Jake had listened patiently. His nanites had also confirmed most of what Jess had said.
“Tell me something Jess,” Jake requested. “You've worked for Steve for a long time haven't you?”
“Yes Jake, I certainly have,” Jess replied. “It's hard to say how long though because I've spent a significant amount of time in hypersleep. But I've spent about 500 years of subjective time in his service. And no, this earth isn't my native home.”
“That fits,” Jake said with a nod. Then he stepped up to the identi-screen next to the elevator door and palmed it. “Initialize security protocol Jess-plan101a.” There was a brief crackle as if a surge of electricity had run though the communication line.
“Command authority accepted,” the house computer's mechanical voice said. “Protocol Jess-plan101a implemented.”
Jess sighed with relief and smiled.
“Now before we begin,” Jess said. “I'd like to know if you know why I'm going to get you qualified to fly so many other kinds of spaceships. Before we get into the nuances of the guild design star drive?”
“I'm not completely sure Jess,” Jake replied. “Why don't you just go ahead and tell me?”
“Well there are actually two reasons,” Jess said. “Both relate to the way it subjects it's passengers to about as much subjective time as it would take a beam of light to travel the distance. The first reason is me. I'd simply not live long enough to get very far. Unless of course, I spent the trip in stasis or hypersleep. The second reason is you. Oh your capable of living long enough. But because you haven't developed a sentient nanosymbiont to endure the boredom for you, you'd lose your very will to live.”
This sounded right to Jake but it left him with question.
“How is it then, that Sandra seems to think I'm going to be so much more powerful than a regular questor?” Jake asked. “I mean, one of the things Steve did tell me was that a questor's greatest power was the ability to spend so much of that travel time preparing for whatever task needs to be done when he gets there. How am I to do that if I have to travel in a stasis field?”
“Well for starters, you'll most likely still develop a true symbiont eventually Jake,” Jess replied. “Though thanks to your ability to control your individual nanites so completely, it could take a few hundred years to emerge. Until then, the best we can do is to build you a custom artificially intelligent ship's computer, for you to sync up with m'lad. But if it's gonna do for you, what Steve's nanosymbiont does for him, It'll need an accurate personality map. And we canna build one that it can use till we've got a record of at least a year or two of your thought processes. In the mean time your just going to have to settle for shorter range transport.”
Chapter 14 A Walk In The Woods
They had been walking for the better part of four nights. Before BillSong bagged a FlingAt with the new TechnoBow Questor had given him. The morning twilight had only just become strong enough to hide the ShellGlow. As he slowly reeled in the nano-thread his bow had tethered to his hunting dart. Less than a subcyclet later he was holding the carcass. That would otherwise have fallen into the gloom below.
“Look at the size of this FlingAt!” he said. “It's at least twice the size of the ones you've been bagging. Don't you think?”
“True enough,” Questor said with a grin. “Of course, I'm thinking you just need a bigger target than I do.”
BillSong didn't bother to argue the point. As he quickly carved out over half a sublift of meat. Turning to Questor as he flung the remains of the carcass over the edge.
“I'd like to make camp a little early tonight,” he said. “So that I can cook and preserve this meat.”
Questor pointed at a great trunk barely visible ahead.
“If we camp by that tree,” he said. “We'll have access to TreeWells to replenish our flasks and even clean up a little.”
BillSong thought of the simple pleasure of a good sponge bath.
“Deal!” he confirmed. “But I'm taking a side trip down the next SpongeFruit vine.”
“OK,” Questor replied. “And I'll forage, for some greens, to go with the steaks.”
Just then they felt the surface of the BranchCritter's shell shake slightly. As a huge SnarlClaw dropped onto it less than a dozen arms away from them. Almost without thinking BillSong fitted a nano-bolt to his bow and began to point it at the crouching beast but Questor stepped into his line of fire.
“Wait a moment,” he said. “I'd rather not kill this magnificent specimen if we can avoid it.”
He held up his stick, as if he were going to look at the beast through the viewer in the handle. Instead of looking however, he made a roaring sound through it. His voice was amplified to tree shaking proportions. While a fine mist of specialized nano-pheromones flooded the SnarlClaw's central nervous system. They generated a very strong desire to stay away from the smell of humans. It worked. With a final snarl at them the huge beast jumped into the foliage below and was soon lost to sight.
“Well that's one SnarlClaw,” Questor said cheerfully. “That I doubt we'll ever see again. Better still since this was ‘his’ neighborhood. I think it's unlikely that there are enough StingRats around here. To make much of a nuisance of themselves today.”
“You're probably right about the StingRats,” BillSong said. “A SnarlClaw is about the only thing StingRats are smart enough to run from. I just wish I had your confidence about not seeing anymore of that SnarlClaw.”
BillSong stepped up his pace on the BranchCritter's shell to a brisk walk. Occasionally hopping over one of the seams between the shell sections that let the BranchCritter slowly change the shape of the curved path that it formed between the huge trunks. A BranchCritter had to move to keep it's symbiont foliage vines supplied with sunlight.
A few cyclets later he noticed where a SpongeFruit vine was trailing down from above. It was draped across the edge of the next shell section. He veered towards it. It took a couple of cyclets for him to climb up the vine until he was within reach of a few clusters of the sponge like fruit.
With care he selected a forked stem, on which a cluster of eight SpongeFruit hung closely together. He carefully took hold of the stem. Being careful not to bruise it's surface. Which would make it's glue like sap leak through the vine stem's thin skin. Then with his perma-sharp belt knife he cleanly severed the stem with an angled cut through the knobby part where it clung to a bigger stem. He carefully slipped the fruit cluster into his foraging sack. Then he tied it to his belt and began climbing back down.
Questor had smiled when he saw BillSong veer towards the SpongeFruit vine cluster. He knew the man would get plenty of the suds filled fruit. So he turned his attention to the assortment of vine types that he could see hanging down below the edge of the shell. He paid particular attention to the ones with something worth eating and he planned a quick gathering foray.
Questor instructed his nano-morphic clothing to become a loose fitting, multi-pouched network of elastic webbing. Then he pointed his stick toward the edge of the shell and launched a dart which immediately split in two. With the smaller segment swinging on a thread around the edge of the shell to anchor itself in the vines just below.
The larger segment itself swung on an arc from it's new anchor point. Until it connected with an ideally located larger vine and firmly anchored itself. Questor jumped over the edge, swinging in an arc on the thread attached to his stick. Which brought him close to several edible items. With his free hand he swung a harvesting blade that he'd formed from one of his nano-morphic pellets. With a slashing scooping motion he filled the pouch, that had formed between his left leg and his left arm, with some broad leafed greens. Then, at the far end of his swinging motion, he grabbed hold of another vine. With several rapid slice and grab motions he stuffed half a dozen clusters of a small purple fruit into the pouch between his right leg and right arm.
Next he shortened the thread connected to the anchor he'd just used as a pivot point. This pulled his body up
the thickening thread. When he reached the right height he began to shorten the thread connected to the anchor near the edge of the TreeCritter's shell. This pulled him sideways until he was he was in position to swing himself back up onto the BranchCritter.
Along the way he passed a blue melon like fruit the size of his head. Which he tucked into the pouch that stretched between his knees just before he sliced it's stem.
Meanwhile BillSong reached a point on the vine that was just a few arms directly above the BranchCritter and dropped onto it, landing nimbly on his feet. Just as he got there he saw what looked like a virtually naked purple skinned Questor swing forcefully back out from under the shell. With an assorted selection of tasty looking produce clustered about him in various nets which seemed to cling to his body. Questor landed about 4 arms from BillSong.
That's when BillSong noticed that the net that held the MelonNut suspended between Questor's knees was a pouch that also contained Questor's genitals. He noticed this because Questor had crouched slightly to cushion his landing and BillSong saw the MelonNut rub against them. He spoke up immediately.
“I hope you don't think I'm having anything you might be planning on making with that MelonNut you just rubbed your... ah stuff on,” he said. “Whats wrong with you anyway?”
Questor was casually taking things out of the net like pouches that his clothes had become. First he set a large bundle of greens down on a ridge of the BranchCritter's shell. Next he gently placed the purple InkBerries on the pile of greens. Finally he reached through the opening just below his naval and scooped out the MelonNut.
“You mean you're worried about what touches this?” Questor paused as he rapped on the hard blue shell with his knuckles. “I could stick it in a pile of manure for a month. And as long as the shell doesn't have any cracks the kernel inside would be untainted.”
BillSong knew the truth in Questors words but it didn't change his feelings any.
“I wish it had only been manure that you just touched it with,” he said. ‘That’ wouldn't have bothered me!”
Questor just stared at BillSong for a moment. Then it dawned on him why it had bothered the man so much. He began to laugh. It started as a slight giggle somewhere deep inside. Then it slowly expanded to a hearty guffaw. When he finally wound down he commanded his nano-morphic garment to return to it's usual form.
“Well if it makes you feel any better my dear sensitive boy,” he said. “I fully intend to wash and inspect the shell for cracks. Before I crack it open. But if it still bothers you I won't be offended if I get to have all the delicious nut paste to myself. Oh and don't worry. In the future I won't use that pouch for any goodies that I really want to share with you. OK?”
BillSong just shook his head and started walking.
The foliage vines were thinning out as they neared the giant trunk. It was getting difficult to see the vines hanging down below without leaning over the edge. Then BillSong finally spotted a suitable cluster of vines to make a decent nest for today's camp. He began making the nest just the same way as he had the others. He quickly climbed down to an opening in the foliage mass that he could crawl into.
He cut away some of the vine stalks that were in his way. Then he crawled in a little further to reach some of the thinner vine stems from which to weave the platform. That's when he suddenly realized his mistake. He hadn't slowed down enough as he crawled in to properly check the shadows. He had been too busy ‘not thinking’ about the MelonNut to think about the risk of disturbing a StingRat's nest. Until that is, his hand found a spot on the vines that was smeared with something that felt slimy.
He looked up just in time to see an ill tempered beast that must have weighed nearly three lifts, snap it's whip like tail in his direction. The neuro-toxin coated barb pierced his neck before he could even flinch. Almost without thinking he lashed out with his perma-sharp. Neatly decapitating the StingRat. Before it could move in for the kill. BillSong was surprised to find that he had time to tangle himself in some of the thinner vines. Before the numbness creeping though him cost him his grip on them.
Lacking the floor like platform he hadn't had time to build. He should have fallen to his death below. He was vaguely puzzled that he was still awake enough to wonder about it. He should have been unconscious before he'd had time to kill the StingRat, never mind lash himself in.
He awoke to find himself laying in a course hammock inside a cozy ‘L’ shaped two room nest. The floors had been carefully woven from slender vines. In what looked somewhat like the style of the kind of semi-permanent nest commonly found in NesterVille. Though it wasn't quite in the traditional pattern.
He was in the smaller of the two rooms. It was connected to the sidewall near the back of the larger room, by a series of bark lashings connecting the sides of the wide door like opening. His position was such that he could just see Questor leaning over a bio-stove. On which there was a pan of what smelled like stew.
“Good morning,” Questor said without turning. “Or should I say, afternoon? I do hope you've had, a good sleep. Though I'd recommend we stay put for another night anyway. But what I need to know right now, is if you really won't eat any of this stew. If I thicken the broth with some of that nut paste? Aside from which it'll taste much better if you let me add some dumplings while it finishes cooking.”
BillSong was famished.
“You did wash it like you said, right?” he asked.
Questor took that for an answer and tossed in a small pile of paste balls. That would soon cook into flavorful dumplings. Then he turned to BillSong and brandished a crystal pipe packed with blue leaves.
“I think perhaps that you should replenish your nano-meds before we eat,” he said. “Most of the ones from the last bowl we smoked expended themselves dealing with the poison from that nasty sting. As well as repairing the nerve tissue it had directly affected. Not to mention healing the neck wound itself.”
BillSong automatically checked the floors integrity with his hand before rolling out of the hammock. He was pleased to find that there was enough head room to stand up straight. The floor hardly swayed as he walked to the bigger room where Questor was cooking. There were even a couple of stool like ‘chairs’ with a small platform to serve as a table in between them. They were all built into the wall. Such as might have been done in one of the more rural nests along the outskirts of NesterVille.
Questor had evidently put enough work into this nest for it to remain viable for an extended stay. This close to the roots above it could take a hundred days for it to become overgrown enough to actually need trimming. He sat down on one of the chairs.
“OK, I always did like blue asulrod,” BillSong said. “And I suppose that if you're willing to spend your nano-meds on me. Well, I should just be grateful.” He paused as he pointedly looked around at the nest. “Don't you think you over did it a bit for a two day stay?”
“Perhaps I did,” Questor said with a smile. “But I had to do something to keep busy while you slept it off. Besides we might find this nest useful on the way back.”
As he spoke he sat in the other chair. Then as soon as he finished speaking, he sparked the bowl taking a slow deep hit off the pipe. Next he held his breath as he passed the pipe to BillSong. Who in turn wasted no time taking a deep hit of his own. Then while he held his breath BillSong tried to pass the pipe back to Questor. Who was still slowly exhaling but Questor held up his hand.
“No, you finish it,” he said. “I don't need any nano-med replenishment. And given the number of StingRats in the woods I'd much rather you built up a reserve.”
BillSong thought about it for a moment.
“Thanks! Don't mind if I do,” he said. “But I think I'd better answer a call of nature first.”
He stood up and placed the pipe on the table as he headed for the entrance. Where he pulled back the flap of woven vines that served as a door. As he looked outside for a good handhold. He saw that Questor had even built a ‘porch’ platform. With a l
adder like set of steps leading up to the shell's edge above. He turned his head and noticed a hollow seated bench built into the other end of the porch. Which was positioned where any falling debris would likely miss the foliage below and thus fall all the way to the muck of the forest floor. He turned back to Questor.
“I thought you told me that you've never been to NesterVille?” he asked.
Questor picked up the pipe from the table.
“Strictly speaking I haven't,” he replied. “Nor do I believe, have any of my brethren questors. But there have been guildsmen there. Some of whom have even been invited inside a few nests. So it should be no surprise that the guild's data base had quite a few images for me to study.”
Then taking only enough of a hit to relight the pipe he handed it to BillSong. Then he spoke out what little smoke he'd just sucked in.
“But do take this with you as you answer the call,” he continued. “Mind you I'd appreciate it if you don't drop it out there.”
This bit last was said with a wink that told BillSong that Questor wasn't really worried that he might actually be so careless.
Without a word BillSong took the pipe and began to take a series of small hits to finish the bowlful as he stepped out onto the porch. Once there he noticed that Questor had even thought to fashion a few well placed clothing hooks on the inner vine wall of the porch. On one of which hung his foraging sack. Near the seat Questor had even drawn in and tethered a leafy tendril from a nearby vine. Which was one of the varieties that produced a strong leaf with a soft dry surface.
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