handholds the bark afforded. Clave’s flight wavered, then steadied. He’d been right. This was easier on the warped muscles in his thigh.

Jeffer was first through the airlock. “Prikazyvat Voice.”

The CARM’s deep voice said, “Ready, Jeffer the Scientist—”

A woman’s voice broke in. “Jeffer, it’s Lawri. I think I want to join you.”

“Come on up. Bring something to eat. We’ll be ru

“Will do. Lawri out.”

“What was that about?” Clave asked.

“Lawri doesn’t trust me with the CARM.” Jeffer laughed. “Now we refuel the beast.”

Clave sighed. “Pump?”

“Right. You pump while I do a checklist. Otherwise we’ll lose the pondlet when we go under thrust.”

Some pumping had been done, but megatons of water still nestled against the trunk. Clave ran the hose from the CARM to the pondlet. The pump was a wheel and a tube and piston, all carved from hard branchwood. Clave braced his back and arms against the bark and kicked the wheel around with his feet on the spokes. “Help would be appreciated,” he grunted.

Gavving joined him.

The pump leaked. The pond didn’t dwindle fast, but it dwindled. They broke to drink thirstily, then resumed pumping. The sun had dropped from zenith to nadir — which at the midyear was not behind Voy, but north by three full degrees — when Jeffer poked his head through the airlock. “Stop! The tank’s full!”

Clave tossed his head to shake some of the sweat out of his hair.

“Come inside.” Jeffer ushered them forward to the front row of seats. “Strap down.”

He tapped, and vertical blue dashes appeared in the panel below the window. Four clusters of four each at the corners of a square, and a larger dash in the center. He tapped the central dash.

The sound within the cabin was like the roaring of wind at the treemouth. Clave felt a featherweight of tide and knew the tree was in motion.

Jeffer told them, “We’re already placed right, with the motor aimed west. We thrust eastward. That puts Citizens Tree in a wider orbit, so we slow down and drift west, away from the Clump.”