off-world were very carefully trained to act as much like humans as possible, so as to keep the primitive Younger Race beings happy.
Hannah managed to study the Vixa that made up their escort in more detail as they moved along together. They appeared to be utterly identical to each other, down to the pattern of mottling on their bodies. They had to be clones, or something very much like clones.
The lead one and probably the others, could speak and understand speech, at least to some degree--but they had to use some other form of communication as well. Their feet were touching the floor exactly together, to within a hundredth, a thousandth, of a second. Their other body movements were likewise too perfectly synchronized. They couldn't be doing it by watching each other. It had to be that their bodies were all being operated by one unified central control system. Maybe it was embedded bioelectronics. Maybe it was some form of telepathy, if there even was such a thing in Vixan biology.
But if they were subject to central control, that either meant that the bodies themselves were essentially mindless, or else that they were configured so that higher-ranking Vixa--or perhaps even some automated control system, a computer--could take control of their bodies at will.
How odd--how terrifying--to become, at any time, a mere passive passenger in one's own body, incapable of controlling any movement at all, with someone or something else deciding what foot to move, what eye to open, how hard to breathe--perhaps even what to say. Maybe the lead Vixa of their escort couldn't speak--maybe it had just served as a sort of mobile, living remote mike and speaker system for some bored systems controller or artificial intelligence a kilometer away--or on the other side of the planet.
Well, Brox had warned them they would see disturbing things. Hannah had the feeling they had yet to scratch the surface.
SIX
SNACK TIME
Jamie walked along behind Hannah with his own set of worries, most of them centered, quite irrationally, on the question of how they could get out of there. He knew, as a matter of sense and logic, that they couldn't get "out." They were on an alien planet, a long, long way from home, flanked on both sides by giant faceless spiders who could undoubtedly outrun them but just as undoubtedly wouldn't need to, as the whole vast expanse they were crossing was alive with any number of other giant spiders who could head them off effortlessly. They had no tools, equipment, or weapons that would do any good, and no remotely plausible place to which they could retreat.
But by both training and inclination, Jamie tended to think in terms of tactics, moves and countermoves, strategies and plans. In an environment this strange, this alien and threatening, this downright creepy, it was no wonder that all the alarm bells were going off in his head.
Settle down, he told himself. So you're surrounded by giant marching spiders and there's a smell of rotting flesh in the air and you have no idea why you're here or what happens next. Deal with it. Move on. Tell your paranoia to stop looking for lines of retreat that don't exist, and put it to work spotting information we can actually use.
It helped. He looked around and starting taking note of their surroundings as more than possible places to take cover in or move out from. The floor of the vast hemispherical dome they were in was dotted with smaller domes of various colors and sizes. Vixa--likewise of various colors and sizes--were moving about quite purposefully between the smaller domes. In every case that Jamie could see, a larger, brighter-colored six-legged Vixa was escorted by some number of smaller Vixa that might have six or nine or even twelve legs. After the encounter with Zamprohna, Jamie was not all that surprised to see various other aliens--humans, Kendari, Pavlat, Metrans, and a few others he couldn't immediately identify--moving thither and yon as well, each of them escorted
Hannah managed to study the Vixa that made up their escort in more detail as they moved along together. They appeared to be utterly identical to each other, down to the pattern of mottling on their bodies. They had to be clones, or something very much like clones.
The lead one and probably the others, could speak and understand speech, at least to some degree--but they had to use some other form of communication as well. Their feet were touching the floor exactly together, to within a hundredth, a thousandth, of a second. Their other body movements were likewise too perfectly synchronized. They couldn't be doing it by watching each other. It had to be that their bodies were all being operated by one unified central control system. Maybe it was embedded bioelectronics. Maybe it was some form of telepathy, if there even was such a thing in Vixan biology.
But if they were subject to central control, that either meant that the bodies themselves were essentially mindless, or else that they were configured so that higher-ranking Vixa--or perhaps even some automated control system, a computer--could take control of their bodies at will.
How odd--how terrifying--to become, at any time, a mere passive passenger in one's own body, incapable of controlling any movement at all, with someone or something else deciding what foot to move, what eye to open, how hard to breathe--perhaps even what to say. Maybe the lead Vixa of their escort couldn't speak--maybe it had just served as a sort of mobile, living remote mike and speaker system for some bored systems controller or artificial intelligence a kilometer away--or on the other side of the planet.
Well, Brox had warned them they would see disturbing things. Hannah had the feeling they had yet to scratch the surface.
SIX
SNACK TIME
Jamie walked along behind Hannah with his own set of worries, most of them centered, quite irrationally, on the question of how they could get out of there. He knew, as a matter of sense and logic, that they couldn't get "out." They were on an alien planet, a long, long way from home, flanked on both sides by giant faceless spiders who could undoubtedly outrun them but just as undoubtedly wouldn't need to, as the whole vast expanse they were crossing was alive with any number of other giant spiders who could head them off effortlessly. They had no tools, equipment, or weapons that would do any good, and no remotely plausible place to which they could retreat.
But by both training and inclination, Jamie tended to think in terms of tactics, moves and countermoves, strategies and plans. In an environment this strange, this alien and threatening, this downright creepy, it was no wonder that all the alarm bells were going off in his head.
Settle down, he told himself. So you're surrounded by giant marching spiders and there's a smell of rotting flesh in the air and you have no idea why you're here or what happens next. Deal with it. Move on. Tell your paranoia to stop looking for lines of retreat that don't exist, and put it to work spotting information we can actually use.
It helped. He looked around and starting taking note of their surroundings as more than possible places to take cover in or move out from. The floor of the vast hemispherical dome they were in was dotted with smaller domes of various colors and sizes. Vixa--likewise of various colors and sizes--were moving about quite purposefully between the smaller domes. In every case that Jamie could see, a larger, brighter-colored six-legged Vixa was escorted by some number of smaller Vixa that might have six or nine or even twelve legs. After the encounter with Zamprohna, Jamie was not all that surprised to see various other aliens--humans, Kendari, Pavlat, Metrans, and a few others he couldn't immediately identify--moving thither and yon as well, each of them escorted
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