Timothy Zahn - Spinneret

She looked at them for a half-dozen heartbeats, shifting her eyes back and forth between their faces. "You want me to be a spy," she said at last, trying hard to keep the distaste out of her voice.

Taraki apparently heard it anyway. "You seem to think that working against traitors to humanity is somehow wrong," he said. "The colonists are attempting to keep the Spinneret for themselves, in violation of orders from both Secretary- General Saleh and your own President Allerton. If a group of terrorists were planning to mine the Strait of Hormuz or reconstruct the smallpox virus, would your conscience also act irrationally?"

"I—well, no, probably not. But the Astran colonists aren't terrorists—they're just normal American citizens, most of them—"

"Not anymore," Stryker interrupted quietly. "They've declared total independence from Earth."

She sat for a moment in silence, trying to digest that. Surely something that newsworthy would have penetrated even her normal inattention to such things.

Which meant the government was keeping the news a secret. Which meant …

what? "I'm very sorry, Mr. Stryker; Mr. Taraki," she said. "But I really don't think I could do what you're asking."

Stryker pursed his lips. "Actually, Dr. Williams, I'm afraid you really don't have a choice. You're the only linguist on the Astran list who possesses both the skill and the—ah, other qualities—that we're looking for. If you won't go voluntarily, the President has prepared a special executive order drafting you into the armed forces."

Loretta licked her lips. Two thoughts—that's a pretty totalitarian thing to do and things on Astra must really have them worried—chased each other around her mind. But it was all simply mental gymnastics. Confronted with an order like that, she knew she'd give in. It was far too late in her life to learn how to buck that kind of authority. "I'll need a few days to make arrangements with the university," she said. "Also, to have someone look after my children—"

"All taken care of," Stryker said as he and Taraki stood up.

"A car will pick you and your children up at nine tomorrow morning."

"Wait a minute," she put in as they turned toward the door. "Why do Kirk and Lissa have to come, too?"

"We'll be announcing Astra's rebellion sometime in the next week," Stryker told her. "At some point your supposed collaboration may leak out, and of course we won't be able to explain your true role anytime soon. There could conceivably be violence, and we'd rather your kids be where we can protect them."

"Oh." Loretta's throat felt tight. That was an aspect to this that hadn't occurred to her. "But … what about school and—"

"It'll all be taken care of, Doctor, trust us," the CIA man told her soothingly.

"They'll be fine—and when you come home they'll get to share in the honor you'll have earned. Now, don't worry about anything, and be ready to leave at nine tomorrow. And thank you."

She saw them out, then walked slowly back to the kitchen. Kirk and Lissa were nearly finished, their usual bickering subdued by the knowledge that something unusual was going on. She broke the news as best she could, which they fortunately took without argument or complaint. It's something that has to be done, Loretta thought as she dished out her own food, and it's now up to me to do it. Who knows?—maybe I'll find out being a spy queen is a lot of fun.

But despite the pep talk, the expensive roast still tasted like so much warm cardboard … and she was long falling asleep that night.

Carmen had done a fair amount of scuba diving back on Earth, and during the long trip to Astra she'd had several chances to experience weightlessness. The combination of the two, though, was something that took getting used to.

Floating in the center of the Pom ship, flapping her hands slowly against the gentle stemward currents, she focused her attention away from her rebellious stomach and onto the circle of huge windows set into the hull around her. Through one of them Astra's sun was visible, its light filling the chamber and turning the water into a brilliant green fog. "Impressive," she said carefully, keeping her facial movements to a minimum. The full-face mask wasn't supposed to leak unless mishandled, but she had only Lieutenant Andrews's word for that, and she had no wish to have any of this gunk inside with her.

"Thank you," said a deep voice in her ear. The Pom had been drifting toward the windows; with a powerful flip of his tail he rolled over and returned to Carmen's side. She caught just a glimpse of a small black cube in his tentacle as it was slipped back into a pocket on the alien's harness. "Light intensities seem to be within a few percent of optimal," the translator voice continued. "It's still too early to get a good growth curve for the algae, but that should only take another few hours."

"Good." A second Pom swooped in out of the murk, his wake catching Carmen and starting her spinning. She flailed a bit, managed to stop herself. Like being in the porpoise tank at the aquarium, the thought struck her. At feeding time, she added as a third Pom brushed casually between her legs to join the party. For a moment the three aliens drifted together like spokes of a wheel, their noses almost touching as they conferred. Then they broke formation and her earphone came alive again.

"The flow speed is now properly adjusted," the Pom leader informed her. "The algae will have the proper light and dark periods for maximum growth."

"Good. Will your extractors be able to handle the output?"

"Certainly. The usual crop for this design of ship grows nearly twice as quickly as yours will."

"Interesting. We might like to purchase a sample for study. If it proves compatible with our chemistry we might try switching products."

"You would do better, in all honesty, to rent a second ship. The expense and difficulty of cleaning a ship this size is prohibitive."

"Oh. Still, you've done it at least once."

"With this ship? Not true. It was a new craft, water-filled but not yet seeded. We were all fortunate the timing worked out so well."

"Indeed," Carmen nodded. Textured algae foods wouldn't be the ultimate solution to Astra's supply problems, but for the time being they would enable the colony to stretch out its stockpile well into the next growing season. As soon as the output and delivery system stabilize, she decided, we can switch the Rooshrike's ground tanks to normal vegetable production. I wonder if we could support any livestock yet … or how we'd get hold of them, for that matter.

"If you're finished with your inspection," the Pom said, "I believe Waywisher would like to speak with you in private in the control area."

"All right." Probably wants to discuss rental fees, she decided, kicking herself toward the hull where the currents would make noseward motion easier. Two of the three Poms fell into formation beside her, the third disappearing somewhere hack toward the stern. A half-dozen openings led forward from the central room; picking one at random, she swam through it, flicking on her light as the sunlight faded behind her. The "darkroom," as she'd privately dubbed it, was nearly as big as the area they'd just left and just as full of algae. Fortunately, the exit hatch was rimmed with red-orange lights, and she was able to find it without assistance. The lock was big enough for all three of them, a definite plus for visitors who didn't have the sort of manipulative equipment the mechanism had been designed for.

After the warmth of the algae tank the clean water flooding in felt like the North Atlantic, and she was glad when the inner door finally opened and she could get her arms and legs moving again.

If the algae tanks had reminded her of an aquarium, the forward part of the ship was nothing less than a 3-D mouse maze lined with Christmas lights and sunk in water. She assumed that the sudden twists and turns in the corridors made some kind of sense, but on the basis of a single visit she couldn't figure out exactly how.