Timothy Zahn - Spinneret

Which was, Carmen realized with a shiver, a thousand times as strong as the lower limit the Rooshrike had established for it. "I don't believe it," she murmured.

"The numbers are accurate to within ten percent."

"No, I didn't mean that—I was just talking to myself." She took a moment to get her brain back on its rails. "You've got the whole thing—theory, numbers, speculations—all written out for us?"

"I have it with me now. It's on a disk compatible with the reader we delivered to Colonel Meredith four days ago."

"All right, then," Carmen nodded. "A trillion dollars in cable for the disk. You still have to supply however many tons of metal that'll come to, I'm afraid."

"That will be acceptable." Waywisher's left tentacle probed into his harness, emerged with a flat package. "I don't suppose I have to warn you that this information is a great secret of the Pom people, and that its contents are not to be given to any other people."

"Of course," Carmen nodded, taking the package gingerly. "The very fact we've got it at all will only be known by a few select people. We, uh, are honored by your trust."

"We have little choice." Waywisher's fins were undulating gently, and Carmen suddenly realized the two of them had begun drifting toward the outer lock and her waiting shuttle. "You have something we need; it isn't trust to offer something of equal value in exchange for it. Besides, your military weakness prevents you from the casual betrayal an empire might consider. Should you do so, your destruction would follow quickly."

Carmen swallowed. "And we value your friendship, too," she murmured.

With a flip of his tail Way wisher drove them the last meter to lock, steadying Carmen with one tentacle as he worked the mechanism with the other. "Good-bye, Miss Olivero. We look forward to a long and harmonious relationship between our peoples."

"As do we," Carmen nodded, kicking backward into the lock. "Good-bye, Waywisher."

Especially, she added to herself as the lock door slid shut, a long one.

Lieutenant Andrews was looking more than a little worried when she finally emerged from the lock's air dryer into the shuttle passenger bay. "You all right?" he asked, helping her maneuver the weightless but massive oxygen tanks into their jury-rigged latches.

"Sure," she said, exchanging her fins and mask for a pair of soft boots. "Why do you ask? Just because you lose your monitor for a few—"

"So you knew about that, did you?" His eyes probed her face, flicked to the package Waywisher had given her. "It wasn't equipment failure, then, I take it.

Waywisher really meant it when he asked for a private chat?"

"Something like that. I'm not at liberty to discuss it with anyone but Colonel Meredith. I'm sorry."

Andrews shrugged. "It's okay by me—secrets I can't tell anyone else just add frustration to my life, anyway. You might as well go back and change, though," he added as she headed for one of the crash chairs. "We're going to be up here for another orbit."

She frowned. "Why?"

He grinned. "Because there's a Ctencri shuttle making its approach now and Major Brown wants it to have lots of room. As befits incoming VIPs."

"VIPs? You mean … ?"

"Yep. Perez's little gamble paid off. The scientific cavalry has arrived."

Loretta Williams would hardly have thought of herself as part of a cavalry, given both the number and loyalty of the group sitting together along one side of the conference table. A five-person guerrilla force, perhaps; a team dedicated to the ultimate overthrow of a depraved dictator and his gang of traitors. It was a noble and—she had to admit it—rather romantic image, one which had been so strongly emphasized during both their training and the voyage to Astra that she'd almost come to believe it.

Except that Colonel Meredith didn't strike her as the depraved dictator type.

It wasn't simply a matter of appearances, either. Loretta had ranged over sizable portions of the world in her fieldwork days, and she'd developed a knack for judging people by speech patterns and body language. Standing at the end of the table, describing the Spinneret cavern and the somewhat Spartan life that was all Astra currently had to offer, he seemed much more like an earnest if misguided department head than a power- or profit-hungry despot. Maybe, though, he was simply an excellent actor. She hoped that was it; and unless and until events proved otherwise it would be the only safe assumption to make.

The meeting took about an hour, and afterward they were taken by flyer to what looked like an army camp next to the lake Meredith had called the Dead Sea. Only a handful of permanent structures were yet in evidence, but each of the five scientists was assigned to one of them. From the outside they looked rather repulsive, enough so that the homey interior Loretta walked into was a pleasant surprise. Her luggage was stacked neatly by her bed—probably searched during

(he meeting, she decided—and after a quick tour through the house's four rooms she began to unpack.

She was interrupted halfway through the second suitcase by a quiet knock at the door. Opening it, she found a pleasant-looking young man in civilian clothing.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Dr. Williams? I'm Al Nichols, one of the people who'll be working with you here. I trust I'm not butting into anything important—like sleep?"

"Oh, no," she assured him. "Please come in, Dr. Nichols."

"Al," he corrected, stepping past her and glancing around the room. "Not bad—I didn't know they'd gotten these places fixed up this nicely. I just dropped by to meet you and welcome you on behalf of Astra's scientific community. I trust you had a good trip?"

"It was all right—not much to do, though. Uh—can I get you something to drink?

Though I'm not sure yet what exactly I've got."

He grinned. "No, thanks. And your selection's not going to overwhelm you by its diversity, I'm afraid. For the moment, anyway, we've got lots of money and nothing very interesting to spend it on. Sort of like being a millionaire in Idaho."

She smiled, some of his cheerfulness penetrating her mental shield. "Why don't we sit down, then, and you can tell me all about the Spinneret."

"By and large, it's a great alien machine that generates indestructible cables and nervous ulcers," he said, sitting down at one end of the couch as Loretta took the chair opposite. "The Scientific Directory lists you as one of the best paleographers around, but I think you're going to have the challenge of your life in there." He jerked his thumb toward the picture window, where the tunnel doors Meredith had mentioned were just visible beyond the rows of tents.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said. "Are you a linguist, too?"

He snorted. "Hardly. By training I'm a geologist, but since I was stuck with Spinneret duty anyway it was either change specialties or go nuts with boredom.

Luckily, I didn't have to start the whole field from scratch—we've got a very nice translation computer system the Rooshrike bought from the Ctencri for us. I've been busy transcribing the Spinner control and indicator labels into it, but so far we haven't got anything but hints as to what any of it means."

"I see," she nodded, wondering why he'd been stuck with the job. No one else with any more experience? "Well, I have some practice in figuring out unknown languages. Together we ought to be able to crack it."

"I hope so." Nichols glanced at his watch. "Oops—duty calls. I've got to escort the next shift into the tower." He got to his feet. "Maybe when you're settled in you could give me a call and I could show you what I've been doing," he suggested as Loretta walked him to the door. "My number'll be in your directory, and if I'm in the cavern someone'll take a message."