“They get this way sometimes.”
“When?”
“Lack of sleep. Dry air.” His eyes were clearing up now, but they still hurt. To Wheeler they must appear pink and weeping. He was sniffling too.
Wheeler took writing implement in hand. “Where were you born?”
“Citizens Tree, year 370. It’s a tree sixty klomters long, six or seven hundred klomters west of the Clump.”
“What’s your height and mass?”
“One point nine meters. I don’t know my mass.”
“We’ll weigh you on the centrifuge. How did you know the year?”
“The Scientist keeps track. Was I off? This is 384, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Put your arms straight forward, fingertips touching. Now your legs, big toes touching.” Wheeler made a note. “Symmetrical. How much do you know about the Admiralty?”
“Not much. We tasted some of the food you grow and had a wild dinner at Half Hand’s Steak House.” Wheeler laughed at that. Rather went on, “The Serjents told us a lot. I’ve seen houses and the Market. The ride on the steam rocket was — well, I’ve never been through anything like it.”
“Scary?”
“No, not that.” He knew instantly that he should have said yes.
“Why do you want to join the Navy?”
“I came to find out if that was true. Petty. And you asked if I had questions.”
Petty Wheeler stiffened a little. “Well?”
“I’ve seen the ships. They’re all over the sky. I think I ought to ask, if I become a Navy man, will I in fact be riding one of those ships?”
“More than one, I expect. Over the years you’ll fly every style.”
“Will I be flying them, or just riding them?”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Yes sir. Once I thought I’d be a hunter for Citizens Tree.” No need to mention the silver suit. “When I joined Booce and went logging, that was a big jump. I didn’t know what I’d find here. The Market, it’s frightening to think such a thing could be built. So many people!”
Wheeler was smiling, nodding. (In the corner of Rather’s eye, Wayne Mickl was clinging to a wall tether, merely observing.) “Daunting, is it?”
Rather nodded.
“The ships, the Market, Headquarters, we built them all. And more. We built a civilization,” Wheeler said gently. “Now that you’ve seen it, how can you not be a part of it? Yes, you’ll fly a ship before you’re much older.”
“I want to know whether I’ll be able to visit Citizens Tree.”
“Mph. The answer’s yes, but I don’t know how often. We’ll want to contact Citizens Tree at once. Set up some form of trade. There’ll be visits, and you’ll be useful as an intermediate.”
It was the right answer, Rather thought, except for two things. The tree was in the wrong place; and if the Navy did find it, the citizens would have to hide the CARM every time the Navy came visiting.
So Rather only said, “That’s good. I’d hate to be cut off from my family.” (Booce had said, “They want your loyalty. They won’t like it if you’re loyal to your family, your tribe, me — “)
“How often do you get these allergy attacks?”
“Usually just when the air’s too thin. I had them while we were moving the log; we were too far in. It’s like knives in my eyes. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately. It happens then too.”
“Would you describe yourself as sickly?”
Rather told himself that nobody would come to a recruitment office if he considered himself sickly, and said, “No. It’s just something that happens. A day later I’m fine. It’s almost over now.”
“I see. All right, Rather. Go ask Able Jacks to put you on the centrifuge. We’ll get in touch with you through Booce Serjent.”
Debby and the desk man were ignoring each other. Debby seemed nervous.
“Rather! How’d it go?”
“Fine. Are you Able Jacks?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re to take me to the centrifuge. What’s a centrifuge?”
“I’ll show you.”
The wicker structure resembled the treadmill that ran the elevator in Citizens Tree. It was wider: twenty meters across. Rather was instructed to cling to the rim and wait. Two ratings spun it up, timing it with a hand-held device. The wheel rolled eccentrically with his mass to throw it off. A rating measured the divergence of the hub. “Your mass is eighty-one kilgrams,” he said.
They locked the centrifuge in place and made him run.
Pushing himself round the rim gave him the sensation of tide. They had him run as fast as he could. It made him dizzy; the tide became fiercely strong. Then they made him slow down and run at a measured rate, until his legs burned and his eyes blurred. He would have stopped then if he had not noticed Bosun Murphy watching him.
He waved. The motion almost sent him tumbling. She didn’t respond. But she watched, and he ran.
It came to him that he was rolling around the centrifuge. He’d blacked out.
A rating snatched at his ankle and pulled him out. “Take a rest. Here.” He handed Rather a towel, and Rather, gasping for air, mopped a sheath of water from his body.
Murphy said, “That was quite a performance. I could win bets on you.”
“I grew up in a tree.”
“I know.”
There was no animation in her voice, her face, her body language. Navy thinks they’re superior, Carlot had said; but that wasn’t it. “Bosun, are you all right?”
“I’m a little down,” she said. “Call me Sectry, Rather. I’m not on duty.”
“Does down mean something like miserable?”
“Yeah. Guys, are you finished with him?”
“He’s all yours, Bosun. No need to be careful, he ain’t fragile.”
Sectry Murphy flashed them a fleeting smile. To Rather she said, “I can’t picture the Petty rejecting you after he hears about that performance.”
Treefodder. Booce hadn’t thought to tell him to hold back on a stamina test. “What’s got you down?”
“Not here, stet? I need someone to talk to, not Navy. I just came from the Purser’s and I’m ready to tie one on. Want to join me?”
“I’m with Debby. My stepmother.”
“Stet. Let’s go get her. How does Half Hand’s sound?”
Rather was coming down the corridor. There was a woman with him.
Once upon a time Debby had seen Rather and Mark talking in the Citizens Tree commons. Both dwarves, but they hadn’t looked at all alike: Mark’s face nearly square, Rather’s nearly triangular…She remembered it now, because Rather and the dwarf woman looked right together, though they were clearly from different branches of humankind.
And both, in different fashions, looked worn out.
Debby asked, “What happened to you?”
Rather said, “Centrifuge. They ran me to death. I could have lifted an elevator all the way to Discipline. Debby, you remember Sectry Murphy—”
Clasping toes felt odd: Sectry’s reach was so short, her toes so stubby and strong. “Hello, Sectry. I take it you’re off duty.”
“Right. On our way to Half Hand’s. Join us?”
“Sure.”
Sectry led them in. “The place is nearly empty,” she said.
It wasn’t. There were a good dozen people scattered around Half Hand’s. But windows were clear, and Sectry led them to one. “It’s nice to have a view,” she said over her shoulder.
Rather flinched. Debby grinned; she’d seen Rather watching Sectry’s kicking legs.
“Grab a pole, someone will come. You hungry?”
When one of the women from the kitchen appeared, Sectry said, “Fringe tea and sausages for three, Belind. You two should try the sausage.”
“Stet,” Rather said. “What’s got you down?”