Timothy Zahn - Spinneret

"I hope the cable shifts with them."

"It should. Sileacs tal Mors kith indicated they've done some tests with normal cables trailing behind starships. Besides, the Spinners obviously got the stuff out of the system." She paused, her eyes searching his face. "I understand we lost a couple of men today."

Meredith nodded grimly. "Burned-out brains or something— none of our doctors are really sure of the exact mechanism."

"I didn't realize electric fields could kill."

"Neither did I. Neither, apparently, did anyone else." He sighed. "Looks like Perez is going to turn out right again. We're simply not going to be able to handle everything here by ourselves. The colony population was designed for geological studies and fanning—period. Dr. Hafner and the others have made some damn good guesses all the way down the line, but none of us really knows what we're doing down there. It's a wonder more people haven't gotten themselves killed."

"So what's the answer?" Carmen asked after a moment. "Import experts from Earth?"

"It's that or let the aliens in on it. The real question is whether Saleh will be hardnosed about it and lump people in with everything else he's embargoing."

"You're going to be making a list of people you'd like to invite?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You've been talking to Perez, have you? Ah" —he added as the light dawned—"it was you who pulled the Scientific Directory out of cold storage for him to give to the Ctencri, wasn't it?"

She blushed violently, but almost instantly the color vanished into a look of surprise. "He did what! But—he said he only wanted to make up his own list for the scientists to vote on."

"Apparently he decided to skip the procedural details," Meredith said dryly. "He must have given the Ctencri a stack of invitations to deliver. I wonder how he expects them to get the UN to provide transport."

Carmen still looked confused. "But how did you know—I mean—"

"We checked his computer usage after he gave a packet to the Ctencri at the security meeting. He hadn't gotten around yet to clearing the file you dumped the Scientific Directory into." He smiled briefly as she suddenly looked striken again.

"Don't worry; I'm not mad at you for doing it—he would have gotten in one way or another. There's probably no real harm done, though I'm going to wring his tail for bypassing me like that."

"Only if I don't get to him first," Carmen growled. "That smooth-talking—"

"Save your anger," Meredith advised. "Consider him as now owing you a big favor, and make sure he knows it. It may help keep him in line."

"I doubt it." Carmen shook her head. "I just can't figure him out, Colonel. One minute he's on our side, and the next minute he's pulling something underhanded like this."

Meredith shrugged. "He's never been on our side; we've just occasionally been on his. He has a vision for Astra and has been pushing us toward it ever since he got here."

Carmen's lip twitched. "Yes—his paradise for the poor of Earth. Probably want to put a duplicate of the Statue of Liberty in orbit somewhere."

"Actually, as matters stand now, his huddling masses are probably the only new colonists we're likely to get. Permission to leave Earth lies with individual nations and, ultimately, the UN, and Saleh's not likely to let us lure away the brightest and best."

"Which means," Carmen said slowly, "that unless the Ctencri are personally bringing Cris's scientists here, they're probably not coming."

"Probably." Meredith glanced at his watch. "Well, I'd better let you get home.

You're bound to be busy taking orders tomorrow after the way today's operation went."

"Yes." Carmen sighed and got to her feet. "Are we going to have a proper funeral, or are you going to keep the deaths secret from the aliens by giving them a private burial somewhere?"

"We'll have a funeral. We don't have to advertise how they died." Hitching his chair closer to the desk, he reactivated his terminal. Taking the cue, Carmen left.

For a moment Meredith stared through the terminal, wondering for the millionth time why this burden had fallen to him. / never asked for this, he reminded the universe resentfully. I wanted to make Astra a modest success, collect my brigadier's star, and go home. Why the hell couldn't the Spinners have turned off their damned voodoo machine when they left?

The terminal had no answer for him. Shaking his head, Meredith cleared his mind of questions and got back to work. At least, he told himself, he'd soon have some experts here to help share the load—presuming, of course, that the Ctencri came through on their end of Perez's deal.

Loretta Williams was just putting the vegetables on the stove when the doorbell rang. "Kirk, can you get that?" she called, grabbing the potholders. "I've got to get the roast out."

"Sure, Mom," the teen's laconic voice came from their tiny living room.

Preoccupied with the roast, Loretta didn't hear the door open; but the next thing she knew, Kirk was standing in the kitchen doorway. "Couple of guys to see you," he announced. "They say they're from the government."

"Dr. Williams?" the taller of the two asked.

"Yes," Loretta acknowledged, stepping forward and handing Kirk the potholders.

IRS? she wondered. Or even FBI? The second man looked vaguely Iranian; could this be about that pottery fragment she'd brought back from the Dasht-i-Kavir?

The tall man already had his wallet open. "I'm Stryker; CIA. This is Mr. Taraki from the UN. We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"All right," Loretta said through dry lips. The CIA? "Kirk, please finish getting dinner ready; you and Lissa can start eating without me."

Closing the kitchen door behind her, she led the men to the farthest corner of the living room. It wasn't until they were all seated that she noticed they'd subtly maneuvered her into the corner chair, putting themselves between her and any exit. Consciously relaxing her jaw, she waited for the axe to fall.

"Dr. Williams, I have a letter here for you," Taraki said, his English good but with a strong accent—Farsi or one of its dialects, she tentatively identified it. Pulling an envelope from his pocket, he handed it to her.

The seal was already broken, she noticed as she withdrew the paper. The letter was short, but its message left her with the feeling of having been out in the desert sun too long. She read it twice, hoping that would help. It didn't.

Finally, she looked up. "I really don't know what to say," she murmured. When neither man spoke, she went on, "I mean, I recognize that Astra is a trouble spot right now, but it's still flattering to be invited to go work on translating the Spinner language."

"Would you like to go?" Stryker asked.

She hesitated, wishing she'd kept more up to date on the flap going on out there.

"I'd like to, yes. But I thought the UN had banned travel to Astra for the time being."

"It has," Taraki said. "Your letter was brought to Earth aboard a Ctencri ship. You were supposed to sneak out the same way."

So that's what the business about contacting the Ctencri was all about, she thought, her eyes flicking to that part of the letter. "Oh. That sounds … rather illegal."

"It depends," Stryker shrugged. "How good an American do you consider yourself to be?"

"Why, I—pretty good, I suppose," she managed, taken somewhat aback by the question.

"And what do you think of the UN?" the CIA man continued.

Loretta shot a glance at Taraki's impassive face. "The tirades against America annoy me sometimes, but they've done a lot of good in the poorer nations. I guess that, on the whole, I support them."

The two men exchanged looks, and Loretta caught Taraki's shrug and fractional nod. "In that case," Stryker said, turning back to Loretta, "we'd like you to accept the invitation … on one condition." He paused. "That you agree to turn over all your findings directly to the UN."