NanoSymbionts

by Joseph Philbrook

  At the mention of the old guild BillSong visibly shuddered.

  “From your reaction I judge that you know something of the difference between us and the old guild that we replaced,” the questor said. Then with only a moments hesitation he continued. “Incidentally when I offered the new TreeCrawlers for your colony. It was merely as an added incentive. If it turns out that the Kindred really were here. I still intend to make you, personally, a very rich man. And even if they weren't. A guild built replacement for your cutter should go a long way towards getting you out of trouble. So do we have a deal or what?”

  BillSong thought for a moment.

  “I'm not all that comfortable with the idea of doing business with a questor,” he said. “But who else would have the means to supply so many new TreeCrawlers? And I suppose that if you really were all that much like a ‘Spacer’ of the old guild, I'd already be dead and you'd be extracting the location from what was left of my brain.”

  As he spoke, he looked the questor straight in the eyes. Where he suddenly saw an expression of fatigue and perhaps even a glimpse of pain.

  “You're wrong about the Spacers of the old guild,” Questor said in a voice laced with much sorrow. “They once were brave and honorable men. Men who allowed themselves to be bonded to their computer systems. So that they could survive the guild's stardrive without being in full stasis. Much as we questors are bonded with our nanite networks. But unlike our networked nanites, their computerized nanite control systems could be hacked.

  And the Spacers themselves, were actually the first victims of the cybernoid monsters they became. But, by the way, if a cybernoid thought you had some information it wanted. It wouldn't be kind enough to kill you ‘before’ it extracted what it wanted from your brain. And their form of data extraction is a particularly horrible way to die. Unless of course it decided to turn you into a cybernoid drone first. Which would have been an even worse fate than any kind of death it could have dealt you.”

  “Alright, yes for the good of my colony I'll risk it,” BillSong conceded. “We have a deal. But I'd like to know how you plan to get there without a TreeCrawler? Will we be using that ship you mentioned?”

  Then with visible effort the Questor smiled.

  “As to how we will get there,” he said in a much more cheerful voice. “I could of course, call in my ship. But I'm trying not to advertise my presence here. If my interest in the area became general knowledge. I'm afraid anything worth preserving would soon be trampled underfoot by the profiteers who would steal everything they can tear loose. Which would destroy the far greater value of the knowledge we can learn from it while it's still intact. No, I think we shall have to walk the ShellWays.”

  BillSong wasn't happy about walking. It wasn't the walk itself that bothered him though. He might even enjoy himself. If it wasn't for the fact that he'd have to do it without even the armor of his WayWalker. Thus they would have little protection from the critters of the forest. It wasn't just the risk of running into another SnarlClaw that he was worried about. They would now even need to be wary of those stupid StingRats.

  Since the ShellWays didn't have much protection from the sun. They would need to seek shelter from the heat of the day. Which meant they would have to travel by night. The StingRats were of course nocturnal hunters. When it got dark out even a small one, of perhaps half a lift, might try to jump them and the slightest scratch, from that multiply barbed stinger on the end of it's tail, could paralyze a man for days.

  Still he knew that there was really no point in trying to use his WayWalker to get there. Even if he could get it to the TreeWay system. It wouldn't get them anywhere near their destination. The unlisted TreeWay he had cut to get to the place, where he had found the artifacts, would be so overgrown by now as to be almost indistinguishable from the rest of the forest foliage. Nothing less than a TreeCrawler would get them there. Except by walking the ShellWay.

  Besides that, he had the impression that if he wanted this questor to gift his colony with those badly needed machines. He would have to avoid making it easy for others to find the site and walking at least wouldn't cut a path for anybody to follow.

  They waited for the sun to set in the relative comfort of the TreeCrawler. Even though more than half it's solar collectors had been destroyed along with it's primary power storage system, there was plenty of power in the auxiliary power cells to keep the environment control systems running for a couple of days. Unfortunately the primary external heat exchanger had also been damaged. Before long the TreeCrawler had run out of viable heat sinks in which to store the surplus thermal energy. So it became uncomfortably warm. They mostly sat still expending as little energy as possible and occasionally talked about how BillSong was going to find his way back to the ‘site’.

  “If we're really going to walk I suggest we make a good meal of the last of my fresh foods,”BillSong suggested when it had first started to cool off. “We can save my stock of nonperishable ration packs for later. Lets see...” He continued as he started pulling things out of the cold storage food locker. “There's some bread, a little factory grade converted meat and I've still got one of those hydroponic TumaTows they've been growing in Shiptown, ever since your people sold us the seeds two years ago.”

  “You've got TumaTows?” the Questor exclaimed. Then he continued without giving BillSong a chance to answer. “They happen to be a favorite of mine. Actually I was largely responsible for them being exported from the backwater planet I've been using as a base of operations. And shortly after I knew I was coming here I was quite pleased to learn that XenDar was one of the places the guild convinced to try them. Actually you've got the makings of an excellent meal that the locals of that backwards place call a ‘sandwich’. Let me show you.”

  He grabbed the bread and pulled a sharp kitchen knife from his pocket. With which he sliced off a couple of thin pieces. Then he quickly did the same with the meat and TumaTow.

  “Would you like to try one?” Questor asked after he showed BillSong how to assemble and hold a ‘sandwich’.

  “I have to admit it looks good to me, ‘Questor’,” BillSong said. “You don't mind if I call you by your proper title do you? It will help me to remember who and what I'm doing business with.”

  Questor just shrugged and made another sandwich.

  “You can call me anything you like BillSong,” he said as he sliced the bread. “Just don't call me late for dinner. Speaking of which there'll be enough left for you to try your hand at making a third sandwich, which we could bring with us. But lets see if these are as good as they look first”

  After they finished the somewhat dry sandwiches and washed them down with drinking water extracted from the TreeCrawlers condensation unit, BillSong manage to turn the remainder of the fresh food into something resembling the sandwich he'd just had. He cut it into two pieces. He put them in a small food container which he placed in a backpack, along with forty plastic cylinders from a storage locker. Each cylinder was marked ‘ration pack contains: 1 meal’.

  “Are you ready?” BillSong asked Questor.

  “Almost ready,” Questor replied, as he pulled out his nano-morphic pipe and packed it with some red leaves. “We have a long walk ahead of us, so lets start out with a little boost.” At which point he ignited the bowl's contents.

  BillSong gladly accepted the pipe. The stimulating effect of the red leaves of the male asulrod plant would make the journey seem much less tedious.

  They walked along the fork of the BranchCritter that led upward from the junction for over a subcycle before they passed the point where the remains of the TreeCrawler behind them was no longer visible. As the evening twilight faded, the dim ShellGlow emanating from the shells of the BranchCritters around them became visible. The eerie phosphorescent glow changed the whole appearance of the forest. Making it at once both more menacing and to BillSong's mind more beautiful. Then without a word, Questor stopped and stared at the view. Looking from the glowing path of t
he shell before them to the many other ShellWays above and below them, now distantly visible in almost every direction.

  “I must say that none of the descriptions and images, in any of the guild's files on XenDar, do justice to the beauty of the forest at night,” Questor said with a sigh as he resumed walking.

  BillSong smiled slightly but said nothing. As he followed Questor towards the great trunk they were approaching.

  Questor stopped about 200 arms from the trunk. He looked closely for any sign of an old BarkWay. Then Questor held up the walking stick he carried. The top of this odd looking thing had a ring like handle. Which was shaped so that the hole in the middle looked like an oversized, upside down outline of a falling drop of water. Questor held the stick by it's midsection and looked through the ring of it's handle like it was the lens of a viewing glass.

  “It's just as I expected,” Questor proclaimed. “There is no forgotten BarkWay here.”

  “I don't know about that,” BillSong said, “But I think we can rule out one leading upwards anyway. One leading down to a BranchCritter below us would be hard to see in this light.”

  “Check out the replay.” Questor said as he held his stick out so that the loop of the handle was in front of BillSong's face.

  Almost instantly a dim, but recognizable image of the trunk appeared inside the loop. The picture then rotated until it appeared upright to BillSong. Then the image brightened until it was as clear a view as would be had in broad daylight. Next it zoomed in for detail and panned from one side to the other of the trunk along the junction between it and the BranchCritter. When the image vanished Questor retracted the stick from in front of BillSong's face.

  “OK, so there isn't one at this trunk,” BillSong admitted. “That still leaves the downhill segment. Might as well start back towards the ForkHub. But I think dawn will catch up to us before we get there. So we'll want to be on the lookout for a suitable clump of vines to build a hunters nest where we can rest for the day in the shade.”

  “Yes, I'd agree such a nest would be a good idea,” Questor said. “Actually I'm curious to know how you would go about building one so I'll defer to your judgment on when and where to start today's nest. But I'm also curious what you'll do if we discover that the third trunk is also without BarkWays?”

  BillSong shifted the pack he had taken from his locker onboard the TreeCrawler so that he could show Questor the utilitarian crossbow-grapple that was folded up within it.

  “With this and a little daylight we can climb from one TreeWell to another,” BillSong explained. “Until we reach one with a BranchCritter leading the way we want to go. In that close to the trunk we won't be as exposed to the sun because it's plume will provide some shade, and of course there'll be plenty of drinking water in the unattached TreeWells and a nice cool bath when we reach a BranchWell. But it does occur to me that we'd get there a lot quicker if you call in your ship.”

  “I did tell you I didn't want to advertise my presence,” Questor said patiently. “For the moment lets just go find a spot you think will make for a good nest.” Questor turned his back to the trunk and started walking.

  “Wait a cyclet!” BillSong called after him. “Lets eat that remaining TumaTow sanwigit first.”

  Questor chuckled as he turned around. As they ate he explained to BillSong how to pronounce the Earth-English term ‘sandwich’ and likewise the Earth-English pronunciation of the word ‘tomato’ which had been the source word for the XenDarian name for it.

  The dawning light had became bright enough to obscure the ShellGlow. When there was enough light to clearly see the foliage vines that trailed below them. BillSong started to look for a suitable cluster for their nest. When he spotted one that suited him he laid flat on the edge of the shell so that he could rub the BranchCritter's underside. Causing a slow rippling movement in it's flesh that exposed an otherwise concealed ridge on the underside of the shell. Allowing him to secure a grip long enough to reach the nearest vine stems.

  Once he had a grip on the vines he quickly acquired a precarious foot hold against the rough bark of one of the heavier vines. Then he climbed down to about ten arms below the BranchCritter. To where the majority of the vines began to fork. Before long he found an opening in the foliage mass that he could crawl into. To avoid a fall he had to keep a good grip on the vines. Because even though there were many forked vines below him. All of them were angled downwards. As he went in he looked closely at the shadows to make sure he didn't stumble into a StingRat's nest. He looked in all directions but he paid particular attention to the places where the forkings of several different vines were entwined in such a way as to provide a dark spot where a StingRat could hide

  Such entwined vines also made good lash points for the construction of a hunter's nest. He used his colony made ‘perma-sharp’ belt knife to cut away a small vine stalk that was in his way. Then he cut a few more. When the seventh one fell away. There was enough room to construct a modest sleeping platform.

  He crawled in a little further to reach some adjacent vine stems. Which looked thin and supple enough to shape into a loose basket like framework that would support the sleeping platform. He crawled down one of them.

  When he was about 15 arms below the intended floor height. He began to gather them together. He fastened them to each other with thin strips of bark that he shaved off some of the neighboring vines. Until he had securely tied a course network of vines, with enough bark strip tethers, that he was confident it would hold considerably more than twice his weight. Then he ascended to a point about 20 arms above the gathering. From which he gradually pulled each of the tethered vines outwards. Tethering them to neighboring vines with more bark strips.

  This also pulled the central gathering of vines up until the bottom of the frame became a shallow bowl shape. Next he started cutting lengths of slender vine shoots from some more of the neighboring vines. He wove them through the heavier network he had made from the uncut vine stems. Then he tethered them to the frame at each end. Pulling them as taunt as he could. Next he wove some more of them in between those ones. He kept repeating this process, with gradually thinner vine shoots, until he had a nearly flat platform in the middle of the bowl. With a fine enough mesh that they didn't have to worry about their feet slipping through the weave as they walked on it.

  In all it took him about three subcycles to fashion a reasonably comfortable temporary nest. Which was both big and strong enough for the two of them. By that time it was uncomfortably hot on the ShellWay. Nonetheless, Questor had stayed topside in the growing heat. Using his stick to take one reading after another of the BranchCritter itself and it's structural upper shell.

  “The nest is ready for occupancy,” BillSong announced with a little flourish. “All we need is to collect piles of soft leaves to sleep on.”

  “That's nice,” Questor replied. Seemingly preoccupied with the data he was collecting. Then with a shake of his head he added, “These BranchCritters are amazingly strong. Guild technology would have resorted to using structural force fields to make a bridge hold up it's own weight over so great a span. Yet the BranchCritters seem to manage it without one. While also supporting the weight of all those foliage rich vines.”

  “You got that right!” BillSong said. “Our best scientists have been trying to figure that out since the colony was first founded. They say it's structurally impossible. So they've been studying BranchCritters for years. But so far they've found nothing they could use to explain the fact, that impossible or not, these BranchCritters actually do hold up all that weight. Now come on down before you roast.”

  With that said, BillSong busied himself gathering leaves for his bedding. Questor followed him to the edge of the shell. Then he took careful aim and jumped at a point in the foliage below. Relying on his nanite enhanced agility and strength to secure a grip. Without depending on a ridge grip like the one BillSong tickled out of the BranchCritter. Questor pulled a large sack from his pocket and soon had it stu
ffed full of leaves. Then he hauled the sack inside the structure.

  They didn't speak as Questor quietly examined BillSong's handiwork. It was a lot like being in an upside down treehouse he thought as he examined the nest. The light that made it into the nest was diffused. As it passed through irregular gaps in the vine mass that served as walls. There was enough light to see by but if he wanted to see fine details he'd have to depend on his nanite enhanced vision. The temperature was comparatively cool. There were several gaps in the vine stems that, when nature called, would be big enough to crawl into.

  After a few subcyclets of quiet he heard soft sounds coming from all directions around them. As the small creatures of the forest began to stir. Finally Questor spoke, causing the forest to fall silent again.

  “It's actually quite nice in here BillSong,” he said. “It doesn't sound as though any of the critters I've heard are likely to come close enough to bother us. Shall we eat something before we sleep?”

  “No, the ration packs I brought will have to last us a while,” BillSong replied. “We can get a meal from the TreeCrawler's on board protein converter tonight.” Then he added, “Actually, the only critters likely to bother us are the StingRats that creep quietly through the foliage as they hunt FlingAts. But if we stay quiet enough. We'll hear the other forest critters becoming suddenly quiet whenever they come around. Which should give us enough warning.”

  “Yes, I suppose they would make a good early warning system at that,” Questor said with a chuckle. “But we won't actually need to use the converter on your TreeCrawler. The leaf you've smoked with me was laced with enough high grade nano-meds. That you should be able to eat unprocessed local foods. Without complications for the next 70 days or so.”

  “Nice of you to tell me,” BillSong said. “I could have hunted or gathered something a bit more tasty. But as it is, I suppose we can afford to open a ration pack or two.”

  Then he reached into his pack and took out a couple of ration packs. Tossing one of them to Questor he opened the other and extracted a small water pouch along with a vitamin enriched foodbar which he began to eat. Questor did likewise.