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Willow-Wane forcriticism and publication. That they would cement his cele-brity he had no doubt. Then he would gladly submit to thepublic revelation and exposure of his true self, in the processreclaiming his identity. If this connected him with the deathof the transport driver Melnibicon, he would deal with the consequent ramifications as required. What happened afterthat did not matter. His fame would be assured. The honorand renown he would bring to his much-reduced family, tohis clan and his birth hive, would blaze forth no matter whathis eventual disposition at the hands of the authorities. There was even a good chance he would escape punishment. Greatart traditionally excused a multitude of sins, as well it should. He did not dwell long on the morality of this conviction. But his compositions would have to be exceptional indeed. It was with growing confidence that he made ready. Thethrill of preparing to do something as illicit as it was extraor-dinary inspired him to fire off half a dozen scrolls filled withscreaming hot stanzas. Reviewing them, he decided that theyrepresented his best work to date. And they only anticipatedthe sights he expected to see, the experiences he proposedto have. He could foresee that any creative difficulties that might develop were not going to arise from insufficient in-spiration, but from a need to channel and guide a surfeit ofillumination. And then, falling upon him as heavily and abruptly asa collapsing tunnel, the chosen day was at hand. He badetemporary farewell to Jhywinhuran and his friends and co-workers within the food preparation section, assuring themthat he would return from his temporary reassignment totheir quadrant of the colony within a single moon cycle. Re-turning to his quarters, he made certain that everything wasin order and that, should anyone come calling and enter unin-vited, they would find a chamber in a state reflecting the con-tinued residence of its occupant. He had arranged everythingjust so, even to programming his favorite relaxation musicand visuals to power up at appropriate times of the day. There was only so much he could do. If someone shouldpost a watch on his living quarters they would Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html quicklydiscover that the cubicle was not in use. But why wouldanyone do that? As jointly devised by humans and thranx,colony security was designed to keep a lookout for wander-ing strangers on the surface. It was intended to keep outsiders sealed out, not residents locked in. The supplies he had so patiently and laboriously accumu-lated were packed within a waterproof commodities sack ap-propriated from food preparation. Anyone observing him intransit would think he was making a delivery. The fact that hewould be traveling outside the usual food freighting routeswas unlikely to give rise to a great deal of comment. It wasnot as if he were transporting a bomb. Strapping the sack onto his back, he used a reflective sur-face to make sure that it was properly balanced against thelong, narrow sweep of his abdomen. The fact that he had not been mated and still retained his vestigial wing cases helped,since the additional layer of hard chitin served to shouldersome of the weight. Slipping a carry pouch over his thoraxfound him heavily burdened, but not intolerably so. Taking alast look around the comfortable chamber that had been hishome ever since he had touched down on the world of thebipeds, he walked out, closing and securing the entrance be-hind him with his personal code. He had deliberately chosen the hour of early morningwhen hive shifts were in flux. With half the colony's workersretiring and the other half rising to their assignments, therewas a lot of traffic in the corridors. Everyone walked who could. The fewer vehicles the colony utilized, the less thechance that an accumulation of stray vibrations might bepicked up by unknowing travelers on the surface above.Given the isolation of the colony's site within the immenseprotected rain forest, that was extremely unlikely, but everyprecaution that could be taken to ensure secrecy had beenfully implemented. No one confronted him or greeted him as he made his waywestward through the hive. General anonymity was one ofthe benefits of working in food preparation, and he had delib-erately done nothing since his arrival to cultivate convivialityor friendship among his fellow thranx outside his depart-ment. Jhywinhuran was the one exception. He tried not tothink of how she might react to the revelation of his true iden-tity. Seeing her perfect vee-shaped face, her golden eyes thatseemed to glow within, the elegantly sensuous sweep of herovipositors and the gleam of soft light off her brilliant blue-green exoskeleton made him uncomfortable. He forced theimages from his mind. A poet on the hunt was not permittedto indulge in the balm of soothing reminiscence. As he traveled farther from the centers of operation andinto zones designed for general maintenance he encoun-tered fewer and fewer residents. Machines held sway here,muffled and muted to emit as little in the way of vibration andtelltale impulses as possible. Every technological blanketavailable had been thrown over the colony to screen it fromprying eyes. But in addition to basic foodstuffs imported from orbit and water from the colony's own wells, there was one other com-ponent vital to the continued health of the facility: air. Filtered and purified, the alien atmosphere was drawn intothe hive by means of a series of all-but-silent vacuum pumps.Narrow of diameter, camouflaged to look like tree stumps,they dotted the floor of the rain forest above, inconspicu-ous and immobile. When he entered via a servicing andmaintenance hatch the one he had singled out, Desvendapurstruggled against the pull from below. If he lost his grip, if hefell helplessly, arms and legs flailing, he would find himself trapped at the bottom of the shaft. If he was lucky, someonewould detect the reduction in the flow of air and come to seewhat was causing the obstruction. If not, he would lie thereuntil his food ran out and until despite the presence of bio-logical inhibitors he began to rot. Bracing all four legs, both foothands, and both truhandsagainst the sides of the vertical cylindrical shaft, Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html he steppedthrough the opening, using his truhands to carefully close theservice hatch behind him. Even with eight limbs to bracehimself against the dark composite walls, it was a struggle to ascend against the powerful downdraft. The untreated atmosphere being sucked down into the hive was ripe with a per-vasion of exotic odors that threatened to overwhelm him. Hepersisted in his ascent. As expected, the air was cooler thanhe would have preferred, but adequately impregnated withmoisture. He might get cold, but he would not dry out. Once, he slipped, a rear leg losing its grip, threatening to send him hurling down the shaft. His other legs stiffened totake up the slack, and he quickly reasserted his stance, re-suming the full brace. The supply sack strapped to the backof his abdomen now felt as if it were filled not with foodand medication and survival gear but with bars of unrefinedmetal. The place where his thorax met his upper abdomenrubbed painfully together with each upward step, threateningto crack and expose his semiopen circulatory system. If thathappened and the break was serious, he could easily bleed todeath before he reached the surface. Though always in view, the upper terminus of the shaftseemed impossibly far away. He elected not to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |
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