Jeffer said, "Taxes?"

"Taxes," Booce said, "is the money the Admiralty takes to run itself. Everybody pays, but the rich pay more. A good log is wealth. For the price of the CARM you could be very rich indeed."

"The CARM is what makes us what we are. We won't risk that," Clave said.

"Then don't take it into the Clump. The Navy won't want something that powerful floating around. They'll pay well, but they'll buy it whether or not you're selling."

Jeffer tapped the forward jets awake. They were pulling near the sting jungle.

Certain mooring loops fit the silver suit too perfectly, as if it were their specific purpose. Four sets. For four suits?

Jeffer pulled it loose. "The silver suit is yours, Rather. I'm going to teach you everything about it."

Rather had seen the silver suit as a mark of rank. He hadn't thought of it as an obligation. "Did Mark show you how to work it?"

"I've watched him. Lift this latch. Take the head and turn it till it stops. Pull up. Turn it the other way. Lift. Now this latch. Now pull this down . . . pull it apart . . . good."

The suit looked like the flayed skin of a dwarf.

Legs first, then arms. Duck under the neck ring. Rather closed the sliding catches, the latches. "Do I have to close the head?"

"Cover yourself. You don't want to be stung," Booce said. "Those little mutineers can sting a moby to death."

Rather closed the headpiece. He said, "The air's getting stale."

They couldn't hear him. He couldn't really suffocate this fast, could he?

Jeffer lifted the headpiece. "Listen first. Put your hand here." He guided Rather's fingers to a row of square buttons on the outside of the neck ring. He pushed one (colored lights lit below Rather's chin), and another (air jetted inward from all around the neck ring). He used Rather's fingertip to roll a small wheel back and forth (the air jets grew weaker, then stronger). "Close the helmet."

Rather did as Jeffer had shown him. Air from the neck ring hissed around his head.

Clave was saying something inaudible. Jeffer guided Rather's fingertip to another tiny wheel, and suddenly Clave's voice was a roar. "-use up the air? Does that thing have to be closed? We're not going back out of the Smoke Ring again, are we?"

"Let's hope not. Rather, you're leaking. Close that flap at your chest. The way Booce talks about honey hornets, you don't want anything open."

Rather felt it out, then used finger pressure to close a snap he'd missed.

Now he was being shown little wheels on his chest. He moved the left one experimentally. His left foot kicked upward and he was wheeling in the air, banging his head and elbow, snatching for a mooring loop while his other hand rolled the wheel back to zero. He banged both knees before he could stop his spin.