"Any number of things," she shrugged. "We've worked up a three-page list of possibilities ourselves, and we don't know half of what there is to know about the cable yet."
He shook his head. "You're missing my point. The buildings down there—the whole Spinneret, for that matter—everything's lasted a hundred thousand years.
Why on Earth would any culture make something that lasts that long?"
She started to speak, then paused. It wasn't a trivial question. "Maybe they were building the ultimate city back on their home world or something. Maybe a tomb or memorial, like the pyramids or the Taj Mahal."
"Or maybe a cage for something very big and long-lived," he said quietly. "That's one of the possibilities that keep occurring to me."
She grimaced. "That one I'd rather not think about. Maybe— well, maybe they just lived a lot longer than we do. In terms of lifetimes, then, the cable may not seem exceptionally durable."
"Maybe." Hafner leaned back in his chair. "That list you mentioned—any overtly military uses on it?"
"I—" She frowned. "Now that you mention it, no, there aren't."
"The colonel's playing it cool," Hafner nodded heavily. "But I doubt that it's doing any good. None of the races out there are dumb enough or naive enough to have missed the warfare possibilities."
She nodded silently. It was a topic she and Meredith had never discussed openly, but from the very beginning it had fluttered like a vulture over the trade negotiations. Using that superconducting solenoid to throw missiles; wrapping a warship in unbreakable cable; hurling a giant tangler thread among an enemy's ships to glue them randomly together—practically every peaceful use had its darker flip side. "I don't suppose there's any way we can dictate how our clients use their cables, though," she said aloud. "I think that's one reason Colonel Meredith wants all the aliens to have equal access to the cables, to minimize any strategic advantages it might provide."
"It could still foul up the political balance, though, maybe in more subtle ways,"
Hafner said. "Suppose one of the empires out there is having internal dissent, a problem maybe that the central government could quickly crush with a cablewrapped spaceship. That would free the government's resources and attention to be turned to its neighbors."
"What would you have us do, then?" Carmen growled, knowing full well that he wasn't attacking her personally, but still feeling compelled to defend her project.
"Turn Astra over to the UN? Or pull out entirely and let the Rooshrike have it?
Either way, the cable's going to be made and used by someone. The genie's out, Peter; you can't stuff it back in its bottle."
He held up his hands, palms outward. "Peace. I wasn't picking on you or your work—and as far as genies go, I did my fair share to pop the cork. I just … that's the other possibility that keeps coming back to me. Maybe the Spinners used the cable material for warfare, too. If the crew here was recalled to help fight and never made it back … well, that would explain why the Spinneret was left running."
She shuddered. "You would bring that up, wouldn't you?"
"Sorry." He shook his head. "Look, let's get off the whole subject, okay? I didn't bring any wine, but I did bring some music. Why don't you put it on while I clear the table, and then you can pick up the story of your life again. I think we'd made it through high school last time."
She forced a chuckle and accepted the cassette he handed her. "All right—but this time you start."
"If you insist," he said, stacking the plates. "But I warn you: I was a very dull person in college."
They both did their best, but it was clear the mood of the evening had been irreparably darkened, and Hafner left early.
Is this how it's going to be now? Carmen wondered as she undressed for bed an hour later, the book she'd tried reading abandoned for lack of concentration. Is the Spinneret going to so dominate life here that we'll never be able to shut it out?
Oh, don't be so dramatic, she chided herself. You're tired, you're overworked, and you're feeling sorry for yourself. Ride it out, girl; at the very least, nothing more can happen to you until morning.
But she was wrong.
It was still the dead of night when the insistent buzz of her phone dragged her out of a surrealistic melding of all the war movies she'd ever seen. "Hello?" she answered groggily, knocking the instrument into bed with her before she could get her fingers to close on it.
"Carmen? This is Colonel Meredith. How fast can you pull yourself together and get out to Martello?"
"Uh … half an hour, I suppose," she said, still not fully awake. "What's, uh, going on?"
"One of the UN's ships has just arrived in orbit and is sending a shuttle down," he told her. "Aboard are our old friend Ashur Msuya … and President Allerton."
"Allerton?" she asked unbelievingly, the last remnants of fog evaporating in a rush.
"That's what I said—and as the old line goes, I've got a bad feeling about this.
Whatever they're up to, I want you there, both as Council head and chief trade negotiator."
"Yes, sir. Are you bringing anyone else in?"
"Just you and me and possibly Major Brown. Why?"
"Well … I don't know, Colonel, but it sounds to me like we're about to be delivered an ultimatum. Perhaps we ought to have a small delegation there, a delegation that would more completely represent the population."
There was a short pause. "The danger is that a group like that would display a complete lack of unity, which I presume is the exact opposite of your intent."
"True. But Msuya, at least, already knows about the Council and the fact that you listen to it. At least occasionally."
"That's why you're going to be there."
"Yes, sir … but I'm not in control of the Council. I can certainly back you up on anything you say, but if the Council as a whole doesn't agree we could have trouble later."
"In other words, you think I should invite Perez," Meredith said flatly.
Carmen swallowed. "Yes, sir. And maybe Dr. Hafner, too, as representative of the scientists."
The silence this time was longer. "I suppose you're right," he said at last, reluctantly. "In the short run we can afford squabbles in front of Msuya more than we can afford riots in front of the Rooshrike. In the long run … well, that'll have to take care of itself. All right, I'll give them a call. Be at the Martello conference room as soon as you can; the shuttle's due in under an hour, and I'd like time to confer with you first."
Carmen already had the phone strapped to her wrist and was pulling on her underwear. "Half an hour or less, sir."
"Good. By the way—any particular reason you suggested Perez and Hafner?"
"Yes, sir. Since they've seen the Spinner cavern, I thought they might have a clearer idea of what's at stake here. That might make a difference."
He grunted. "I hope you're right. See you soon."
Chapter 21
The conference room at Martello had been put together out of two offices and a small machine shop in anticipation of face-to-whatever meetings between Carmen and alien trade representatives. It was not yet even remotely plush, but the chairs were comfortable and the table had been polished to a high gloss. Standing stiffly behind his chair, Meredith glanced around the room once more, wishing they'd had more time to work on the place. A room adequate for meeting a Ctencri merchant seemed considerably less so for a talk with the Commander in Chief.
The far door opened and a young corporal stepped in, looking about as nervous as a soldier not actually under fire can look. "Colonel Meredith: may I present the President of the United States and Mr. Ashur Msuya of the United Nations."