Spinneret by Timothy Zahn Page B

had assured Meredith that that wouldn’t be a problem, and as the arrowhead-shaped craft made its final descent, the colonel saw why. Unlike the largely horizontal approach used by American shuttles, the Rooshrike’s was predominantly vertical, reminding Meredith momentarily of the old single-use space capsules. He winced, recalling the helplessness of those ancient craft; but at nearly the same instant the image vanished as white spears of repulser fire erupted from beneath the ship. Even at their supposedly safe distance Meredith distinctly felt the heat wave of that ignition, and with a silent prayer for the runway’s permcrete, he watched the alien touch down. A minute later, he ordered the motorcade forward.
    The Rooshrike ship had deployed a debarkation ramp by the time the humans reached the area. The ramp, designed to bypass the hottest sections of permcrete, was considerably shorter than the ones the Ctencri who’d landed on Earth had used, and Meredith decided the description of the Rooshrike as hot-planet aliens hadn’t been overstating the case.
    The Rooshrike itself, when it appeared, wasn’t particularly impressive; but then, as Lieutenant Andrews would comment later, there wasn’t a lot even aliens could do with basic spacesuit design. Apart from the oddly shaped face just barely visible through the dark visor, the creature descending the ramp might almost have been a slightly misproportioned human.
    It came alone. Taking the cue, Meredith left the cars and went forward, moving as close to the ramp as he could stand. The alien reached the end of the ramp and stopped expectantly.
    Meredith cleared his throat. “I greet you,” he called to the alien, “and welcome you to Astra. I am Colonel Lloyd Meredith; I speak for my people.”
    There was a barely discernible pause as the Rooshrike’s translator caught up, and then the alien stepped off the ramp and started forward. Meredith started breathing again; apparently he’d gotten the formal greeting right.
    Or else the Rooshrike was being tolerant with the new race.
    The alien stopped a couple of meters in front of Meredith. “I greet you in turn,” it said, its voice hitting the same slight mispronunciations Meredith had heard from the Ctencri translator computers on Earth. “I am Beaeki; I speak for my people.”
    â€œWe’re pleased to have you here,” Meredith told him, easing back a few centimeters. The alien’s spacesuit was noticeably hot; Meredith wondered what the internal temperature was. “I regret we cannot offer proper accommodations for your stay, but our information concerning your environmental needs is incomplete.”
    â€œI will not require accommodations; my visit will be brief. And your lack of complete information is per our instructions to the Ctencri.”
    Not much for the odd polite lie, Meredith thought. That’ll be a welcome change. “I see. Would you care to explain why? After all, we’re neighbors now, and either of us might someday crash a ship in the other’s territory.”
    â€œYour argument is unidirectional. Should a Rooshrike ship be distressed in this system a rescue team from the inner planet would provide aid.”
    â€œYou have a colony in this system?” Meredith asked carefully. The Ctencri hadn’t mentioned that.
    â€œA mining base only; the surface is too dry for practical colonization. The base is adequately defended against attack, however.”
    Meredith let the implication pass without comment; a stiff denial that Astra had any militaristic intentions might be misconstrued. “I see. May I ask how long you intend to stay here? I would like to give you a tour of our colony and the facilities we are setting up to mine the mineral deposits near here.” A sudden thought struck him. “I take it you referred to liquid sulfur when you spoke of your mining base being too dry. Our analysis indicates