Juggler of Worlds

  That should add to the Outsiders’ confusion. Despite everything, Nessus could not help but look himself in the eyes. “Done.” There was a moment of static while cryptographic software took over the channel. “All right, Sigmund. What else can we possibly have to talk about?”

  “Starseeds.”

  “I do not understand.” Nessus hoped he did not.

  “Omar advised us you were coming. You were scouting ahead of the Fleet. You got a report from Hearth about Achilles’ attack, and you contacted New Terra.”

  “Correct.” Video was off, and Nessus plucked frantically at his scrambled mane. “I had hoped to help you resist Achilles. Instead I heard where you had gone. Now I must stop you.”

  “Ahead of the Fleet,” Sigmund repeated. “We were but a few light-years from here, yet you reached Ship Fourteen before we did. Hence, you knew where it was.”

  Keep it simple. Don’t lie—Sigmund will find you out. Just don’t tell the entire truth. “I was here before.”

  “That’s the thing,” Sigmund said. “You weren’t exactly ‘here.’ You visited Ship Fourteen more than two years ago. We went to where Ship Fourteen was. We headed where you went that last time. Where the navigation computers aboard Aegis said it was. You came . . . here.”

  The truth wouldn’t work. Nessus had to try lying. “I found it with sensors.”

  “No.” Sigmund’s flat tone admitted no doubt. “The sensors on this ship were scavenged from Explorer. Surely a Concordance scout ship had the best available sensors.”

  Caught in a lie, as Nessus had feared. “Why do you care?” he asked. “We have other matters to concern us.”

  “Call it a thirst for knowledge.” Sigmund paused. “Even nonparanoid humans have it.”

  “Ah, curiosity.” A very human trait. Wandering away from the herd got animals killed. Any semblance to curiosity was bred out of Nessus’ ancestors long before the first glimmer of sentience. It was one of many reasons scouts were rare—and why, in his foolishness, Nessus once thought Colonists might serve.

  The difficulty with curiosity was, it knew no bounds.

  “To continue,” Sigmund said. “You went straight to a distant Outsider ship. It occurred to me you might have hidden a beacon on the Outsider ship, something to report instantaneously by hyperwave. But I’ve seen you around the Outsiders. They terrify you. You wouldn’t risk being caught.”

  “I can almost admire your fascination with puzzles, but this is not the time. Sigmund, our escorts are due soon to return us to Fourteen.”

  Sigmund would not be deflected. “Do you know how we found Fourteen? First we found a starseed. If an Outsider ship were in the area, it was likely to be nearby. Do you know why the Outsiders follow starseeds?”

  “Truly, I don’t.”

  “A bit of truth at last. Nessus, I would appreciate it if you’d turn on video. As you say, our escorts will fetch us soon enough. I’ll see you then. Unless you have something to hide.”

  “No, but if I don’t you will conclude that I do.” Before activating the video link, Nessus looked himself in the eyes again. “See my coiffure in all its splendor.”

  Judging by appearances, Sigmund had not rested well, either. Despite the dark bags beneath his eyes, his eyes shone with excitement. “Here’s how I put it together, Nessus. Outsiders follow starseeds. Know where a starseed is and chances are you can find an Outsider.

  “Just as I don’t believe Puppeteers would dare bug an Outsider ship, I don’t believe you would dare bug a starseed. I don’t believe you would touch one. One of the few things anyone knows about the Outsiders is that starseeds are special to them.”

  “Really, Sigmund. It’s time for me to prepare for the—”

  “That leaves one possibility, Nessus. Outsiders follow starseeds. And what do starseeds follow?”

  Nessus was afraid to speak.

  “You should not be so modest. The Concordance has some kind of bait. Outsiders follow starseeds, which follow bait, which is controlled by Puppeteers.

  “What do you suppose Fourteen would pay for that information?”

  73

  Sigmund was suited up, helmet in hand, standing in the corridor by the main air lock. Eric and Kirsten had come to see him off. “You don’t have to do this alone,” Kirsten said. “Either or both of us would come with you.”

  He never doubted that, but he had another role in mind for them. “Can I trust you?”

  “Of course,” Kirsten said.

  “Who don’t you trust?” Eric said at the same time. His eyes darted about, looking for eavesdroppers. He seemed not to notice his mate’s worried expression.

  Eric is driving Kirsten away, Sigmund thought. Emulating me is driving her away. It made Sigmund sad.

  “I sent a file to both of you. It contains everything I know or suspect about Puppeteers and Outsiders. If I don’t come back . . . use the information as you see fit.” Things could go wrong in so many ways that Sigmund couldn’t begin to be specific. “Consider immediately hyperwaving everything back to New Terra. Until then, I trust you not to look.”

  Then Sigmund snapped on his helmet and walked into the air lock.

  Four Outsiders floated beyond the air lock. Two took his hands. They towed him at their accustomed glacial pace toward Ship Fourteen. Why Not vanished in the dark behind him. Stars surrounded him, impossibly distant.

  It wasn’t the vast emptiness that most terrified Sigmund. It was the loneliness that all the emptiness represented. His life, light-years removed from everyone else in the universe.

  If they survived this, Sigmund swore, he would change.

  • • •

  SIGMUND’S ESCORTS LED him to a room indistinguishable from yesterday’s. Lights came on as he entered, and air whooshed in. The clear dome, at the end opposite the door, remained dim and unoccupied. This time he was here first, and he saw Nessus arrive. They removed their pressure suits in silence.

  The dome brightened, and an Outsider appeared. The dome could function as a transfer booth, or contain the equivalent of a stepping disc, or project incredibly lifelike holos. None of which mattered.

  Nessus sidled closer to the dome. “Fourteen?”

  As before, sound issued from unseen speakers. “We shall forego pleasantries. This will be brief.”

  Sigmund forced himself to be calm.

  “Sigmund, you brought news and asked us to assign a fair price. Upon due consideration, the information matters only to New Terra and to the Concordance. It is without value to us.”

  Sigmund could only stare. “The Puppeteers are deeply in your debt. Knowledge of their duplicity surely matters.”

  “It is less of a surprise than you imagine,” Fourteen said—at which Nessus twitched.

  Intervention had been Sigmund’s last hope. How could the all-powerful Outsiders react with such indifference? And why? “Puppeteers will enslave a world of humans, or destroy it, or set it adrift. Whatever happens, they do it to placate you. We are blameless in this. How can you not act?”

  “Settle your petty differences amongst yourselves. Our interest is only the payment due to us. Who pays is your affair. Be glad we do not react to your presumption.”

  “Thank you, Fourteen,” Nessus said. “The Concordance appreciates you leaving this matter in our jaws.”

  There must be options. “Earth would pay a fortune for this information.”

  “If you believe that, Sigmund, you do not need us. Go there and sell it yourself.”

  And what could he sell to get Earth’s coordinates? The suspicion that Puppeteers could lure starseeds?

  Beside Sigmund, Nessus quivered. Despite his victory, he remained as terrified as ever. A Puppeteer could never learn how not to be afraid. The fear was wired in his genes.

  And in that instant, Sigmund finally understood. The truth had been in front of him the whole time.

  “I THINK YOU will help, Fourteen” Sigmund said. “No, I’ll restate that. You will help.”

  Be
neath the dome, tendrils writhed.

  “You will help, Fourteen, for the same reason you are so eager to remain uninvolved. For all your power, you are far fewer, and far weaker, than anyone imagined. But I know. My people know. And if you do not resolve this matter to my satisfaction . . . then everyone will know.”

  What truth he had surmised lay scattered across the files left for Eric and Kirsten. In time they might connect the dots as he just had. Sigmund hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Nessus pawed the deck. “Fourteen, I do not know what troubles Sigmund. He does not speak for me.”

  “Noted, Nessus. Sigmund, explain.”

  “What do we know about your people?” Sigmund mused. “Very tanj little. You live on enormous ships. You follow starseeds. You sell information and technology, always for a premium price. You lease the occasional remote planet or moon, always offering a generous payment, and you buy occasional supplies.

  “You overpay for worthless real estate, flaunting your wealth, so that no one gives any thought to what you really need: metals. In inner solar systems where exposed metals are to be found, the briefest interruption in your protective gear and you would be boiled away.

  “And then there’s the fact we think we know, but don’t: that yours is an ancient galactic civilization. Almost every question anyone ever asked about your civilization goes unanswered. The answers are priced, quite symbolically, at a trillion stars, effectively beyond purchase.

  “I stress: almost every question. The ‘facts’ of your species’ extent and venerable origins . . . that information is dispensed freely, and at no cost.”

  Had he learned to read Puppeteer facial expressions? Nessus seemed perplexed.

  Sigmund pressed on. “So, what of the elder race that roams the galaxy at sub–light speeds? The civilization that in some mysterious way involves the slow migration of starseeds from rim to core, and back again? It’s common knowledge—yet it’s something Puppeteers and humans and Kzinti cannot possibly know. None of us have been sentient long enough, or traveled far enough, to confirm these things. What if it isn’t true?”

  “Our business is none of your concern,” Fourteen said, his tentacles still atremble. “Dress for vacuum, and go.”

  Sigmund ignored the order. “A galaxy-spanning race, ancient of days. Can it be true? Humans and Kzinti traveled the stars for hundreds of years before first encountering any Outsiders. And that was all sublight travel. We didn’t have hyperdrive until you sold it to us.

  “Imagine this is the only Outsider ship in all of what humans so grandly call Known Space. How many ships must there be across the galaxy? A billion, maybe. And yet here we are on Ship Fourteen. What are the odds of such a low number? They seem, well, astronomical.”

  Nessus found his voice. “Sigmund, I don’t understand.”

  “You know more than you realize, Nessus. If we have been told the truth, why aren’t Outsider ships every where? You know they aren’t. You would never have allowed Explorer to fly with an all-human crew if encountering an Outsider ship were a risk.”

  “You expect my help in return for your numerology?” Fourteen said. “This is pointless. Prepare to go.”

  “Ah,” Sigmund said. “I should mention another thing we know. Outsiders do not haggle. Now we see why: Your take-it-or-leave attitude sustains an aura of power. It’s also why you wouldn’t overlook the Concordance transferring a planetary drive. Your forbearance might lead the Puppeteers to infer weakness. Any odious consequences of your actions”—of your cowardice—“matter less than maintaining your image.

  “The time for posturing has passed, Fourteen. Reconsider your decision. Help New Terra.”

  Tendrils wriggled and twisted. “And if we refuse? Do you plan to spread these speculations around Known Space?”

  Sigmund smiled. “Yes, if you force me to. But there is another alternative.”

  TRIUMPH AND DESPAIR chased each other in circles. Nessus had almost lost track of his mood. Only exhaustion and fear were constant.

  What could Sigmund possibly hope to gain by taunting the Outsiders?

  The shame of it all was, the Concordance should have seen through the pretense long ago. Citizens were dealing with the Outsiders while the ancestors of humans still swung in the trees. The mystery of it all was, why did Sigmund freely share this insight with him?

  Sigmund spoke Interworld. He knew Beowulf Shaeffer. Of course Fourteen believed Sigmund could reveal the Outsiders’ secret across Known Space. But Sigmund had lost the way to Known Space—and Sigmund knew Nessus knew that.

  First starseed lures. Now this.

  Sigmund expected something of him. What could it be?

  • • •

  “FOURTEEN, WHAT IF we have something you need?” Sigmund asked abruptly.

  “Hardly likely.”

  “Fourteen, let’s talk of starseeds.”

  Across the room, Nessus plucked at his already-tangled mane. He was all but catatonic. Would he have the wit to follow Sigmund’s lead?

  “What of starseeds?” Fourteen asked.

  “The Puppeteers accepted your false history, so your race is older than theirs. A trillion Puppeteers now live on Hearth, while you are few. Compared to the other intelligent species, you are frail.” With thoughts of Kirsten blushing, Sigmund chose his next words carefully. “Your children must be exceedingly precious to you.”

  Silence.

  “I can only speculate how starseeds figure in your life cycle.”

  The Outsiders lived in the vacuum, soaking up faint (if artificial) sunshine, lying prone in scarcely discernable gravity. They must have evolved, eons ago, on tiny, cold rocks far from an ancestral sun. Sigmund imagined spores or eggs expelled from those rocks into space, slowly growing on a thin diet of solar wind and cosmic dust. How long would it take to become a miles-wide starseed? To what purpose did the starseeds wander? Did it require some rare cosmic event to germinate the seeds?

  Sigmund had no idea. It was enough that Nessus knew. “Truly, how hardly matters. Fourteen, I apologize if I am being unseemly. What matters is that you follow starseeds. They do not follow you.

  “Because when the radiation wave arrives from the core explosion—even sooner, if it is true starseeds migrate to the galaxy’s core—your history, however venerable, must end.”

  • • •

  IF SIGMUND WAS correct . . .

  Hope once more pushed away despair. Starseed lures! With them, the Outsiders could stop their next generation from the slow-motion death of migration to the core. With them, the Outsiders could learn to modulate their own artificial suns. They could lead starseeds, rather than follow them.

  And Sigmund was leaving the manner of disclosure to him.

  The price of Sigmund’s discretion remained to be determined.

  Nessus set his hooves far apart, feigning a self-assurance he did not feel. He had nowhere to flee. Assuming a confident stance did him no harm. He found his voices. “Our scientists have studied starseeds.”

  “To what end?” Fourteen asked. Into his lack of inflection Nessus read suspicion.

  “Scientists,” Nessus dissembled. “Why do they study anything? The fortunate thing is that they did. They discovered stellar spectra to which starseeds are attracted.” And now the lie. “They theorize it would be possible to remotely stimulate a stellar magnetosphere, thereby attracting starseeds.

  “Would you consider a trade?”

  “A TRADE,” FOURTEEN said. “Possibly. I will need to consult.”

  Sigmund cleared his throat loudly. “Not so fast.”

  “My dealings with the Concordance do not concern you,” Fourteen said. “Still, I would expect you to be pleased. If we forgive the transfer of a planetary drive to New Terra’s control, your problems are solved.”

  That might have been true—once. Achilles’ attack changed everything. New Terra was helpless. The Fleet would try to reclaim their lost colony while they could. Or was he being paranoid?

  T
anj, he should be paranoid. Why else was he here? What else was he good for?

  “The problem will be solved, Fourteen, if you do a bit more. Support our independence as part of the deal. Grant perpetual rights to use the drive now on New Terra as we choose. And so that any of it matters, guarantee us these rights.”

  More writhing of tendrils, eerily evocative of Medusa. “You have high expectations of beings so feeble and few.”

  Irony from an Outsider. I still have much to learn, Sigmund thought. “No one on Hearth yet knows what we have discussed. They remain terrified of you.”

  Fourteen considered. “It is our policy not to intervene between other species.”

  “Policies change,” Sigmund said. “Make independence and Puppeteer noninterference a condition of the trade. Then you won’t have to intervene.”

  “And if we refuse?”

  Puppeteers did not understand bluffing. If Sigmund wasn’t imagining things, though, the Outsiders were consummate bluffers. Well, so was he. “Then everything we have talked about becomes common knowledge across Known Space.”

  Sigmund didn’t know the location of Known Space, which made it an empty threat—and Nessus knew it. Sigmund glanced at the Puppeteer. The Concordance had pulled the strings of the Outsiders, too. “About certain matters you and I discussed privately earlier . . .”

  “Understood,” Nessus said.

  More squirming of tentacles. “And conversely, your eternal silence on these matters if we reach agreement. I will need to consult with—”

  “And I have requirements,” Nessus interrupted.

  Sigmund froze. What was Nessus up to?

  “The conditions, Fourteen, are these: First, you never convey location or navigational data to Sigmund, or his ship, or anyone you have reason to believe comes from New Terra. Second, you withhold what you know about New Terra from the species in Known Space.”

  The room shrank to only Nessus’ eyes. Peace and independence for New Terra. Surrender all hope of ever going home. Sigmund understood the bargain.

  He kept his silence, gladly, as Fourteen finalized arrangements.