Spinneret (25 page)

The tower. It rose up from the ground perhaps half a kilometer away, looking rather like a cross between a church spire and an airport control tower. About fifty meters tall, he estimated, with what looked like wide windows halfway up and also near the top. A half-dozen flat-roofed buildings were clustered at its base. Service sheds or housing for the night shift, perhaps? Or were they the local dispatch points for little nasties like the one they'd already run into?

“We'll go on foot,” he announced, stepping back to the group. “Major, get the rifles and four grenades out of the trunk. Dr. Hafner, go with him and bring back the Geiger counter that's under the front passenger seat.”

Hafner's eyes widened a bit at mention of the extra weaponry, but he obeyed without argument. Meredith consulted his watch: they'd already used up over an hour of the four he'd allotted for his reconnaissance. The return trip should be faster, but that was still a lot of tower to explore in two hours. They'd have to make some guesses as to where the most interesting sections were likely to be.

Barner and Hafner returned with their loads. “Okay,” Meredith said, slinging his Stoner 5.56 mm over his shoulder and hooking two of the rifle grenades onto his belt. “Stay in a loose formation and keep your eyes open.”

The cluster of huts surrounding the tower base were not, as Meredith had assumed, physically connected to the structure, but were placed two or three meters away from its dull-metal wall.

“Interesting,” Hafner said as they circled the tower in search of a door. “First structure we've come across in here that doesn't have that white ceramic coating.”

“Would that make it a more recent building?” Perez suggested. “Put up near the end, when they didn't have time for cosmetic appearances?” the fragile ceramic in the village building. “I think I see a door around that side. Let's take a look.”

Like the doors they'd seen elsewhere, this one was tall, slender, and elaborately carved. It was also unlocked, leading into a bare lobbylike area shaped like a small piece of pie with a bite taken out of the tip. The missing point contained a floor-to-ceiling cylinder. “The elevator, I'd guess,” Barner said as he took one final look outside and closed the door behind them. “Shall we see if it's running?”

“We can,” Meredith said reluctantly, “but we'd better not actually ride it. Let's see if the Spinners understood the concept of stairs.”

It took several minutes, but eventually they discovered that pressing a wall design caused the whole cylinder to rotate, bringing an off-center and doorless opening into view. Stepping into the opening and turning to the right led into the elevator car proper, while a left-hand turn ended in the stairway Meredith had hoped to find. With the colonel in the lead, they started up.

Progress was slow, hampered as they were by both the relatively cramped quarters and by Meredith's insistence on slowly easing his weight onto each new step. Hafner muttered at least once that such exaggerated care was a waste of time with cable material structures, but Meredith ignored him. There was little conversation; faint hums and clicks were becoming audible from the areas around and above them, and no one seemed willing to drown them out with idle chatter.

Meredith took them to the very top of the stairway, hoping the most important equipment would be at that level. The inside release for the rotating cylinder, once located, worked perfectly. Holding his pistol ready, the colonel stepped through the short tunnel and into a garish sea of color.

For a moment he just stood there, his eyes and mind struggling furiously to adjust to the sight.
Give a small child a box of crayons and a detailed photo of a shuttle flight deck,
he thought,
and you might wind up with something like this.
The meter-wide semicircular ring that wrapped around the room beneath the windows was a familiar control board design; the panels set into it were decidedly not. Painted some of the brightest colors Meredith had ever seen, the panels had curved or even squiggled edges; some vaguely rectangular, but most not. For several seconds Meredith's brain tried anyway to classify them in terms of familiar polygons—squarish, trapezoidal, triangular—before finally giving up the exercise as pointless. The controls themselves—mostly black, but with occasional colored ones mixed in—were similarly arranged without regard for the concept of straight lines. None of the panels had exactly the same shape or layout, and some of the color juxtapositions were almost painful.
Make that a
color-blind
child,
he added.

The others were crowding out behind him now, muttering their own reactions to the visual assault. Of all of them, Hafner seemed the least affected, stepping over to the board with only a slight pause and peering down at it. “Well, at least the controls seem to be marked,” he announced. “That's something.”

Meredith joined him. Sure enough, there were small black marks to the left of each of the buttons and knobs, marks that looked like a cross between Chinese and Arabic. “Yeah, it really helps,” he told Hafner dryly. He looked back at the wall that split this floor into halves, eyes searching for a doorway that would get them through to the other side. Two full-length cylinders, smaller versions of the elevator/stairway shaft that they flanked, were the obvious candidates.

“Sure looks like the place,” Nichols commented, looking around the room. “Must be … oh, a good five to ten thousand separate controls in here. What else could anyone need that much stuff for?”

“Who knows what else they might have down here?” Perez countered, leaning carefully on a bare part of the control board to gaze out one of the windows. “One certainly gets a good view from here. Perhaps all this does is handle power or lighting for the village.”

Meredith said, taking one last look at the odd Spinner lettering.
In a science fiction movie,
he thought,
the hero would take all of ten seconds to figure out an alien control board like this. Wish to hell we'd brought one of those geniuses along.

“Colonel,” Barner said, his tone getting Meredith's instant attention. The major was peering out another of the windows. “We've got company.”

Meredith followed the other's pointing finger and felt his jaw tighten. Approaching the tower from different directions were eight mechanical creatures like the one that had chased them out of the village.

“Gorgon's Heads!” Perez hissed. “Colonel, we'd better get out of here.”

Automatically, Meredith estimated distances and speeds. It would be a close race. “Right. Everybody down the stairs—fast.” He turned, took a step, and abruptly halted as his legs froze beneath him.

“Bloodsucking hell,” Barner murmured.

The two small cylinders flanking the stairway had rotated to their open positions. Standing inside were a matched set of Gorgon's Heads.

F
OR A LONG MOMENT
the only sound in the room was the thudding of Meredith's own heart. The Gorgon's Heads stayed where they were, as if frozen by the same shock that had immobilized the humans. Only the gentle waving of their snakelike tentacles showed they were still active.

Hell.
Now
what do we do?
Meredith thought. The machines were barely five meters away—impossible to miss with either his pistol or rifle … but only if he had time to get one of the weapons lined up. An unarmed Gorgon's Head might be able to get to him before he could fire; an armed one could blow him off the map a lot faster. Run for it? Again, if they were unarmed one or two might make it back to the stairs. But
only
if they were unarmed … and there were still the reinforcements coming in at ground level to be dealt with.

“Shouldn't one of us be saying, ‘Take me to your leader'?” Perez asked quietly.

“Shut up,” Meredith snarled.

“No, Colonel, I'm serious,” Perez said. “They haven't attacked us yet, or made any other movements that could be considered hostile. Maybe they recognize we're not Spinners and are waiting for us to open communications.”

“Or maybe they're waiting for their friends downstairs to join us.” Still … it might be worth trying. Bracing himself, Meredith took a step forward. One of the snakes on each Gorgon's Head seemed to track the movement, but otherwise there was no reaction. “I'm Colonel Lloyd Meredith; commanding the Earth colony on Astra,” he said, keeping his volume level conversational. “We come in peace, seeking the creators of this cavern.”

He paused, sweat trickling down his shirt collar. But again there was no response. “Any other suggestions?” he asked the others.

“Maybe you should try to get to the stairs,” Barner offered. “I can't seem to get through with all this metal around, but you might be able to do so from outside. “

“For all the good a rescue party fifteen kilometers away will do us,” Nichols muttered.

“Let's dispense with the pessimism, shall we?” Meredith said tartly. But it
was
beginning to look like suicidal moves were about all they had left. “All right. Major, get ready to rip off that headset. The rest of you are to hit the dirt the second anything happens. Got it?” There were murmurs of quiet assent. “Okay. Here goes.”

Carefully, Meredith slid his leading foot forward, his full attention on the silent machines flanking the exit. He brought the rear foot up, pausing before easing out the leading foot again. The door was a meter and a half away now. …

And without warning, the leftmost Gorgon's Head snapped one of its snakes out, the tentacle doubling in length to solidly grip Meredith's left wrist.

Afterward Meredith would remember hearing the clatter of Barner's rifle being brought to bear and a general cacophony of startled yelps; but for that one horrifying second there was nothing in the universe but his wrist and the cold metal suction grip fastened there.

There was no question of making a break for the stairs; every instinct in Meredith's body screamed for him to get the tentacle
off fast.
Throwing himself backward, he snapped his arm over his head—

And sprawled on his back at Perez's feet.

“What happened?” Barner snapped.

Meredith sat up, ignoring a momentary dizziness, and examined his arm. Completely whole, apparently functional, and without even a mark where the snake had gripped him. “It just … let go,” he managed, not entirely believing it. “It—I guess it wasn't trying to hold me.” He shifted his attention to the Gorgon's Head, which had withdrawn its tentacle again but had otherwise not reacted. Waiting? And for what?

“Could it have injected something into your wrist?” Hafner asked anxiously.

Meredith shook his head.
Waiting.
“No needle marks or inflammation—I already checked. And even with a hypospray you feel
something.”
Cautiously, he got to his feet and again faced the Gorgon's Head. Natural fear fought natural curiosity … and for the moment the curiosity was stronger. “I'm going to try it again,” he announced, amazed at the calm in his voice. Clenching his teeth, he started forward.

This time he stepped directly toward the Gorgon's Head, getting only a pace and a half before the same elongating tentacle snapped out. He managed to hold still as the metal again gripped his skin, his eyes on two other tentacles that arched over the machine like rattlesnakes preparing to strike. For five heartbeats nothing happened … and then the Gorgon's Head emitted a sound like a hiccup, and suddenly Meredith was surrounded by a cloud of smoke. He took an incautious breath and nearly choked. “It's all right,” he gasped, to forestall any action from the others. “Just like being buried alive in spice teas.” He sniffed again, but the cloud already seemed to have dissipated. Simultaneously, the Gorgon's Head withdrew its tentacle from his arm.

“Well?” Perez asked from behind him.

“Why are you asking
me?”
Meredith retorted. “I'm not in charge here.”

“I wonder,” Hafner said slowly. “Colonel … why don't you try going for the stairs again.”

Meredith thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “All right. Major, get ready with that headset.”

Neither machine made the slightest move to interfere as he walked into the stairway entrance, nor did they react when Barner lobbed him the headset. “They seem to have lost interest in me,” he commented as he put on the headset, temporarily out of reach of both Gorgon's Heads. “Let's hope the word's been spread to the rest of the gang.”

“I'll be very surprised if it hasn't,” Hafner said. “I think, Colonel, that you've been declared a friend.”

Meredith paused. “You mean that puff of cinnamon smoke was my security clearance or something?”

“Either that or a confirmation signal that you were logged onto the computer. It may be that that tentacle was recording your scent or heartbeat or something.”

“That's ridiculous,” Meredith snorted. “I can't possibly smell anything like a Spinner.”

“Maybe the data's been lost,” Nichols suggested. “Maybe the Gorgon's Heads are trying to reestablish it, using you as a prototype.”

“But—” Meredith closed his mouth. “Okay, let's put it to a real test, then. That other squad of Gorgon's Heads must be downstairs by now. If
they
don't give me any trouble, I'll concede you may be right.”

He had to walk through the lobby and all the way around the base of the tower, but by the time he started up the stairs again he was convinced.

“I don't believe it,” he puffed as he entered the control room. “Damn things acted like a bunch of pet poodles—took a sniff and then ignored me completely.” He turned to Barner, motioned him forward. “Let's see if it'll accept you, too, Major.”

It did; and in the end all five of them submitted to the Gorgon's Head's olfactory inspection. “I still don't understand it,” Barner shook his head as the others cautiously tested their new immunity. “Why should their security system be the only thing that's fallen apart after all this time?”