The Alien Web (Masters of Space Book 2) Page 6

  All the while the spider stood, taloned claws hooked through the deck rings. Its legs bowed slightly, but other than this small sign, Kinsolving had no hint that the spider felt any of the abrupt manoeuvring or the forces vectoring in on it from first one direction and then quickly shifting to another.

  A loud hissing noise sounded and buffeting increased. The cabin’s sealing failed — or the shuttle’s design allowed heated atmosphere to gust in. The air temperature rose until Kinsolving’s spacesuit strained to radiate enough heat. Even conduction through the deck plates failed to remove the heat boiling the air around him. Sweat poured off his face and tickled, then itched and finally burned.

  He shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes. The arachnoid had no such problems. It stood stolidly and piloted.

  The bump indicating touchdown came as soft as a feather settling on a pillow. Kinsolving moved painfully, his joints refusing to function after the abuse they had taken in reaching this point.

  “Out,” said the arachnoid. The spider creature shrugged twice and freed itself of its spacesuit. Leaving the deflated plastic skin on the deck, it wobbled out the airlock.

  Kinsolving shook his head to clear it. The arachnoid walked as if it were weak and unable to support its own weight, yet he had seen it withstand acceleration that had pinned him flat. Stretching, moaning as jabs of pain drove into his joints. Kinsolving got out of his suit. A cool breeze blew through the opened hatch.

  He got to the edge of the airlock. No ladder or steps provided easy exiting to the ground.

  “Any way for me to get down?” he yelled to one of the ground crew. The drop might be as much as five metres. He did not want to kill himself. Others would be more than willing to do it for him, if suicide should ever enter his mind.

  “Come. Hurry. This ship must space again soon. Do not hesitate. Come!” The arachnoid on the ground waved a furry leg in a gesture shared with Earthmen. Kinsolving sat on the brink, turned and dropped, fingers locked on the sharp edge of the airlock. Dangling, he paused for a moment, then let go. He fell heavily, rolled and came to a sitting position. Gravity here matched what he was used to on both Earth and Deepdig, and he had judged well enough not to harm himself.

  Kinsolving brushed himself off and started walking. He caught up with the arachnoid who had called to him.

  “Do I need to check into Landing Authority?” he asked.

  The spider turned and rotated its head up. For the first time Kinsolving got a close look at the alien. It stood almost shoulder level to him. The head had a face of sorts, but nothing the man could call human. A distinct nose protruded over the top of chitinous mandibles that moved constantly, as if pulling in food to the mouth behind. The eyes startled Kinsolving the most. They might have been human eyes. More warm emotion in those light purple orbs than he had ever seen in Cameron’s eyes.

  “It is such a nuisance dealing with humans,” the arachnoid said in a voice an octave too shrill for comfortable listening. “You have been granted clearance. You would not be standing on this planet if you were not fully authorized. Do not annoy this one further.”

  “Where do I go, then?”

  The head rocked around and the eyes blinked slowly. Kinsolving saw an extra set of eyelids, transparent membranes like those on Earthly alligators, close over the eyes. “Why do you come to Web? To annoy this one with stupid questions?”

  “There’re no forms to fill out? The controller was able to grant me a visa? Where do I pick up the visa if anyone asks to see it?”

  “You are on-planet. That is enough. No one lands without full clearance. Do whatever chore you must, but do not antagonize those of higher station. Do you understand, human?”

  Kinsolving indicated that he did. He kept walking beside the spider creature, finding his own gait changing as he unconsciously mimicked the rolling motion required for the arachnoid to move on eight legs.

  “Why do you follow this one?” the arachnoid asked peevishly. “Go on your way. Do what you must and do not bother this one.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t know where to go.”

  The spider hissed like a snake, then jumped. Kinsolving dropped to one knee, arms coming up to shield his face. The arachnoid had not attacked. It had jumped, its powerful, springy legs sending it almost two metres into the air to catch a dangling line. Like its smaller Earthly cousin, the spider being made its way up the line with incredible agility. It vanished over the top of the crane holding the cable.

  “On my own,” said Kinsolving. The lack of security at the landing field astounded him. The natives put full faith in their space defences to prevent illegal entry. He saw how this made the smuggling operation of the brain burners even more insidious. If the arachnoids refused to believe anyone could penetrate their defences, they would be doubly adamant that such illicit devices could not exist.

  Kinsolving walked and watched and tried not to get in the way of the ponderous trucks moving freight from one section of the field to another. He got no clear idea of where the freight was stored, where it came down in shuttle or where it was launched into orbit for transshipment. All motion seemed random.

  He dropped onto a bench and simply watched. Somewhere on this field Interstellar Materials must house its shipments. If Fremont smuggled in the brain burners with legal cargo, Kinsolving might be able to find evidence that would convince the arachnoid authorities.

  He chuckled to himself at the ease with which he had landed on Zeta Orgo. On Earth or any other human-run planet, the forms to be filled out would stretch a dozen AUs. It seemed that on Web a decision made by one was binding on all — or accepted by all. Kinsolving wondered how often bad decisions were made and how often others’ decisions were simply ignored.

  For all that, he wondered how the spiders governed themselves. He knew so little of the planet and its people. As he watched the chaotic activity around the sprawling landing field, he pulled out the data recorder Lark had given him. He played through the audio portion of the information, learning little more than he already had gained by direct observation.

  But one part furnished information that held his interest. “The Supreme Web is the ruling body,” he mused. “How do I reach them? Who are they? And how are they chosen?”

  He started to stop a passing spider when he spotted a truck with the blue-and-green trident on the star background that identified it as belonging to Interstellar Materials.

  Kinsolving’s hand brushed lightly over the pocket containing his identicard. He had no idea how long he could hope to use it to gain entry to IM facilities. It had worked — briefly — on GT4. The card-keys stolen from Director Liu had bought him a few extra minutes of freedom before they had been cancelled.

  Would those same keys work on Web? The director had to have access to facilities everywhere, being in charge of finances for the star-spanning corporation. But would the key cards be recoded on-site, or would they carry the master code and not depend on local approval?

  Kinsolving bet on the latter. He remembered only too well the inspection tours from corporate headquarters. As supervisor of the rare earth mines on Deepdig he had never been informed of the purpose of the inspections — or when they would occur. Such matters as access had never bothered him then. He had changed greatly in those few weeks since Deepdig.

  He began walking after the truck. Over an hour and ten kilometres later he found it hovering outside a warehouse similarly marked with the IM logo. Kinsolving dropped to the ground and rubbed his feet. He was not used to this much foot travel. And it had proven more dangerous than he would have thought. No one else walked. Trucks hovering on their repulsor fields, strange vehicles rolling on multiple wheels, small scooters barely large enough for their arachnoid drivers, all had been aimed at him. Or so it seemed. He had dodged well and finally found what he sought.

  Kinsolving hoped he had found it.

  The information he had uncovered on the Stellar Death Plan had been brief, a mere outline without details. He would
not know a brain-burner device if he saw it. But if distribution across Web was to be a reality, it had to start somewhere. Kinsolving thought it would be here at the warehouse amid the legal cargo bought and sold on-planet.

  Kinsolving rubbed his feet, then his stomach. It had been too long since he had eaten. And he had no way of obtaining local money or credit. Kinsolving touched the data recorder Lark had given him. Even in what might be comprehensive analysis of Web, nothing had been said about the arachnoids’ economy.

  Humans devised plans to totally annihilate entire planets of aliens and had so little information about them that they did not know if they even used money. He shook his head sadly. It made it all the more imperative that he stop Fremont’s mad plan. What might be learned from the arachnoids? What might be taught them?

  Kinsolving studied the entrance to the warehouse and decided against a bold approach. Armed guards stood at ease on either side. If two sentries waited outside, how many more were just inside the door? The arachnoids appeared to appreciate blatant security measures. The heavy fortifications on the planet’s four moons showed that.

  “Show of force is guarded against,” he muttered to himself. “That might mean more subtle means of entering are never tried.” The arachnoid mind might lack such deviousness.

  Kinsolving trooped around the building, studying its high walls and finding a lack of windows. The huge doors allowing entry for the hovertrucks seemed the only way inside.

  No other buildings were nearby for him to scale and look down on the IM warehouse. Aircraft might be able to take off and land from the roof, but getting there would be a problem beyond his resources.

  “If not on the ground or in the air, then how?” Kinsolving smiled. The years he had spent as mining engineer stood him in good stead. Where others might consider the warehouse impenetrable, he immediately thought of burrowing underground. There had to be sewer and electrical conduits and possibly more. As paranoid as the executives at IM were about aliens, they would not allow their warehouse on a planet slated for destruction to have only one entry point.

  Underground. There must be tunnels. Kinsolving went to explore. Less than an hour later he found small outbuildings marked with radiation danger warning signs. The card-key lock appeared unused, which immediately aroused his interest. The building had the look of a refuelling kiosk — but unused. Why? He pulled out Liu’s card-key and thrust it into the lock. For all the disused appearance, the lock and door mechanisms worked smoothly and silently.

  “This is it,” he said. Kinsolving paused just inside the door, looking around for security cameras. A tiny bead in one corner of the small room drew his attention. A vid lens hardly larger than a grain of rice monitored the room. He quickly smeared it with dirt from the floor. He doubted that the circuit ranked high on the priority list for the guards to monitor. But he knew he would have to work quickly. The smallest hint of intrusion would bring down a platoon of armed men ready to kill.

  Kinsolving worked his way around the room and found nothing to indicate that it had ever been used to refuel nuclear piles, on surface craft or the heavier suborbital hypersonic wings favoured by IM for on-planet use. What he did find was an unmarked slot in the wall. Again he used Liu’s card-key.

  As silently as the outer door had opened, a section of floor parted to reveal stairs leading downward. The tunnel beyond headed in the direction of the warehouse. He had found the way into the heart of Interstellar Materials’ operations on Web.

  Would he find enough to convince the arachnoid natives that IM intended genocide, or would he find only death?

  Kinsolving pushed that thought out of his mind. He had already accomplished the hard part of his self-appointed task. He had learned of the Stellar Death Plan and how Fremont intended to kill the spider creatures.

  He descended the stairs and peered into the inky blackness. For a moment he hesitated, worrying about security along the tunnel. But when he started to go back into the shed to find a way of lighting his progress, the door closed, plunging him into total darkness.

  Barton Kinsolving fumbled about, seeking the card lock that would open the door. He could not find it, try as he might. He settled down. He didn’t want to go back into the shed. He wanted a path into the warehouse. Carefully, one hand on the wall and the other in front of him to prevent running into an unseen barrier, Barton Kinsolving started down the tunnel toward the warehouse.

  Or what he thought was the warehouse.

  CHAPTER VII

  Barton Kinsolving edged along the pitch-black tunnel, testing each step before planting his Rill weight. The walls dripped and the overhead roof, in the spots where he could reach up and touch it, felt like concrete. He might be only a meter under the surface of the landing field.

  He continued his slow pace, hardly daring to breathe. Once, he stopped and listened intently. The muffled sounds confused him. Kinsolving tried to decide if it was a hover-truck going by on the surface or something moving about in the tunnel. Or even evidence that he was nearing the end of the long, straight tunnel and would emerge into the warehouse.

  No light showing made it seem unlikely that he neared the warehouse, unless they kept the door sealed. Over and over he touched the pocket with the stolen card-key, assuring himself that he had not lost it. His mind kept turning to problems other than those immediately confronting him, though.

  The card. The code magnetically imprinted. If he could read the code, he might be able to alter Liu’s ident number and make a generic card. For IM to change all their far-flung codes would be a chore not easily done. He would have access for months or even years with such a falsified card-key.

  Kinsolving screamed when his left hand brushed over something that felt like a wire brush. A living wire brush.

  He jumped back in the darkness, lost his balance and fell heavily onto his back. Instinctively, he brought his knees in close to kick out with his feet.

  “Do humans always adopt such peculiar greeting positions?” came the shrill query. “Or are you of their perverted sex maniacs and desire to mate with this one?”

  “What?”

  “This one is not good enough for you, is that it?”

  “What are you talking about?” Kinsolving scrambled to get his feet under him. In the dark tunnel, he felt as if he swam in molasses. Although he knew this was purely psychological, that did not make the sensation go away. “Who are you?”

  “This one has been shown your tri-vid dramas. There is nothing but peculiar mating in them, sometimes with orifices not even evolved for sexual use. We must view these as part of indoctrination when work is near your kind.”

  “You work at the Landing Authority?”

  “This one is a worker, class three.” Pride came in the squeaking voice.

  “I’m honoured to meet one of your station,” Kinsolving said, not knowing what else to say. He tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “I apologize if I damaged you.”

  “You could not harm this one. Your progress down the corridor was peculiar, but then this is to be expected from a species engaging in perverse sexual rites.”

  “What did they show you?” demanded Kinsolving.

  “Only your standard tri-vid fare.” Kinsolving had the feeling that the arachnoid shuddered in horror, even though he could not see him to be certain.

  “You watched me coming down the tunnel?”

  “Yes. Although illumination is slight, it is more than adequate for advanced species such as this one’s.”

  Kinsolving heaved a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “You aren’t a guard posted in this tunnel,” he said deciding even as he spoke.

  A long silence. Then came a tiny squeak that Kinsolving thought meant “no.”

  “Why are you here? Trying to break into the IM warehouse?”

  “You perform a similar task,” accused the arachnoid. Kinsolving reached out and again brushed over wiry bristles. He tried to picture the situation. The spider being’s legs would almost fill
the tunnel. To fight past would be impossible. The creature saw, however dimly, and he did not. Besides, Kinsolving had determined that the spider was here for some clandestine reason.

  “You seek to steal something from the warehouse,” he said.

  “And you, do you not also seek the Box of Delights?” demanded the arachnoid.

  Kinsolving considered this. The brain burner had been described as contraband, an outlawed device much like chemical drugs on most human-settled worlds. The attraction was illicit and thrilling — definitely narcotic and addicting — for the inhabitants of Web.

  “Yes.” Kinsolving did not trust himself to say more. The spider being might be Web’s equivalent of a policeman trying to stop the importation of the “Boxes of Delights” or he might be an addict. Until he knew more, Kinsolving did not dare comment.

  “We can share. It takes only a few minutes for me to achieve the strands.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To…to feel superior to all others,” the arachnoid said, as if lecturing a dim-witted child. “Why else use the Box of Delights, if not to attain the uppermost strands?”

  “Good point. Have you been into the warehouse? Do you know where the brain b — where the Box of Delights is?”

  “Many have come this way. We must tread softly. Those of the Web Will slay many careless seekers.”

  “The Web Will? You mean police? Law-enforcement officers?”

  “Law? This one fails to understand your words. Those of the Web Will do what is proper, what is right.”

  “And they would prevent you from using the Box of Delights?”

  “Of course. It is dangerous to become wrapped in one’s own fantasy world and exclude all else, especially the commands of the Supreme Web.”

  “Where are Those of the Web Will?”

  “You are not of them. You are a human. Why deal with them? Why ask? Is this more of your species’ perverted sexual deviance?”