The Web Between the Worlds

by Charles Sheffield

  There had been a slight argument with Regulo on the question of the ore carriers. He had wanted to do it in the same extrusion process, eager to see how much could be done with the Spider. He seemed to regard it as his own new toy. Rob had persuaded him that it would make the fly-in to Earth tether more complicated, even though the extrusion itself was feasible. Addition of the ore carriers would be a separate installation job, by a team ready to work up and down the length of the beanstalk itself, and it could be done in less than a month with maintenance robot assistance.

  The doped silicon strands of the load-bearing cable gleamed brightly in the sunlight, a gossamer loop extending out from L-4 and far off towards the distant Earth. Rob could follow it by eye for only the first few kilometers. Beyond that, thousands of tiny sensors planted all the way along its twisting length sent frequent radio inputs to Sycorax’s orbit adjustment programs. The results of those computations were channeled through to Rob and, failing his override, initiated any necessary corrective action on the beanstalk. Small reaction motors, mobile along the length, maintained the delicate overall stability of the vast loop. Regulo had readily accepted Rob’s suggestion that they should use two Spiders, fuse the first few kilometers of cable that each extruded, and generate a long, looped strand that would halve the total time for manufacture. The maneuvers prior to fly-in would be more complicated because of that, but Rob was convinced that they were well under control.

  He looked ahead. Far in front of him he could now see the bulk of the asteroid that Regulo had moved in from the Belt. Close to its surface, still invisible to him, floated the two Spiders, endless streams of bright cable squirting from their spinnerets. He was watching for them as he moved steadily closer to the asteroid, until a second small inspection craft, similar to the one that he was riding in, moved away from the shadow of the asteroid and headed in his direction.

  “Corrie?”

  “Right.” Her voice was clear over the head-set. “I thought I’d come out, meet you, and take a look for myself. How is the beanstalk behaving?”

  “So far, as smooth as you could ask.” As Rob moved level with the second ship it turned and began to follow him along the cable. “I rode around the whole loop without seeing anything we need to worry about. There was a little oscillation and twisting at the far end, but it was being damped by the reaction motors by the time I got there. Somebody back there on Atlantis is doing a good job on the control calculations.”

  “That’s all Sycorax — maybe with a little help from Caliban.”

  “Are you serious? If you are, I’m going to start worrying a little. I don’t think Caliban knows anything at all about computational work.”

  Corrie laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m serious or not. Sycorax has become so complicated that not even Regulo and Morel know any longer who is doing what. There are non-deterministic elements built into the computer, and there are real-time linkages built in to the relations between Sycorax and Caliban. They even put in quantum randomizers — that was Regulo’s idea — as part of Sycorax’s circuits, to add a heuristic element to some of the optimization algorithms. One of the other circuits reads in radio noise from the stellar background and makes it available as a computer input. According to Regulo, every now and again Sycorax will have the equivalent of a `wild thought.’ I’m giving you a long answer, but it’s another way of saying that your guess is as good as mine or anyone else’s. Nobody except Sycorax could ever tell you just where and how those stability calculations are done in the system — and Sycorax doesn’t care to tell.”

  They were flying in closer to the Spiders. Rob felt no real need to check their operations, but he was always happy just to watch them. It was his first real invention, and the one that most pleased him.

  The two great ovoid bodies were hanging near the surface of the asteroid, about a hundred meters apart. The eight thin metallic legs were pointed downwards, balanced delicately a few centimeters clear of the surface. Between them, probing deep into the interior of the asteroid, was set the long proboscis. As Rob watched, the great, faceted eyes turned towards him. The Spiders were aware of his presence. Somewhere deep in their organic components lurked a hint of consciousness.

  Corrie had been fascinated by them from the first moment she saw one. “Why eight legs?” she had asked.

  Rob had shrugged. “It extrudes material like a spider. How many legs would you have given it?”

  The changes to the Spiders to speed up the extrusion process had been made quickly, and had given Rob and Darius Regulo their first surprise. The material supply rate that would be needed to keep the Spiders running at full speed was more than either had expected. Conventional asteroid mining methods would fall behind their demand. The raw materials were there in abundance, silicon for the load-bearing cable, niobium and aluminum for the superconducting cables and the drive mechanisms. Getting it out fast enough was another matter.

  It had been a problem, until Rob placed an urgent call to Rudy Chernick and asked if there were any way to modify a Coal Mole to work on different materials and in a vacuum environment. A lot of technical discussion, even more hard negotiation between Chernick and Regulo, and the beanstalk project had acquired another working partner. Now a whole family of modified Moles was chewing away happily in the bowels of the asteroid, gobbling up its interior and spitting millions of tons a day of raw materials out through the chutes that connected to each Spider’s waiting proboscis.

  Rob had been inside the asteroid only once, when Chernick was taking in a supply of nutrients. Not even the Moles’ extraordinary metabolism could survive on what the rocky interior would provide for them. Rob had quickly become bewildered and disoriented by the honeycomb of tunnels running throughout the three-kilometer planetoid.

  “How do you know where all the Moles are, and who’s mining what?” he asked Chernick, who seemed remarkably at home in the warren of connecting passages.

  The other man was tall and skeletally thin, with mournful eyes and a long, drooping moustache. He sniggered happily. “I don’t have the slightest idea.” He looked at Rob slyly. “You’re the one who gave me the idea of using the happiness circuits. I bet mine are almost the same as the ones that you have in the Spiders. The Moles enjoy planning the diggings — I wouldn’t take their pleasures from them. I give them the mining specifications on quantities and rates, and leave the rest to them. Perfectly straightforward — not like those monsters you’ve got outside there.” He peered back along the tunnel at the chute leading to one Spider’s proboscis. “How many of those things do you have? They’re uncanny.”

  “Five full-sized ones, and we’re growing the bio component for three more. I just placed the orders for the electronics on them. I’ve got one down on Earth, these two here, and a couple more on loan to Regulo. He has Sala Keino using them out near Atlantis.”

  “Atlantis?” Chernick turned his long, inquisitive nose in Rob’s direction. “What does he want with one out there?”

  “I’ll tell you when he tells me. He’s being cute about it. All he’ll admit is that it’s a new way of mining.” It was Rob’s turn to look sly. “If I were you, Rudy, I’d begin worrying. You know Regulo’s reputation — suppose he’s making the Moles obsolete?”

  Chernick shrugged and chewed at his moustache. “I know Regulo’s reputation. That’s why I’m not worried. He’s not interested in anything that works down on Earth. My Moles are safe enough.” But despite his confident words, he seemed to have a lot on his mind as they made their way to the ship that would carry him back to the Colony. An intelligent man could quickly see the ways in which a working beanstalk would reduce the effective distance between Earth and sky industries.

  That had been back in the first days of production. Events since then had done nothing to make Rudy Chernick feel more comfortable. Things were running along fast, although after the first shake-down period, with well over a thousand kilometers of cable extruded, Rob had insisted on throwing all the product away and
beginning the extrusion again. His act had baffled everyone but Regulo. The old man had laughed his grating laugh and nodded his head approvingly when Corrie called and told him about it.

  “Exactly the right thing to do,” he said. “I just don’t know how Merlin got smart so quick. He’s a young man, but he really understands the difference between transients and steady-state solutions.”

  “Do you mean the first batch of cable was no good?”

  “Oh, it was probably all right — almost certainly all right. But there’s a chance that the specs were off a teeny bit in that first shake-down period. Merlin waited until all the production was smooth, then he started over knowing there was nothing peculiar left over from the time before everything settled down. It’s just what I’d do myself — only I’m not sure I’d have had the sense to do it at his age. They’re getting too good too soon these days.” He shook his gnarled head. “Good thing I’ve given up on the technical side.”

  Perhaps. But Regulo examined the production reports daily, and detailed design plans for the beanstalk were scattered all over the big study in Atlantis.

  Rob had no illusions about the extent of Regulo’s involvement and interest. He never hesitated to call the other man at once when there was a knotty engineering problem. Every time, there would be a few seconds of grumbling about doing another man’s work for him — what did Rob think he was being paid for? Then those bright old eyes would light up with interest, the computer was linked into the two-way conversation, and any other problems through the vast network of Regulo Enterprises were put on hold until he and Rob had thrashed out some kind of answer.

  “Now, don’t call me again unless it’s a financial matter,” he said, every time, as he cut the circuit. Rob politely agreed, and kept his grin to himself until the video link had been switched off.

  With seventy thousand kilometers of beanstalk ready, those conversations were less frequent. Anything that went wrong now would be too serious for a mere discussion to fix. Rob fretted constantly over the extrusion rate of the Spiders, checking that it did not change by the tiniest fraction.

  “Why do you worry about that so much?” asked Corrie, as they docked their inspection ships at the main crew station and removed their suits. “Does it matter if they slow down or speed up a little?”

  “It would be fatal.” Rob looked out along the great length of the cable. “Do you realize how much momentum that thing has? The mass is already over a billion tons, and it’s all moving steadily away from here at the same speed that the Spiders extrude the cable. If they try and slow down or speed up a bit, they have a billion tons of inertia that doesn’t want to go along with that idea. The force would pull the Spiders off the asteroid and separate them from the raw materials — and you can imagine what that would do to our schedules. Regulo would be breathing down my neck, instead of being out of the way in Atlantis.”

  Corrie nodded. “Have you called him in the past couple of days? Last time we spoke he told me that he had some news for you.”

  Rob was standing next to her in the fifth of a gee provided by the rotating station. Looking at her, he marvelled again how he could have been so blind. She was Senta’s daughter. The coloring was different, and Corrie’s figure was much slimmer — but look at the bone structure of those cheeks. Look at the line of her neck. It was Senta exactly.

  What about the eyes, though, those clear, bright eyes? They, surely, had come from somewhere else. They matched the frosty blue of Darius Regulo, but Rob could go no farther than that. He had looked hard at Corrie after Senta’s assertion. Regulo’s ruined face made the comparison of their features an impossible task.

  Most of the time, while Rob was busy night and day on beanstalk construction, Corrie had been away on Atlantis. At their infrequent meetings, he always intended to ask Corrie about her father. Each time, he had failed to go through with it.

  Suppose Corrie didn’t want it known that Regulo was her father? There were good reasons for that. She did her job efficiently, but her life would become more complicated if anyone in Regulo Enterprises knew that she was the boss’s daughter. No matter what she did it would be discounted, credited to family rather than talent.

  Rob dithered, something unknown to him in his technical work. And he had never managed to ask his question.

  “Well, aren’t you interested in knowing what Regulo has for you?” asked Corrie. She was staring hard at Rob, with the crackling blue eyes that had started his train of thought.

  “I’m sorry.” Rob pulled his attention back to present problems. “I was miles away. Of course I want to know what Regulo is doing. What did he tell you?”

  Corrie laughed. “You were miles away — as usual. You’ve not been listening to me at all. I just told you he wouldn’t tell me what he wants, or what his news is. You’ll have to call him yourself. I’d like to sit in when you do, though. I think there’s something new in the air. I’ve learned to tell when Regulo is excited.”

  “Will he talk, do you think, with both of us at this end?”

  “I don’t think he’ll actually talk to either of us. Not on two-way. The delay times are getting longer, and he’s impatient. Last time there was a round-trip signal time of nearly forty seconds, and he hated that.” Corrie was leading the way through the crew station towards the communications room. “He’s still moving Atlantis farther out from the Sun. I think all we’ll get is a recorded message with your code I.D. on it.”

  They entered the shielded booth, a tight squeeze for two people, and Rob keyed in his personal print. After a second or two the screen lit up and Regulo appeared on it.

  “You’re right,” Rob said. “Time’s too short for a transmission to Atlantis and back. All we’ll get is a canned message.” He turned up the volume and leaned closer to the small screen.

  “I’ve been watching your progress,” began Regulo without preamble. There was a metallic edge of impatience in his gruff voice. “You’re still ahead of schedule, and so far as I can tell there’s nothing for you in the next couple of days that can’t be delegated. Don’t say it, I know you’re busy as hell. But I’ve watched your crews work, and they are all first-rate. Before things get too close to completion, I want you to come to Atlantis.”

  He grinned, easing the impression of hard command. “I promise you, it won’t be a waste of your time. We have the mining project to the point where I want to talk to you about it, and maybe show you a few things. I guarantee that they’ll interest you. There’ll be plenty of time when we are finished here for you to get back to L-4 and work on the fly-in and tether. You know that I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. But I want to get some other business out of the way before we move Atlantis out to the Belt.”

  Regulo paused for a few seconds as though looking and listening to something just off-screen. He nodded and reached forward to press two keys on the desk control panel. “Don’t bother to call and try to discuss this,” he said, returning his attention to the screen. “Just let me know when you’ll be here, and tell me if you have any problem making it soon. I have our fastest ship on stand-by near L-4. Bring Cornelia with you if she wants to come.” He grinned. “Will you take a bet with me that she’s not sitting there right now, listening? See you soon.”

  The screen went blank. Rob looked at Corrie and shrugged. “That’s Regulo. Short and sweet. He’s in a hurry, as usual. I think he suspects he’ll get me there a lot quicker if he arouses my curiosity and won’t tell me what he has in his back pocket. I want to send him a message anyhow. Would you tell him that I’ll be on my way in six hours? There are a few things to take care of here, and I have to talk to the tether crew back on Earth.”

  “We’ll be on our way in six hours,” she corrected him. “You heard Regulo. He’s expecting both of us, and don’t think you can leave me here after hearing him dangle a bait like that. I’ll send your message, but I’ll have to move fast, too. I’ve been trying to clear another of Regulo’s permits through the Earth system. I’m
feeling the same way about the Earth government and the United Space Federation as Regulo does — sick to death of them. He always says that ninety-nine percent of the people on Earth aren’t worth keeping alive, but evolution will take care of that. I finally think I know how it will go. Earth won’t choke on pollution, or starve for lack of resources. It will drown in its own bureaucracy.”

  She left quickly, while Rob was still smiling at her brisk evaluation. Corrie wasn’t a woman with much time for incompetence, in organizations or in individuals. Rob had seen enough red tape in his construction projects to know how irritating the bureaucrats could be to anybody whose focus was on results rather than procedures. Corrie was even less tolerant. Sometimes he had the feeling that she regarded him as just another of the assets of Regulo Enterprises, to be managed as efficiently as possible. That could mean charming, or cajoling, or persuading through logic. Corrie had all the tools in her locker, and it seemed to be partly hereditary. Rob had seen Senta working the same combination on Howard Anson.

  That last thought produced a twinge of conscience. A call from Rob to Anson was badly overdue. When the beanstalk demanded it, everything else in Rob’s life was pushed into the background. And the problems had been coming thick and fast in the past few weeks. But Rob had better make the call from here, rather than waiting until they were out on Atlantis. With Regulo and Joseph Morel in a position to tap all incoming and outgoing calls there, privacy of conversation couldn’t be guaranteed.

  Pushing fatigue to the back of his mind, Rob reached again for the communicator.

  CHAPTER 11: “What seest thou else, in the dark backward and abysm of time?”