They had reason! They had been flat against the back wall, protecting Ilsa from what should have been mild jolting. The killer chairs would have snapped their backs, but none of the jungle giants had been in them.
Others were groaning, stirring, moving from pain to fear. Ilsa was beginning to wake up. Merril-vacant-eyed, hypnotized by the peculiar sky rushing at the bow-seemed to snap out of it. "Well, somebody do something!"
Clave's voice was a carrying one, and it filled the carm's cabin to overflowing. "Calm down, citizens. We're not in that much trouble. Remember where we are."
Other sounds stopped. Clave said, "The carrier was built for this. It came from the stars. We know it operates inside the Smoke Ring, but it was built to operate anywhere, wasn't it, Grad?"
That simply hadn't occurred to him. "Not anywhere, but…Outside the Smoke Ring, that's certain."
"Good enough. What's our status?"
"Give me a breath." The Grad was ashamed. It had taken Clave to get his mind working again. We're not in tmuble-Luck, that Clave didn't have the training to know what nonsense that was.
The blue display was on. Thrust: 0. Acceleration: 0. The big blue rectangle had a border of flickering scarlet: main motor on, fuel exhausted. He tapped it off, for what that was worth. 02: 211. H2:0. H20:1,328. "Plenty of water, but no fuel. We can't maneuver. I don't know how to find out where we're going. Lawri?"
No answer.
"But we're bound to fall back sooner or later." Green display: "Pressure's way down outside. We're—" This could start a riot; but they'd have to know. "We're leaving the Smoke Ring. That's why the sky's that peculiar color." Yellow display: "Life support looks okay." Window displays: "Oh, my."
In the aft and side views, all detail had become tiny: integral trees were toothpicks, ponds were drops of glitter, everything seemed embedded in fog. Gold had become a bulge within a larger lens of cloud patterns that trailed off to east and west: a storm pattern that spread across the Smoke Ring. The hidden planet seemed indecently close.
"Sorry, Clave, I got hung up. Citizens, don't miss this! Nobody's seen the Smoke Ring from outside since men came from the stars."
Others were craning forward to see the displays or peering out through the side windows. But Gavving said, "I think Horse is dead."
Horse? The old man Gavving had brought with him. Horse certainly looked dead enough; small wonder if the tide had stopped an old man's heart. Poor copsilc the Grad thought. He had never met Horse, but what human could have wanted to die before seeing this? "Check his pulse."
Lawri said, "Port view, Jeffer."
Something in her voice…the Grad looked. Off to the edge: a flash of silver? "I don't—"
"It's Mark! He's still out there!"
"I don't believe it."
But the silver pressure suit was crawling into view. The dwarf must have clung to the nets throughout that savage acceleration.
"Jeffer, let him in!"
"What a man! I…Lawri, I can't. The pressure's too low outside. We'd lose our air."
"He'll die out there!…Wait a minute. Open the doors one at a time. Hall that's why Klance calls it an airlocki So did the cassettes—"
"Sure, two doors to lock the air in. Okay." Muffled thumps sounded aft. The silver man wanted in. "Anthon, Clave, he may be dangerous. Take the spitgun away from him when he comes in." The Grad cleared all but the yellow display. No fast decisions from now on. He pinched both lines together-make sure they're closed tightl-then opened the outer door with a forefinger.
The silver man disappeared from view, into the airlock.
Good. Now close the outer line, wait-no red borders? Open the inner. Air shushed into the airlock. The silver man stepped into the carm, handed the spitgun to Anthon, and reached for his helmet.
In her heart of hearts, Lawri may have hoped for a last-breath countermutiny from the Navy's toughest warrior. She gave up that hope when she saw his face. Mark was a dwarf, of course, and the bones of his face were massive, brutal; but his jaw hung slack and his breath came fast and his face was pale with shock. His eyes wavered about the cabin, seeking reassurance. "Minya?"
A dark-haired woman answered. "Hello, Mark."
Her voice was flat and her face was hostile. Mark nodded unhappily. Now he recognized Lawri. "Hello, Scientist's Apprentice. What now?"
"We're in the hands of mutineers," Lawri said, "and I wish they were better at flying what they've stolen."
The mutineers' First Officer said, "Welcome to Quinn Tribe, as a citizen. Quinn Tribe doesn't keep copsiks. I'm Clave, the Chairman. Who are you?"
"Navy, point man, armor. Name's Mark. Citizen doesn't sound too bad. Where we going?"
"Nobody seems to know. Now, we don't quite trust you, Mark, so we're going to tie you to a seat. That must have been quite a ride. Maybe you really are made of starstuf."
Mark was letting himself be led forward, to an empty chair. "All things considered, I'd rather ride inside. I was too mad to let go. We're not really going to hit Gold, are we?"
He's turned docile! Lawri thought in disgust. He's given in to the mutineers! Are they really going to win?
And then she saw that they were not.
She kept her silence.
Clave counted ten seats and thirteen citizens, one dead. Horse didn't need a chair. Neither did the three jungle giants. Quite the contrary! But even with the wide cargo space aft, the carm was crowded.
The citizens seemed calm enough. Exhausted, Clave guessed, and too awestruck to feel fear. He felt a touch of that himself. Most of them-even the silver man-were looking out the windows.
The sky was nearly black and scattered with dozens of white points. The Scientist's Apprentice broke her angry silence to say, "You've heard about them all your lives. The stars! You say it without knowing what you're talking about. Well, there they are. You'll die for it, but you've seen the stars."
Real they were, and impressive enough, but they were just points. It was the Blue Ghost and Ghost Child that held Clave's attention. He'd never seen them either. The paired fans of violet light were vivid and terrifying. They were entirely outside the Smoke Ring, flowing out along the hole in the ring.
Anthon and Debby were keeping busy. They had moored the ponchos and the smoked and cleaned carcass of a salmon bird to fixtures along the cargo hold walls. Now they were carving thin slices from the bird. Clave remembered feeling like this when the tree came apart. He didn't know enough to make decisions! Then, he had been ready to strangle the Grad for withholding information. Now… The Grad was watching him uneasily. Did he think Clave would attack their prisoners? Clave smiled back. He made his way aft and helped the jungle giants pass curls of meat forward.
Now was different. Clave was not Chairman here. If they died it would not be Clave's fault.
Probably the jungle giants found the carm more frightening than most-than Clavel-yet they were acting to make it their home.
Squeezegourds of water were passing up and down the chairs…three squeezegourds, looking somewhat flat. Clave wondered about the carm's water supply.
He was about to ask when the Grad spoke first. "Gavving, would you come here for a moment?"
There was secret urgency in his voice. Anthon noticed and continued what he was doing. So did Clave.If their help was needed it would be requested.
Gavving squeezed between Lawri and the Grad. The summons was something of a relief. Minya's news had startled him, and he did need time to compose his face.
The Grad pointed. "See the red border blinking around that number?"
"Sure."
"Red means emergency. That number is the air in the cabin. How do you feel? Allergy attack coming on?"
"Actually, it was the last thing on my mind." Gavving listened to his body. Ears and sinuses were unhappy…eyes scratchy…