Ruins (Pathfinder 2)

Even now, there were those two mice perched on Loaf’s shoulders, ostentatiously looking at everything that happened, with all that clever cuteness that mice always had. But Rigg could see the paths of the other mice in the flyer—the ones that had jumped up to hitch rides in everyone’s clothing as they walked to the flyer, the ones that had already climbed in unnoticed as the flyer stood open and waiting. They had at least a hundred mice on this vessel, and yet no one else seemed aware of it. Did Loaf know? Surely he could hear them.

Rigg should probably mention it. But how would the mice’s behavior change if he called everyone’s attention to their presence?

Was this just a trial run for the Visitors, to see if the mice could sneak aboard a vessel without humans noticing? Very clever. Humans who didn’t have Rigg’s particular pathfinding ability or Loaf’s facemask-enhanced perceptions wouldn’t have known.

Or was it an experiment at all? The mice had shown that they could and would kill—would kill them. Just as Odinex had shown that he could murder one of their number. And they had been afraid of Vadesh! By comparison, Vadesh was their best friend.

No, the mice probably weren’t planning any homicides during this voyage. What were they planning?

“I wonder how the ships’ computers will interpret my instructions concerning the Wall,” said Rigg.

Since he was looking at Loaf when he spoke, Loaf answered him. “Which instructions?”

“I told them that anybody who was with me could pass through the Wall when I did. But how do we define ‘anybody’?” Rigg glanced at the mice that Loaf was wearing like animated epaulets.

Loaf nodded thoughtfully. “You’re saying they can’t get through the Wall.”

“I’m saying that I don’t know.”

“So the philosophical question of personhood,” said Olivenko, “has practical consequences.”

“It always does,” said Param. “Those we would k

ill, we first turn into nonpersons.”

“Dangerous not to be a person,” said Umbo. “Or to be an extra copy of a person.”

“Individually, these mice are bright enough, but not really up to individual human standards, is that right?” said Rigg. “I’d like to know their own assessment.”

“They need each other,” said Loaf. “They specialize, and so they can’t really function at their highest level when they’re alone.”

“These two on your shoulders,” said Rigg. “They function like one human? Or less?”

“Less,” said Loaf. “Or so they tell me. They’re mostly here for data collection.”

“I’d like to collect a little data,” said Rigg. “Are they a breeding pair?”

The mice froze and stared at Rigg.

“How interesting,” said Loaf. “They’ve been chattering constantly until you asked that.”

“It’s what they plan to do with the Visitors, yes?” asked Rigg. “Get aboard their ship, go to Earth, and then breed their brains out.”

“They’re a breeding pair,” said Loaf.

Rigg did not mention that there were almost certainly many dozens of breeding pairs among the rest of the mice aboard. “So if we take them into Larfold, they intend to establish themselves there?”

The mice immediately struck the pose that showed that they were speaking into Loaf’s ears. But Rigg had long since decided that this pose was just for show. Loaf could hear them perfectly well no matter which way they faced, and they were so small that at any distance—like across the cabin of the flyer—it was nearly impossible to see when their lips moved in speech. So they struck this pose when they wanted to be seen to be speaking.

“They say the thought hadn’t occurred to them,” said Loaf.

Rigg said nothing. Nor did anyone else.

“All right, they admit that was a lie,” said Loaf. “They do intend to colonize Larfold. They say that since the people of Larfold live in the ocean, the land is fallow and there’s no reason not to use it.”

“It would be the first invasion of one wallfold by the people of another,” said Rigg.

“Not an invasion,” said Loaf. “Colonization.”