23

“It’s too dangerous. We don’t know how the situation has evolved,” Nessus sang. The chords stuck in his throats, as though he were failing Baedeker. Perhaps he was. Perhaps he had hidden too long on New Terra, had lost all his skills. “For all we know, Achilles again rules.”

“We can’t discover the situation on Hearth until we go back,” Baedeker countered.

Both opinions were correct, and in the uneasy truce that followed the only sounds were faint whirrings from Long Shot’s ventilation fans and the low hum of the autodoc.

Nessus arched a neck to study the still figure within the autodoc. “Perhaps Louis can undertake an exploration for us.” But the idea was ludicrous. Louis would awaken with his memories of New Terra restored, with personal priorities to pursue.

“I respect Louis,” Baedeker sang, “but can he illuminate the political situation within the Concordance? Can he discern Ol’t’ro’s frame of mind? This time, Louis cannot help us. We must help ourselves.”

“Hindmost,” Voice interrupted. “I have a message for Louis from Alice, sent from Endurance.”

“Go ahead,” Baedeker sang.

“Louis, we’ve made contact with the ARM fleet. You have family aboard one of the ships! They would very much like to see you.” Voice switched from Alice’s voice, in English, to proper song. “I advised her that Louis is unavailable. She asked for specifics.”

Baedeker studied the status readouts. “He must stay in the autodoc for two more days.”

“I will inform Alice,” Voice sang.

“Assure her that he is well, that the process simply takes time.”

“I will,” Voice sang.

While Baedeker and Voice consulted, Nessus brooded. The premier scout of the Concordance fears to go home. Scared sane, he had described himself to Alice and that was the truth. A scout no longer, when one was desperately needed. He tasted bitter cud.

“Too few,” he sang softly.

“What is that?” Baedeker asked.

“Nothing. I was singing to myself.” Nessus stopped midmeasure. “Very few can bear to scout.”

“The burden is great and unfair,” Baedeker agreed. “Voice, can you finish that message for Alice?”

“Yes, Hindmost.”

Very few. Nessus felt the stirrings of an idea. “I might know crew aboard the Concordance observer ships. Or you might.”

“How?”

“With three ships of the Fleet here observing, how could we not know someone among the crews? Someone, perhaps, loyal to the rightful Hindmost.”

Baedeker considered, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof to hoof. “Among crew loyal to the present government.”

“Or to Achilles personally.”

With a mind of its own, one of Nessus’ hooves scraped at the deck. Some in the Concordance ships would be Achilles’ disciples. While hindmost of the scout academy, he had molded many an impressionable cadet to further his ambitions. As Achilles almost warped me.

“There are apt to be Gw’oth aboard, too,” Baedeker sang.

“Very likely,” Nessus agreed.

“Allies and enemies, both in much smaller numbers than in the Fleet,” Baedeker crooned, his undertunes pensive. Then, decisively, he added, “That was a prudent idea. Let us contact the Concordance ships and see what we can learn.”

*   *   *

“I AM PREPARED TO TRANSMIT on narrow beam,” Voice announced.

Baedeker stretched a neck into the tactical display, indicating with his tongue the Concordance vessel lurking farthest from the skirmishing. “A Citizen may have influence aboard that ship. We will try it first.”

“Yes, Hindmost,” Voice sang.

Nessus stood at the ready before the pilot’s console. He read and spoke Hero’s Tongue. “And I am prepared to run,” he sang.

“Hail the designated ship,” Baedeker sang. “Put it on speaker.”

“We wish to speak with the hindmost of the Concordance vessel.” The recorded message was audio-only. It began in Baedeker’s voices, then switched to Nessus’ song. Anyone with whom they dare confer should recognize their voices. “We are far from home and seek guidance.”

“We have a response,” Voice sang. “Also audio only.”

“Do not speak on the link, Voice,” Baedeker sang. “Put them on.”

Understood, Hindmost.

“This is the Concordance vessel Amity. To whom am I speaking?”

“Our ship does not carry a Concordance designation,” Baedeker lied. He was not about to identify Long Shot in the clear. “Is your hindmost present?”

“Minerva is off duty,” the unfamiliar voices sang. “May I help?”

Minerva! Some of the tension drained from Baedeker. “I must speak with Minerva. At once.”

“Who is this?” the voices on Amity asked.

“Friends of Minerva. I can sing no more.” Baedeker loaded his voices with authoritative undertunes. “You may tell him we worked together twice before.” As Minister of Science and again as Hindmost, Baedeker had been fortunate to have Minerva as his chief aide.

“Very well,” the unseen Citizen decided. “I will relay your message.”

“Thank you.” Mute, Baedeker signaled with a swipe of a head. “He’ll come,” he sang to Nessus. As the link stayed quiescent, Baedeker sang again, more softly and to himself, “Minerva will come.”

The link returned to life. “Who is this?” so-familiar voices sang. Minerva!

Baedeker unmuted the link. “A very old friend.”

“And a second,” Nessus added.

“One moment,” Minerva sang. They heard him order the bridge cleared. A hatch clanged shut. “We need a secure link.”

“I have software”—at least, Voice did—“but no current keys,” Baedeker sang. “If you know my voices, perhaps you will know this.” He alluded with subtle indirection to the planetary-drive research program at the Ministry of Science. “Do you recall our name for that project?”

“Yes, Hind.… That is, yes. I remember.”

“We will use that term as the encryption key.”

“Agreed.”

Baedeker tongued in the key for Voice.

I have a secure connection, Voice reported.

Open video, Baedeker keyed back. The holo that opened showed an old and trusted friend. “Minerva.”

“Hindmost! You have been gone for so long! I had not expected to meet you here. Or you, Nessus.”

“It is a long story,” Baedeker sang. “I was marooned. Fortunately, I escaped the Ringworld before it disappeared.”

“I would not have guessed.” For a moment, Minerva looked wistful. “I had come to think you had joined Nike.”

Joined Nike. The chords bowed with despairing undertunes, sagged beneath a counterpoint of burdens too long borne. It was a melody yearning for the final release.

But Nike’s disappearance reflected nothing as ordinary as death. As Gw’oth war fleets had swooped down upon Hearth, Nike and his aides fled into the Concordance’s deepest, most secret hiding place—locking the door behind them. Nike was the sane one during the crisis.

No one had heard since from him. Few knew of the Hindmost’s Refuge as anything other than ancient fable. For all Minerva knew, Nike was dead.

“I will never forsake the herd,” Baedeker sang. “I left seeking a way to free everyone.”

Minerva glanced nervously at the closed bridge hatch. “I have company on this ship.”

Company rang with undertunes of unease. For others to hold dominance over the ship’s hindmost.…

“That is why I reached out,” Baedeker sang. “To understand the state of affairs on Hearth. That your ship has a Gw’o aboard tells me much.”

“We have three. They are in their habitat at present.”

Not a Gw’otesht. “Only a little smarter, then, than us.” Baedeker permitted himself a quick, one-eyed smile. “I came to the Ringworld for advanced technology, something to entice Ol’t’ro. Do you think a trade is possible?”

Minerva trembled. “I know very little. On occasion I have participated in ministerial meetings, representing Clandestine Directorate. When ‘Chiron’ sings, the Hindmost heeds. Always Chiron wants more resources for his research.”

“That sounds encouraging,” Nessus sang.

Baedeker thought any optimism was premature. “Who is Hindmost?” Unless I get back safely, I cannot negotiate with Ol’t’ro.

“The current Hindmost is Horatius,” Minerva sang.

“Who?” Nessus asked.

“The most recent Conservative to preside.” Minerva sang a formal name. “Conservatives do not last long after finding out who truly rules.”

“Yet this one deemed himself Horatius defending the bridge,” Nessus sang. “I think I would like this Conservative.”

Holding the bridge against whom? An army of the Etruscans, maybe. Or Babylonians. Maybe Mayans. Nessus was the one who had studied human myth and history. But Baedeker had come to understand—painfully mastered, over the years—the art of politics. “Who are Horatius’ leading ministers?”

Baedeker did not know most of them, either. Except one: Achilles. “How much influence does he retain?”

“A great deal.” Minerva hesitated. “You will not understand until I review some events since you left the Fleet.”

More bad news? “Proceed,” Baedeker sang.

Minerva took time to gather his thoughts. “After the Ringworld expedition, Nessus’ crew returned to their homes knowing the location of the Fleet.”

“And nothing came of that,” Baedeker sang. He shot a quick, sorrowful glance at his mate. Exchanging long-held secrets, Nessus had confessed to wanting ARM and Patriarchy navies to descend upon Hearth. But had that scheme for chasing off the Gw’oth been any less mad or desperate than Baedeker’s own? Hardly.

Minerva lowered his heads subserviently. “For many years, that was the case. The distances were great. The secrets of the Ringworld beckoned. But after the two of you left…”

Fled, their friend meant. “Sing plainly,” Baedeker directed.

“Aliens began to arrive.” Minerva looked away. “Not in large numbers. Their strength had all been sent to the Ringworld. But still, aliens were among the Fleet. Watching. Demanding commercial relations. Every group of aliens scheming to embroil us in its rivalries against the others. Having been permitted to open embassies on Nature Preserve Three, they push to establish presences on Hearth itself.”

“Have they learned about New Terra?” Baedeker asked.

“No, Hindmost.”

“They may know soon,” Nessus sang sadly. “A New Terran ship brought me here.”

Minerva sang, “It will find ARM ships and reveal the shameful past.”

“So I fear,” Nessus sang.

“About conditions in the Fleet,” Baedeker prompted.

“I apologize, Hindmost,” Minerva sang. In broken melodies and with disheartening grace notes, he told the sordid tale: Chiron judging the old, automated defense arrays inadequate. An artificial intelligence given control of the array. Proteus getting more and more enhancements—and since Ringworld’s disappearance, yet more capacity and new capabilities.

What would my old friend think of Voice? Baedeker wondered. But the circumstances were not the same. Voice was a companion, little more. To surround Hearth and herd with weapons under the control of an AI?

“Let me guess,” Nessus sang. “Achilles built Proteus. In the process, he has made himself indispensable.”

“As you sing, Nessus.” Minerva’s heads sagged lower. “Who else is that crazy?”

“Or ambitious?” Nessus added.

“As you sing,” Minerva repeated.

Baedeker was still struggling with the implications when Minerva intoned meekly, “There is more, Hindmost.”

What more could there be? How much worse could the situation get? “Go on.”

“Ol’t’ro is old,” Minerva sang. “Their youngest members are of the eleventh and twelfth generations. No Gw’otesht has ever clung together this long. They are … not quite right.”

“How can you know that?” Baedeker demanded.

“One of my crew, Hindmost. For a time, Tf’o was unwillingly a part of the meld. He was replaced.” Minerva trembled. “This far from home, even a Gw’o sometimes needs companionship.”

As for a long while, I had only Voice, Baedeker thought. For much of their “adventure,” Louis had set his own course, ranging far across the Ringworld. To reunite with Nessus after so many years—

Text pulsed on a console. A warning from Voice. All Kzinti ships have jumped to hyperspace.

Where were they going?