Putting Up Roots

Chapter Nineteen

Josh didn’t sleep well. Two things that he had heard, late the previous night, mingled and burned inside his brain. Winnie Carlson’s words merged with Topaz’s first-hand description of her adventures with Dawn, to produce a strange dream in which Josh was in two places at once. Sometimes he was inside Topaz’s head as well as his own.

Brewster was glaring down at him; We’ll strip-mine this whole planet to get at the transuranics. Don’t think you can stop us, Kerrigan. We’re going to reduce the surface of Solferino to raw magma.

But in the same moment he was with Topaz and Dawn, creeping away from the camp in Solferino’s predawn stillness. They were heading for higher ground. They looked back, and in his dream Josh looked back with them. No one at the camp had noticed them leaving. Josh could see through the walls. There he was, sound asleep in Topaz’s bunk.

It was important to be far away from the Avernus Fissure before stopping to rest. Dawn had said it, in her own economical way: “Day sleep, night wake.” They and the phantom Josh walked at least five miles before wrapping themselves in blankets and lying down. When they fell asleep it was in the purple shade of a gigantic plant, a daisy with petals twenty feet long.

They awoke to find Grisel already low in the sky. While Topaz prepared a cold meal, Dawn removed her shoes and shinned barefoot and monkey-easy up the plant’s smooth trunk. She spent ten minutes at the top, thirty feet from the ground, examining the terrain in all directions. Josh hovered unsupported at her side, staring back toward the Avernus Fissure. He could see it clearly, despite the hills in between. It was glowing brighter red, and it was steadily widening.

Dawn offered not a word when she came down, until Topaz asked, “Which way, Dawn?” Topaz had decided before they left: Dawn was the expert on finding ruperts, therefore she would dictate their movements.

Dawn did not speak, but pointed north, at right angles to their first line of travel.

“And we’ll stay there tonight?”

Dawn picked up her food box and began to examine the contents. She paid no attention to anyone. Topaz glanced again at the sun. They had maybe two more hours before dark, and they knew from the previous night that finding a way through a forest, even a moonlit one, was tricky. Daylight would be a lot easier. And those looked like rain clouds on the eastern horizon.

“Any sign of people coming after us, when you were up there?”

Dawn calmly went on eating. She did not look in Topaz’s direction.

“All right.” Topaz packed away her own food box. “I guess that’s an answer. As soon as you’ve finished, let’s go.”

She was finding it easier to interpret Dawn, feeling her way slowly into the strangeness of an autistic’s universe. For Dawn, the words “Yes” and “No” did not exist. If you steered clear of them, and the concepts that went with them, you had a far better chance of understanding what went on behind that rounded, unlined forehead. You learned not to ask questions calling for an abstract reply. Questions with a thing as an answer, or an action, had a much greater chance of success. In Dawn’s world, actions were significant; words were either meaningless or of marginal interest.

Topaz stood up. An action. “Let’s go. I’m ready when you are. You go in front.”

Dawn tucked away her food box, lifted her pack, and led the way.

They walked nonstop until dusk, to a place where the continuous forest ended and was replaced by great islands of low and wiry ground cover, surrounded by straggling thickets of woody chest-high scrubs. Dawn walked to the middle of one of the flat islands, halted, and sat down.

Topaz followed and stared around her with no enthusiasm.

“Dawn, if we spend the night here we’ll be visible from every direction. There’s no place to hide within fifty yards. This is right out in the open.”

“This is right,” Dawn said infirm tones. “Out in the open.”

If Dawn was in charge of rupert-finding, then you either had to do what she said, or you might as well go back to the camp. Topaz sighed, and sat down.

The invisible Josh settled by her side. A few drops of rain were already falling. Had they left the cover of the giant daisy plant’s leaves so they could spend a long night being rained on? Apparently. He turned his eyes back to the direction of the camp. He couldn’t make out what he and the others were doing there, but even from this distance he could feel the heat from the orange-red lava. It had begun, the reduction of the surface of Solferino to molten magma.

There was nothing to do but make the best of it. Topaz arranged blankets so that they could sit on one, and put one each around their heads. It was the only way to remain reasonably dry, but Dawn would not go along with it. She pushed her blanket off her head and shoulders and dropped it in a wet heap. As the rain strengthened, she insisted on sitting fully out in the open, letting the raindrops fall onto her unprotected head.

A total retard. Except that on Solferino the roles seemed to be reversed. Topaz was the retarded one, while Dawn appeared to know exactly what she was doing. She must want to be visible. After a few minutes, Topaz put aside her own shielding blanket. She sat like Dawn, head bare, and felt the rain gradually soaking every part of her.

At least it wasn’t cold. Dawn showed no interest in talking about what they were doing, or in answering questions. After an hour or so of damp silence, and in spite of her intention to remain fully awake, Topaz felt her eyes start to close.

She opened them again after a few moments. It was amazing to be able to sleep at all, when you were sitting upright in the middle of nowhere, soaking wet, on an alien planet. And maybe it had been more than a few moments. Her back was aching, and she had a stuffy nose. Her head felt too heavy for her neck. She needed some real sleep.

And then, suddenly, Topaz was wide awake. Although she was still soaked, the rain had ended. There was a glimmer of moonlight across the broad clearing; Dawn no longer sat at her side.

Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much reassurance she felt because of Dawn’s calm presence. Topaz stood up with an effort—she had been sitting cross-legged, and felt frozen into one position—and stared around her. The darkness at first seemed absolute.

“Dawn!” she spoke the word softly yet urgently, as she began to make out the first hint of a moonlit horizon separating earth and sky.

“Ssh!” The reply was equally soft. It sounded like Dawn, but it was echoed many times and by many voices. “Ssh—ssh—ssh—ssh—ssh.” They all spoke at once, from a point to Topaz’s left.

She peered in that direction. She had the conviction that she was being watched, by many eyes, and yet she could not see a thing. It took all her nerve to walk slowly and steadily in that direction. The night was quiet, the squelching of her shoes on the soaked vegetation the only sound.

“Dawn?” she said again, in hardly more than a whisper. She walked even slower. When they had settled down to sit in the drenching darkness, she knew there had been nothing between them and the scrubby thickets, forty to fifty yards away. That had been one of her objections to the place, the lack of possible hiding places. Now, only a few yards in front of her, she sensed a clump of indistinct objects.

Decreased distance, and a tiny increase in light from the cloud-shrouded moon, made all the difference. Suddenly, the amorphous, soft-edged view ahead became a clear and surprising tableau. Dawn was sitting on the ground, facing Topaz. In front of her, bodies turned so that the heads were also pointing toward Topaz, sat a dozen animals. Even without being able to make out eyes in the sleek heads, Topaz was sure from their size and posture that they were ruperts.

The hardest thing was to keep quiet, suppressing even the urge to gasp. Topaz forced herself to walk forward, very slowly and calmly, and sit down without a word at Dawn’s side. She did not move, even when the whole group rose up onto their hind legs and came to surround her. If she was interested in them, they surely felt the same about her. Even so, it took every ounce of self-control not to flinch or cry out, when a rough-furred paw reached out and lifted a lock of her rain-soaked hair.

Don’t make any sudden moves. But let them know that you are interested, too. Topaz saw that one of them was wearing a kind of shoulder satchel, supported by broad straps. Very gently and slowly, she lifted her hand and touched it. The rupert reached down, did something invisible with stubby fingers, and held out to her the open satchel. Presumably she was supposed to be able to see what was inside, but it was too dark. If they were nocturnal they must have excellent night vision, supplemented by the son of bat like echolocation made possible by those wide-spreading ears. But she had neither. Topaz put one hand carefully inside the satchel, and felt a sharp and hard-edged object.

She drew it out. It was a knife. So far as she was concerned, here in her fist sat the final proof of intelligence. The ruperts were tool-makers and tool-users. But Brewster, and almost all humans, still insisted that the ruperts were no more than animals. That meant that they had no more rights than animals.

“Dawn.” She knew the danger of making a noise—if they were too shy and nervous they would surely flee—but she had to speak, and she had to make herself understood. “We must find a way to take a rupert with us to the camp. We must make them understand how important it is for all of them, that one of them go with us. This planet belongs to the ruperts, not to us, and we have to make people realize that.”

Dawn said nothing. There was an almost irresistible urge to speak again, to repeat the same urging on the assumption that Dawn had not grasped its meaning the first time. Topaz fought against it. She said to herself, over and over, Dawn is smart, Dawn is smart, she knows what you are saying, and she managed to sit silent and motionless. After a while she realized that she was still holding the rupert’s knife. She reached out, and gently returned it to the pouch.

“This planet belongs to the ruperts, not to us,” Dawn suddenly repeated. At those words, Topaz felt excitement and a tremendous relief. Dawn had understood. Now, if only she could do what Topaz suspected that she herself could never do, and find a way of communicating their message to the ruperts… One of them sat very close to Dawn, and she was holding its paw as though they were old friends.

This planet belongs to the ruperts, not to us. But this time Topaz breathed it herself. She repeated it a hundred times in the next twenty-four hours. She said it to herself. She said it to Dawn, while the latter was busy exchanging incomprehensible drawings with half a dozen of the ruperts. And finally, she would say it to Josh and the rest of the trainees, when she returned travel-stained and weary to the camp with a fresh-as-ever Dawn—and with Gussie.

This planet belongs to the ruperts, not to us.

Unfortunately, no one took any notice. It was too late, and all mineral rights had been assigned to Unimine. The strip-mining of Solferino, ripping off the upper layers of the planet to get at the stable transuranics below, was under way. The Avernus Fissure provided a starting point for those monstrous world-mining automata. The smallest of them, two kilometers long, began to widen and deepen the great crack in the planetary surface. It tore away forests, plains, and streams, to leave behind the smoking, red-hot underlayers.

As habitats vanished, the ruperts retreated. Josh and Topaz ran with then under cold Solferino moonlight, toward highlands where rupert survival was marginally possible. Higher and higher, into more and more difficult and inhospitable badlands. The air grew hotter, sulfurous and steamy. Black-and-red fuming magma rolled across the landscape, pursuing then as they fled. The retreat went on, day after day and mile after mile until finally, one evening, Josh saw the deadly red glow ahead as well as behind. He watched the surface around them vanish, engulfed by mile-high maws. With the last of the ruperts, he stood at bay on a final small island of untouched surface.

The mining machine reared far above, blocking out the fading red light of Grisel. It threw a dark shadow across Josh and his companions. There was no place to run. Josh watched helplessly as the great black jaws opened, moved forward, and began to close.

It was the end. He put his arms around Topaz. As he did so, something lifted and shook him…

Josh awoke, sweating and gasping, and found himself staring up into Winnie Carlson’s face. She had him by the shoulders, and she was shaking him.

“Josh. Wake up. I need you.”

He looked at her, dazed. “The rupert—Gussie. And Topaz. Are they all right?”

“Perfectly fine. The rupert is with Dawn. Topaz is dressing. I need both of you for something. Get your clothes on, quick, and come outside.”

Josh sat up. The vision of doomed ruperts and a Solferino turned to hell was slowly fading. “What do you need me for?” he asked, as Winnie hurried out of the door.

“As a witness,” she said over her shoulder.

Which told him absolutely nothing. Witness to what?

He dressed in seconds, and hurried outside. Winnie had vanished, but Sig, Sapphire, and Topaz stood waiting. He stared at Topaz. His dream had been so real, he expected her to say something about the destruction of Solferino and the death of all the ruperts. Instead Topaz said, “What is this? Winnie wouldn’t tell me why she needs me.”

“She needs witnesses,” said Sapphire. “But we’re really too young, all of us, so I don’t see how it helps legally, no matter how many of us there are.”

“What are we going to witness?” Josh noticed that Sapphire didn’t look so shattered, though she was pale and blinking in the light of a clear Grisel morning. It was Sig who seemed oddly uneasy and fidgety.

“Brewster,” Saph said. “Winnie is going to question him. She’ll make a recording of everything, but she wants live witnesses, too.”

“Live witnesses, but mostly silent ones,” said Winnie. She had reappeared from the next building, which was Brewster’s own dormitory. “It’s important that you observe everything, but once we’re inside I don’t want you to say one word unless I ask you a direct question. No matter if it seems to make no sense, you all keep quiet—except Sig, who will ask one question and make one statement that he and I have already discussed. Can you do that?”

The other three stared at Sig. He shrugged, but his face gave nothing away.

“All right,” Sapphire said at last, and the others nodded.

“But I have a question before we go in,” Topaz said. “Was the drink that he was going to give us poisoned?”

“It was.”

“Then why do you need to question Brewster? I don’t see him confessing to anything. And you’ve got enough evidence already, haven’t you?”

Winnie nodded. “More than enough, if all we needed to do was prove that Brewster was guilty of attempted murder, and maybe of actual murder—though that will be harder to prove. But I want more. I want to use him to snare Unimine.”

“How?” Topaz asked. “I thought you said they’re really cunning types, who’ll vanish at the first sign of trouble. I can’t see them trying to save Brewster.”

“They won’t. Not in a million years.”

“So how can you use him to catch them?”

“You’ll see in just a few minutes.” Winnie glanced at her watch. “All right, he’s been awake and alone in there for over half an hour. He’s had time to think about things. Let’s go.”

Josh couldn’t speak for the others, but his stomach was tight with tension as they went inside. Sol Brewster might not scare Winnie Carlson, but he still scared Josh.

The man was sitting in the biggest chair in the room. Broad gray restraining straps held him at forearms, wrists, waist, ankles, and knees. It was difficult to read his facial expression, because his mouth, chin, and cheeks were daubed with an orange ointment. He gave the trainees one glance of loathing, then looked away.

“Are you ready to cooperate yet?” Winnie asked. “I’ve told you what I want. You didn’t set all this up by yourself. Unimine is in it, too. I need the details of that. And I’d like some practical help, too.”

Brewster said nothing. He did not even look at her.

“You know, you ought to be a bit more appreciative,” she went on. “I didn’t have to wipe those spices off your face, and wash them out of your mouth. I could have let you sit there all night, and this morning you wouldn’t have been able to speak even if you wanted to.”

That persuaded him to look at her—not in appreciation, but with a glare of hatred and anger. Josh noticed something odd. Brewster seemed to have shrunk since the previous day; and Winnie seemed to have grown. She had become the dominant one, clearly in charge.

“You probably think you know exactly where you stand,” Winnie said. “I told you who I am, and why I am on Solferino. I had to. My job requires that as a representative of SDSI state my true identity when making an arrest. And I’m sure you know all your rights. I’ve accused you of certain things, including multiple murder, but you don’t have to defend yourself to me. In fact, you don’t have to say one word, until we’re back Sol-side and you have your own legal counsel. You probably figure that you’re better off sitting tight. We can accuse you of all sorts of things, you feel, but we can’t prove them.”

Brewster did not smile, but his head nodded a fraction of an inch and he gave her a sneer of contempt.

“And if I were the only person on Solferino,” Winnie went on, “you’d be quite right in all your assumptions. But I’m not. The trainees are here, too.” She pointed at Josh and the other three, standing in a silent row facing Brewster. “They are underage, all of them. It would be quite irresponsible for me to leave them alone on Solferino, while I was taking you back through the node to a Sol-side arraignment and trial. So I have a problem, don’t I? I have to be in two places at once. I asked these four—the oldest of the trainees, as you know—if they had any suggestions as to how to solve my problem.”

For the first time, Brewster seemed puzzled and faintly alarmed.

“Nothing bad, of course,” said Winnie. “I have explained to them that although you are legally a prisoner, you cannot be mistreated in any way. Even if they felt that you deserved to have the shit kicked out of you—which they do—I cannot allow it.”

“Damn right.” Brewster relaxed again. “I know my rights.”

“I’m sure you do. Very well.” Winnie turned to Sig. “Why don’t you ask Mr. Brewster your question?”

Sig walked to stand directly in front of Brewster. “Agent Carlson insists that you made a deal with the Unimine conglomerate, to get rid of us and leave them free to take over Solferino and obtain mineral development rights here. Is that true?”

Brewster shook his head. “It’s total bullshit. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I work for Foodlines, and only FoodLines. I have no deal with Unimine, and I never had one.” He gave Winnie Carlson a confident glare. “Try to prove anything different, and you’ll make a fool of yourself.”

“I hear you,” said Winnie. “All right, Sig. Now make your suggestion.”

“Even if you are innocent of every charge, Mr. Brewster, according to Agent Carlson you must return at once through the node network to Earth, where you will be formally tried. However, it is not necessary that Agent Carlson accompany you. She must reach Earth in time for your trial, but she does not have to leave here at once. We trainees would like Agent Carlson to remain with us, until someone else can be sent out to continue our training. So the question becomes, who could accompany you to Earth, and be responsible for your safekeeping? We suggest that the job be given to Unimine. They are already present in the Grisel system, working on Cauldron. If we send them a message, they can pick you up from here and have their next ship take you to Earth. Please think about this possibility. If you agree, Agent Carlson will make the request of them at once.”

Brewster thought—but not for long. He lowered his head to his chest, then a second later raised it to glare at Winnie. “Damn you, Carlson. This wasn’t their idea—it’s yours.”

“I will deny any such suggestion, Mr. Brewster. It sounds like an excellent idea, although as I say it had not occurred to me. Unless you have something more to tell me, I will go now. I will use our crippled message equipment to send a request for assistance to the Unimine work force on Cauldron.”

“You can’t do that!” Brewster fought against the straps, his face turning red with effort. After a few seconds of useless struggle, he slumped back in the chair.

“All right, Carlson.” He croaked the words like an old man. “You win, damn you. I’ll talk.”

“And will you cooperate, in any way that I request?”

“I’ll cooperate. Just get me a drink of water.” He raised himself a little in the chair. “And get rid of those damned—those—”

“ ‘Trainees’ is the word you are looking for.” Winnie nodded to Josh and the others. “All right, you can go. You do not need to be here for this. In fact, it is better if you are not.”

They trooped out, into a Solferino morning so bright that they all had to shield their eyes. Grisel, high in the sky, seemed almost golden.

“What was going on in there?” Topaz turned to Sig. “All right, admit it. You knew what was happening, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t. But I do now.” Sig led the way toward the camp kitchen. Josh suddenly realized that he was starving, after a makeshift dinner last night and nothing this morning. They walked together into the empty kitchen, and Topaz began to pull out the makings of a quick meal.

“I’ve decided something,” Sig went on, as they sat down. “I’m never, ever, going to do anything to get on the wrong side of Winnie Carlson. She’s worse than sneaky. When she told me what she wanted me to say, I had no idea why.”

“It’s because of what Winnie Carlson can do,” said Sapphire. “But mostly what she can’t do. Am I right, Sig?”

“You’ve got it. Winnie can accuse Brewster, and arrest him, and even ask him to cooperate with her. But she can’t force him, or hurt him. She certainly can’t kill him. But she can trap him, and she did. Once he said that he didn’t have any deal with Unimine, and never had, Winnie had every legal right to say that she could then trust Unimine to be responsible for transporting Brewster back to Earth for trial. But in fact she knew, and he knew, that there was a deal, and it had involved murder. The only person who might talk about that deal, other than the Uniminers who were involved in it, was Brewster. The Unimine people are not bound by SDSI rules. They can kill people. They have done it on Solferino, and they’d do it again to protect themselves. Put Brewster into Unimine hands, and he would never live to be charged on Earth. There would be an unfortunate ‘accident,’ somewhere between here and the node, that killed him.

“Brewster is a swine, and a murderer, but he’s not an idiot. Winnie was telling him, plain as day, that if he wanted to live to see his next birthday, he’d better tell her anything she wanted to know.” Sig glanced back toward the building where they had left Sol Brewster and Winnie Carlson. “I wish I was a fly on the wall over there. I’d like to know what’s being said.”

“No.” Sapphire took his hand in hers. “That’s the way you feel at the moment, Sig. But if you think about it a bit more, you’ll decide that you don’t really want to know.”