Spinneret (20 page)

Msuya took a deep breath, turned back to gaze at Carmen, still standing just inside the door. “So your civilian Council presumes to dictate to an authorized military commander, does it? What do you think the U.S. Congress is going to say when it hears about this? Or the Pentagon? I expect they would appoint a new commander rather quickly.”

Meredith held his breath … but Carmen had clearly figured out what was going on. “I don't see that the Pentagon or anyone else has any cause to complain. Your average military base isn't ninety percent civilian, either, and I can vouch for the fact that the Council has made the colony run smoother.” She fixed Msuya with a steely glaze. “As I recall, that
is
what the UN mandate called for: to establish and maintain a viable settlement on the world Astra; to choose, equip, and train such personnel as may be deemed necessary and sufficient—”

She rattled off the whole General Purpose section from memory, and when she was finished, even Msuya looked grudgingly impressed. “I see you at least put someone with legal experience in charge of your Council,” he said, turning back to face Meredith. “But you're digging yourself into a hole where you will literally starve to death. You can throw us off Astra
now,
yes, but how long will you survive when the UN cuts off all food and supply shipments to you? How long could you hold out if the Security Council voted to send a military force to deal with your blatant disobedience?”

Meredith couldn't help it; he laughed out loud. “A
military force!
Have you
seen
the collection of warships riding around us out there? Damn thing looks like a three-dimensional traffic jam—and every one of them ready to jump at the slightest suggestion that we're being invaded. I suggest you bear that in mind when you start talking about military action.”

For a moment the two men stood there, gazes locked. Meredith waited long enough for the tension in the room to get good and thick. Then, dropping his eyes to Brown's computer console, he keyed for a status report. “Your shuttle has been refueled and will be ready to lift in about an hour. Before you leave, I'll ask Major Brown to give you a tour of the Martello Base facilities.”

“This is outrageous!” one of the scientists snorted. “Mr. Msuya—are you going to let him just throw us out?”

Msuya's eyes were still boring into Meredith's face. “For the moment, Doctor, there is little else I can do. But that condition is temporary. Very temporary.”

Meredith phoned for Brown and endured the minute of stony silence it took the major to arrive. He half expected Msuya to hurl some final threat as Brown led them out, but the undersecretary passed up the chance for last-minute dramatics. Carmen started to follow the group; Meredith signaled her to remain. The door closed and she let out a long, sighing breath. “You shouldn't have laughed at him, Colonel,” she said.

Suddenly weary, Meredith sat down again behind the desk. “I know, but that particular threat was
so
ridiculous. Not that it matters, really—Msuya couldn't possibly get madder than he already is.” He shook his head. “What did you want to see me about? Andrews seemed to think it was important.”

She smiled lopsidedly. “Actually, I came here to offer whatever help I could to head off Perez's power play. I see I was a little late.”

“Not at all—both your timing and assessment of the situation were perfect.”

“I meant—never mind.”

“You meant you missed the episode where I switched sides?”

She flushed. “Well … yes. I was a little … surprised by that.”

“Yeah. My own fault, too—I should've expected the UN to try a direct takeover and been better prepared. They moved a lot faster than I thought they could.”

There was a moment of silence. “What happens now?” Carmen asked. “Are you really sending Dr. Chang home?”

“I have no choice. You saw Msuya's expression—he's just itching for a chance to come down like a Marine battalion on either Astra or the U.S. Throwing everyone off Astra like this should get the U.S. off the immediate hook, though there'll now be pressure on the President to replace me; I hope he understands what I'm doing and can stall them.”

“What if he can't? I have to tell you, Colonel, that legally you're on very soft ground. Council or no, you're still the one who's ultimately responsible for everything that happens on Astra … and the UN
would
be well within their rights to cut off our supplies.”

“Um.” Meredith stared out the window for a moment. Like the courier ship still in orbit, the UN delegation's shuttle was clearly of alien design—another “gift” from the Ctencri, no doubt. Meredith had never been as opposed to the UN as some of his colleagues were, but this business of the organization being sole contact for alien trade was beginning to look ominous. It was putting far too much power into the hands of the Secretariat, and he wondered fleetingly whether Msuya's presence here had been a play by that body alone. He'd offered no evidence of a Security Council vote, after all, and such a vote should be necessary for any altering of the Astran Mandate. Unless the U.S. had capitulated before the threat of economic sanctions and had voted with the majority. …

“All right,” Meredith said abruptly. “As the saying goes, two can play this game.” He keyed his phone for the base communications center. “Put a call through to the nearest Rooshrike ship,” he instructed the officer on duty. “Tell them I'd like a talk with Beaeki nul Dies na at his convenience.” He got an acknowledgment and looked back at Carmen. “Is there anyone in your department who's ever handled trade negotiations?”

Frowning, Carmen leaned across the desk and started tapping computer keys. “I think Ruth Eldridge might have. … No, that was a labor dispute.” She pressed more keys, but the screen remained blank. “Nothing like that in anyone's file, sir,” she said.

“Damn. Well … how about you? You want to help me open up trade with the Rooshrike?”

She looked up at him, jaw dropping open.
“Me?
Why?”

“Why not? Common sense and a fast mind are at least as important as experience in something like this. Besides, as head of the Council you'll lend an air of legitimacy that may keep Perez's crowd off my neck.”

“But—Colonel, don't you think you're giving me just a little too much extracurricular work?”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Oddly put, but you have a point. All right; as of right now you're relieved of all your normal duties. I'll get you a priority number for materials and personnel by tonight or tomorrow morning, but try to use it sparingly.”

“I understand.” She sighed. “Oh, all right; I'll do it. What exactly do you want from the Rooshrike?”

“Ultimately, our own private channel to both U.S. and alien markets, one the UN can't shut off. Priorities right now are foodstuffs, heavy equipment—well, it's the same list that's on the computer. All the stuff we lost to the Spinneret's leecher.”

“How about weapons?”

“None.” His lip twitched at her expression. “Yes, I know I'm a military man and that we've already been attacked once. But our best chance of survival right now is to look and act as harmless as possible. Remember, the warships upstairs know even less about the Spinneret than we do—and they
don't
know we aren't in actual control of the thing. I've already had to deflect two or three veiled questions about the ‘weapon' we used against the M'zarch landers, at least one of which concerned the thing's range. The minute we start looking militant I think they'd come to a pretty quick agreement on joint action.”

“I suppose so,” she agreed reluctantly. “I just don't like feeling so vulnerable.”

“Neither do I, but for now it can't be helped.”

She shrugged, as if dismissing the matter. “All right. Now, how are we proposing to pay the Rooshrike for whatever they get us?”

Meredith took a deep breath. He hated to do this, but could see no alternative. “We'll pay them—and any other race with which we do business—in lengths of Spinneret cable. The value per meter will be assessed later, once we've completed our tests on its material properties.”

Carmen's dark eyes held his. “You're going to let the aliens buy the cable, just like that? Suppose one of them figures out what it's made of or how the glue works or something?”

“I don't think that's likely to be a problem,” he returned dryly. “And even if they do, I doubt it'll hurt our profits any. If Dr. Hafner's right, the Spinners' factory could be the size of a small city, and I can't see the Rooshrike or Ctencri throwing one together overnight.” He paused, but she still looked troubled. “You disagree?” he prompted.

“What about Earth? Are you going to give the UN or U.S. some cables free, or make them pay for it like everyone else?”

Meredith shook his head. “I don't know yet how we're going to handle them. My first inclination is to pay off the costs of the colony and then treat Earth as just another customer … but since the U.S.'ll get the lion's share of cable that way, it's bound to cause a major stink at the UN. And this damn six-week communications lag doesn't help any—we could spark off a war and never even know about it until it was all over.” He scowled toward the computer screen. “Let's add a couple of those fast courier ships to the Christmas list you're making. If the UN can get advanced drives, we ought to be able to, too.”

“Yes, sir.” She hesitated. “Colonel … before I came here I was talking to “Cris Perez. He's also starting to talk about selling Spinneret cable.”

“Oh? I would've thought tawdry mercantile matters beneath him.”

She flushed. “He's less interested in profits than he is in making Astra an escape hatch for Earth's poor. He sees the Spinneret as the cornucopia that'll make that possible.”

“He would,” Meredith grumbled. “Perez is a grade-ten idealist.”

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “But you're now talking about a similar course of action … and either way I'm worried about what we'll do here with a sudden influx of wealth. I'd hate to see all of us sit back and loaf while the Spinneret pays the bills for us.”

Meredith rubbed his chin. “I doubt that it'll come to that extreme. The cable may be strong as hell, but what can you really
do
with something shaped like cosmic spaghetti?”

“I don't know. But the Spinners apparently did.”

“Yeah.” For a moment Meredith stared past Carmen. An entire planet-worth of metal … quintillions of tons of it … all made into six-centimeter cable?
Why!
“You'd better go back to your office and get busy with your preparations,” he said, instinctively pulling back from what could only be futile speculation. “I'd like to get Beaeki's people down here tomorrow morning for a preliminary meeting.”

She nodded and stood up. “I can be ready.”

“Good. I'll let you know the time after I talk with the Rooshrike.”

He glared at the desktop for a minute after she'd gone. So he and Perez were both thinking along the same lines for once, were they? An annoying thought, in some ways; but if handled properly it might enable him to take some of the wind out of the Hispanic's rhetoric. Even a brief respite would be helpful; between Perez, the UN, and the collection of alien ships overhead, Meredith was facing too many opponents as it was.

And speaking of opponents …

Hitching his chair closer to the terminal, the colonel keyed for the job file and began to type:

SEARCH ALL AVAILABLE ALIEN LITERATURE FOR HISTORICAL RECORDS, LEGENDS, OR MYTHS RELATING TO OTHER RACES, GODLIKE BEINGS, ETC. EMPHASIS ON
ROOSHRIKE AND POM TERRITORIES. FULL ANALYSIS REQUESTED, INCLUDING CORRELATIONS AND COMPOSITES WHERE POSSIBLE.

Know thy enemy,
the ancient dictum went … and if the Spinners had left any other trace of their passage behind, Meredith wanted to know about it.

T
HE REPORT WAS SHORT
and maddeningly uninformative, and Secretary-General Saleh slapped the last page onto his desk with a snort. “I don't suppose,” he said sarcastically, “that you have any idea what these meetings with the Rooshrike are about?”

Ashur Msuya shook his head. Judging from his expression his own mood wasn't much better than Saleh's, but he knew better than to snap back at his superior. “Nothing positive. There's been nothing like a general announcement about changes in defense arrangements or anything. It's possible they're working on a trade agreement, but the shipments that the Rooshrike landed there could equally well have been in return for the cable they made off with after the M'zarch attack. “

Saleh snorted. “Oh, it's a trade agreement, all right—Allerton is moving to open up an independent pipeline to the alien marketplace.”

“Or Colonel Meredith is,” Msuya offered, shaking his head. “I'm not really sure whose side Meredith is on these days.”

“Forget your doubts. He's an American soldier on American-claimed soil. Any rifts that appear are purely for show.”

“Perhaps. But either way I submit that it s high time the UN made a move to assert its rights on Astra.”

“Your economic embargo of the colony, I presume?”

Msuya nodded. “Whatever agreement Meredith—or Allerton—is setting up, the Rooshrike can't deliver food that we don't let off the Earth.”

“The Americans have their own starships—”

“Which now use Ctencri drives and are supplied from the ground by Ctencri shuttles. We can cut off the flow of spare parts and fuel cylinders any time we want. It would take months or longer for them to get their older shuttle fleet back in service.”

Saleh pondered. He hadn't liked this idea much when Msuya first proposed it, and he didn't like it any better now. To deliberately put his hands to the throat of a colony he himself had helped set up … but, then, it undoubtedly wouldn't come to that. The Americans would back down before they'd let their people starve. “You're sure their own crops won't be adequate?”