The Smoke Ring

“Yes?”

“She’ll be wearing a vac suit within six years. Guardian is the highest rank there is, unless you were born an officer. You could do the same.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Talk to her yourself. Ask Booce, for that matter. Booce, we’ll fly down and inspect your Wart. Would you like to ride with us?”

“I’d be delighted.” Booce looked around at his crew and added, “We’d all be delighted.”

Gyrfalcon’s hull sported handholds everywhere. The Navy men spaced Logbearer’s people high along one flank. There were shelves for feet and straps to circle a waist (or just under the armpits on Rather). “Fighting vessel,” Clave whispered to Debby. “They can cover the hull with archers.”

Three Navy worked aft, around the motor. They ignored the civilians.

Something green was trying to grow on the wooden hull. Fluff, maybe. The wood had been scraped recently. Rather noticed that much before the rocket fired.

If Wheeler was trying to impress a barbarian dwarf, he succeeded. The rocket roared and spat flame. Rather felt his blood settling into his legs. The log’s rough bark surged past, accelerating. Aft, Wheeler and Murphy used toothed gears to point the nozzle. In a way it was more impressive than the CARM. You could see how it all worked.

The roar of the motor would cover his voice (and the fear in it). Rather asked, “Why don’t they let us inside?”

“Classified. Nobody knows what’s in a Navy ship,”

Carlot said. “We haven’t seen the whole crew, I’m sure of that. Rather, I noticed you staring at the, um, redhaired woman?”

Rather told a half-truth. “She looks short. I mean, it’s surprising, because she’s the same size I am. Mark never looked short.”

Carlot seemed to relax. “Well, no. He was bigger than you when you were growing up.”

Wheeler moved the nozzle ten degrees to port. The ship slewed around, spraying flame. He swiveled the nozzle starboard; the rotation slowed and stopped, and Gyrfalcon decelerated. It eased to a stop less than a hundred meters from the blister in the trunk.

“The bandits almost had it torn loose,” Wheeler observed.

Booce nodded.

The same four Navy perso

Rather was not really thinking of joining the Navy. He didn’t say so. “I don’t know enough to ask good questions.”

She smiled enchantingly. “Ask bad ones. I don’t mind.”

“What are the vac suits? Why are they important?”

“They’re old science, as old as the Library. They’re invulnerable,” she said. “The highest fighting rank is Guardian, and that’s the rank that wears the vac suits. There are supposed to be nine Guardians. We’ve got eight. This—” She rapped her helmet, then the plates on her thighs. “—It looks like this, but all over. You’ll get as high as Petty just because you’re the right shape, and then you find out if you actually fit into a vac suit.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t got that far yet.” She looked down at her protruding chestplate unhappily. “Maybe I won’t fit. I’d still keep my rank as Petty. Understand, you have to be qualified, you have to be trained. It’s just easier if you’re the right size.”

“Training. What’s it like?”

“They’ll put you through exercises. You may think you’re strong — you’re a tree dweller? I can see the muscles. But Petty Wheeler could tie you in knots. After you’ve been through training you could tie him in knots. I could, I think, and you’re stronger. Your people, do they use polar coordinates to find themselves?”

“No.”

“They’ll teach you how to find yourself in the sky. You’ll learn how to count, if you don’t know—”

“I can count.”

“You’ll learn how to work a rocket, not a steam rocket but a Navy rocket. They teach you how to obey too. You want to go in braced for that, Rather. A superior officer tells you to fly, you fly, wings or no.”

It sounded unpleasant. “Where do the Navy ships go?”

“Mmm…Where do you come from?”

“Citizens Tree. A little west of the Clump.”

“You’re not likely to visit your family. We don’t see many tree dwellers. We send ships outside the Clump, but not often, and never more than a few thousand klomters. Mostly we cruise the Clump itself. We collect taxes, of course—”

“Yeah.”

“We fight the wildlife. Dark sharks and other things. Citizens find a drillbit nest, or honey hornets, they call us and we burn it out.”

“Triunes too?”

“Oh, no, the triunes got the idea fast. They never attack us. Some of them like us. There’s a guy, Exec Martin, he hunts swordbirds with triunes. Nobody knows how bright they really are, but they can be trained.”

“Why do you burn honey hornets? Booce says they’re valuable.”

Her expression soured. “Honey is contraband. Put just a tip of a fingernail’s worth on your tongue, you dream wonderful dreams. Then you can’t stop. Use a little more and you die in ecstasy. Some people will pay a lot for that.”

Honey is suicide. Rather hadn’t realized that Booce meant it literally. He thought it over, then said, “But it’s their choice—”

She shook her head. “Not my decision. Then there’s detective work, and riot control, and rescue work. We don’t specialize much. You learn to do all of that, but first you learn how to fly a ship.”

“What happens to cadets who fail? Murphy, what happens to dwarves who fail?”

“Nothing. I mean, they’re out of the Navy, of course. They hire out or they build a business, maybe they go diving in the Dark for mushrooms and fan fungus, or they go logging. Hell, what does a logger do if he fails at something?” She looked closely at him. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m having trouble with this. There’re more people here, so there’s more places for people, right? If you can’t hunt or do earthlife farming, you just try something else?”

Murphy nodded brightly. “Next question?”

Would we see each other if I joined up? May I call you Sectry? “Thank you, Bosun.”

“Any time,” she said, and Sprang away. She coasted parallel to the bark, toward Wheeler as he emerged from behind the Wart.

“It’s big,” Wheeler called. “Booce Serjent, you’ve made your fortune.”

“Recouped it, anyway. The first thing I’ll do is rebuild Logbearer.”

“Yes…Well, I’ve seen enough. Eight thousand tons or so. Those scars on the metal—”

“We used the saw to get the slabs that make up the firebox. It worked better than I’d hoped. It’s a good substitute for sikenwire, and the saw’s not damaged.”

Wheeler nodded, satisfied. “Can we lift you back to your ship?”

“No, we need to cover this somehow before we reach the Market.”

“I think you’re worrying over nothing. How could anyone steal anything this big7”

“With saws…Well, you may be right.”

They watched Gyrfalcon steam toward the Clump interior. Something bright twinkled at the bow. “He’s calling home,” Booce said. “They use mirrors to bounce Voy-light where they want it.”

“What happens now?” Clave asked.

“Wheeler thinks I sawed off more metal than just those plates for the firebox. He’ll watch to see if I sell it on the black market. He could have bought the Wart on the spot, but he thinks I’ll give him a better price if he waits. A few days after we dock I’ll get an offer. It’ll be too little, and I’ll boost them a bit and then take it so I can stop guarding the metal—”

“What do we do now, Booce? Jeffer must be going crazy waiting for us to call in.”

“We’re still being watched.”

Gyrfalcon was tiny now. Its steam trail was dissipating.

Clave asked, “Can they still see? Have they got something like the CARM windows?”