The Death of Wisdom Read online

  "Can I help you?" Coeur asked, rising up and moving around her desk to greet her guest.

  With the fingers of its tail limb, the Hiver typed text into the the voice synthesizer slung under its chest.

  "Indeed Are you the individual 'Red Sun'?"

  "Yes, that's my callsign.''

  "Derived from a class M primary you once visited?"

  "Actually, no. They called me that after the insignia on my Scout uniform."

  "Logical. I have read your complete dossier, but matters of human idiom tend to escape me."

  "If you don't mind me asking, who are you?" And why have you been reading my complete dossier?

  "Pardon me. My name is Cicero, and I am attached to the Technical Academy School of Space Engineering. I have come to make you a proposal." Like command of a ship, maybe? Yeah, I should be so lucky.

  "Like what?"

  "We of the Federation appreciate that the education of others is a social function of the highest importance. However, if it is not too much of an imposition, my associates would be pleased if you would consider a temporary sabbatical to command a starship for us,"

  "Excuse me?"

  "A starship, Red Sun. Reformation Coalition Ship Hornet."

  The sudden flush of excitement in Coeur's face faded as she recognized the name.

  "Wait a minute Do you mean that old freighter they're slapping together as a shop project?"

  "Indeed. However, it has never been our intention that Hornet remain exclusively a shop project; rather, it has always been our intention to turn the vessel over to the Exploratory Service as soon as her reconstruction was complete. That reconstruction lacks only one step: a voyage to prove her spaceworthiness,"

  Despite her misgivings, a smile returned to Coeur's face. Hornet might have been an 80-year-old clunker, but if anyone could raise a ship from the dead, it was the Technical Nest and its human students.

  "Of course," Cicero said, "we are prepared to look elsewhere for a pilot and captain, if you would not be comfortable abandoning your present employment."

  "I think I could cope," Coeur said with a wry grin. "Now why don't we take this discussion down to my office,"

  When the exploration cruiser Ashtabula brought Coeur D'Esprit home to Aubaine in late 1198, the Dawn League was only a year old, and enthusiasm for the new frontier was running at its highest pitch. People actually believed that they could resurrect the worlds of the Wilds with trade and diplomacy alone, and so many qualified spacers applied to join the upcoming expeditions that captains were forced to draw their crews by lot. Even Couer, who admired the courage and democratic leanings of the Dawn League, was unable to swing a mission post through all of 1199.

  But all those good feelings ended when the first expedition of 12 lightly armed exploration vessels was swallowed up by the uncharted frontier. Buoyant optimism faded, and throngs of naive volunteers were replaced by a gritty corps of well-armed and specially trained personnel who dedicated themselves to finding the missing crews and bringing them back alive—a corps that included Coeur, as pilot of the corvette Lirgishkhunan.

  That mission, to a large degree, prompted the end of the Dawn League. Though most of the missing ships were not recovered, the better preparation of the second expedition allowed all but one ship to return home with valuable intelligence about the near frontier. Not long after, the Dawn League restructured itself as the Reformation Coalition—an organization better suited for the use of force when necessary. New warships were built, old ones refitted, and crews in great numbers were recruited to man them; ail that were critically short in supply were veteran spacehands to train new personnel. In this context it was clear where a veteran like Coeur could serve the RC best—not as a pilot, but as a teacher.

  "All the same," Coeur said, walking beside Cicero toward her office, "I'd like to fly again. Teaching is important, but I've got to admit that it's not what I do best."

  "Indeed," the Hiver said, easily matching her walking pace on the four limbs it chose to walk on at the moment. "Commandant Calway expressed a similar opinion when he gave me permission to speak with you,"

  "What," Coeur said, stopping to open the sliding door of her office, "that I've applied for flight duty, or that I'm a lousy teacher?"

  "The former. He expressed no dissatisfaction with your performance as a teacher."

  "Well, that's good," Coeur said, entering the office first and pushing back the human chairs inside to make room for the Hiver. Though Coeur merited her own office, it was not unlike a large closet, lacking even a window to suggest greater volume. That it was not crushingly claustrophobic was largely due to two facts—Coeur kept a relatively small library of hard media, and decorated the walls with paintings of watery Aubaine from orbit, suggesting the freedom of flight.

  "Are these paintings original?" Cicero asked, examining the brush strokes of one at close range.

  "Yes, those are mine. It's a hobby I picked up from my father."

  "Was he an artist?"

  "Actually, no. Since I could fly our speeder a lot better than he could, he used to kid me that women weren't equipped to handle space and depth perception as well as men. That's why I took up painting—to show him he was incorrect."

  While Coeur couldn't read Cicero's "facial" expression, its lack of comment probably meant befuddlement, Hivers devoted lavish attention to the education of their young, but that attention was provided communally by all the members of a nest to all its young. The Hivers— who attached no emotional significance at all to their asexual method of reproduction—did not recognize their parents or offspring, and so could not help but be mystified by the parent-child bonding of other species. Rather than wade deeper into that complicated subject, Coeur dropped further mention of her parents.

  Who've been dead, anyway, for decades.

  "I'm afraid that I don't have a Hiver chair," Coeur said, rummaging in her single storage locker. "Would you like me to go and look for one?"

  "My physical comfort is not an immediate consideration, Please sit, so that we may continue our discussion."

  Obligingly, Coeur sat down in the chair at her desk and spun around to face the Hiver.

  "All right," she said. "What is your mission profile exactly?"

  "Since Hornet has not been in space for some time, we have selected a relatively simple objective. The ship will transport 30 tons of cargo and an armored fighting vehicle to Ra, where the Federation maintains a colony of Hiver agronomists."

  "Wait a minute: an AFV?"

  "The AFV is not for the Hiver colony, Red Sun. Rather, it is a command vehicle that has been detached from the Reformation Coalition Marine Corps to engage in tactical exercises with the indigenous human population."

  "Ah, So it has its own crew?"

  "Yes, there are four Marines who will accompany the vehicle. We of the Technical Nest and those of Seabridge Nest on Ra are not on a tight schedule, but the RCMC has expressed a desire to launch within the month."

  "Yes, well, they wouldn't be Marines if they weren't punctual. Do you have the rest of the crew complement filled out? Students, I imagine?"

  "In point of fact, no. Due to the sensitive nature of this expedition, we felt that the captain we select should make that determination. Only i, as the technical advisor and representative of the nest, will be a required crew member."

  "What do you mean by sensitive? I thought it was a cargo run."

  Cicero paused, waggling the fingers and eyestalks of its prime limb as if considering how to couch its reply.

  "The mission does have a sensitive component. Hornet is equipped with sophisticated electronics—beyond the native capacity of the RC to manufacture—partly to train our future engineers on such systems, and partly to enhance her survivability should she ever venture in to the Wilds. Such equipment is expensive, however, and would be difficult to replace if lost, so we require a captain with experience and superior piloting ability, whom we can trust implicitly."

  "I see. Is she a
rmed?"

  "Affirmative. With a laser and a missile launcher."

  Coeur nodded. Hell, that's the best insurance policy I know of.

  "Eventually, if this design is successful, we would like to attempt similar conversions of other vessels, with weaponry and electronics tailored for the needs of merchants in the frontier. That opportunity will arise only if this mission is successful."

  "You said that Hornet was privately owned right now, by your nest. Would the crew be required to act as private Citi2ens?"

  "Negative. Should you accept our proposal, you will remain an agent of the Exploratory Service, as will your crew."

  "Would the ship be considered a Coalition vessel, then?"

  "For practical purposes, yes. Hornet is already registered as an Exploratory Service auxiliary, and by Coalition law she is obliged to enforce the laws and mandates of the Coalition wherever necessary."

  "It sounds good," Coeur said, "although I'd like to see her before I sign on. Is she berthed across the bay?"

  "Affirmative. The vessel is docked in a berth at the starport. If you are prepared, my speeder is standing by."

  "Kinda figured I'd say yes, huh?"

  & * *

  To Coeur's eye, Cicero's speeder looked like a steel teardrop, parked on the wind-whipped edge of Brierly Field. This little academy field had room for starships if necessary, but it largely served as a jumping-off point for the main starport on the far eastern side of Brusman Atoll, and as such was continuously busy with the traffic of air rafts and ship's boats.

  "You will note the human passenger seat ' Cicero said, after letting them into the grav vehicle with a laser key. "We have found that humans are uncomfortable with our original seating arrangement."

  Coeur saw at once how that would be the case. The two Hiver "chairs" were mushroom-shaped stools behind the holographic control consoles, upon which a pilot or copilot could spin in any direction, using any of its six arms/legs to manipulate controls or handle equipment. A human at one of these stations would be obliged either to hunch over painfully below the low ceiling, or lie on her stomach on the stool, which wasn't very comfortable either.

  "Very thoughtful," Coeur said, taking one of the two human seats in the rear and strapping herself in.

  The Hivers, of course, provided straps for their own seats as well, evidence of their legendary safety-consciousness. More than likely, they realized that seat restraints would not protect anyone in a 600 kph collision, and just left them installed to make themselves and their guests feel safer, A moment later, the speeder slipped free of the concrete apron on silent contra-grav lift, then swung around under impetus from its whining plasma thrusters and nosed into the flight plan assigned by the Brusman air traffic network. Coeur winced at the afternoon glare from Halos as they turned, but that passed away and left her with a fine—if brief—view of the island harbor as they roared across it.

  Aubaine, first of the worlds contacted by the Hiver Federation in 1193, was 98.2% covered with water, and therefore a change from the Arizona desert where Coeur had grown up. Indeed, whipping sea-spray routinely lashed Coeur's seaside apartment during the winter months, and she realized early on that if she was going to live here she was going to get wet.

  Still, it was her favorite home of all the places she'd lived. It was a true democracy, for one thing (as evidence, the native aquatic Schalli race held three-quarters of its seats in the Assembly of Worlds), and all around was the drive and energy of a fledgling interstellar government where everything was new. Though Brusman wasn't the capital (Trantown Archipelago was the seat of government), its thrice-weekly Auction drew visitors from all across the subsector to bid on recovered relic hardware, making it a crossroads for all of the Coalition.

  This day, in fact, was an Auction day, so vehicular traffic was at its peak. In the pale green water of the harbor, surface-effect craft congregated with hydrofoils, while in the sky above, an armada of aerial craft swarmed about the starport—ship's boats, air rafts, dirigibles—vying for airspace with sea birds on patrol for visitors' crumbs. It was an atmosphere both kinetic and compelling around those parti-colored tents on the waterfront, and Coeur might have considered slopping by later—if her thoughts were not directed elsewhere.

  Elsewhere to Coalition Berth 57, well apart from the festive commercial section of the port. Standard practice being to extend an all-weather shroud over ships under repair (you could never be too conservative about corrosion, even in the balmy summer), Coeur did not see Hornet until after they set down and walked into her bay.

  Well, Coeur thought, with an appreciative smile. Now that's a ship,

  A ship of 200 displacement tons, Hornet was no one's idea of a huge vessel, but she was a rakish beauty all the same, a cleanly streamlined freighter with a pickle fork bow and a sleek aft-mounted airfoil for atmospheric control. Power, electronic, and waste umbilicals dangled from her flanks and keel—under which three human students were still tinkering—but she had a look of speed even standing still.

  "Red Sun," Cicero said, pausing near the loosely assembled students, "these individuals are Lugnut, Spanner, and Crowbar, the graduating Exploratory Service engineers working on this project."

  "Pleased to meet you," Coeur said.

  "Red Sun," Cicero then explained to the trio, "is our prospective captain, but she would like at least a cursory tour of the vessel before she decides whether to accept the position. Would you be interested in giving her that tour?"

  Electric prods couldn't have moved them any faster. No sooner had the phrase "prospective captain" left Cicero's voder than the students were straightening their grimy coveralls arid waiting for Cicero to complete its announcement so they could advance with parade- march rigidity.

  Physically they could not have been less similar— Crowbar a gangly man with a beard, Spanner a shorter woman with lively eyes, and Lugnut the shortest of the three, a stocky man who appeared to press the service limit of weight-for-height—but all three came up in a tidy line and executed very crisp salutes.

  "Sir," Lugnut announced to Coeur, "we would be honored."

  Saluting back, Coeur suppressed too obvious a smile. Clearly, it had gotten around that the mission engineer would be selected by Hornets captain.

  "I will be momentarily detained by another errand," Cicero then said to Coeur, "though I will return before your tour is complete. Students, carry on."

  "Red Sun," Crowbar said, sweeping his hand in the direction of the cargo ramp as Cicero padded off toward the berth office, "after you."

  But before Coeur could even step onto the ramp, Lugnut and Spanner were racing ahead, removing tools and bundles of fiber-optic cables that Coeur could easily have stepped over or around. Only Crowbar, whose demeanor was more reserved than the others, restrained himself from a frenzy of path-clearing.

  As best as she could, Coeur kept her expression neutral, though she inwardly approved of Crowbar's restraint. A scattering of tools was the evidence of engineers at work, which boosted her confidence far more than a tidy work area.

  I wonder if any of them hove ever been out there in the Wilds. If they were, they sure as hell wouldn't be trying this hard to get back there again.

  Although Coeur had never served aboard a far trader, the design was quite common and familiar to anyone who had ever spent any time around a starport. Particularly in the two Coalition subsectors—where worlds were infrequently clustered in the tidy bunches navigable by jump-1 traders—the long legs of the jump-2 trader were a necessity for interstellar commerce, and many dozens were either in service or in the process of being refitted.

  What a TL-12 far trader did not have was survivability.

  Though she was spry in an atmosphere, 1G of thrust would not outrun many adversaries in space—even assuming those adversaries could be detected with the standard short-range sensors of the design. Further, 72 mm armor wouldn't protect against most hand-held plasma weapons, let alone ship-borne artillery, so it wasn't a vast surprise
that the six far traders in the Expedition of 1199 never returned. What was surprising to Coeur was that the Coalition was envisioning a return to the frontier in these fine—but flimsy—vessels.

  "Actually, survivability was our main consideration," Spanner said, as she, her fellow students, and Coeur strode into the vast and empty central cargo hold.

  "Right," Lugnut jumped in, "all of the sensors are very long range and we've installed a master fire director to enhance the accuracy of the laser and missiles."

  "Lugnut," Spanner corrected him, "the MFD doesn't enhance the accuracy of the missiles; it increases the number of missiles that a gunner can control."

  "Well, whatever."

  "An engineer should be precise in his descriptions," Spanner said. "Don't you agree, Red Sun?"

  "Oh yes," Coeur nodded. "I'm curious about something eise, though. Unless you've sacrificed a lot of room for a jump-3 drive, Hornet doesn't have the legs to shoot the Kruyter-Nike Nimbus gap, does she?"

  "Actually," Lugnut said, "she does, sort of. What we did was install a collapsible fuel bladder behind the aft bulkhead there, big enough to allow a single-parsec jump."

  "What's more," Spanner interjected, "the bulkhead retracts after the fuel is expended to increase the capacity of the hold."

  "Hm," Coeur said, "that is clever. Did one of you think of that?"

  Neither Lugnut nor Spanner answered.

  "That was my idea, sir," Crowbar volunteered.

  "I like it ' Coeur replied. "Now what about these circles in the floor? Are those payload pallet adapters?"

  "Affirmative," Crowbar said. "For a 20-ton module. Lugnut's work, mostly,"

  "Really. I've heard those are hard to come by these days."

  Abruptly, the blooming smile on Lugnut's face faded away.

  "At the time," the squat engineer said, "we were assured by the Supply Division that a supply of those modules would be available. They sort of.,, disappeared.. after we'd completed the actual installation of the receiver sockets."