Read The Tatja Grimm's World Online
Authors: Vernor Vinge
The Tatja Grimm's World (14 page)
Ugh
. This was beginning to sound like old times. Still, her frankness was a welcome change. It was nice to be on the inside of a conspiracy for once.
. This was beginning to sound like old times. Still, her frankness was a welcome change. It was nice to be on the inside of a conspiracy for once.
She sat back in her chair. Svir had seen this change before, but it always seemed spectacular to him. At one moment she was taut, intense, directing a mesh of plans that stretched across the planet and beyond. Then, in an instant, she was a relaxed, seductive woman.
“I only wish Ked Maccioso were here too. He has most of your qualifications—and he’s a native of Picchiu. By now he’s probably gotten over the way I used him and the barge.” The Tarulle company had received the Bayfast
Fantasie
collection and much more when Tatja had come into power.
Fantasie
collection and much more when Tatja had come into power.
She crossed her long, smooth legs, and leaned back. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted in a dreamy smile. Her figure was slender compared to four years ago—but both he and Cor agreed that these curves were
her
curves. Puberty had come late and lasted long, but Tatja Grimm was truly a young woman now, perhaps the equivalent of a fifteen-year-old. Svir felt sudden guilt to be here and watching and …
attracted
. He wanted so much to go to her, put his arms around her—all the more because he was sure that she wasn’t pretending, that in fact she had forgotten his presence. He hunted desperately for something to break the spell.
her
curves. Puberty had come late and lasted long, but Tatja Grimm was truly a young woman now, perhaps the equivalent of a fifteen-year-old. Svir felt sudden guilt to be here and watching and …
attracted
. He wanted so much to go to her, put his arms around her—all the more because he was sure that she wasn’t pretending, that in fact she had forgotten his presence. He hunted desperately for something to break the spell.
Then he guessed the cause of her sudden mood. “You really think Wechsler’s ‘Perfidious Profirio’ is a godling in disguise?”
“Mmmhmm … . There’s a good chance. He could be a defector from our own art’ry labs, but I think Haarm Wechsler’s spies would have discovered that. If he’s not a defector, then he’s
probably of my—caliber. There is no straightforward way to make practical artillery pieces from nonmetallics. A rather complete grasp of ceramic and impregnation chemistry is required. Even then, several years of trial-and-error experimentation are needed unless you use optimization techniques that I’ve never bothered to write up. And if Profirio has built all these gun tubes as fast as it seems, then he’s using factory schemes I’ve never seen before. If only he is what he seems.” A frown crossed her face, and her business personality nearly surfaced.
probably of my—caliber. There is no straightforward way to make practical artillery pieces from nonmetallics. A rather complete grasp of ceramic and impregnation chemistry is required. Even then, several years of trial-and-error experimentation are needed unless you use optimization techniques that I’ve never bothered to write up. And if Profirio has built all these gun tubes as fast as it seems, then he’s using factory schemes I’ve never seen before. If only he is what he seems.” A frown crossed her face, and her business personality nearly surfaced.
Svir got up and moved toward the door. The fact that her desire was not directed at him had no effect on his desire for her. He vaguely wondered what violence would greet an advance. And that thought made him feel even more guilty. If he left now perhaps he could forget the feeling.
As he reached the door, he remembered the folder he was carrying. Damn. His escape must be delayed a few moments. He returned and set the folder on the table before Tatja. “Marget”—he used the official name-of-address—“here are the latest reports from the High Eye.”
Her eyes opened wide, and her back straightened with a little start. She didn’t seem irritated at the interruption, just a little bewildered, as if she had been awakened. “Uh, oh yes. Thanks.”
He turned to go. “Stick around, Svir. You can have these back.” Tatja read the reports faster than he could browse light fiction. She paused only at the last sheet. Svir remembered the report. It was one of the most peculiar he had seen in a long time. He wondered what her reaction would be. He looked over her shoulder. There were the typical salutations which, in the case of the
Doomsday astronomers, had to be sarcasm. The Doomsdaymen had always resented the crown, submitting only because that power could protect them from nearer enemies. They hadn’t counted on the rise of Tatja Grimm, who exercised an unwelcome interest in all things astronomical, and who required quarterly reports. At first they had patronizingly referred her to the standard journals, where a few of their results appeared. Even now that they sent her complete reports, Svir felt they did it with an air of condescension. The report began:
Doomsday astronomers, had to be sarcasm. The Doomsdaymen had always resented the crown, submitting only because that power could protect them from nearer enemies. They hadn’t counted on the rise of Tatja Grimm, who exercised an unwelcome interest in all things astronomical, and who required quarterly reports. At first they had patronizingly referred her to the standard journals, where a few of their results appeared. Even now that they sent her complete reports, Svir felt they did it with an air of condescension. The report began:
Summer 52, 936 YD
To Her Most Gracious Majesty, Marget of Sandros, Queen of All Crownesse, High Mayor of Bayfast, Lady Protector of the Coasts and Deserts, Greeting: Herein we present the 129th consecutive astronomical report of our humble search across the Face of God. We beg Your Majesty’s indulgence with this unworthy and trivial tabulation entitled:
Six Abnormal Objects in the Constellation of the Running Thief
In the course of a routine sky patrol session, picture plate 2879 was exposed at approximately 1:47 Heavensgate Meridian Time on the 16th of Spring, 936. A new object in the negative first magnitude was revealed by this exposure. Ten acolytes were assigned the task of maintaining a night-round watch on this area of the sky.
(Svir winced at this offhand reference to what must have been one of the most tortuous projects in the history of astronomy. He
could scarcely bear to imagine sitting in the cold and rarified air, hours at a time—watching for a barely visible twinkle light-years away. The Doomsday astronomers were famed for this sort of sadomasochism.)
could scarcely bear to imagine sitting in the cold and rarified air, hours at a time—watching for a barely visible twinkle light-years away. The Doomsday astronomers were famed for this sort of sadomasochism.)
During the next two quarters, the images of five more such objects were captured on picture plates. Data concerning all six objects are tabulated below.
*
According to our amended usage, 0
°
RA is the zenith meridian at the High Eye on the 1st of Winter, 920 YD, at 00:00:00 HMT. Right ascension increases in the same sense as the sun travels across the Celestial Face.
According to our amended usage, 0
°
RA is the zenith meridian at the High Eye on the 1st of Winter, 920 YD, at 00:00:00 HMT. Right ascension increases in the same sense as the sun travels across the Celestial Face.
**
The magnitude given for (0) defends on the assumption
that the object was uniformly bright during the plate’s exposure, which is a reasonable approximation if the light curve of (0) was similar to that of the other objects. As is our custom, error estimates are not provided.
The magnitude given for (0) defends on the assumption
that the object was uniformly bright during the plate’s exposure, which is a reasonable approximation if the light curve of (0) was similar to that of the other objects. As is our custom, error estimates are not provided.
Objects (1) through (5) were subjected to spectroscopic examination. Their light appears entirely due to continuum radiation. The light curves for objects (1) through (5) appear identical except for the overall change in magnitude, indicated above by the column for maximum magnitude achieved.
The 206/23 region will be below our horizon at the critical time of evening on the 14th of Fall. However, a close watch of this area will be maintained in the coming quarters.
This concludes the 129th report of astronomical activities to Your Majesty. It was prepared by Your Majesty’s unworthy servant Mikach G., First Archobserver and Chief Instrumentalist to the High Fye.
Tatja stared at the report for a full ten seconds. When it came, her laughter was explosive. She doubled up in her chair and her face became red. Finally she sat up and wiped tears from her eyes. “Talk about ‘words writ large upon the sky,’” she gasped.
Svir picked up the report and looked at it once more. He could guess what she meant by that remark, but he couldn’t see how the lights described could be a message. It certainly was an abnormal sequence, but did she think that every unexplained phenomenon was evidence of extraplanetary intelligence?
She saw his look. “You mean you don’t see it?”
He donned pedant’s armor. “With only the information in this report, I don’t. Perhaps you’re drawing on information I don’t have.”
“Oh, I suppose that’s possible,” she said slowly. “But you are an astronomer. At least that’s what you keep telling me. Perhaps you aren’t aware of the key facts necessary to solve this puzzle: there are four quarters to a year, fifty-five days to a quarter, forty hours to a day, sixty minutes to an hour, and sixty seconds to a minute. Light travels at one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second, and what’s more—” she pretended to strain after some subtle detail “—oh yes, the world revolves about the sun at a distance of ninety-two million miles, and not vice versa—as you may have been led to believe. Got all that?”
“Urk.” Svir felt his face grow hot; he guessed the point. And he a parallax astronomer! “I’ll give it another look,” he said, backing toward the door.
S
vir was very suspicious of skoats. They were used mainly as draft animals in the Chainpearls. The fat brown quadrupeds were fine for pulling wagons, but now he was riding one! He watched the brown neck and pointed ears warily. Cor claimed this one was gentle; he was not convinced. The animal had the unsettling habit of bringing its head around and taking a so-called playful nip at his legs. And even if the beast was a great humanitarian, the ride was torture. His rear must be one big bruise. His legs ached from being splayed over the tubby animal’s back. What’s more, the skoat
smelled
, and its acrid sweat mixed itchily with his own.
vir was very suspicious of skoats. They were used mainly as draft animals in the Chainpearls. The fat brown quadrupeds were fine for pulling wagons, but now he was riding one! He watched the brown neck and pointed ears warily. Cor claimed this one was gentle; he was not convinced. The animal had the unsettling habit of bringing its head around and taking a so-called playful nip at his legs. And even if the beast was a great humanitarian, the ride was torture. His rear must be one big bruise. His legs ached from being splayed over the tubby animal’s back. What’s more, the skoat
smelled
, and its acrid sweat mixed itchily with his own.
He lurched forward as the skoat started downhill. The Crown’s Men were on a wide, paved road. It was almost ten feet across, the second-best highway in this part of the Continent. But they were well into the highlands south of the Picchiu River, and the road
switched back and forth more miles than it went forward. Now their battle group was headed into a narrow valley. Almost two hundred feet below, he could see the stream that had—over millennia—gouged this channel through the limestone. As they descended, the sunlight filtered through progressively thicker layers of leaves until they rode through green twilight. It was cool and pleasant. The air moved slowly and was laden with the musty smell of hundreds of years of decomposing leaves. This scent was strange to Svir, who had never seen a deciduous tree before.
switched back and forth more miles than it went forward. Now their battle group was headed into a narrow valley. Almost two hundred feet below, he could see the stream that had—over millennia—gouged this channel through the limestone. As they descended, the sunlight filtered through progressively thicker layers of leaves until they rode through green twilight. It was cool and pleasant. The air moved slowly and was laden with the musty smell of hundreds of years of decomposing leaves. This scent was strange to Svir, who had never seen a deciduous tree before.
The tranquillity of the scene barely registered over his fatigue.
He crossed the stone bridge at the bottom of the valley, then twisted in his saddle and looked back. Where was everyone? Only one gun carriage behind him was visible, yet he
heard
the creaking of carriage wheels, the snorts and clatter of a thousand skoats. As his mount climbed the north side of the valley, he finally saw them. The splotch camouflage rendered the army virtually invisible in dense foliage, the wagons’ outlines like heat shimmers above a fire.
heard
the creaking of carriage wheels, the snorts and clatter of a thousand skoats. As his mount climbed the north side of the valley, he finally saw them. The splotch camouflage rendered the army virtually invisible in dense foliage, the wagons’ outlines like heat shimmers above a fire.
There was a louder clatter, and Svir saw a rider overtaking him. Cor. She urged her animal up the slope with baby talk and lots of enthusiasm. He couldn’t get over the fact that she was actually fond of the creatures—even thought she could talk to them. He put her superior riding ability to the fact that she had grown up on the Llerenitos, where skoats were popular.
“Hi, Cor,” he said. He leaned out to touch her shoulder. Kissing a girl on skoatback is virtually impossible.
Cor held his hand for a moment. Svir continued, “I thought you were supposed to stay in Marget’s wagon with Ancho.” Cor
had been under strict orders to remain in the wagon, but he was happy she’d chosen to mutiny.
had been under strict orders to remain in the wagon, but he was happy she’d chosen to mutiny.
She retorted, “No, she tells me to stay with Ancho, period. And if you can’t see that’s what I’m doing, then perhaps I’ll take up some other male.” Svir looked more closely and saw that there was a bulge under her blouse where no bulge should be. A second later, brown eyes and a pair of pointed ears pushed out of that bulge.
“Besides,” said Cor, “we wanted to get some exercise, and be with you.”
“Um,” Svir felt a little jealous. No doubt she’d had some sleep this afternoon. The expedition from Crownesse had landed in Picchiu Province just after sunrise—nearly twenty-five hours ago. It had taken many hours to get equipment, troops, and skoats off the fastboats. They—Tatja and her generals—had decided to ride straight through the afternoon without sleep: in these longitudes there was no Seraph to twilight the night. The sun was still five hours above the horizon. Svir wondered whether he could hold out till dark. He was falling asleep in his saddle, a feat he would have sworn impossible just ten hours earlier. How the infantrymen kept going he couldn’t guess.
But the crown’s strategy was sound. Soon they would meet the Loyalists—and incidentally come under Rebel art’ry fire. How exciting.
Now they were moving up a gentle slope. The crest was about four hundred yards away. The tree cover was light, but there was still shade. To the east he saw the foothills of the Doomsday Range, green and gray. Beyond them, so far away and yet so clear
against the sky, stood the great peaks of the range. On He’gate, the highest one, was the Doomsday observatory. The view brought him wide awake.
against the sky, stood the great peaks of the range. On He’gate, the highest one, was the Doomsday observatory. The view brought him wide awake.
“Svir, look up front.” There were riders clumped together. Svir squinted. It was Tatja and the colonel in charge of point security. At least it was the colonel’s skoat. But what was that officer doing this far back? They were talking to someone on the ground. The dismounted fellow was suited in maroon, and wore a strangely plumed hat. A Loyalist.
The colonel wheeled and waved to the troops. The command was immediately translated by the sergeant driving the nearest team of art’ry skoats. “Hard hats!” the little sergeant shouted as she donned her own. Svir reluctantly reached for his own reinforced-web-plastic helmet, set it on his head, and fastened the chin strap. He had once thought the head armor looked rather dashing; well, everyone makes mistakes.
Around them, the column was changing into an extended rank, about fifty yards from the crest of the hill. This would take a while. He and Cor dismounted.
Heaven!
Heaven!
Two hours later, they were back in the saddle. The expedition’s fifteen thousand troopers were assembled. For two miles in either direction the irregular line of skoats, guns, and men stood waiting to plunge into the field of enemy observation.
A whistle sounded. The army surged over the crest. Ahead of them the road descended gently, then rose toward a second ridge two or three miles away. Miles beyond the second, he could see another. But the peaceful scenery extended just four hundred
yards to their front. Beyond that, the green was broken by craters and patches of blackened earth. On the far hill, a stretch of burnt trees stood like monstrous black mold. The usually pleasant smell of charred wood came strongly across the valley. Svir looked at his wife. She was gently talking her skoat forward. Ancho had disappeared inside her blouse.
yards to their front. Beyond that, the green was broken by craters and patches of blackened earth. On the far hill, a stretch of burnt trees stood like monstrous black mold. The usually pleasant smell of charred wood came strongly across the valley. Svir looked at his wife. She was gently talking her skoat forward. Ancho had disappeared inside her blouse.
The army descended rapidly, and Svir found himself praying they could escape enemy observation and gain the blackened hillside. Soon they would be out of sight to anyone beyond the next hill.
Then the sky exploded. Two hundred yards to the front, a line of orange-red fireballs hung forty feet in the air. A second later Svir’s head was snapped back and his helmet clanged. He reached up and felt a quarter-inch shrapnel fragment imbedded in his helmet. He watched glassy-eyed as the fireballs become innocent black puffs of smoke and blew away. What would it be like when the enemy got the range and timing?
The army broke into squares, one battle group forward, the next back, so as to avoid complete catastrophe if the curtain of fire ever came on target.
The corrected fire was thirty seconds coming. The nearest burst was high explosive, and it made the shrapnel sound like a popped paper bag. He felt the blow through his whole body. His skoat staggered to its knees. Svir was tossed backwards, out of the saddle. He grabbed air, his mind filled with visions of landing on the ground and being trampled. Then his mount surged to its feet and he found himself on its rear, behind the saddle. He scrambled forward as the animal broke into a gallop.
Cor! He looked wildly around and saw her riding out of the smoke. Her lower face was covered with blood. She came abreast of him and shouted, “You hurt bad?”
“That’s what I was going to ask you,” he shouted back. I His jaw was bloody, too. They both had nosebleeds. “Come on.” They were falling behind their battle group. They swerved around a brushfire and regained their positions. The formation finally reached the bottom of the valley, where they would be hidden from enemy observation. The air cleared, and Svir no longer choked on dust and smoke. At their far right flank an impactfused H.E. shell went off next to an art’ry piece. Svir watched in amazement as the gun tube rose high in the air.
They learned later that casualties had been light, that the whole affair lasted less than fifteen minutes.
His ears buzzed from the punishment they had received, and all sound came muffled. The land was black except for flickering halos of flame around tree skeletons. There was blue sky somewhere above the haze. They were now eighty yards from the crest. Shells still burst, but the enemy’s aim, at least for Svir’s battle group, was wildly inaccurate. Of the other battle groups, he could not be so sure. The ridgeline was cut by numerous defiles that made it hard to see cross-slope. The group’s forward motion ceased. Supply vehicles moved to the guns they were to feed. The air was filled with the sounds of whining skoats, creaking wagons, shouting men. These last were not confused sounds, but the efficient direction of officers who knew exactly what they wanted and were working with well-trained troops.
The group was preparing for art’ry battle. A gun carriage
pulled up near Svir and Cor. The driver leaped down and raced to the front of her skoats. She unfastened their harnesses and led them away from the piece. The gunmen on top of the carriage moved just as efficiently. They were performing a muchpracticed task, and there was no talk or wasted motion. Two of them unlashed the weapon as the other two passed a six-inch shell up from the supply wagon. Infantrymen ran past, their crossbows at port arms. Svir couldn’t imagine how they could run after the long day’s march, but the troopers were really moving. In seconds, they were gone in the smoke. Evidently that smoke was not due to enemy action—Svir could hear grenades popping. He looked back at the gunmen. The piece was loaded and the heavy plastic breach closed. A courier from the FAOs called out fire control directions. The greenish barrel was cranked up. Through the haze, Svir could see other gun carriages, and hear their breeches being slammed shut. The enemy was about to get a devastating reply. Then came a pause. The crown’s war machine awaited the command that would set it in motion.
pulled up near Svir and Cor. The driver leaped down and raced to the front of her skoats. She unfastened their harnesses and led them away from the piece. The gunmen on top of the carriage moved just as efficiently. They were performing a muchpracticed task, and there was no talk or wasted motion. Two of them unlashed the weapon as the other two passed a six-inch shell up from the supply wagon. Infantrymen ran past, their crossbows at port arms. Svir couldn’t imagine how they could run after the long day’s march, but the troopers were really moving. In seconds, they were gone in the smoke. Evidently that smoke was not due to enemy action—Svir could hear grenades popping. He looked back at the gunmen. The piece was loaded and the heavy plastic breach closed. A courier from the FAOs called out fire control directions. The greenish barrel was cranked up. Through the haze, Svir could see other gun carriages, and hear their breeches being slammed shut. The enemy was about to get a devastating reply. Then came a pause. The crown’s war machine awaited the command that would set it in motion.
Three minutes passed, and still no action. Through the buzzing in his ears, he heard Cor say something. He turned to her. “What’s that?”
“I ask, where are the Sfierranyil Loyalists?”
A good question. Everyone here wore Crown camouflage. The only provincial he’d seen all afternoon was the one talking to Tatja and the point colonel. What sort of trap … he looked around, half expecting to see enemy bowmen spring from hidey-holes.
Just then, an officer rode down the line, shouting indistinct commands. The gunmen looked up in surprise, then began
unloading their weapons. As they did, the forward infantrymen came back down the hill. Svir gaped. This reminded him of stories about recruits commanding training units. Apparently, the people at the top could not make up their minds.
unloading their weapons. As they did, the forward infantrymen came back down the hill. Svir gaped. This reminded him of stories about recruits commanding training units. Apparently, the people at the top could not make up their minds.
The troops reformed and resumed their march—though now they were moving east, parallel to the ridgeline. Svir sighed and urged his animal forward. It was at least an hour till sunset, and at this latitude twilight would last three hours.
He sidled toward the nearest gun carriage and called to the driver. “What’s the story?” The woman looked down at him—his camouflage bore no rank insignia. Her answer was an obscenity, roughly equivalent to “We were shafted.”
He fell back and walked beside a carriage. The gunman sitting there was more talkative. “That’s right. We got it up to here.” He motioned. “There’s only one decent reason for racing over that hill in daylight, and that’s to get our pieces in range and give the enemy a taste of our rock. If we weren’t going to engage, we should’ve stayed back there—” he waved at the hill to the south “—until dark, and then come across. Instead we lost men—
for nothing!
” The gunman seemed to realize he might be talking to someone in authority. “Somebody made a stupid mistake,” he finished.
for nothing!
” The gunman seemed to realize he might be talking to someone in authority. “Somebody made a stupid mistake,” he finished.
Svir found himself nodding. Perhaps Tatja. was out of action, but the Crownesse generals themselves were competent men. That left provincial treachery the most likely cause of the debacle.
Behind them, the sun sent rose and orange across the sky. The high peaks of the Doomsday Range stood bright, the world’s ragged edge. They left the burning land, and soon there was only
the smell of grass and living trees. If Svir hadn’t been in the saddle for most of the last twenty hours, he might have enjoyed the scene. He slumped forward, trying to keep his balance in the waves of sleep that swept stronger and stronger over him. Cor rode beside him; he was thankful she didn’t try to make cheerful conversation.
the smell of grass and living trees. If Svir hadn’t been in the saddle for most of the last twenty hours, he might have enjoyed the scene. He slumped forward, trying to keep his balance in the waves of sleep that swept stronger and stronger over him. Cor rode beside him; he was thankful she didn’t try to make cheerful conversation.
The sky was dark now. Only the Doomsday peaks were still in daylight. They formed a jagged red band, hanging in limbo above the darkened, nearer lands. Somehow he had missed the sunset … .
Then Cor was pushing at his shoulder, calling to him. He sat up and looked about. Twilight was nearly past. There were lots of stars, but Seraph’s familiar light was missing. “We’re here,” Cor said.
At first glance the forest around them seemed uninhabited. Then he saw the tents hidden in the brush. Further away he could hear the
grunchunch
of browsing skoats. The Crown’s Men had finally reached the Loyalists. Svir slipped from his saddle and leaned against the skoat. A shadow approached.
grunchunch
of browsing skoats. The Crown’s Men had finally reached the Loyalists. Svir slipped from his saddle and leaned against the skoat. A shadow approached.
“
Svo keechoritte bignioru?
” it asked.
Svo keechoritte bignioru?
” it asked.
Svir was about to croak, “
Sagneori Sfierro
,” (I don’t speak Sfierro) when Cor cut in with, “
Attrupa bignoro chispuer, sfiorgo malmu
.” Sfierro was quite close to Cor’s native Llereno.
Sagneori Sfierro
,” (I don’t speak Sfierro) when Cor cut in with, “
Attrupa bignoro chispuer, sfiorgo malmu
.” Sfierro was quite close to Cor’s native Llereno.
“Traeche ke
,” the other said, and led them some hundred paces into the brush. The Sfierranyi stopped, pointed to an open space, and gabbled something more. “He says we can put our tent up here,” Cor said. Svir felt like crying. At this point he could scarcely unpack his skoat. The Sfierranyi solved that problem by
unhitching the pack and dropping it to the ground. Then he grabbed the skoats’ reins and led them away.
,” the other said, and led them some hundred paces into the brush. The Sfierranyi stopped, pointed to an open space, and gabbled something more. “He says we can put our tent up here,” Cor said. Svir felt like crying. At this point he could scarcely unpack his skoat. The Sfierranyi solved that problem by
unhitching the pack and dropping it to the ground. Then he grabbed the skoats’ reins and led them away.
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