Spinneret (27 page)

“Leaving you five as rotating tour guides.” The entire setup still seemed pretty bizarre, but if she worked hard at it she could believe it made sense.
The Spinners
were
aliens, after all,
she reminded herself.

“Actually, we're more like three to three and a half,” he said. “Colonel Meredith hardly ever comes by, and Perez and Major Barner together don't pull much more than a single shift. It almost makes me wish I hadn't supported the whole Council idea way back when—at least then Perez wouldn't always be pulling ‘official business' on us and ducking out.”

“If there weren't any Council, Perez wouldn't have been there in the first place,” Carmen pointed out. “It would've just been the other four of you.”

“Plus thirty soldiers, if I hadn't gotten all righteous about
that,”
he grumbled. “Someday maybe I'll learn to keep my mouth shut.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. The dining nook window faced west, and through it she could see that the lights of the admin complex were still ablaze.
Finishing up the details on our trade proposals?
she wondered.
Or still trying to figure out how to code the Spinner script? Probably both.
For a while she'd been resentful that no one had informed her when the Spinner tunnel was unearthed—by her reckoning she'd done more than her fair share for both the alien device and the people involved, and she'd deserved to share in some of the triumph, too. Now, though, she was just as glad she'd been somewhere else. She was already indispensable to too many projects.

“Penny for them.”

She focused on Hafner again. “Sorry—just thinking about all the work we have to do to make Astra economically stable.” She sighed. “And so much of it depends on how fast we can learn to control the Spinneret.”

Hafner pursed his lips and looked out the window himself. “Carmen … what are the races out there planning to do with the cable they buy from us? You have any ideas?”

She frowned. “No, not really.”

“It's not an idle question,” he went on, almost as if he hadn't heard her. “The Spinners went to incredible lengths to build this place—someday soon I'll take you down to see their village, and I guarantee you'll be floored by it. But why did they do it? Suck an entire planet dry of its metals to make six-centimeter cables—what were they
using
the stuff for?”

“Any number of things,” she shrugged. “We've worked up a three-page list of possibilities ourselves, and we don't know half of what there is to know about the cable yet.”

He shook his head. “You're missing my point. The buildings down there—the whole Spinneret, for that matter—everything's lasted a hundred thousand years. Why on Earth would
any
culture make something that lasts that long?”

She started to speak, then paused. It
wasn't
a trivial question. “Maybe they were building the ultimate city back on their home world or something. Maybe a tomb or memorial, like the pyramids or the Taj Mahal.”

“Or maybe a cage for something very big and long-lived,” he said quietly. “That's one of the possibilities that keep occurring to me.”

She grimaced. “That one I'd rather not think about. Maybe—well, maybe they just lived a lot longer than we do. In terms of lifetimes, then, the cable may not seem exceptionally durable.”

“Maybe.” Hafner leaned back in his chair. “That list you mentioned—any overtly military uses on it?”

“I—” She frowned. “Now that you mention it, no, there aren't.”

“The colonel's playing it cool,” Hafner nodded heavily. “But I doubt that it's doing any good. None of the races out there are dumb enough or naive enough to have missed the warfare possibilities.”

She nodded silently. It was a topic she and Meredith had never discussed openly, but from the very beginning it had fluttered like a vulture over the trade negotiations. Using that superconducting solenoid to throw missiles; wrapping a warship in unbreakable cable; hurling a giant tangler thread among an enemy's ships to glue them randomly together—practically every peaceful use had its darker flip side. “I don't suppose there's any way we can dictate how our clients use their cables, though,” she said aloud. “I think that's one reason Colonel Meredith wants all the aliens to have equal access to the cables, to minimize any strategic advantages it might provide.”

“It could still foul up the political balance, though, maybe in more subtle ways,” Hafner said. “Suppose one of the empires out there is having internal dissent, a problem maybe that the central government could quickly crush with a cable-wrapped spaceship. That would free the government's resources and attention to be turned to its neighbors.”

“What would you have us do, then?” Carmen growled, knowing full well that he wasn't attacking her personally, but still feeling compelled to defend her project. “Turn Astra over to the UN? Or pull out entirely and let the Rooshrike have it? Either way, the cable's going to be made and used by
someone.
The genie's
out,
Peter; you can't stuff it back in its bottle.”

He held up his hands, palms outward. “Peace. I wasn't picking on you or your work—and as far as genies go, I did my fair share to pop the cork. I just … that's the other possibility that keeps coming back to me. Maybe the Spinners used the cable material for warfare, too. If the crew here was recalled to help fight and never made it back … well, that would explain why the Spinneret was left running.”

She shuddered. “You
would
bring that up, wouldn't you?”

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “Look, let's get off the whole subject, okay? I didn't bring any wine, but I
did
bring some music. Why don't you put it on while I clear the table, and then you can pick up the story of your life again. I think we'd made it through high school last time.”

She forced a chuckle and accepted the cassette he handed her. “All right—but this time
you
start.”

“If you insist,
”
he said, stacking the plates. “But I warn you: I was a very dull person in college.”

They both did their best, but it was clear the mood of the evening had been irreparably darkened, and Hafner left early.

Is this how ifs going to be now?
Carmen wondered as she undressed for bed an hour later, the book she'd tried reading abandoned for lack of concentration.
Is the Spinneret going to so dominate life here that we'll never be able to shut it out?

Oh, don't be so dramatic,
she chided herself.
You're tired, you're overworked, and you're feeling sorry for yourself. Ride it out, girl; at the very least, nothing more can happen to you until morning.
But she was wrong.

It was still the dead of night when the insistent buzz of her phone dragged her out of a surrealistic melding of all the war movies she'd ever seen. “Hello?” she answered groggily, knocking the instrument into bed with her before she could get her fingers to close on it.

“Carmen? This is Colonel Meredith. How fast can you pull yourself together and get out to Martello?”

“Uh … half an hour, I suppose,” she said, still not fully awake. “What's, uh, going on?”

“One of the UN's ships has just arrived in orbit and is sending a shuttle down,” he told her. “Aboard are our old friend Ashur Msuya … and President Allerton.”

“Allerton?”
she asked unbelievingly, the last remnants of fog evaporating in a rush.

“That's what I said—and as the old line goes, I've got a bad feeling about this. Whatever they're up to, I want you there, both as Council head and chief trade negotiator.”

“Yes, sir. Are you bringing anyone else in?”

“Just you and me and possibly Major Brown. Why?”

“Well … I don't know, Colonel, but it sounds to me like we're about to be delivered an ultimatum. Perhaps we ought to have a small delegation there, a delegation that would more completely represent the population.”

There was a short pause. “The danger is that a group like that would display a complete
lack
of unity, which I presume is the exact opposite of your intent.”

“True. But Msuya, at least, already knows about the Council and the fact that you listen to it. At least occasionally.”

“That's why you're going to be there.”

“Yes, sir … but I'm not in control of the Council. I can certainly back you up on anything you say, but if the Council as a whole doesn't agree we could have trouble later.”

“In other words, you think I should invite Perez,” Meredith said flatly.

Carmen swallowed. “Yes, sir. And maybe Dr. Hafner, too, as representative of the scientists.”

The silence this time was longer. “I suppose you're right,” he said at last, reluctantly. “In the short run we can afford squabbles in front of Msuya more than we can afford riots in front of the Rooshrike. In the long run … well, that'll have to take care of itself. All right, I'll give them a call. Be at the Martello conference room as soon as you can; the shuttle's due in under an hour, and I'd like time to confer with you first.”

Carmen already had the phone strapped to her wrist and was pulling on her underwear. “Half an hour or less, sir.”

“Good. By the way—any particular reason you suggested Perez and Hafner?”

“Yes, sir. Since they've seen the Spinner cavern, I thought they might have a clearer idea of what's at stake here. That might make a difference.”

He grunted. “I hope you're right. See you soon.”

T
HE CONFERENCE ROOM AT
Martello had been put together out of two offices and a small machine shop in anticipation of face-to-whatever meetings between Carmen and alien trade representatives. It was not yet even remotely plush, but the chairs were comfortable and the table had been polished to a high gloss. Standing stiffly behind his chair, Meredith glanced around the room once more, wishing they'd had more time to work on the place. A room adequate for meeting a Ctencri merchant seemed considerably less so for a talk with the Commander in Chief.

The far door opened and a young corporal stepped in, looking about as nervous as a soldier not actually under fire can look. “Colonel Meredith: may I present the President of the United States and Mr. Ashur Msuya of the United Nations.” Flattening against the door, the corporal snapped a salute as Allerton and Msuya strode past him into the room.

Followed by four quiet men in dark suits, who spread inconspicuously along the back wall.
Secret Service?
Meredith wondered.
Or did Msuya decide to bring some muscle this time?
Hiding his worry, he threw Allerton a salute of his own. “Mr. President; Mr. Msuya: welcome to Astra. I'm sorry we haven't got a more elaborate ceremony for you, but we're a bit short of brass bands here.”

Allerton smiled slightly at that; Msuya didn't. “That's quite all right,” the President said. “We're actually here more on business, anyway.”

So we're skipping even the pretense of a casual visit. Uh-oh.
“I expected that was the case, sir,” he said. He gestured to the three people flanking him. “Permit me then to introduce Dr. Peter Hafner, Civilian Council Head Carmen Olivero, and Councillor Cristobal Perez, whom I've asked to sit in on the meeting. If there are no objections, of course.”

“There are,” Msuya said. “Having civilians here serves no useful purpose.
You
are in command on Astra, Colonel, and I for one have no patience with this ‘Civilian Council' smokescreen.”

Deliberately, Meredith turned to Allerton. “Mr. President?”

“Mr. Msuya is correct in that all responsibility for Astran activities must rest with you,” Allerton said. “However, if you want to consider these people as
advisors,
I think we can accept their presence.”

Msuya growled something under his breath, and for an instant he and Allerton locked eyes. Then, with a fractional shrug, he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
So,
Meredith thought as Allerton and the Astrans followed suit,
Allerton hasn't completely knuckled under to UN pressure yet
—
or at least is willing to lock horns with Msuya on minor issues.
Tucking away the information for future reference, he looked at Allerton and waited for the other's move.

It wasn't long in coming. “Colonel, we've been hearing reports recently of what must be considered unusual policy decisions coming out of your office. Your refusal to allow Mr. Msuya's scientific team to study your Spinneret cable and your abrupt dismissal of Dr. Chang's group at that same time, your inability to provide Earth with cable samples for study, and your apparent efforts toward unauthorized trade agreements have all raised questions about your fitness to command. I'd like to hear what explanations, if any, you have for your actions.”

A well-rehearsed speech,
Meredith thought, keeping his eyes on the President. “Am I being court-martialed, sir?” he asked bluntly.

“Not in the usual sense, no. Neither your rank nor your record are in any danger. Only—as I said—your position on Astra.”

“I see.” Meredith glanced once at Msuya's poker face, thinking furiously. “As far as the scientific teams are concerned, I believe my jurisdiction includes the final decision on personnel joining the colony, even if their stay is to be temporary. As the Rooshrike had retrieved the second Spinneret cable and I had already obtained assurances that they would share their test results with us, it seemed redundant and a little ridiculous to waste time with the few boxfuls of equipment we had available.”

“The time was ours to waste if we chose,” Msuya put in with a mildness that seemed to shelter the promise of later fireworks. “Furthermore, as a commissioned UN group we were legally outside your command authority.”