Timothy Zahn - Spinneret

He turned toward Perez; and as if that was the signal they'd been waiting for, the aliens finally moved, stepping away from the table and moving generally toward the door that opened onto the landing field. "Well, at least that's settled," Perez commented, hoping to deflect Meredith from awkward questions about what he was doing here. The Ctencri, he noted, had paused to touch fingers to the Orsphis's pine cone—shaped tusks and to speak for a moment with the Whist.

"And we gained another drop of social information in the bargain: the aliens'

pecking order."

"You mean the order in which they accepted the agreement?" Carmen asked, collecting her papers together. "Hardly. My guess is that that was simply in order of increasing distance between Astra and their capitals."

"Oh." Across the room, the Ctencri was following the M'zarch outside. "Well, I suppose I'd better get back to the mainland. See you both later."

He caught up with the Ctencri a few meters past the door. "I'd like to speak to you for a moment, sir, if I may," he said, falling into step beside the alien.

The Ctencri stopped abruptly, twittering. "Certainly," the disk around his neck said.

Perez swallowed. Standing there together, in full view of a dozen soldiers, he felt painfully conspicuous. "I would like to ask a favor of you and your people," he told the alien. "I have some messages I would like to have quietly delivered to various people on Earth—that is, delivered without knowledge of the UN

authorities."

"You wish for us to perform messenger service for you?"

"I doubt it'll be all that much work," Perez said dryly. "By now you must have built up a network of human informants in various parts of the world. My envelopes are sorted by nation; you need merely to distribute them to your agents, who can stamp and mail them."

The Ctencri seemed to be considering that. "And what payment do you offer for this service?" he asked.

"I'm sure we'll be able to work that out later," Perez told him. "A certain quantity of Spinneret cable, most likely."

"A valuable payment for so small a task."

So the Ctencri were good enough businessmen to be suspicious of something-fornothing deals. "Not really … because there's a bit more to this. A number of these people— perhaps all of them—will be wanting to come here to Astra, something the Earth governments would probably try to stop if they knew about it. I'm counting on you to provide quiet transport for them."

The alien's facial features shifted, his crest simultaneously stiffening. Perez felt his leg muscles tighten in automatic response, wondering if he'd said something wrong. "You ask a great deal," the Ctencri said at last. "Have you the authority to guarantee payment?"

Perez began breathing again. "Yes, I believe I do. I am a member of the Astran Council, and am influential in other ways, as well. If you carry out your end properly, you will be adequately paid."

"Give me the messages."

Reaching under his coat, Perez dug out the fat envelope and handed it over. "You should be prepared to hear from these people within a few days after you mail the letters. I presume there are channels they can go through to get to you?"

"There are; and we will record their names for reference before the messages are delivered."

"Good. I'll expect to see the first of them here within a couple of weeks. And remember: this must be kept secret from the authorities."

"I remember. Is that all?"

"Uh … yes."

"Good-bye." Without any parting gesture Perez could detect, the Ctencri turned and continued on his way. Perez watched him a moment, then started back toward the docks. Well, that's that, he thought, feeling strangely nervous about the whole transaction. In a few weeks I'll either present Meredith with a fait accompli, or be up to my neck in trouble. Or both.

"A package?" Meredith asked quietly, holding his phone close to his mouth.

"What sort of package?"

"About twenty centimeters by ten by maybe five," the soldier said. "Looked soft, like paper or wrapped disks instead of some kind of hardware. They talked for a couple of minutes, hut we weren't able to get an eavesdropper lined up on them in time. Do you want Perez picked up, or the Ctencri shuttle barred from launching?"

Meredith pursed his lips, glancing past the phone. Beaeki nul Dies na and the Pom representative had, by prearrangement, stayed behind the general exodus for a short talk, and he didn't really want to keep them waiting. Especially not to haul the Ctencri in for some sort of questioning. Besides, at the moment neither Perez nor anyone else on Astra had any information that could possibly be considered classifiable. Once they figured out some of the Spinneret's controls … but that was still months or longer in the future. "No," he told the soldier. "Let them both go. I'll have someone check on Perez's recent movements and computer usage later. You're sure nothing passed the other way?"

"Positive, sir. Perez's hand wasn't in position to even palm something small."

"All right. Let me know if Perez goes anywhere but the docks; otherwise just go back to normal duty. And that was a nice bit of observation, Sergeant; expect to find a commendation logged on your record for it."

"Thank you, Colonel," the other said, pleasure clearly evident in his voice. "Just doing my job, sir."

"Carry on, then. Out."

He clicked off the phone, his irritation at Perez somewhat mollified. For everyone like Perez, there's at least one more like Sergeant Wynsma, he decided … and for the moment, at least, Astra's military force seemed pretty solidly on his side.

Of course, if things started getting tight, some of that loyalty could wear a little thin.

Carmen, sitting by the two aliens, must have been keeping at least half an eye on him, and as he lowered his arm she nodded. "All set, sir," she said. "Beaeki nul Dies na can get the tanks to us by the day after tomorrow—their mining base on the inner planet has a complete set of spares. And Way wisher says they can have a full-sized ship for our use within a month."

"Excellent." Meredith looked at Beaeki. "You've considered the fact that our plants will be very different chemically from yours?"

"We have dealt extensively with carbon-based life," the Rooshrike said. "The tanks will be perfectly compatible with your flora, especially as the lower temperatures here will make the tank materials even more inert."

Meredith nodded and turned his attention to the glass-enclosed Pom. "Waywisher, we're under no illusions as to how much rental of your ship will cost. Are you aware we can offer payment only in Spinneret cable?"

"We have need for vast amounts of your cable," the Pom's deep-voiced translator said. "We are happy to assist you in this matter as a way to defray the costs we will soon be incurring."

"I see," Meredith said, feeling a brief flicker of uneasiness. Aside from their spacecraft, the Poms supposedly built little if anything requiring great structural strength. Were they embarking on some large-scale space project, such as an orbiting habitat? Or were they planning something else—a fleet of indestuctible ships, perhaps?

He put it out of his mind. The Rooshrike had thus far proven themselves to be accurate sources of information, and they'd never given any hint that the Poms were anything but peaceful. "Well, then," he said to both aliens, "we'll be ready with our end of the project by the time you deliver on yours. I believe, Beaeki nul Dies na, that your first load of metal will be delivered about the same time as the tanks?"

"Yes," the Rooshrike said. "One hundred ten metric tons, for a cable fifty kilometers in length. I trust you can make one that long?"

"I'm sure we can," Meredith said, trying to sound confident. Well, Spinneret Incorporated is now in business, he thought. I hope to hell none of the equipment decides to go on strike.