“A life-coma is recommended. You are in no condition to override my medical opinion. Your cognitive abilities are impaired.”
“The workbox, then you can put me into the life-coma.”
“No.” The automedic’s programming had reached the conclusion that Cameron was no longer responsible due to the head injury.
“‘We have fed our sea,’” quoted Cameron, ‘“for a thousand years and she calls us, still unfed.’”
“Programming override accepted,” said the automedic. Cameron nodded and immediately regretted the action. Something came loose inside his head.
“My workbox.”
The automedic beeped and hummed. From beyond Cameron’s line of sight came a small loading robot carrying the electronics box. He motioned. The robot placed it within reach. Cameron pressed his thumb to the lock and opened the lid. Inside lay an aerial robot hardly ten centimetres in length and five millimetres thick.
“Activation code: Et tu, Humbolt.” Cameron watched through blurred eyes as the minuscule robot powered up. The box quivered and then stilled when the robot lifted up and quietly hung, suspended in the air.
Pride of supreme achievement welled up within Cameron. This silent killer carried death in four forms, programming that permitted it to carry out its task in the most complicated situation conceivable and a special set of instructions that allowed a complete tri-vid report to be returned after it had finished.
“Do you understand your instructions?” Cameron asked.
The robot was too small to permit it to carry a speaker; almost unseen green flashes from its laser signalled that it desired only the final command to be on its mission.
Cameron forced his eyes open and stared at the flying sliver. He knew a minute laser scanned his retinal patterns, waiting for the command that only he could give. His eyelids sank, rose and sank again. When Cameron looked again, the air was empty.
Cameron toggled six less sophisticated but still capable aerial robots to protect him on his way off-planet and to the orbiting cargo ship. He did not trust Humbolt not to assassinate him, especially in this weakened condition.
He smiled. Humbolt would soon cease to be a problem. Chairman Fremont’s orders had been carried out.
But what of Barton Kinsolving? Cameron’s smile soured. If only he could remember what had happened in the warehouse. Kinsolving had to be responsible. He was the only one capable enough.
“Automedic,” he called out.
“Yes, Mr. Cameron.”
“The life-coma. Do it. Now.”
Cameron winced as a panoply of drugs burst through his skin and poured into his veins. Then a coolness settled over him. He stopped fighting the pain and found himself relaxing, drifting, able to think dearly, if not to remember.
“Good-bye, Humbolt,” he said softly, the words inaudible.
But Cameron’s final thought before the life-coma totally possessed him was of Kinsolving.
CHAPTER XIX
Barton Kinsolving looked nervously at Quixx. The spider loped along, his eight legs moving in a smoother rhythm now that they had left the building and travelled along the ground. Kinsolving sped up, his breathing coming in shorter gasps now. The spider being took no notice of the human’s discomfort. If anything, he lengthened his stride and put even more strain on Kinsolving.
Kinsolving wiped sweat from his eyes and doggedly kept up. Quixx might be testing him, seeing if the puny human with only a quarter of the proper legs could compete with a “civilized” being. Or, Kinsolving thought, Quixx might not even think in such terms. He had no idea how the arachnoid saw the universe or humans or even himself. None of the spiders used a personal pronoun. Kinsolving wished he could decide what that meant. It might give him some insight into the character of the aliens he dealt with. He stumbled when they reached rougher terrain. The paving inside the city gave way to gravel, the gravel to dirt and finally to a rocky slope that took every ounce of energy he had left to scale.
Once on top of the hill, Kinsolving paused, not caring that Quixx continued on. He turned and looked back at the city bathed in lights every colour of the spectrum. How did Quixx see his city? As this rainbow palace of soaring spires and delicate arches spanning hundreds of metres, all true architectural masterpieces, or did the spider being think of it only as a dirty, overcrowded city?
“Quixx, wait,” Kinsolving called out. “I need rest.”
“We are almost there. We must not keep the Supreme Web waiting. It is not done.”
“Do you want to bring me to them dead?”
Quixx trotted back up the hill and faced Kinsolving. “It does not matter. If you perish in the next few minutes, the knowledge locked within your mind can be extracted. For a short time only, but it can be if death is recent.”
“You’d do that?”
“Not if you refuse to die until after the Supreme Web has made its decision.”
Kinsolving looked at the fairyland of towers, the shifting radiance and hues, the stark majesty of the city created by the arachnoids. Could any race capable of such beauty fail to show compassion in their system of justice?
He had ample evidence that they did — that they would. The laser cannon on the moons, the small items Quixx mentioned of eating their enemies and showing no quarter when lighting.
“I’m ready,” he said. Kinsolving took several deep breaths and prepared to begin running again. Quixx reached out a long leg and tripped him.
“Where do you go?”
“You said…” The soft whisper of a repulsor craft danced along with the wind. Kinsolving scanned the darkened sky and caught glints of light off the hull of a large vehicle descending at the foot of the hill not fifty metres away.
Kinsolving picked himself up and dusted off his tattered clothing. Glaring at Quixx, he said, “If you’d tell me what’s happening, you wouldn’t have to treat me like a prisoner. I’ll gladly tell your Supreme Web all they want to know.”
“Of course you will,” Quixx said. “You will not be given a choice. This one has guaranteed your voice.”
“Where is the Supreme Web?” Kinsolving asked. “Near? Or will we be in the aircraft a long time?” He studied the vehicle hovering a few centimetres off the ground. Travelling long distances in this machine did not thrill him. The pilot had a windscreen. The passengers huddled in the back, hanging on to the metal rings mounted on the open deck. If the vehicle reached a speed of even two hundred kilometres an hour, Kinsolving thought, he might be blown out. He had been through too much to have the strength left
to fight against wind and gathering cold and untold hours of flight.
“Near,” said Quixx. The spider herded him forward and somehow lifted him using four legs. With a jump that made it appear that the arachnoid had springs for legs, he dropped beside his human captive. Quixx’s legs stretched out. He scooped in four rings, his taloned legs securely holding him down. Kinsolving remained sitting. He held on to the rings on either side and faced forward.
The sudden surge as the pilot put full power to the repulsors crushed Kinsolving flat. When the vehicle started forward, Kinsolving knew he could not hang on for more than a few minutes. The wind ripped at his face. Cold fingers tried to pry loose his hands, and his eyes began watering. Risking his life, he swung around until he faced the rear of the vehicle. Taking the brunt of the wind across his back helped clear his watering eyes. Nothing warmed his hands.
“You are in pain?” asked Quixx.
Kinsolving could only nod. He was positive his fingers had turned grey with frostbite.
“We are near to joining the Supreme Web. Very near.” The arachnoid’s voice carried more than simple reassurance with it. Kinsolving heard the excitement, the sense of achievement and pride in what Quixx said. Appearing before the Supreme Web must be a significant honour, Kinsolving thought.
He huddled over, trying not to feel too miserable. He quickly decided that if he did not lose himself in misery, he would only dwell morbidly on his fate
.
Still, Kinsolving thought, he had not done too badly. Interstellar Materials would never again be able to smuggle the brain burners onto Web, not with the arachnoids aware of the source of the diabolical devices. Cameron had been killed.
Kinsolving swallowed hard. He hoped Cameron had been killed. He had no proof. But Humbolt and the others would never escape Quixx and the spiders’ justice. For that Kinsolving was happy.
But for himself? He shivered and worried and finally let his mind go completely blank. The numbness, both physical and mental, helped quell the panic and pain assaulting him from every side.
Kinsolving almost fell from the deck when the vehicle banked suddenly, then dropped vertically. Only Quixx’s swift reactions and a pair of grasping legs saved him. The repulsor craft settled to within a few centimetres of the ground. Kinsolving tumbled out, thankful that he had arrived safely.
He looked up and, for a brief instant, stood speechless. “The Supreme Web,” he said in a small voice. He felt as if he were in a library or a hospital and had to whisper. Loud talk would be sacrilege.
“This way,” ordered Quixx. Kinsolving noticed the change in the way Quixx spoke. Authority boomed out now. He could believe that the arachnoid was a policeman in charge of the situation. Kinsolving rubbed his hands and returned some circulation. He followed as closely as possible while trying to grasp the full extent of the aerial immensity of the spiders’ web.
Four spires had been erected on low hills over a shallow, lush valley. Everywhere he looked in that valley glowed dim lights of all colours. Singly, no light appeared bright. The untold thousands taken together gave a soft illumination brighter than daylight.
Each spire rose a lofty five hundred metres and swayed slightly as the winds whipped around the tops. One spire shone with an inner ruby light. Another glowed a dull emerald. A third burned with a yellow light almost too intense to stare at directly. The remaining spire stood black against the blackness of night.
But the web! The strands of web running from each of the spires were fully the thickness of Kinsolving’s thigh. And from the major cables ran an eye-confusing array of smaller ones forming the pattern over the valley. His web looked like any of a thousand he had seen growing up on Earth — the difference lay in the immensity of this one.
“Why are the pylons coloured like that? How are the webs spun? Artificial? What’s the significance of the pattern?” he asked. Kinsolving wanted to know it all. He had the feeling that too few humans had ever seen this aspect — this vital part — of arachnoid culture.
“Tradition rules the Supreme Web,” was the only answer he received.
They walked to a spot where Kinsolving saw the door inside the spires. The green spire nearest them showed a black spot that spread and grew until six spiders walked out abreast. With an agility no human could match, the arachnoids climbed unseen strands of web stuff and mounted to the web suspended between the four spires. Wave after wave came from the spire until Kinsolving wondered if any spider being remained on the face of the planet. He turned and saw a similar exodus from each of the other three spires.
Along the suspended web moved the dark wave of arachnoids.
“How long does it take?” he asked, fascinated.
“Each node will be occupied within a few minutes,” said Quixx. “We must go now to our place. It is not allowed to be late. This one has the honour of being on the Web for only the fourth time. Status rises with each decision.”
Kinsolving ran to keep up with the hurrying arachnoid. Quixx reached the lowest spot on the major web strand dangling between the green and ruby spires and caught a tiny cable. He began ascending almost as fast as Kinsolving could run on the ground. Kinsolving reached the spot directly under Quixx and stared. Even if he’d had a web to climb, his progress would be painfully slow in comparison.
“What do I do?” he called up to Quixx.
Kinsolving yelped as a cable whipped down and snaked around his waist. His feet sailed into the air, and Kinsolving found himself hanging upside down. Then he screamed as the cable around his waist jerked, tightened, and Quixx began reeling him in. Kinsolving flailed about before realizing that he only made it worse by struggling. He closed his eyes, but this only caused his gorge to rise. His imagination outstripped reality.
Kinsolving forced his eyes open. The ground whirled about below him as he was pulled further and further up into the Supreme Web. It took ten minutes before he came to rest just under a major strand. Quixx worked on the cable with his tiny, weak hands.
“Stand on the web. Or sit,” Quixx amended, when he saw that Kinsolving had trouble just hanging on to the strand.
Kinsolving kicked and pulled up, getting one leg over the edge of the immensely thick spider strand. It took another minute of careful manoeuvring before he sat beside Quixx.
“Do not shake so,” the arachnoid ordered. “You disturb all within the Supreme Web.”
“It’s a long way to the ground.” Kinsolving should not have looked; he did. Quixx had pulled him out over the valley. The ground, dancing with its parti-coloured lights, was visible a kilometre below. Too visible for Kinsolving’s peace of mind.
He forced his attention off the ground and onto the Supreme Web and the spider beings on it. Quixx had hinted that every intersection in the web would have an occupant. Kinsolving lost track of how many he counted. Thousands. Perhaps as many as a hundred thousand. Those nearest did not stare at him as he did at them. Their bill attention focused on the distant centre of the web.
“Is the arachnoid there the most important?” asked Kinsolving, gesturing toward the confluence of the web strands. He closed his eyes for a moment. The gentle, warm wind caused the strands to lift and drop precipitously. When his stomach quieted, he again looked.
“All are equal within the Supreme Web,” said Quixx. “The Web is greater than any strand.”
Kinsolving had the feeling that Quixx recited a catechism. He also saw the tenseness in the arachnoid’s body. Quixx stood poised, as if to leap into empty space.
“The inquiry begins,” said Quixx.
The reverential feeling that Kinsolving had experienced on seeing the Supreme Web heightened now. All those around him stood silent and motionless. The only faint stirrings in the web came from natural disturbances. Kinsolving fidgeted uneasily. He was acutely aware that he introduced vibrations along the strands that the others instinctively avoided.
“I am to ask you these questions,” said Quixx in a voice strangely different from his normal tones.
It took Kinsolving several seconds to realize that the differences were more than simple pitch and deeper timbre. Quixx had, for the first time, referred to himself as “I.”
“I need to know your involvement with those present at the Interstellar Materials warehouse, those who bring the Boxes of Delights to my planet.”
Kinsolving began his story, telling of his work on Deepdig in IM’s rare earth mines, how he discovered the cerium-crystal thefts, how his inquiry had led to Gamma Tertius 4 and Chairman Fremont. Kinsolving carefully avoided mention of how Cameron had maneuvered him into a spot where he looked guilty of murder to the alien Lorr who owned Deepdig. Kinsolving definitely avoided mentioning his exile to the Lorr prison planet and his escape. Any hint that he was less than a law-abiding citizen would reflect badly on his story.
Kinsolving fell silent after concluding with the encounter with Cameron in the warehouse. He had no idea how his recitation had been received. The only sound across the vast valley was the hint of wind through the strands. Not an arachnoid moved. None spoke.
“Why do you risk your life for the natives of the planet you call Web?” asked Quixx. “I see no reason for a human thing to do such a selfless deed.”
Kinsolving swallowed hard. He hardly knew where to begin. “Intelligent life, no matter its form, is important. It should not be taken lightly. It should never be taken for reasons of prejudice.”
“I do not understand. All intelli
gent beings, by definition, must have prejudices.”
“Opinions are not prejudices,” Kinsolving said hotly. “Fremont and Humbolt and the others feel those races who reached the stars before humanity are deliberately holding us back. They think this is a war between all aliens and mankind.” He took a deep breath and added, “They see immense financial and political gains if they can eradicate life on Web. Importation of the Boxes of Delights and their widespread use will cause immense death and debility. Genocide. They will profit from the vacuum formed by the passing of so many of your kind.”
“You do not approve?”
“No. Most of those on Earth believe we can achieve equality with you and the others already among the stars through our own efforts. We can earn it, not steal it.”
“Most. I need more information. Not all those human things of Earth share your feelings? Some feel as those from Interstellar Materials and Gamma Tertius 4?”
“Humans are known for diversity of belief. I do not know how many think like Fremont and the others. Some, not many. The Earth governments do not support Interstellar Materials in this mad scheme.”
“I am confused. There is not a consensus of opinion of Earth beings binding to all? Peculiar. But I have experienced similar reactions in worlds nearer the rim of space controlled by me.” Quixx continued, as if arguing with himself. His words came in a rapid stream and he began slurring.
Kinsolving watched as the arachnoid quivered. He glanced out over the Supreme Web. No other participant behaved in such a fashion. Kinsolving at first thought Quixx had become the focus of all the others’ thoughts, a vortex for telepathic transmission. Then he discarded the idea. His hand rested on the web strand. The more Quixx rattled on, the more distinct came the vibrations in the web.
Kinsolving’s eyes widened as he understood. All those on the Supreme Web communicated their opinions through minute quiverings in the strands. Some quirk of design focused those wavelike disturbances, some adding, some subtracting, until a consensus by resonance was formed. The arachnoid chosen to be the centre for the responses — Quixx — spoke for the entire web.
The Alien Web (Masters of Space Book 2) Page 16
