Spinneret (26 page)

“And
fallen apart in just the right way to help us,” Nichols added, gingerly touching one of the Gorgon's Heads' shells. “It could just as easily have decided to keep
everyone
out of the tower.”

“It may not be nearly as providential as you think,” Perez said. “You could explain it just as well by a single minor failure plus a breakdown in communications. Suppose, for instance, that there's supposed to be a lock or independent security scanner elsewhere in the building, and that system's broken down. Now, these Gorgon's Heads find us here; but since the other system shouldn't have let us in if we weren't allowed, we must
be
allowed. You see? And since the Gorgon's Heads don't have us on their VIP list, they hurry to remedy that gap in their memory.”

“Clever idea,” Hafner grunted. “But pretty stupid of the things.”

Perez shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. I've used the same technique myself, Once you're actually inside a restricted place it's not too hard to stay there.”

“Well, whatever the reason,” Hafner shrugged, “being in the Gorgon's Heads' good graces will come in handy when the anthropologists get here. I don't suppose they'd like working with snakes looking over their shoulders.”

Meredith frowned. “What anthropologists are these?”

“Should I have said linguists? The people who we're going to have to call in to translate all this.” He waved over the control boards.

“Probably need computer experts, too,” Nichols added. “Also mathematicians, materials specialists—”

“Hold it a second,” Meredith cut him off. “Just where do you think we're going to find these people?”

Nichols blinked. “We got Dr. Chang and his group easily enough, didn't we? All we should have to do is send a list back with the next shuttle.”

Meredith glanced at Perez, noted the sour look on his face. For obvious reasons, the colonel hadn't exactly advertised news of the Council's ultimatum and Chang's forced departure; it now appeared that no one else had given it much publicity, either. “As it happens, Doctor,” he told Nichols, “Dr. Chang is no longer with us. He left because of a Council resolution barring non-Astrans from Spinneret facilities.” He inclined his head toward Perez in a caricature of supplication. “Unless, of course, the Council would consider scrapping its edict.”

Perez flushed; whether in anger or embarrassment Meredith couldn't tell. “The resolution was meant to protect Astra from having its only resource plundered by outsiders and being left then to rot or starve. That danger still exists.”

“Aren't you being just a bit melodramatic?” Hafner grunted. “Not to mention living in the nineteenth century? We're not exactly native savages here, you know, who'll just sit around while the Spinneret is taken apart and shipped back to Earth.”

“The secrets can still be stolen,” Perez pointed out. “Besides, we don't need anyone else. The Ctencri have computer programs that can decipher an unknown language—they translated Earth's major languages in less than a week, I'm told.”

“They also had some hundred thousand radio and TV channels as their database,” Nichols pointed out. “All we've got are a bunch of control switches.”

Perez still had a stonewall look on his face, but Meredith could tell he was weakening. “Well … if we kept the investigation team small—
and
international,” he added, glancing at Meredith, “I suppose we could take adequate safeguards.”

“Why international?” Barner asked suspiciously. “The U.S. has all the experts we could want.”

“Let's not argue about that right now,” Meredith interjected.

He didn't want to fight with Perez in front of Hafner and Nichols; the threats he might have to make on this one would best be delivered without witnesses around. “We'll figure out who to invite
after
we decide exactly what we need and
after
the Council decides whether or not to make trouble on the whole issue.”

“In that case, maybe we ought to head back,” Hafner shrugged. “I'm sure there's more to see around here, but we're not going to hit all of it in the time we've got left.”

“Good point.” Meredith stepped to the window and gazed out for a moment, scanning the cavern wall and fixing in his mind the direction of their marked exit tunnel. At least two more tunnel openings were visible, one of which ought to lead to the gravity equipment under the volcano cone. A complete mapping of this labyrinth would be an early priority, he decided, followed by a thorough examination of the tower and any other control areas they found. After that … repair the digging machine he'd found? Maybe. It would be instructive to see what part it was supposed to play in this ballet … and why its contribution hadn't been missed. “Yeah, you're right,” he sighed, turning back. “There's too much here for one day. Come on; let's go home.”

T
HE FIRST NAPKIN HAD
been easy, but for some reason Carmen had to fold the second one four times before she finally got it right. Setting it down in the center of the plate, she stepped back to survey the result.
Terrible,
she decided, the perfectionist within her choosing that moment to surface and be offended.
Starburst napkin designs on Army-issue plates. Miss America at the shipyards. Oh, well. Peter probably won't even notice.

That last, at least, was almost certainly true. Not that Hafner was uncultured; she would hardly enjoy having him around if he were. But the past weeks had been hectic ones for him, and the last four days had topped even that. It'd only been with great difficulty that she'd been able to draw him back to Unie long enough for this dinner.

Which brought up another issue entirely. She'd known Hafner for almost four months now, and while she appreciated him as a friend she had no feelings toward him that could remotely be considered romantic. So why had she missed his company so much while he was out poking around the Dead Sea? For that matter, why had she knocked herself out to make this evening something special?
Maybe I've simply forgotten what it's like to have a really good friend,
she thought—which was a rather depressing thought all by itself.
No doubt about it; I've
got
to settle down somewhere one of these days.

There was a tap on the door, and she glanced at her watch with mild surprise. Hafner was seldom very late for appointments, but he usually wasn't this early, either. But no matter; things were adequately ready. Smiling, she opened the door.

“Hello, Carmen. May I come in?”

Her smile winked out. “Cris,” she said, with a cold formality she hoped covered up her surprise. “As a matter of fact, I'm expecting someone else at the moment. So if you'll just—”

“Ah—Dr. Hafner, I presume,” Perez nodded. “Don't worry, this will take only a minute.” He moved forward … and somehow he was past her, strolling by the table settings with an appreciative nod.

Gritting her teeth, Carmen closed the door and stalked after him. “Contrary to popular opinion, I'm
not
on twenty-seven-hour duty here,” she said icily. “So if you'd kindly restrict your calls to business hours—”

“Somewhere in the computer library is a copy of the
Scientific Directory,”
he interrupted, turning to face her. “For reasons I won't go into it's been classified and hidden behind some security password. I'd like you to get me access to it.”

Carmen took a deep breath. “In the first place, I'm not
about
to give you classified material without specific orders to the contrary. In the second place, you have an incredible gall to burst in on me without any better reason than
that
. I could have told you no over the phone.”

He waited her out, and then lifted a finger. “In the first place, as you put it, there's absolutely nothing remotely classifiable in the
Directory.
Not only is it in half the libraries in North America and Europe, but I know for a fact it was accessible here a month ago. And in the second place—” He hesitated. “I don't want Meredith to know I talked to you.”

She arched her eyebrows. “My, we
are
getting paranoid, aren't we? What makes you think the colonel would
want
to record your calls, let alone is actually doing so?”

He smiled tightly. “Come on, Carmen, you know better than that. I'm the thorn in Meredith's flesh, the major obstacle to his dream of making Astra America's fifty-second state. He's going to suggest to the Astran scientists that a number of American experts be invited to help us decipher the Spinneret controls, and the only reason he's hidden the
Directory
is to keep me from counterproposing a more international group.”

She thought about that for a moment. Perez was probably the last person in the world she was interested in doing favors for—he'd proved time and again to be a master pain to everyone around him. And yet … it
did
make sense to get the best people possible. The sooner they learned how to operate the Spinneret the better; and given the current situation in the Spinner cavern, there was precious little chance of any foreigner sneaking off on their own and stealing something. As for Meredith—well, if Perez had something devious in mind, the colonel had already proved he could take Perez's best attacks and use them to his own advantage.

And Peter was due at any minute.

“All right,” she sighed. “Tomorrow morning I'll try to find your
Directory.
If I can get to it in ten minutes or less I'll copy it under ‘Cris' on the general-access list. But I'm not going to waste any more time on it than that. Clear?”

“I'm very grateful,” Perez smiled, inclining his head toward her as he headed for the door. “If you'll excuse me now, I must get back to Crosse; I'm on early-morning duty tomorrow. Good night, and thank you.”

“Good
night.”

Closing the door firmly behind him, she leaned against it for a moment, working the irritation out of her system. Then, glancing at her watch, she headed to the kitchen to check on dinner.

She'd half expected Hafner to arrive as Perez was leaving, a confrontation that would probably have left a distinct damper on the evening. It was therefore with an odd sense of relief—odd, at least, for her—that she had to wait nearly ten minutes for Hafner's knock to finally come.

“Hi, Carmen,” he greeted her with a tired-looking smile as she let him in. “Sorry I'm late.”

“No problem,” she assured him. “The lasagna just needs a twenty-second final heating and it'll be ready.”

“Lasagna, eh? Pretty extravagant meal for a poor civil servant—getting this private apartment must have really gone to your head. The mozzarella alone probably cost a fortune in favors.” He sat down at the table and peered admiringly at the folded napkin.

“Actually, it didn't, though I
am
anticipating things a bit.” She set the micro and went to drain the vegetables. “The Rooshrike are going to start regular goods shipments from Earth as of Thursday, and I've made sure every other food package is heavy on these so-called luxury items.”

“That'll be nice—I know it'll raise
my
morale a lot. You going to distribute it through normal military channels or set up special stores?”

“I don't know.” The micro pinged and she carefully carried the steaming dish to the table. “I'd like to start moving toward a normal economic system, but Colonel Meredith thinks things are still too unstable for that. Anyway, I'm not sure a luxury food store is the way to start. It smacks too much of the foreign-currency-only places in Moscow.”

“Yeah.” Almost reluctantly, she thought, he unfolded his napkin. “I wish I'd had a bottle of wine to bring, but I don't have friends in high places like you do.”

“Except Gorgon's Heads.”

He smiled wryly. “And with friends like them—” Shaking his head, he dug into his food.

“Rough day, I gather?” Carmen asked, pouring them each some water.

“More just dead-dull boring,” he shrugged. “I'm not even
doing
anything aside from sitting there keeping the Gorgon's Heads quiet—it's everybody else that's photographing the control labels and computer-coding everything in sight. I never before realized how tiring it gets sitting around doing nothing.”

“You
can
leave other people alone once they're in the tower, though, can't you?”

“Everywhere except the main control room. The top floor, I should say; we haven't actually proved it's the control room yet.” He waved his fork. “But even in the other rooms no one can get to the stairs or elevators without one of us five escorting them. And heaven help anyone who tries leaving the tower itself. Davidson tried it once and nearly got strangled by one of those tentacles.”

“Ouch. I don't suppose there's any way to persuade that guard circle to go patrol the village or something.”

“I'm sure there is—just as I'm sure there's a way to induct more people into the Grand Order of Den Mothers, as Al Nichols calls it. We just haven't found it yet.”

“Mm.” Carmen shook her head. “I still don't understand exactly why you five were able to get special status but nobody else can. It seems—well, sort of capricious.”

“Not really.” Hafner finished off his lasagna and helped himself to another spatulaful. “Actually, if Perez's theory is right, the Gorgon's Head system is being quite self-consistent. The five of us had made it to the control room without being challenged by either one of their own units or by anything else, so as far as the Gorgon's Heads were concerned we must have been supervisors and had to be recorded as such. But now that they've set up a cordon around the tower nobody else
can
get up there alone, and so no one else gets to be a supervisor.”