Tatja Grimm's World

She crossed her long, smooth legs, and leaned back. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted in a dreamy smile. Her figure was slender compared to four years ago—but both he and Cor agreed that these curves were her curves. Puberty had come late and lasted long, but Tatja Grimm was truly a young woman now, perhaps the equivalent of a fifteen-year-old. Svir felt sudden guilt to be here and watching and … attracted. He wanted so much to go to her, put his arms around her—all the more because he was sure that she wasn’t pretending, that in fact she had forgotten his presence. He hunted desperately for something to break the spell.

Then he guessed the cause of her sudden mood. “You really think Wechsler’s ‘Perfidious Profirio’ is a godling in disguise?”

“Mmmhmm… There’s a good chance. He could be a defector from our own art’ry labs, but I think Haarm Wechsler’s spies would have discovered that. If he’s not a defector, then he’s probably of my—caliber. There is no straightforward way to make practical artillery pieces from nonmetallics. A rather complete grasp of ceramic and impregnation chemistry is required. Even then, several years of trial-and-error experimentation are needed unless you use optimization techniques that I’ve never bothered to write up. And if Profirio has built all these gun tubes as fast as it seems, then he’s using factory schemes I’ve never seen before. If only he is what he seems.” A frown crossed her face, and her business personality nearly surfaced.

Svir got up and moved toward the door. The fact that her desire was not directed at him had no effect on his desire for her. He vaguely wondered what violence would greet an advance. And that thought made him feel even more guilty. If he left now perhaps he could forget the feeling.

As he reached the door, he remembered the folder he was carrying. Damn. His escape must be delayed a few moments. He returned and set the folder on the table before Tatja. “Marget”—he used the official name-of- address—“here are the latest reports from the High Eye.”

Her eyes opened wide, and her back straightened with a little start. She didn’t seem irritated at the interruption, just a little bewildered, as if she had been awakened. “Uh, oh yes. Thanks.”

He turned to go. “Stick around, Svir. You can have these back.” Tatja read the reports faster than he could browse light fiction. She paused only at the last sheet. Svir remembered the report. It was one of the most peculiar he had seen in a long time. He wondered what her reaction would be. He looked over her shoulder. There were the typical salutations which, in the case of the Doomsday astronomers, had to be sarcasm. The Doomsdaymen had always resented the crown, submitting only because that power could protect them from nearer enemies. They hadn’t counted on the rise of Tatja Grimm, who exercised an unwelcome interest in all things astronomical, and who required quarterly reports. At first they had patronizingly referred her to the standard journals, where a few of their results appeared. Even now that they sent her complete reports, Svir felt they did it with an air of condescension. The report began:

Summer 52, 936 YD

To Her Most Gracious Majesty, Marget of Sandros, Queen of All Crownesse, High Mayor of Bayfast, Lady Protector of the Coasts and Deserts, Greeting: Herein we present the 129th consecutive astronomical report of our humble search across the Face of God. We beg Your Majesty’s indulgence with this unworthy and trivial tabulation entitled:

Six Abnormal Objects in the Constellation of the Running Thief

In the course of a routine sky patrol session, picture plate 2879 was exposed at approximately 1:47 Heavensgate Meridian Time on the 16th of Spring, 936. A new object in the negative first magnitude was revealed by this exposure. Ten acolytes were assigned the task of maintaining a night-round watch on this area of the sky.

(Svir winced at this offhand reference to what must have been one of the most tortuous projects in the history of astronomy. He could scarcely bear to imagine sitting in the cold and rarified air, hours at a time— watching for a barely visible twinkle light-years away. The Doomsday astronomers were famed for this sort of sadomasochism.)

During the next two quarters, the images of five more such objects were captured on picture plates. Data concerning all six objects are tabulated below.

According to our amended usage, 0°RA is the zenith meridian at the High Eye on the 1st of Winter, 920 YD, at 00:00:00 HMT. Right ascension increases in the same sense as the sun travels across the Celestial Face.

The magnitude given for (0) depends on the assumption that the object was uniformly bright during the plate’s exposure, which is a reasonable approximation if the light curve of (0) was similar to that of the other objects. As is our custom, error estimates are not provided.

Objects (1) through (5) were subjected to spectroscopic examination. Their light appears entirely due to continuum radiation. The light curves for objects (1) through (5) appear identical except for the overall change in magnitude, indicated above by the column for maximum magnitude achieved.

The 206/23 region will be below our horizon at the critical time of evening on the 14th of Fall. However, a close watch of this area will be maintained in the coming quarters.

This concludes the 129th report of astronomical activities to Your Majesty. It was prepared by Your Majesty’s unworthy servant Mikach G., First Archobserver and Chief Instrumentalist to the High Eye.

Tatja stared at the report for a full ten seconds. When it came, her laughter was explosive. She doubled up in her chair and her face became red. Finally she sat up and wiped tears from her eyes. “Talk about ‘words writ large upon the sky,’ ” she gasped.

Svir picked up the report and looked at it once more. He could guess what she meant by that remark, but he couldn’t see how the lights described could be a message. It certainly was an abnormal sequence, but did she think that every unexplained phenomenon was evidence of extraplanetary intelligence?

She saw his look. “You mean you don’t see it?”

He donned pedant’s armor. “With only the information in this report, I don’t. Perhaps you’re drawing on information I don’t have.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s possible,” she said slowly. “But you are an astronomer. At least that’s what you keep telling me. Perhaps you aren’t aware of the key facts necessary to solve this puzzle: there are four quarters to a year, fifty-five days to a quarter, forty hours to a day, sixty minutes to an hour, and sixty seconds to a minute. Light travels at one hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second, and what’s more—” she pretended to strain after some subtle detail “—oh yes, the world revolves about the sun at a distance of ninety-two million miles, and not vice versa—as you may have been led to believe. Got all that?”

“Urk.” Svir felt his face grow hot; he guessed the point. And he a parallax astronomer! “I’ll give it another look,” he said, backing toward the door.

Fifteen

Svir was very suspicious of skoats. They were used mainly as draft animals in the Chainpearls. The fat brown quadrupeds were fine for pulling wagons, but now he was riding one! He watched the brown neck and pointed ears warily. Cor claimed this one was gentle; he was not convinced. The animal had the unsettling habit of bringing its head around and taking a so-called playful nip at his legs. And even if the beast was a great humanitarian, the ride