Ruins

CHAPTER 15 Sibling Rivalry

Rigg had forgotten Umbo was gone, when Swims-in-the-Air came to him, looking agitated.

“I’m not sure what to make of this,” she said, “but our monitoring of the starship’s computer tells us that someone has activated the jewel of control and taken control of the ship.”

“Someone?” asked Rigg.

“Umbo,” said Swims-in-the-Air.

“Thank you for telling me.”

“What are you going to do?”

Rigg smiled at her. “Think about it for a while.”

“I’ve already summoned the flyer so you can go to the ship.”

“How thoughtful of you,” said Rigg. “I’ll decide whether to use it in a little while. Thank you. Please don’t bother the others with this story.”

“It’s not just a story,” she said, bristling.

“I should have said, Please don’t bother the others with this information.”

She lingered a bit longer, until Rigg returned to the book he had been reading. She breathed rapidly for a few moments more, then left the room, moving briskly.

Brisk movement was unusual for the Odinfolders. They were always so sedate, so calm. Clearly whatever Umbo had done had the Odinfolders in a dither. Since Rigg didn’t think for a moment that they would get this agitated over some kind of revolt within the Ramfolders’ ranks—which was clearly what she meant him to think was happening—Umbo must have done something that seriously disturbed the Odinfolders.

Rigg couldn’t help but be amused even as he worried. Umbo had gone to the ship alone, and the Odinfolders didn’t like what he was doing. That didn’t have to be a bad thing at all. But it might be. Rigg really should go and find out from Umbo directly what was going on, before the Odinfolders managed to create a rift.

Well, not create a rift so much as widen the rift that had long been there between Rigg and Umbo.

And perhaps the Odinfolders weren’t trying to do something so trivial as to sow contention among the Ramfolders. Perhaps there was something that really worried them about Umbo’s presence on the starship.

Rigg was about to go directly to the flyer and head for the starship when he thought again: This is what they want me to do.

So he got up and went in search of the others. He found Loaf and Olivenko practicing swordplay in one of the rooms of the library.

“Did you know you can set these holographic images to varying degrees of solidity?” asked Olivenko. “They have the weight of good steel swords, and clang together nicely, but they won’t penetrate skin.”

Only then did Rigg realize that the swords were mere sculptures of swords, mere images. But solid now. Interesting information to be filed away. It might have something to do with the Odinfolders’ ability to transport items back and forth, not just in time, but in space as well. Were there real swords somewhere which were being semi-copied to this location? Did the projection of the image mean that the original swords were somehow less substantial while the image was being projected?

It would make sense. After all, Umbo had projected images of himself into the past to give warnings, long before he mastered the ability to actually transport himself completely into the past, leaving nothing of himself behind.

But that was not the business at hand. “I wondered if either of you would like to come with me to the starship,” said Rigg. “Swims-in-the-Air was quite anxious for me to go stop Umbo from doing whatever he’s doing.”

They regarded Rigg curiously.

“Are you taking orders from them now?” asked Olivenko.

“I’m observing that they’re anxious for me to stop Umbo, which makes me very curious to find out what Umbo’s doing. They told me he had taken control of the starship from me. If that’s possible, we should know it; if he did it, we should ask why; if any part of this is a lie, we should find out the truth.”

“And you need us because . . .” said Olivenko.

“I’ll go,” said Loaf. He let go of his sword. Instead of falling, it simply vanished. Was that automatic, Rigg wondered, or had one of the mice in the room caused it to happen?

To Rigg’s surprise, Loaf reached down and scooped a couple of mice into his hand, then put them on his own shoulder.

Rigg almost asked him if he was bringing reading material along for the trip, but just as he was about to begin the jest, he caught Loaf’s expression: A warning. Don’t ask.

Or perhaps: Don’t speak.

“I’ll come, too,” said Olivenko.

“That leaves Param here in the library alone,” said Rigg.

“She’ll be all right,” said Olivenko.

“As far as we know,” said Rigg. “But you’re right, she won’t want to come. She never wants to come.” There had been a time when she would have come along just to be with Olivenko, but these months of study in Odinfold had made them all tired of each other, and whatever romances had been blooming—Umbo’s crush on Param, and Param’s fascination with Olivenko—had either died or gone dormant.

Nothing hopeful thrives here, thought Rigg. We live under the shadow of the Books of the Future, and death is always present.

Rigg continued to follow Loaf’s suggestion of silence during the voyage by talking about nothing—things he’d recently studied about total war. “The humans of Earth keep developing ways to limit the damage of war—pacts about what constitutes a war crime. Banning poison gas, for instance. The formal agreements only last until someone wants to break them, of course, but a surprising number of the agreements lasted for a while—just because of intelligent self-interest. Mutually assured destruction. But eventually, they go back to total war because any other policy turns war into a game, and games only last as long as both sides play by the rules.”

“No rules in war,” said Olivenko knowingly.

“No rules in a war you want to win,” said Loaf. “As long as winning doesn’t matter, then you can have rules and make a game of it.”

“Why fight a war if you don’t intend to win it?”

“When armies benefit from being perceived as necessary, and war provides a means of gaining prestige and leverage over the government,” said Loaf. “Then victory ends a very profitable game. So you play the game of war only fervently enough to keep your military budget high. Nations can get used to a fairly high level of combat attrition without noticing or caring that nobody’s actually trying to win, and nothing but the lives of a few soldiers is at stake.”

“I didn’t know you were a philosopher,” said Rigg.

“Living on the edge of death, with the power to murder always in their hands, all soldiers are philosophers,” said Loaf. “Not necessarily smart ones.”

The flyer landed in the same place where Umbo had disembarked earlier—Rigg could see his path.

“Now is when we could use Param’s ability,” said Loaf. “We could go back in time and then watch what happens, unobserved.”

Rigg studied Umbo’s path as they got out of the flyer. “I think he was talking to somebody, from the way his path bends and doubles back now and then. I assume that means that Odinex met him here. The expendables leave no paths.”

“How precisely can you take us back in time?” asked Loaf.

“This is only a few hours, and I have a clear, recent path,” said Rigg. “I can be as precise as you want. Do you have something in mind?”

“First tell me how many recent visits have been made here by Odinfolders.”

“What are you thinking?” asked Olivenko.

“I can’t talk about it now.”

“You brought the mice,” said Olivenko.

Loaf laughed and gestured at the grass and shrubbery all around them. “Where are there not mice?”

Good point. Which made Rigg all the more curious about why Loaf had brought two of them along from the library. Hostages? Ridiculous. They perched on Loaf’s shoulders, but they could scamper down his body at any moment.

Rigg led them along Umbo’s path. It followed the obvious course—through the increasingly finished-looking tunnel toward the ship. It was only when they reached the beginning of the bridge across the gap between the stone and the starship that Rigg saw something that he couldn’t explain.

“Umbo shifted time here,” he said. “On the bridge.” Rigg stepped out onto the bridge, walking Umbo’s route. “He turned toward the edge, and then suddenly jumped back and stepped here. Then he jumped back again and stepped there. But the paths also fork, as if—but they’re a little different, not quite Umbo, not—”

“See what you can figure out without jumping back to look,” said Loaf.

“You think the expendable was trying something?” asked Olivenko.

“I know he was,” said Loaf. He walked to the edge of the bridge and pointed downward.

Umbo’s dead body lay crumpled on the stone below the ship. Even though Rigg had seen Umbo’s path go on inside the starship, it still made him gasp, still stabbed him with grief.

Not far off, but only visible from the other side of the bridge, lay his dead body again.

“Silbom’s left eye,” whispered Rigg. “Two of him. Two copies. But he’s not dead, Loaf. The main path, the real path, it goes on inside the ship.”

“I’ve always wondered what happens when you or Umbo go back in time and warn yourselves,” said Loaf. “Changing your course of action. Does the old path persist?”

Rigg blushed, embarrassed. “I’ve never looked. I’ve never paid attention.”

“You made your original choice, you took that path, and the effects of it remain real,” said Loaf. “But when you warn yourself—”

Olivenko finished the thought. “Your path takes a different turning. That becomes the real path. But the old one—”

“This is different from a mere warning,” said Rigg. “Umbo didn’t appear to his earlier self, he actually jumped and physically moved himself in time. But that still bent the path of his previous self, because here—he appears in front of his slightly older self. Same thing with the second jump. So his previous self no longer takes the action he used to. Which is why there’s a new path. A slightly different path. Now the Umbo who time-shifted on the previous path doesn’t time-shift.”

“So he stays in existence,” said Loaf.

“He copies himself,” said Olivenko.

“You could make an army of yourself,” said Rigg.

“Didn’t work out so well for these two,” said Olivenko.

Just because one version of Umbo remained alive didn’t change the terror and pain these two Umbos must have felt. Almost by reflex, Rigg prepared to jump back in time, at least to understand the situation, if not to fix it.

“No,” Loaf said to him.

“But I have to—”

“Umbo’s alive,” said Loaf. “There’s nothing to fix here.”

Rigg understood at once. “If I suddenly appear, it might change more than I want to change.”

“We don’t know what Umbo has done. What we might undo by appearing here. Let’s talk to him, if we can, before we start taking action that might cause more harm than good.”

Rigg knew good advice when he heard it. Loaf might not have the ability to time-shift, but that didn’t stop him from having a clear understanding of how it worked, and when it might not be wise to use it. He and Umbo had had enough experience with failure in their attempts to get the jewel from the bank in Aressa Sessamo. Loaf had learned a lot about the unexpected, damaging changes you could make. And that was before Umbo learned how to physically transport more than an image of himself into the past.

“What if one of them isn’t dead?” asked Olivenko.

“They’re dead,” said Rigg.

“How can you be sure from up here?”

“Their paths don’t go off the bridge,” said Rigg. “They were dead before they fell.”

“Careless of the expendable,” said Loaf.

“If you kill a discarded copy of a time-shifter,” said Olivenko, “is it murder?”

“By all means, let’s discuss the definition of murder,” said Loaf.

“You’re the one who said all soldiers are philosophers.”

“There’s a time and place,” said Loaf.

Olivenko grinned.

Rigg led them into the ship.

Umbo’s path led by the shortest possible route directly to the control room. The jewel-reader was open—if Umbo had done what Swims-in-the-Air said he did, this is where he would have attempted to take control of the ship.

Umbo’s path moved around in the room and sat in the pilot’s seat twice. But ultimately the path left the control room. Rigg and the others followed.

Umbo was apparently touring various key areas of the ship—inspecting? Verifying? Or making changes? Impossible for Rigg to know without jumping back in time to see.

They turned a corner and there was Odinex—or so they assumed—walking away from them down the corridor. They were among the storage units where colonists had lain in stasis during the voyage.

“I know you’re there,” said Odinex. “I knew when you entered the ship, and the ship informed Umbo.” But Odinex did not turn around. He was carrying something on a tray in front of him.

Odinex turned where Umbo’s path had turned.

Rigg knew the place at once, as soon as they entered behind the expendable. It was the chamber where colonists were revived from stasis or received medical attention. Umbo didn’t even look up when they came in. The expendable was laying out lunch on a small table—apparently the tray he had been carrying could sprout legs when it needed to.

“Checking up on me?” asked Umbo. He took a bite of his food.

“Swims-in-the-Air seemed anxious to tell me that you had taken control of the ship,” said Rigg. “Is the food any good?”

“So on her word alone, you come here to put me in my place,” said Umbo.

“I came to see if her word bore any relation to the truth,” said Rigg, annoyed that Umbo would leap to the conclusion that Rigg had believed the Odinfolder’s story.

“Well, it does,” said Umbo. “The jewels in the knife are just as effective as the jewels you have. And I took control of the ship.”

The words hung in the air.

“Interesting,” said Rigg. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“What I came to do,” said Umbo. “Study it. See what I can get it to do.”

“And in this room,” said Rigg. “Do you plan to see if you can bring the murdered copies of yourself back to life?”

Umbo leapt to his feet, knocking the table over. The expendable caught it with a swooping motion that kept all the food still on the tray. Very good reflexes, Rigg noted.

“So you went back in time to check on me!” he shouted at Rigg.

“I don’t have to go back in time!” Rigg shouted back. “I can see your path and the bodies aren’t exactly invisible!”

“Did I suffer much when I died?” asked Umbo. “Did you enjoy watching that?”

“Stop it,” said Olivenko. “The two of you are acting like . . .”

Loaf chuckled. “They are children, Olivenko. But in this case, it’s Umbo who’s acting like the biggest baby.”

Umbo whirled on him. “It’s nice to know what a facemask thinks of me!”

Loaf slapped Umbo across the face.

Umbo staggered under the blow, and he began to cry as he held a hand to the cheek that had been slapped. “Why me?” he said. “Why is it my fault?”

“Because you’re the liar who wanted to pick a fight, and Rigg is not,” said Loaf.

“I didn’t lie!” cried Umbo.

“You shouldn’t have hit him,” said Rigg. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at him, either.”

“I’m not angry with him,” said Loaf. “But it was time for him to start paying attention. Time for both of you. This nonsense between you has to stop, and it has to stop now. Don’t you understand that our lives are at stake? Not just some general warning about the end of the world, but your lives, right now, in this place. Umbo has died twice today. When will the two of you start acting like comrades, even if you can’t act like friends anymore?”

“I have no friends,” said Umbo. “I thought I did, but—”

“You ended our friendship when you began asking me whether it was me or the facemask talking, months ago,” said Loaf. “And you ended your friendship with Rigg when you openly rebelled against him months ago for his crime of keeping the whole company alive when you were incompetent to find your way thirty feet without getting lost.”

“So it’s all my fault!”

“Yes,” said Loaf. “And you know it. When Rigg came in here, you deliberately misunderstood his motive for coming. You knew what he had said, and you chose to take offense as if he had said something else. And then you lied.”

“I did not lie!”

“It was a lie to say that you had taken control of the ship, when in fact you only took control of this ship, and only as Rigg’s subordinate.”

Umbo fell silent and looked Loaf in the eye. “How did you know that?”

Loaf smiled. “Oh, so you haven’t lost your ability to hear accurately what other people say.”

Umbo turned to Rigg. “The ship wouldn’t give me control because you were the commander. But Odinex was killing every Umbo he could find, and I had to stop him. So yes, I found a way to get control and stop him. But I’m not admitting that I’m subordinate to you, and I wasn’t about to say so. You would have leapt to false conclusions.”

Rigg had no answer; the loathing in Umbo’s face and voice were beyond his ability to understand or to deal with.

“The only reason the ship respected my control of the jewels on the knife was because you gave it to me,” said Umbo bitterly. “I only exist because you condescend to allow my existence.”

In answer, Rigg held out the bag of jewels. “Here,” he said. “Let the ship witness. Let this murderous expendable witness. I give the jewels to you.”

“I don’t want them!” cried Umbo. “I don’t want anything from you! I only used the knife because it was the only way to stay alive, I—”

At this point Umbo had drawn the knife, and Rigg saw that he was not holding it by the point, as if to offer it to Rigg, but rather as a weapon, ready for use. That was when Loaf’s hand lashed out—every bit as fast as the expendable’s had been, catching the table—and took the knife from him, leaving Umbo holding a painful wrist as he fell back onto his buttocks on the floor.

“Rigg, take up those jewels at once,” said Loaf. “And assert your control of them, right now.”

Rigg could see that Loaf was looking at the expendable, and without turning to see what Loaf was seeing, Rigg grasped the jewels and said, “I rescind my statement. I am still in command of this ship, and all ships; this expendable, and all expendables.”

Only then did he turn toward Odinex, who stood perfectly calmly, holding the tray.

“He was reaching for you,” said Olivenko, “until you spoke.”

“Umbo wasn’t going to stab me,” said Rigg to Loaf. “You didn’t have to hurt him.”

“Umbo didn’t know what he was going to do,” said Loaf.

Olivenko spoke to Loaf. “You never answered Umbo about how you knew that Umbo had taken this ship as Rigg’s subordinate.”

“I’ll answer as soon as Rigg commands this ship and all ships to share none of the information we’re about to discuss on any channel that the Odinfolders can intercept, record, or receive in any way.”

“They’ve already heard you say that,” said Olivenko.

“No they haven’t,” said Loaf. “I want to make sure that none of this gets into the ship’s log.”

“To this ship and all ships,” said Rigg. “To this expendable and all expendables. Nothing that gets said on this ship now and in the future, by me, Umbo, Loaf, or Olivenko, is to be recorded in the ship’s log or transmitted in any way that the Odinfolders can intercept.”

The ship’s voice interrupted. “They intercept all channels of communication.”

“Do they?” asked Loaf. “Or are they merely capable of intercepting those channels?”

The ship didn’t answer.

“Answer him,” said Rigg. “Whatever Loaf asks, answer aloud.”

“They are capable of intercepting all,” said the ship. “Whether they actually listen, I cannot say.”

“I can,” said Loaf. “The Odinfolders haven’t stationed a human to listen to communications in many years. Nor do they use machines to do it anymore, because such machines would easily be found by the Visitors when they come.”

“So they don’t listen at all?” asked Umbo.

“They listen through the mice,” said Rigg, realizing.

“But Loaf brought mice with him,” said Olivenko.

“Loaf communicates with the mice,” said Rigg. “Don’t you?”

“More to the point,” said Loaf, “they communicate with me.”

“How?” asked Umbo, no longer crying. No longer surly, either. It was nice to hear Umbo being curious.

“By talking,” said Loaf.

Both mice were on Loaf’s shoulders, but one was facing Loaf’s ear, moving its mouth.

“High-frequency voices,” said Rigg, as soon as he got it. “Outside the normal human range of hearing. But because of the enhancements of the facemask, Loaf can hear them.”

“I’ve heard them since we arrived here,” said Loaf. “At first I didn’t know where they were coming from, but I heard a constant commentary on everything we were doing, a repetition of everything we said, but in another language. I thought I was going insane. And then we saw the mice at work in the library, and I knew. I heard them issuing commands to each other, and to the machinery embedded behind the walls. The Odinfolders thought the mice only knew one language, but they understood us from the start.”

“That’s why you went out into the prairie,” said Umbo. “Alone.”

“The facemask created an auxiliary pair of vocal folds for me,” said Loaf. “At my request,” he added. “I can produce sounds that only the mice can hear. I can speak their clear and beautiful and very quick language.”

“And the Odinfolders don’t know?” asked Olivenko.

“The Odinfolders aren’t in charge anymore,” said Loaf. “Mouse-Breeder may have put the altered Odinfolder human genes into them centuries ago, but they’ve been in charge of their own breeding, their own genome ever since. They are, collectively, the human race in Odinfold, and the yahoos really are yahoos, compared to them.”

“I did not know this,” said Odinex.

“You don’t know it now, either,” said Rigg. “Expunge this information from your memory and the ship’s memory, and the memories of all ships and all expendables. This must not be available to the Visitors when they come and strip the memories of the starships.”

“No need,” said Loaf. “The mice have already put programs into the ships’ computers that erase all references to their abilities within thirty minutes. It allows the expendables to talk to them for a while and carry on an intelligent conversation, but then the memory clears and it’s as if it never happened. The mice don’t need the computers to help them remember.”

“But the mice are so tiny,” said Rigg.

“Their cooperation is perfect,” said Loaf. “Each mouse is about as smart as an ordinary human child—not an Odinfolder child, not like you two—but it’s still quite a bit of intellect. Mouse-Breeder did a superb job of putting an overcapacity brain into a very tiny space. But what the mice have done for themselves is specialize and cooperate perfectly.”

“They each store portions of the library,” said Rigg.

“That’s why there are dozens of mice in every room we visit,” said Loaf. “They’re in constant communication with the vast hordes outside. Each one processing whatever his particular job is, trusting the others to do what they’re supposed to do. Together, any four of them are a match for any Odinfolder. But dozens of them? The human race has never matched such intelligence.”

“Except with computers,” said Olivenko.

“Computers are imitation intelligence,” said Loaf. “Memory and speed, but no brains. Just programs.”

“Aren’t human brains a kind of computer running programs?” asked Rigg. Certainly the literature from Earth said so.

“Humans make a machine, and then fool themselves into believing that their own brains are no better than the machines. This allows them to believe that their creation, the computer, is as brilliant as their own minds. But it’s a ridiculous self-deception. Computers aren’t even in the same league.”

“The man who called himself my father,” said Rigg, “was a computer, and I can tell you he was far smarter than me.”

“He was very good at pretending to be smarter. He could give you data, teach you how to perform operations. But he was never your equal when it came to actual thought. That’s what the mice quickly came to understand. They could think rings around the expendables. They were the equals of any humans.”

“I thought you said that dozens of them were more intelligent than humans,” said Umbo.

“More capable of feats of memory and calculation,” said Loaf. “But a mind is a mind. Thought is thought. The Odinfolders’ improvements have increased brain capacity, given better tools, but the mind is not identical with the organic machinery it inhabits.”

“Now the philosopher comes out,” said Olivenko. “You’ve discovered the soul.”

“Rigg did,” said Loaf. “And Umbo.”

“When?” Umbo demanded.

“Not me,” said Rigg.

“The paths, Rigg,” said Loaf. “The part of you that sees into the past. Where is that in the genome?”

“The Odinfolders said that they had clipped the genes that had those powers and . . .” Then Rigg fell silent. They had left him with that impression, but no, they hadn’t actually said so.

“If they could find the genes that produced time-shifting,” said Loaf, “what would they need you for?”

“They’re searching for those genes,” said Olivenko.

“They’ve spent all these months studying every genetic trace you’ve left behind,” said Loaf. “They have the mice gather them up. They have the mice study them.”

“And have the mice found nothing?”

“There’s nothing to find,” said Loaf. “It’s not in the genes. The part of us that lays down paths through time, tied to the gravity of a planet—it’s not in the brain.”

“Animals leave paths, too,” said Rigg. “Even plants, in their fashion.”

“Life is the soul,” said Loaf. “Living things have souls, have minds, have thought. Living individuals have their own relationship to the planet they dwell on. Their past is dragged along with their world through space and time. But it persists. Long after the organism dies, its path remains, and all that it was can be recovered, every moment it lived through can be seen, can be revisited.”

Rigg blushed with embarrassment before he could even speak aloud the thought he had just had. “I should have seen it all along.”

“Should have, but didn’t,” said Loaf.

“Seen what!” demanded Umbo.

“That the paths of the mice in Odinfold aren’t mousepaths,” said Loaf.

“You read minds now?” asked Olivenko.

“I knew what he had to be thinking about,” said Loaf. “And when he realized, and blushed—”

“Their paths are small,” said Rigg, “but they’re bright. And they have the same—it’s not color, but it’s like color—they have the same feel as human paths. It’s right there in front of me, and I didn’t even realize it, because—”

“Because you have a human mind,” said Loaf. “The brain sees all, but the mind has focus. That’s our great power, the ability to home in on something and understand it to its roots—the brain can’t do that. But that same focus shuts out things that the brain is constantly aware of. So we don’t notice what we can plainly see; and yet we understand things that we can’t see.”

“And all living things can do this?” said Umbo.

“At some level or other,” said Loaf. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about this. Because the facemask lets me see like a beast, even though I think about what I see the way a man does. I can see a range of detail that is impossible to an ordinary human. But the facemask, which perceives it all, can’t do anything with it, because its mind is at such a primitive level. When mice were bred with human genes inside them, it was as if humans were born in tiny bodies. They have human souls, or close to it.”

“What are they, where do they come from?” demanded Olivenko.

“They’re life,” said Loaf. “I can’t explain it better than that because it’s all I’ve figured out. All that the mice have figured out, either. Living things have this thing in them, this connection with the planet, with each other. And humans have more of it than any other living thing, just as animals all have more of it than plants. And that’s what Rigg sees: the life, the soul, the mind, whatever you call it, persisting eternally through time, linked to the gravity well of the world.”

Rigg thought of the paths of humans who had crossed the various bridges at Stashi Falls; as the falls eroded, lowering and backing away, the paths remained exactly where they had been, never shifting relative to the center of the planet Garden.

“So what happens when we go into space?” asked Rigg. “Do we lose our souls?”

“Of course not,” said Loaf. “Or the colonists would all have arrived here lifeless.”

Rigg looked at the oldest paths that had passed through this room. The colonists as they were revived, the paths faded with the passage of eleven thousand years, but still present, still accessible.

And one path in particular. The one who had walked through the ship long before the others were revived. The path of Ram Odin.

“Should I look at him?” asked Rigg aloud. “Should I talk to him?”

“And say what?” asked Loaf.

“Talk to whom?” said Olivenko.

“Ram Odin,” said Umbo.

“I don’t know,” said Rigg. “Ask him . . . what he was thinking. What he had in mind.”

“And what does that matter now?” asked Loaf. “What will you learn from him? His desires don’t matter to us right now—what matters to us is what the Odinfolders are planning. What the Visitors will conclude when they come. Why the Destroyers came a year later. What the ships and the expendables will do.”

“If you showed yourself to Ram,” said Umbo, “it might wreck everything.”

“Unless we already live in the future that was created by our going back and talking to him,” said Rigg.

“You’d be experimenting with the entire history of Odinfold,” said Olivenko. “You can’t do it. You might destroy everybody.”

“Not us,” said Rigg. “We’d be safe if we all went together.”

“And the billions of other people?” asked Loaf.

“But we don’t destroy them, do we?” said Rigg. “We know their lives happened because they remain part of our past.”

“The ships’ log keeps memories of lost futures,” said Umbo, “even if we carry the ship’s log back with us through the Wall.”

With that, they all insisted that Umbo recount what he had learned about the ship’s logs, the remote storage of their data on the jewels, the way the ship’s log became the official means of transferring authority and control from one captain, one admiral to the others.

When Umbo was finished, Rigg said, “Good job, Umbo.”

Umbo’s temper flared. “I don’t need your pat on the head,” he snapped.

Loaf reached out and slapped him again. Umbo cried out in pain.

“Stop that,” Rigg said to Loaf. “Stop hitting him.”

“You don’t have control of me,” said Loaf. “And I’ll hit him like the father he needs would have hit him.”

“My father hit me plenty,” said Umbo. “More than I needed!”

“He wasn’t your father. He hit you because of his needs. But I’m an experienced officer. I’m hitting you because you need to be slapped out of your self-pitying resentment and wakened up to your responsibilities.”

Rigg wanted to intervene, to say something, but he realized that he needed to trust Loaf to help Umbo in ways that Rigg was too young and inexperienced even to attempt.

“I don’t need anybody to wake me to anything!” said Umbo.

“Those very words are proof of how much you need it,” retorted Loaf. “A soldier like you is a danger to every man in his unit. He can’t function as part of the team, he can’t do his part.”

“I’m not one of your mice!” said Umbo.

“But that’s how the mice learned how to do it,” said Loaf. “By getting the genes of humans, by become humans in mouse bodies. Humans who could subsume themselves in the group identity and do their part with perfect trust that others would do theirs—those are the humans who had a better chance to survive, the ones who became the primary vehicles of human evolution. The resentful, suspicious man alone—the alpha male—that’s the gorilla that beats up or drives away all the other males. He wants everything for himself, hates all comers, and he’s stupid and helpless against much weaker primates who act together.”

“You’re saying I’m like that,” said Umbo resentfully.

“I don’t have to say it,” said Loaf. “That’s the way you’ve been thinking and acting for a year. You’re the would-be alpha male who absolutely hates being in the same troop with another alpha. You’re getting ready to challenge, you’ve already challenged, but you back away, waiting, biding your time. But that knife in your hand—it wanted to spring, didn’t it. It wanted Rigg’s heart, didn’t it.”

Umbo’s hands flew to his head, as if to hide both sight and hearing at once, to hide from his own memory, but failing to hide from anything.

“No,” he said. “No, I wasn’t going to hurt him!”

“You feel like your life can’t even begin as long as Rigg is with us,” said Loaf. “You think I didn’t see, feel how you rejoiced when you were able to maneuver things so that Rigg went off by himself, and left you with the whole group?”

“That’s not how it happened!” cried Umbo.

“No, because you weren’t counting on Olivenko being the next leader, were you. He didn’t even want to be leader, but everybody followed him instead of you. Because here’s what you don’t get, Umbo. You don’t get to be boss of the troop because you want it so much and hate the person who has the job. You get to be boss of the troop because you’re fit to do it—or if you get the job, and you aren’t fit, then the whole troop suffers. The whole troop dies. If you weren’t thinking like a chimp, Umbo, you’d realize: Instead of trying to get Rigg out of your way and resenting everything he does, you should be trying to prepare yourself to be as valuable to the troop as he is.”

“How can I!” cried Umbo. “He had his—father, Ramex, the Golden Man—he was trained for everything, and I was trained for nothing—”

“Fool,” said Loaf. “But now you’re just being a baby instead of an alpha male, and I don’t slap babies. Ramex trained Rigg, yes, to prepare him for Aressa Sessamo, for life in court, and that’s why Rigg was able to thrive there. But Ramex didn’t prepare him for anything since then. He didn’t prepare him to get through the Wall without the jewels, he didn’t prepare him for Vadeshfold, he didn’t prepare him for Odinfold, because he didn’t know he was coming to these places. How do you think Rigg managed so well?”

“I haven’t managed anything,” said Rigg. “You have. Olivenko has, but I don’t even—”

“I don’t slap fools, either, but shut up,” said Loaf. “Listen to yourself, Rigg. You tell me that I was prepared for things, and I was. Olivenko, too. That’s what makes you the natural leader of this troop—you see the strengths in the other members and you use them, you rely on them, you don’t insist that everything has to be your idea, that you have to be boss of everything, make every decision alone. You don’t resent us for knowing things you don’t know and doing things you can’t do, you’re grateful we did them and then you go on.”

Loaf tugged on Umbo’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his head, where he was still using his hands as if to shield himself. “It’s what you should have been doing, Umbo. Being glad that there were people who could do things you couldn’t do, that needed doing. And then being glad when you were able to contribute the things that only you could do. As an officer, I can tell you—a squad of men who think and act like Rigg, they’ll prevail in battle, they’ll survive to fight another day, and even if they die, they’ll take a terrible toll on the enemy, because they aren’t at war with each other, they’re acting as one, as something larger than a bunch of terrified, selfish alpha males trying to climb all over each other to stand on top.”

“You should talk!” cried Umbo.

“I am talking,” said Loaf.

“He’s talking about you and Olivenko,” said Rigg. “Sniping at each other the whole way out of Aressa Sessamo.”

“Yes,” said Loaf. “I thought of him as a toy soldier. I didn’t see his value. So what? Eventually I did. Before that, we weakened each other. But when we passed through the Wall together, when he went back into the Wall as quickly as I did, and ran as fast to rescue you, Rigg—then I knew his worth, and we were together then. Isn’t that right, Olivenko?”

“We still sniped at each other,” said Olivenko. “We still do.”

“But we trust each other,” said Loaf.

“True,” said Olivenko.

“Snipe at Rigg all you want, Umbo,” said Loaf. “He could use a little deflating now and then, when he puts on that lofty Sessamoto voice. But you have to let people deflate you, too, and not take such white-hot umbrage at everything, not want to kill anybody who does something better than you.”

“I don’t want to kill anybody!”

“No, you don’t want to want to kill us,” said Loaf. “But your body wants it. That alpha male brain, that unevolved, uncooperative human, that utterly selfish adolescent who hasn’t yet learned how to attach himself to a group and contribute to it instead of ruling over it. That’s who I’ve been slapping, to get him to shut up and let the human being in you come to the front and take charge of your life. Are you so stupid with rage that you can’t see how much we value you and need you? How much respect we all show you? Rigg especially, Rigg more than anybody.”

“Nobody respects me,” said Umbo, and he cried again.

“I’m just not getting through to him,” said Loaf. “This boy needs to have a hole drilled in his head so I can let the demons out.”

“He’s hearing you,” said Rigg.

“And your evidence is?”

“He’s hearing you,” said Rigg, “because he knows you love him, and he loves you. He’s hearing you even though he’s still too proud to let you see it. So let’s stop talking about Umbo and get back to what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Do?” said Olivenko. “What can we do?”

“The Odinfolders have been lying to us, hiding things from us. I still don’t know what their plan is. I don’t know what they intend to do with us.”

“You mean besides stealing our genes and trying to implant them in time-traveling mice?” asked Olivenko.

“That’s it!” cried Rigg. “That’s what I don’t get. It’s been bothering me—if time-shifting is a thing that only the human mind can do, Loaf, then how did the Odinfolders develop a machine that can pick up objects and put them down anywhere in space and time?”

“That’s an interesting question,” said Loaf.

“Yes, that’s why I asked it,” said Rigg.

“And now I have an answer for you,” said Loaf. “Because I asked the mice, and they already know.”

“Know what?” asked Olivenko.

“That there’s no such machine.”

“But the jewel—they put it where I could find it,” said Umbo.

“No, Umbo,” said Loaf. “The Odinfolders aren’t lying. They think there’s a machine. But there never was.”

“What, then?” asked Umbo. “How could they think there’s a machine when—”

“They’ve seen a machine,” said Loaf. And he started to laugh. “Who knew that mice could have such a penchant for theater? The Odinfolders have seen a very lovely machine that whirrs and flashes, just like the machines the Odinfolders used to build until Mouse-Breeder shifted their whole civilization over to humanized mice. But it’s not the machine that does the thing.”

“It’s the mice,” breathed Olivenko.

“They are also descendants of Ram Odin,” said Loaf. “They also have those genes. And they’ve had hundreds and hundreds of generations in which to breed them true. They can’t time-shift themselves. They can only move inanimate objects. When they try to move living things, they die. Many mice gave their lives in proving that. But they have precision we can only dream of. And they have to have hundreds of mice working together to do it. Rather the way Rigg and Umbo had to work together in order to time-shift, when they first figured out they could do it at all.”

Yes, thought Rigg. Umbo and I began all this when we found out that we could do things as a team—a troop—working together, neither one more valuable than the other. And the trouble started when Umbo and I each learned how to do it on our own, and we didn’t need each other so much anymore.

“So now I have to tell you something that happened almost as soon as we left the library to fly here,” said Loaf.

“Something the mice told you?” asked Rigg.

It was Umbo who leapt to the conclusion. “What happened to Param!” he demanded.

“The Odinfolders ordered the mice to terrify Param into disappearing—into slicing time. Then, during one of the gaps where Param doesn’t exist, as she flashes forward, the mice were to insert a large block of metal into some vital place.”

“That would kill her!” cried Rigg.

“The mice can’t project an object into the space occupied by anything more solid than a gas,” said Loaf. “But they could insert metal where Param’s heart or brain will reappear.”

“But you stopped them,” said Umbo.

“Why would I do that?” asked Loaf.

“Because she’s one of us!” cried Rigg, furious.

“Are you both complete idiots?” asked Loaf. “Who are you? Can you remember? There are two dead Umbos out there, and yet Umbo is alive, right?”

Rigg relaxed. “We’re going to go back in time and save Param.”

“Oh, we’re going to do more than that,” said Loaf. “We’re going to go back in time and get Param, and then we’re going to go even farther back and leave Odinfold before we even got here.”

“You mean stop ourselves from coming here?” asked Olivenko.

“If we did that,” said Loaf, “we wouldn’t ever find out the things we learned here. We’ll grab Param just before the mice kill her, and then we all disappear. The Odinfolders will see that the mice tried to obey, but you two were able to prevent it. They won’t realize the mice are no longer obedient to them.”

“Are they obedient to you?” asked Olivenko.

“They aren’t obedient to anybody,” said Loaf. “They’re people. They’re a whole civilization that has existed for hundreds of generations, building on the ruins of another, older one. They aren’t going to obey an old soldier like me who can’t even shift time.”

“They aren’t obeying you now?” asked Rigg.

“They’re telling me the truth, and doing what they think they should,” said Loaf. “I told them that it was all right to kill Param, because we could go back and save her. Was I wrong?”

“No,” said Rigg doubtfully.

“We hope you weren’t wrong,” said Umbo. “Because I can see some problems with saving Param. At least saving her without showing the Odinfolders that the mice are on our side. Or . . . not on their side, anyway.”

“We can work it out as we fly back,” said Loaf. “We’ll want to hold on to the flyer and bring it back in time with us. Save us the effort of walking to some remote spot along the Wall so we can pass through it into another wallfold.”

“So right now,” said Umbo, “Param is dead.”

“It’s all right, Umbo,” said Loaf. “You two get to save her—you push Rigg back into the time before she dies, and when he has her, you snatch them back.”

“Besides,” said Rigg, “you’re twice as dead yourself.”