John C. Wright - Guest Law.pdf - John C. Wright - widez2

GUEST LAW

by John C. Wright

____________________________

Reprinted in Year's Best SF 3

HarperPrism

ISBN 0-06-105901-3

eBook scanned & proofed by binwiped 11-10-02 [v1.0]

T he night of deep space is endless and empty and dark. There is nothing behind which to hide. But ships

can be silent, if they are slow.

The noble ship Procrustes was silent as a ghost. She was black-hulled, and ran without beacons or

lights. She was made of anti-radar alloys and smooth ceramics, shark-finned with panels meant to diffuse

waste-heat slowly, and tiger-striped with electronic webs meant to guide certain frequen-cies around the

hull without rebounding.

If she ever were seen, a glance would show that she was meant to be slow. Her drive was fitted

with baffle upon baf-fle, cooling the exhaust before it was expelled, a dark drive, non-radioactive, silent

as sprayed mist. Low energy in the drive implied low thrust. Further, she had no centrifuge sec-tion, nor

did she spin. This meant that her crew were lightweights, their blood and bones degenerated or adapted

to microgravity, not the sort who could tolerate high boosts.

This did not mean Procrustes was not a noble ship. Warships can be slow; only their missiles need

speed.

And so it was silently, slowly, that Procrustes ap-proached the stranger's cold vessel.

"We are gathered, my gentlemen, to debate whether this new ship here viewed is noble, or whether she is

unarmed; and, if so, whether and how the guest law applies. It pleases us to hear you employ the second

level of speech; for this is a semi-informal occasion, and briefer honorifics we permit."

The captain, as beautiful and terrifying as something from a children's Earth-story, floated nude

before the viewing well. The bridge was a cylinder of gloom, with only control-lights winking like

constellations, the viewing well shining like a full moon.

The captain made a gesture with her fan toward Smith and spoke: "Engineer, you do filth-work . . ."

(by which she meant manual labor) "... which makes you familiar with machines." (She used the term

"familiar" because it simply was not done to say a lowlife had "knowledge" or "exper-tise.") "It would

amuse us to hear your conclusions touching and concerning the stranger's ship."

Smith was never allowed high and fore to the bridge, except when he was compelled to go, as he

was now. His hands had been turned off at the wrists, since lowlifes should not touch controls.

Smith was in terror of the captain, but loved her too, since she was the only highlife who called

smiths by their old title. The captain was always polite, even to tinkers or drifters or bondsman.

She had not even seemed to notice when Smith had hooked one elbow around one of the many

guy-wires that webbed the dark long cylinder of the bridge. Some of the offi-cers and knights who

floated near the captain had turned away or snorted with disgust when he had clasped that rope. It was a

foot-rope, meant for toes, not a hand rope. But Smith's toes were not well formed, not coordinated. He

had not been born a lightweight.

Smith was as drab as a hairless monkey next to the cap-tain's vavasors and carls, splendid in their

head-to-toe tattoos which displayed heraldries and victory-emblems. These nobles all kept their heads

pointed along the captain's axis (an old saying ran: "the captain's head is always up!"), whereas Smith was

offset 90 degrees clockwise, legs straight, present-ing a broad target. (This he did for the same reason a

man under acceleration would bow or kneel; a posture where one could not move well to defend oneself

showed submission.)

Smith could see the stranger's ship in the viewing well. She was a slim and handsome craft, built

along classical lines, an old, a very old design, of such craftsmanship as was rarely seen today. She was

sturdy: built for high accelerations, and proudly bearing long thin structures forward of antennae of a type

that indicated fearlessly loud and long-range radar. The engine block was far aft on a very long and

graceful insulation shaft. The craft had evidently been made in days when the safety of the engine serfs still

was a concern.

Her lines were sleek. (Not, Smith thought secretly, like Procrustes, whose low speed and lack of

spin allowed her to grow many modules, ugly extrusions, and asymmetric protu-berances.)

But the stranger's ship was old. Rust, and ice from frozen oxygen, stained the hull where seals had

failed.

Yet she still emitted, on radio, the cheerful welcome-code. Merry green-and-red running lights were

still lit. Microwave detectors showed radiations from the aft section of her hull, which might still be

inhabited, even though the fore sections were cold and silent. Numbers and pictoglyphs flickered on a

small screen to one side of the main image, showing telemetry and specific readings.

Smith studied the cylinder's radius and rate of spin. He calculated, and then he said, "Glorious

Captain, the lowest deck of the stranger ship has centrifugal acceleration of exactly 32 feet per second

per second."

The officers looked eye to eye, hissing with surprise.

The chancellor nodded the gaudy plume that grew from his hair and eyebrows. "This number has

ancient significance! Some of the older orders of eremites still use it. They claim that it provides the best

weight for our bones. Perhaps this is a religious ship."

One of the younger knights, a thin, dapple-bellied piebald wearing silk speed-wings running from his

wrists to ankles, now spoke up: "Great Captain, perhaps she is an Earth ship, inhabited by machine

intelligences ... or ghosts!"

The other nobles opened their fans, and held them in front of their faces. If no derisive smiles were

seen, then there was no legal cause for duel. The young knight might be illiter-ate, true, most young

knights were, but the long kick-talons he wore on his calves had famous names.

The captain said, "We are more concerned for the stranger's nobility, than her ... ah ... origin." There

were a few smirks at that. A ship from Earth, indeed! All the old horror-tales made it clear that nothing

properly called human was left on Earth, except, perhaps, as pets or specimens of the machines. The

Earthmind had never had much interest in space.

The chancellor said, "Those racks forward ..." (he pointed at what were obviously antennae) "...

may house weaponry, great Captain, or particle beam weapons, if the stranger has force enough in her

drive core to sustain a weapon-grade power flow."

The captain looked toward Smith, "Concerning this ship's energy architecture, Engineer, have you

any feelings or intuitions?" She would not ask him for "deductions" or "con-clusions," of course.

Smith felt grateful that she had not asked him directly to answer the question; he was not obligated

to contradict the chancellor's idiotic assertions. Panicle beam indeed! The man had been pointing at a

radio dish.

Very polite, the captain, very proper. Politeness was crit-ically important aboard a crowded ship.

The captain was an hermaphrodite. An ancient law for-bade captains to marry (or to take lowlife

concubines) from crew aboard. The Captain's Wife must be from off-ship, either as gift or conquest or to

cement a friendly alliance.

But neither was it proper for the highest of the highlife to go without sexual pleasure, so the captain's

body was modi-fied to allow her to pleasure herself.

Her breasts were beautiful—larger, by law, than any woman's aboard—and her skin was adjusted

to a royal purple melanin, opaque to certain dangerous radiations. Parallel rows of her skin cells, down

her belly and back, had been adjusted to become ornaments of nacre and pearl. Her long legs ended in a

second pair of hands, nails worn long to show that she was above manual work. On her wrists and on

her calves were the sheaths of her gem-studded blades, and she could fight with all four blades at once.

"Permission to speak to your handmaidens, Glorious Captain?"

"Granted. We will be amused by your antics."

The handmaidens were tied by their hair to the control boards (this was no discomfort in

weightlessness, and left their fingers and toes free to manipulate the controls). Some controls were only a

few inches from the captain's hand, but she would not touch controls, of course. That was what

hand-maidens were for.

Smith diffidently suggested to the handmaidens that they focus analytical cameras on several bright

stars aft of the motionless ship, and then, as Procrustes approached a point where those same stars

were eclipsed by the emission trail behind the stranger's drive, a spectographic comparison would give

clues as to the nature of the exhaust, and hence of the engine structure. Such a scan, being passive, would

not betray Procrustes' location.

When the analysis had been done as Smith suggested, the result showed an usually high number of

parts per billion of hard gamma radiation, as well as traces of high overall elec-tric charge. Smith gave his

report, and concluded: "The high numbers of antiprotons through the plume points to a matter-antimatter

reaction drive. In properly tuned drives, however, the antiprotons should have been completely

consumed, so that their radiation pressure could add to the thrust. Particle decay in the plume indicates

many gigaseconds have passed since the main expulsions. There is a cloud of different geom-etry

condensed closer to the drive itself, indicating that the starship has been drifting on low power, her

engines idling. But the engines are still active, Glorious Captain. She is not a hulk. She lives."

Smith was smiling when he gave this report, surprised by his own calm lightheartedness. He did not

recognize the mood, at first.

It was hope. Often the guest law required the captain to display great munificence. And here was a

ship clearly in need of repair, in need of a good smith.

Perhaps the captain would sell his contract to these new people; perhaps there was hope that he

could leave Procrustes, perhaps find masters less cruel, duties less ardu-ous. (Freedom, a home, a wife,

a woman to touch, babies born with his name, a name of his own—these he did not even dream of,

anymore.)

With a new ship, anything might happen. And even if Smith weren't given away, at least there would

be news, new faces, and a banquet. Guest law made such chance meetings a time of celebration.

The captain waved her fan to rotate herself to face her gathered officers. "Opinions, my gentlemen?"

The chancellor said, "With respect, great Captain, we must assume she is of the noble class. If she

carries antimatter, she must be armed. She may be a religious ship, perhaps a holy order on errantry or

antimachine crusade. In either case, it would be against the guest law not to answer her hail. As the poet

says: 'Ships are few and far in the wide expanse of night; shared cheer, shared news, shared goods, all

increase our might.'"

The winged knight said: "With respect, great Captain! If this is a religious ship, then let God or His

Wife Gaia look after her! Why should a ship with such potent drives be hang-ing idle and adrift? No

natural reason! There may be plagues aboard, or bad spirits, or machines from Earth. I say pass this one

by. The guest law does not require we give hospitality and aid to such unchancy vessels, or ships under

curse. Does not the poet also say: 'Beware the strangeness of the stranger. Unknown things bring

unknown danger'?"

A seneschal whose teeth had been grown into jewels spoke next, "Great Captain, with respect. The

guest law allows us to live in the Void. Don't we share air and water and wine? Don't we swap crews

and news when we meet? This is a ship unknown, too true, and a strange design. But every ship we meet

is new! Einstein makes certain time will age us for-ever away from any future meetings with any other

ship's crew. None of that matters. Captain, my peers, honored offi-cers, listen: either that ship is noble,

or she is unarmed. If she is unarmed, she owes us one tenth of her cargo and air and crew. Isn't that fair?

Don't we keep the Void clear of pirates and rogues when we find them? But if she is noble, either she has

survivors, or she has not. If there are no survivors, then she is a rich prize, and ours by salvage law. Look

at the sound-ness of her structure: her center hull would make a fine new high keep; she is leaking

oxygen, she must have air to spare; and the grease-monkey here says she has a drive of great power!

Driven by antimatter!"

The vavasors and knights were gazing now with greedy eyes at the image in the viewing well.

Antimatter, particularly anti-iron, was the only standard barter metal used throughout the Expanse. Like

gold, it was always in demand; unlike radioactives, it did not decay; it was easily identifiable, it was

homogenous, it was portable. It was the universal coin, because everyone needed energy.

The seneschal said, "But if she has survivors, great Captain, they must be very weak. And weak

ships are often more generous than the guest law requires! More generous than any living man wants to

be!"

A ripple of hissing laughter echoed from the circle of nobles. Some of them fondly touched their

knives and anchorhooks.

The captain looked as if she were about to chide them for their evil thoughts, but then a sort of cruel

masculine look came to her features. Smith was reminded that the womanly parts of her hermaphrodite's

body were only present to serve the pleasure of the manly parts.

The captain said, "Good my gentlemen, might there be a noble woman aboard, among the

survivors?"

The ship's doctor, an old, wiry man with thin hands and goggle-adapted eyes, laughed breathlessly:

"Aye! Captain's in rut and high time she were married, says I! Sad when we had to choke that

concubine, back last megasecond when the air-stock got low. Don't you worry, Capt'n! If there be

anyone aboard that ship, whatever they is now, I'll make 'em into a woman for you! Make 'em! Even

boys get to like it, you know, after you dock 'em a few times, if you got their wombs wired up right to the

pleasure center of their brains!"

There was some snickering at that, but the laughter froze when the captain said in her mildest voice:

"Good my ship's Surgeon, we are most pleased by your counsel, though it is not called for at this time.

We remind you that an officer and a gentleman does not indulge in waggish humor or display."

Then she snapped her right fan open and held it overhead for attention. "My herald, radio to the

stranger ship with my compliments and tell her to prepare for docking under the guest-law protocols.

Fire-control, ready your weapons in case she answers in an ignoble or inhospitable fashion, or if she turns

pirate. Quartermaster, ready ample cubic space to take on full supplies."

The nobles looked eye to eye, smiling, hands caressing weapon-hilts, nostrils dilated, smiling with

blood-lust at the prospect.

The captain said with mild irony: "The stranger is weak, after all, and may be more generous than

guest law or pru-dence requires. Go, my gentlemen, prepare your battle-dress! Look as haughty as

hawks and as proud as peacocks for our guests!"

Their laughter sounded horrid to Smith's ears. He thought of the guest law, and of his hopes, and felt

sick.

The captain, as an afterthought, motioned with her fan toward Smith, saying to her handmaid, "And shut

down the engineer. We may have need of his aptitudes soon, and we need no loose talk belowdecks the

while."

A handmaiden raised a control box and pointed it at Smith, and, before he could summon the

courage to plead, a circuit the ship's doctor had put in his spine and brain stem shut off his sensory nerves

and motor-control.

Smith wished he had had the chance to beg for his sleep center to be turned on. He hated the

hallucinations sensory deprivation brought.

Numb, blind, wrapped in a gray void, Smith tried to sleep.

When Smith slept, he dreamed of home, of his father and mother and many brothers. His native habitat

was built up around the resting hulk of the exile-ship Never Return, in geosynchronous orbit above an

ancient storm system rippling the face of a vast gas giant in the Tau Ceti system.

The habitat had a skyhook made of materials no modern man could reproduce, lowered into the

trailing edge of the storm. Here the pressure caused a standing wave, larger than the surface area of most

planets, which churned up pressur-ized metallic hydrogen from the lower atmospheres. The colonists had

mined the wave for fuel for passing starships for generations.

In the time of Smith's great-grandfather, the multimillion-year-old storm began to die out. As fuel

production failed, the colony grew weak, and the Nevermen were subject to raids. Some came from

Oort-cloud nomads, but most were from the inner-system colonists who inhabited the asteroidal belts

their ancestors had made by pulverizing the subterrestrial planets.

Smith's mother and father had been killed in the raids.

There was no law, no government, to appeal to for aid. Even on old Earth, before the machines, no

single government had ever managed to control the many peoples of that one small planet. To dream of

government across the Expanse was madness: the madness of sending a petition to a ruler so distant that

only your remote descendants would hear a reply.

And it was too easy for anyone who wished to escape the jurisdiction of any prospective

government; they need only shut down their radio and alter their orbit by a few degrees. Space is vast,

and human habitats were small and silent.

(Planets? No one lived on the surface of those vulnerable rocks, suited against atmospheres humans

could not endure, at gravities that they could not, by adjusting spin, control. Legends said that Earth was

a world where unsuited men could walk abroad. The chances of finding a perfect twin— and the match

must be perfect, for humans were evolved for only one environment—made certain that the legend would

remain a legend. In the meantime, mankind lived on ships and habitats.)

After the destruction of his home, Smith himself had been sold into slavery.

Slavery? Why not slavery? It was not economically feasi-ble in a technological society, true. But

then again, slavery had never been economically feasible, even back on Old Earth. The impracticality of

slavery had not abolished it. History's only period without slavery, back on Earth, happened when the

civilized Western nations, led by Britain, brought the pres-sure of world opinion (or open war) against the

nations that practiced it. The Abolitionist Movements and their ideals reached to all continents.

But, on Earth, it did not take years and generations for nearest neighbors to take note of what their

neighbors did.

Endless space meant endless lawlessness.

There was, however, custom.

Radio traffic was easier to send than ships from star to star, and there was no danger in listening to

it. Radio-men and scholars in every system had to keep ancient languages alive, or else the lore of the

talking universe would be closed to them. Common language permitted the possibility of com-mon

custom.

Furthermore, systems that did not maintain the ancient protocols for approaching starships could not

tempt captains to spend the time and fuel to decelerate. If colonists wanted news and gifts and emigrants

and air, they had to announce their readiness to obey the guest law.

And, of course, there were rumors and horrid myths of supernatural retributions visited on those

who broke the guest law. Smith thought that the mere existence of such rumors proved that the guest law

was not, and could never be, enforced.

Smith was not awake when the heralds exchanged radio-calls and conducted negotiations between the

ships.

But when the seneschal ordered him alert again, he saw the looks of guilt and fear on the faces of the

highlife officers, the too-nervous laughter, too-quickly smothered.

The seneschal's cabin was sparsely decorated, merely a sphere divided by guy-ropes, without

John C. Wright - Guest Law.pdf

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