Fate of Worlds: Return From the Ringworld

“You monitored my pre-takeoff conversation with Louis?”

“I did.”

“And what did you make of it?”

“I do not believe Louis is purposefully holding back anything.”

Sigmund didn’t either. And yet there was something else. He was sure of it. A nuance Louis had misconstrued. A piece of the puzzle neither of them had recognized as missing. Something to scratch his maddening mental itch. “And you’ve examined the data from Endurance.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Five worlds … gone.”

“Indeed, sir,” Jeeves repeated.

Sigmund closed his eyes. Maybe the wine, or his subconscious, or the ancient thought patterns of his ARM days would figure out whatever was bothering him.

Five worlds … gone.

Before that, Nessus had — somehow — survived the dissolution of Long Shot. Baedeker hadn’t … as far as Louis knew.

Suppose Baedeker somehow did make it to the ground. Because maybe Baedeker didn’t want his survival to be known. Because … because …

Five worlds gone and Sigmund had nothing. Maybe Baedeker’s number was up, and that’s all there was to it.

Only the Baedeker Sigmund knew, the Baedeker who had developed the planet-buster version of the Outsider planetary drives, was a proper cowardly Puppeteer. He would not charge into danger without a plan. Baedeker was smart. Brilliant, tanj it.

Sigmund had yet to unpack. He took the mini-synthesizer from his luggage and prepared a nightcap. What had Wesley’s last toast been before the group dispersed? Something apt. “To the reunion between our two worlds.”

“Indeed, sir,” Jeeves said.

Sigmund sighed. As an ARM, many years ago, two lives ago, what he wouldn’t have given to have the Puppeteers vanish. Now that the Puppeteers had vanished, it made him sad.

“Only that’s sentimental revisionist crap,” he scolded himself.

“Pardon, sir?”

“When I was an ARM, the Puppeteers disappeared from Known Space. Bey Shaeffer had just discovered the galactic-core explosion, and set the Puppeteers to running. Not knowing where they’d gone drove me crazy.”

“Indeed, sir.”

That time the answering noise made Sigmund smile. But something had just flashed through his mind …

He almost had …

No. It was gone.

“Okay, Jeeves, let’s try something else.” Because running mental laps around the same enigmatic circle was pointless. “So the planetary drives go bang and the Fleet of Worlds goes to pieces. Did Endurance capture the matter-dispersal pattern?”

“Not in any useful way. The ship had lost or had damage to too many external sensors.”

Of course. “How about the gravimetric disturbances?”

“Sorry, sir. Quantitatively, that data is also all but useless.”

“Tanj it, what do we know? Five drives blow up and we have … what? Long-range visual images? Some static? Or had Endurance lost its RF sensors, too?”

“Pardon me, sir. That’s two.”

“Two what?” Sigmund asked. “RF sensors on Endurance that still worked?”

“Two planetary-drive explosions. That’s how many space-time distortions struck Endurance.”

Sigmund froze. “Two drives exploded. Not five.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But any one planetary drive destabilizing would set off any other nearby. That’s the threat Ol’t’ro held over the Puppeteers all these years. That’s what Louis says sent Baedeker to the Ringworld in the first place, hunting for new technology.”

“That is my understanding, sir.”

“Two,” Sigmund muttered. Something was wrong here. “Five worlds are gone. You can see the debris, right?”

“Because of sensor failures — ”

“You can’t confirm that. Right.”

Sigmund located his drink bulb and concentrated on emptying it. His skepticism refused to be distracted, dissuaded, or drowned.

Something overlooked. Something misconstrued. What?

Something Baedeker had had to do in secrecy? Something Baedeker had learned about on the Ringworld?

Or, perhaps, learned immediately after …

At the back of Sigmund’s brain, that maddening suspicious itch disappeared.

He synthed another libation. He stood, raised his drink bulb, and silently toasted to Baedeker —

And to the three Puppeteer worlds Baedeker had whisked far, far away.

REPRISE

Earth Date: 2895

53

After nodding off twice at his desk, Baedeker let an aide convince him to get some proper rest. The work would be there when he returned.

Because the work was always there. The planetary energy reserves remained dangerously depleted. Dozens of arcologies must be rebuilt and a new fleet of grain ships constructed. Patients in the millions overwhelmed the medical establishment while billions more struggled to function, with critical experts all too often among the stricken. The marooned diplomats were as stunned, in their various exotic ways, as Citizens, and anyone able to deal with aliens was in demand. Everyone with any skill in science, engineering, or governance had an endless amount to do.

The work would always be there.

Baedeker flicked across half a world, lingering on his doorstep to study the sky. Unfamiliar stars. Familiar worlds overheads — but only two of them.

The constant reminder of freedom’s high price.

Disregarding the night chill, Baedeker settled onto the bench on his porch. He watched the first necklace of suns rise, the dawn light spilling over the garden that he never found time to plant. He savored the aroma of the fields all around. Eventually, he dozed.

Something brought him awake: the trill from his sash. He reached into the pocket. Another crisis, then. He