Spinneret

by Timothy Zahn

  Meredith produced a flashlight from his pack and aimed it into the tunnel. “Goes pretty deep … well, well. Looks like there’s something metallic back there.” Shifting the light to his left hand, he ducked his head and stepped carefully into the passageway. “Everyone wait here and keep your eyes open. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  It was more like five minutes before the colonel reappeared. “Well?” Perez demanded as Meredith put away his light.

  “Hard to be sure, of course, with an alien design,” Meredith said, “but the thing back there seems to be an automated digging machine.”

  “So they were extending this tunnel,” Nichols said.

  “Or else mining the rock for the nonmetallic elements the leecher doesn’t get,” Hafner suggested. “Maybe hauling the digger out would give us a clue.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend that,” Meredith said. “The thing’s still active.”

  They all turned to face him. “It’s what?” Hafner said, cocking an ear toward the tunnel.

  “Oh, it’s not actually running—there’s a rock jammed between two of the track links. But there’s something that looks like a display panel in the rear, and a half-dozen lights are still showing on it.” Meredith brushed at the dust that had collected on his shoulders and headed back toward the car. “Come on; let’s keep moving.”

  They returned to the main corridor and continued on inward, driving for the most part in silence. It shouldn’t have been such a shock, Hafner told himself—they all knew, after all, that the main spinneret machinery was still operational. Somehow, though, he’d always pictured the Spinneret as an essentially solid-state apparatus, barely surviving through the grace of multiple redundancies. For a small peripheral unit—and a tunneling machine, at that—to be in equally good shape was both awesome and just a little bit creepy.

  The corridor made a thirty-degree angle to the left … and without warning, they were abruptly in a new world.

  “Snafu on toast,” Barner gasped, craning his neck to look up. “What the hell is this?”

  Chapter 18

  LIKE BARNER, HAFNER’S EYES were drawn first upward, to the impossible blue sky overhead. Fluffy white clouds drifted visibly by, occasionally cutting across the shining yellow sun midway to zenith … it was nearly a minute before he could tear his gaze away and focus on the village scene around them.

  His immediate impression was that they’d driven into a replica of Jerusalem’s old city. White-walled, domed buildings squeezed closely together along narrow, winding streets, while in the near distance a decorative wall cut in front of a minaretlike tower. A closer look, though, showed him the myriad of architectural differences between these buildings and anything he’d ever seen on Earth. The shapes and positioning of the windows, the elaborate carvings on doors and archways, even the faint iridescence of the walls themselves all emphatically marked the place as alien.

  Perez broke the spell first, with a murmured Spanish phrase that sounded simultaneously blasphemous and awe-struck. “This is impossible!” he whispered. “The sky—but we were a hundred meters underground!”

  “It’s artificial,” Meredith said, and Hafner had to admire the confidence in the other’s voice. The geologist had stared at the sky for an entire minute without finding any flaws in the simulation. It was a simulation, of course; it had to be. “Probably a hologram or something projected on a domed ceiling,” Meredith continued. “Looks like the Spinners were settling in for a long stay here.”

  “But why underground?” Perez asked, clearly still shaken. “Why not on the surface where they could have real sunlight?”

  “Probably wanted a place where they could burn their steaks in peace,” Nichols said, sneezing violently. “Or can’t you smell that mess?”

  Hafner sniffed cautiously. He hadn’t really noticed the odors drifting in on the breeze, but now that he was paying attention he discovered Nichols was right. A faint smell that indeed resembled burnt meat was dominant; but beneath it he could detect traces of jasmine, sulfur, and something like a cross between rusty iron and oregano. “Whoo-ee,” he said. “Smells like someone burned down a kitchen pantry.”

  “Again, probably artificial.” Meredith pointed to a bare patch of ground Hafner hadn’t noticed. “I’d guess that used to be a garden or small park. You can see that whatever used to be there is long gone. Anything that could possibly have decayed did so centuries ago.”

  The wind died and began again from a slightly different direction, changing with equal subtlety the mixture of scents. Hafner glanced upward; the phantom cloud, too, had shifted direction. “Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make the workers feel at home.”

  “Yeah.” Meredith pointed toward the minaret in the distance. “Let’s leave a marker at this entrance and head over toward that tower. I want a look at that wall, too.”

  Barner produced a fluorescent orange-and-pink stick-on from his pack and got out of the car. Peering ahead, Nichols sneezed again and shook his head. “I don’t understand why they’d bother putting in any walls down here,” he said to no one in particular. “What would they want to cut this place in two parts for?”

  “It may be simply decorative,” Perez suggested. “Or possibly it separates the laborers from the elite.”

  “Or,” Meredith put in, “it could have had a genuine defensive purpose. And if so, we’d better find out fast what they were defending against.” He glanced back as Barner climbed into the car, nodded to Nichols. “Let’s go, Doctor. Take it real slow and easy.”

  It was, Perez decided, the ultimate ghost town, raising boyhood memories he’d have preferred to leave buried. Many of the buildings they drove past had open doors, and he found himself peering nervously into each one as they passed, half expecting some lone survivor of the mass exodus to charge out at them. Originally, he’d applauded Hafner’s stand on military participation in this trip; now, he almost wished Meredith had brought those three squads along.

  Hafner, at least, seemed to feel some of his same uneasiness. “Looks like they left in a hurry,” the scientist murmured, gazing out his window. “A lot of doors and windows were left open.”

  “Why lock them?” Barner asked reasonably. “Unless they imported their own burglars, too—”

  “They also left the Spinneret running,” Hafner pointed out.

  Barner shrugged. “You leave a fluorescent light on if you expect to be right back.”

  “Yeah,” Meredith agreed. “So … why didn’t they come back?” Tapping Nichols on the shoulder, he pointed ahead. “There; on the left—that wide spot in the road. Pull over there and let’s take a look inside one of these houses.”

  Nichols did as instructed and they all piled out. The building by the parking space was larger than the ones immediately around it, with inset doors and an archway extending almost to the street. “I’m going inside,” Meredith said in a low voice, drawing his pistol. Major, you and the others stay here. Are we in contact with the outside at the moment?”

  “No, sir,” Barner replied. He, too, had drawn his pistol.

  “You still at quarter-power setting?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. I don’t expect to run into any trouble, but if you hear a shot and I don’t check in within a ten-count, boost power all the way up and call for assistance. If the snoopers overhead hear … well, at that point we’ve probably got worse worries.”

  Barner nodded. “Understood. Good luck, Colonel.”

  “Thanks.” Meredith stepped under the archway, pausing as Perez joined him. “What do you want?” he growled.

  “I’m coming with you,” Perez told him calmly. “If you think there’s possible danger in there, two would have a better chance than one. And you have to admit I’m the most expendable man here.”

  Meredith snorted, but waved his pistol impatiently. “Oh, all right. But don’t touch anything, and if I give you an order, you hop. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  The door had
seemed closed from the street, but the leftmost of the twin panels turned out to actually be ajar. Meredith halted there, spending nearly a minute examining the entire area before easing it open. Motioning Perez to stay put, he stepped over the sill and disappeared off to the right. A moment later his beckoning hand appeared. Wondering belatedly if his curiosity hadn’t perhaps gotten him in over his head, Perez gingerly stepped inside.

  They were in a large room, lined on all sides with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Unrecognizable objects rested on some of them, uniformly coated with dust. Directly across from them a wider chest-high counter replaced one of the shelves, its surface showing more wear than Perez had noticed anywhere else. He pointed that out to Meredith, who nodded. “Yeah. I thought at first this whole place was built out of painted cable-type metal, but its looking more like we’ve got some sort of ceramic here, maybe over cable-type metal frame.” He glanced to either side, perhaps at the two closed doors exiting from the room, and then walked over to the counter. Trying to watch both doors at once, Perez followed.

  “The floor looks a little more scuffed here,” Meredith said. He touched the edge of the countertop experimentally, exerted some pressure—

  And with a crack, a section several centimeters long disintegrated into a cloud of white dust.

  Perez clamped his mouth hard over the exclamation that wanted out and backed hastily away as the cloud drifted toward him on the eddy breezes. Meredith had dropped into a crouch, pistol ready. Perez held his breath, listening, but he heard nothing.

  “I was right,” Meredith stage-whispered a moment later, straightening up and brushing the remnants of the ceramic off the dull metal edge beneath. “Cable metal, almost certainly.”

  “Uh-huh,” Perez nodded. He glanced around the room. “You suppose this place was a store or something?”

  “A store, or a fast-food restaurant or bar,” Meredith murmured. “Maybe the Spinners liked to stand up while eating. Let’s check out those other doors—and keep your voice down, huh?”

  “What exactly are you worried about running into here, anyway?” Perez asked. The crumbling of the countertop had put his ghost town fears back into perspective, reminding him once more how old this place was. Even ghosts disappear after a few centuries.

  “It occurs to me,” Meredith replied, “that there’s another possible reason the Spinners might not have worried about leaving their doors open: they may have had some very good antiburglar equipment.”

  “After all these years—”

  “The digging machine was still functional.” Perez swallowed. “Right. Well … nothing attacked us yet.”

  “Yet,” Meredith echoed. “Let’s check out those doors and then move on. I don’t think we’re really going to find anything in this part of town.”

  They were halfway across the room when Meredith’s short-range radio beeped quietly. “Meredith,” the colonel answered it. “… Where is it?”

  Perez stepped to his side, close enough to hear Barner’s voice. “… -dred meters away and closing. It’s not terrifically fast, but it may be armed.”

  “Yeah. Pull back as quietly as you can; let’s see if it’s us the thing’s after.” Meredith moved to the front door, sent a quick glance outside. “Looks like the basic structure’s cable metal,” he said, stepping back again. “Perez: check out that door. See if it leads outside.”

  Perez broke his paralysis and tiptoed to the side door. Opening it, he found another room, much smaller than the first one but equipped with the same sparsely laden shelves. There were no doors, but one of the windows facing the street looked big enough to get through quickly. If we can open it, he added to himself, sidling along the wall to check. Keeping his head low, he reached up to try and find a latch … and as he did so, he got his first look at the machine bearing down on them.

  It was as if someone had built a giant mechanical spider, fitted it with a turtle shell, and grafted a nest of snakes on top of the result. A walking Gorgon’s head, Perez thought, suppressing a shudder … and it was, indeed, heading for their building. Across the street, he caught a glimpse of Barner and the others crouched beside one of the other houses.

  “Perez!”

  Perez jerked violently before his brain could register the fact that the stage whisper from behind him was Meredith’s. “It’s coming, Colonel,” he breathed. “I can see it!”

  “I know, but we’ve got at least a minute before it gets here. Does that window come open?” Perez’s hands remembered their task. “Uh … I think I feel the latch here … there. It moved about a quarter turn.” He glanced cautiously out again. “I’d rather not try pushing it just yet.”

  Meredith was crouched beside him now, fingering the window himself. “Yeah … well, we’ll just have to hope it’s not stuck.” He raised his radio. “Major, the minute it’s inside here I want all of you in the car ready to take off. No covering fire unless it seems necessary; the last thing we want is to attract any more of them.” He got an acknowledgment and slid the radio back into its pocket. “Wait here,” he told Perez. “When I fire, shove the window open and get out. If it sticks, hit the floor and yell and I’ll try an armor-piercer on it.”

  Perez nodded silently, and Meredith moved back across the room. Closing the door to a crack, he stood peering out, his pistol held tightly at the ready in a two-handed marksman’s grip. Perez bit at his lip, staring at the gun and hoping the colonel hadn’t wasted any of the six spots in his number-two clip on flare shells or something equally useless. Though will even armor-piercers do anything against cable-metal? he wondered suddenly. A vulnerable spot—there has to be a vulnerable spot for him to hit—

  From the other room came the clip-clip-clip of metal feet. Perez caught his breath … and Meredith fired.

  The blast of the shell was deafening in the enclosed space, its echoes almost drowning out the sounds of Meredith’s next two shots. A snowstorm of ceramic dust erupted from the walls and ceiling as the building shook to the explosions. Perez threw one arm up to protect his eyes from the dust as he stood and shoved with his full weight against the window. It held an instant and then gave with a screech. Grabbing the edge, Perez vaulted through, banging his shoulder in the process and nearly losing his balance when he hit the ground. Meredith was right behind him, giving him a shove in the proper direction and shouting something he couldn’t catch. Running full tilt, he got his eyes clear of dust and tears just in time to skid to a halt by the open car door and dive into the back seat beside Hafner. Meredith hit the front seat an instant later, and Perez was abruptly jammed into the cushions as Nichols stomped on the accelerator. The car jumped ahead, throwing Perez back and forth as Nichols fought to keep the car on the winding street.

  “You all right?” Meredith asked.

  “I think so.” Perez fished out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. There was a grunt from the other side of the car, and he looked up to see Barner slide awkwardly in through the window, where he’d apparently been sitting in rear-guard position.

  “As far as I could tell it never fired a shot,” he said, twisting to look out the back window.

  “I’m not sure it wasn’t for lack of trying,” Meredith replied grimly. “At least two of those snakes were tracking me from the second it came through the door.”

  Barner grunted. “You get it?”

  “Wasn’t trying to. I was firing at its feet, trying to knock it over long enough for us to get out.”

  “Maybe all the dust helped, too.” Barner turned back to face forward. “The local police force, you suppose?”

  “Or else a burglar alarm,” Hafner offered.

  “Burglar alarms are usually set up in the individual house,” Perez said, coughing ceramic dust.

  “Ours are,” Hafner said. “But the whole setup of this town seems pretty cozy by human—well, at least by Western culture standards. It’s quite possible that a gregarious people like the Spinners would go with a centralized burglar-proofing system.”

  “A
police force by any other name,” Barner said, dismissing the distinction. “And the real question then is how many more of them are still functional.”

  The car hit a tight curve and fishtailed a bit getting around it. “I think you can slow down now, Nichols,” Meredith said.

  “Yeah. Okay.” Nichols threw quick glances in all directions, before somewhat reluctantly easing off on the gas. Perez stared hard at the geologist, wondering at how shaken the other seemed over the incident. Only gradually did it occur to him that he’d been too busy himself at the time to consider what the Gorgon’s Head might have done. …

  The unfamiliar architecture and geography of the Spinner cavern made distances deceptive, and it turned out that the wall was both farther and higher than it had looked from the tunnel entrance. Rising a good six meters above them, its surface an intricate pattern of subtle colors, it was as if a hundred rainbows had been caught and smashed together into the leading edge of a glacier. Meredith grimaced; the image was an oddly unsettling one.

  “Well, Colonel?” Perez prodded from behind him. “Was it for defense or not?”

  Meredith let his eyes rove the wall’s length. No crenels or loopholes for gunners to shoot through, no towers or turrets, nor any indication the wall had ever had them. “If it was, it was an extremely passive system,” he said. “Regardless, we’ve got to get through it. Anyone see anything that looked like a break or gateway on our way in?”

  “I thought I saw a gap over to the left,” Barner offered, frowning off in that direction. “But I can’t find it now.”

  “Maybe the color pattern’s hiding it,” Meredith suggested. “Let’s go take a look.”

  They piled into the car; and barely fifty meters away they found the tall, thin opening Barner had seen.

  “Wouldn’t have believed a simple hole could be that hard to see,” Barner grunted, leaning through the gap for a quick look at the other side. “Well … it’s a cinch we’re not going to get the car through here, Colonel, but the tower looks to be only a ten-minute hike away.”