Juggler of Worlds by Larry Niven and Edward M. Lerner Page A

said.
    “Right. I took transport to Jinx. I found Beowulf there, basking in the adulation of the public. The masses usually came to him, though. He likes the gravity control of the finer hotels.”
    Jinxian gravity was three times that of We Made It. Sigmund tried to picture it. Jinxians short and stout like fireplugs. Shaeffer tall and gaunt. “The adoring women could have snapped him like a twig.”
    Ander laughed. “His sex life was the one thing I didn’t ask about. Here’s the short version. Beowulf has a weakness for the finer things. However generously the Puppeteers paid him off four years ago, he seemed determined to burn through it.”
    A speedboat roaring up to the pier made conversation impossible. Birds screeched their protests. Buoys clanged, softer and softer as the wake dissipated. After a while, Ander said, “So, Sigmund. Four years ago on We Made It, you heard what Bey heard. What did the Puppeteers pay for your silence?”
    “Nothing.” Sigmund knew Ander wouldn’t believe that. It wasn’t just that Sigmund hardly needed the money. If he had extorted a bribe, Adonis would have had leverage over him by threat of exposure.
    And somehow Sigmund always knew: If anyone anywhere were ever to be caught for corruption, it would be him.
    None of which Sigmund had any intention of sharing. “I told him, ‘General Products will have to owe me one.’”
    “All right then.” Ander laughed cynically. “Back to the free-spending Mr. Shaeffer. He was
delighted
to run into me. The Puppeteers probably no longer care whether Bey ever scripts a docudrama of his voyage to the galactic core. Jinx Broadcasting Company is another story. Heh. Shaeffer thumbed an exclusive contract with JBC before he ever set out for the core.
JBC
still wants its show, and their execs were holding his feet to the fire.
    “Having told no one I’d ghostwritten the story of his pass past a neutron star, he was running out of ways to stall.” Ander drained his mai tai, and began flapping the miniature cocktail umbrella. “It pays to have a distinctive writing style.”
    Sigmund motioned for a fresh round. Slowly he coaxed out details. Shaeffer with wanderlust and money burning a hole in his pocket. Winding up on Jinx. The inquiry from General Products, to fly an experimental craft. “Ander, did the Puppeteers suspect something like the core explosion?”
    “Bey doesn’t believe so. The Puppeteer honcho described it as a publicity stunt, something to bring in investors. GP wanted help defraying the cost of miniaturizing the new drive.”
    In the JBC vid, the ship had looked crammed. “What’s the ship like?”
    Ander shrugged. “It was long gone when I reached Jinx. Maybe a Puppeteer pilot stayed behind after the Exodus. Someone took off with it as soon as Bey vacated.”
    Nessus had stayed behind on Earth, unseen. Why not another Puppeteer, on Jinx?
    The sky grew dark. Sigmund motioned for another round to keep Ander talking.
    Ander had been away for weeks; he had much to report. No one but human custodians in the GP building. A long talk with an astrophysicist in the Institute of Knowledge, a Dr. Julian Forward. Forward repeated what Earth’s scientists said: The data Shaeffer brought back with him were self-consistent and without anomaly. The observations didn’t in every respect match existing theory, but, according to Forward, “reality is sometimes stubbornly like that.”
    “My man Bey doesn’t much like the execs at General Products,” Ander continued. “Funny as hell listening to Beowulf talking about them. The regional president on Jinx was—”
    “Why Jinx?” Sigmund interrupted. He could no longer hold back the question. “Why did this expedition launch from Jinx?”
    “The short answer: I don’t know. Shaeffer doesn’t know.” Ander scratched his long nose, considering. “Beowulf was told the GP shipyard on Jinx had idle capacity when it was needed. The Puppeteers weren’t eager to fly an