They were approaching the lighted levels of the deep basement warrens. Mondrian arrived at his own conclusion: the Anabasis had first priority. No matter how bad his nightmares, he would have to live with them for a while longer.

As for exploring Earth, he could make a detailed list of the places that he might have been when he was very young. What he would need was somebody to go to each of the locations and make full sound and vision recordings. His review of those could provide the mental key to unlock his memory. Not for the first time, Mondrian needed help. By the time that he reached Tatty’s apartment he knew what he must say and do.

The room had been set up as a briefing facility and battle station, complete with conference table, projection equipment, terminals and interactive map displays. The Adestis battlefield was at the rear, overlooked by a spectators’ gallery. Twenty-five men and women sat at the desks serried across the body of the room. In front of them, dressed in a close-fitting black outfit that closely resembled the uniform of a Security Force commander, stood Dougal MacDougal. His expression was totally serious as he presented a series of graphics. Luther Brachis had never seen the Solar Ambassador so deeply involved in anything.

“This is the enemy,” said MacDougal. “In case any of you may be inclined to underestimate it, let me remind you that there has never been a successful attack on this type of stronghold using an attack force of fewer than forty members. And even in those cases, there was substantial loss of simulacra and several human deaths.”

The three-D imaging system showed a dark, walled pit, descending to unknown depths in a fibrous black soil. Above the players, in large glowing letters, stood a sign: ADESTIS — YOU ARE HERE.

Luther Brachis was sitting in the audience about halfway back. He had had his private word with Dougal MacDougal, hinting at the security network rumors of human expansion plans. Now he was stuck. He could not easily leave without going through the whole Adestis exercise. He was watching Ambassador MacDougal closely, concealing his own irritation and skepticism. A morning of Adestis was not his idea of time well-spent, but Lotos Sheldrake had been very explicit: “If you want an informal word with the ambassador in the next week this isn’t just your best chance, it’s your only chance. Part of the time he’ll be on Titan with a new industrial plant, then he’ll be heading for the Procyon colony. It’s Adestis, and it’s tomorrow, or it’s nothing. Take it or leave it.”

Luther Brachis took it — grudgingly. When the briefing began he had been cynically amused to see that Mac-Dougal conducted the game as though it were some major military operation, with complete attention to detail. A few minutes’ later Dougal MacDougal gave them their first look at the adversary; at that point Brachis lost his bored look and became the most attentive member of the audience.

“Remember the scale.” MacDougal moved the light pointer from one side of the display to the other. “That’s roughly three and a half centimeters. Sounds like nothing, but your simulacrum is a lot smaller than that. You’ll be less than half a centimeter tall. As you see, the quarry is more than three times as big as that across the body. This is a full-grown specimen of the family Ctenizidae; sub-order Mygalomorphae, order Araneae, class Arachnida. In short, a trapdoor spider. A female, and gram for gram one of Earth’s deadliest creatures. She won’t be afraid of you — but you’d better be scared of her. Let me show you some of the danger points.”

The screen moved in on the dark brown form, crouched ominously at the bottom of the smooth-sided pit. The length of the body was divided into two main sections connected by a narrow bridge between head and body. Eight bristly legs grew from the front section, and near the mouth were another two pairs of shorter appendages. Eight pearly eyes were distributed along the dark back of the upper body.

Dougal MacDougal aimed his pointer at the head section. “Here’s the place to hit her, in the cephalothorax. Most of the nervous system is here, so that’s the best place to shoot. It’s also the most dangerous place to be, because the jaws and poison glands are here, too. Don’t forget that your simulacrum is as vulnerable to venom as a real organism. You’ll be completely disabled — and in real agony — if there is even a small injection of poison. So watch out for the fangs, and stay well clear of them.” He moved the pointer farther to the rear. “This is the pedicel, the place where the cephalothorax joins the abdomen. If you can get an accurate hit here, do it. The body is very narrow at this point and it’s even possible to blow the two pieces completely apart. But you have to be very accurate, because the exoskeleton is as tough as hell there.

“What else? Well, you can see for yourself what the legs are like. Four pairs, each one seven-jointed. A hit where a leg attaches to the cephalothorax might do some damage, otherwise forget them. The breathing spiracles and lung slits are on the abdomen, on the second and third segments. There are two pairs of lungs, but you may as well ignore them. Even if you got a hit, the spider can breathe for a while through its tracheal tubes, more than long enough to finish you off. “The heart is in the abdomen here. See the four spinnerets, back on the fourth and fifth segments? Keep an eye on those, too. You’ll never break free of the silk if once you’ve been wrapped in it, and it dries instantly as soon as it’s in contact with air. The spider can squirt silk at you, too, so you’re not safe unless you stay at least your body length away from her.”

MacDougal turned to look at the audience. “That’s all I have to say about the spider. Any questions before we go into Adestis mode and head down there to look at the trap? Better ask now. We won’t have time for it once we’ve started.”

“I’ve got one.” A skinny man two seats in front of Brachis nodded at the screen. “Those eyes look as though they ought to be vulnerable. Should we be shooting at them?”

“Good question.” MacDougal aimed the pointer at one of the eyes. “See their locations? They’re all up on the carapace. That’s like a thick shield, protecting the top of the cephalothorax. And that raises another point: the carapace is tough. Your weapons won’t penetrate it. The eyes look like a weak point, but it won’t be easy to get a good shot at more than one eye at a time, and if you miss you’ll waste your ammunition on the carapace. So my recommendation is that you save your shots for the underside, or for the maw and joints.

“There’s another reason why I don’t think it’s worth making the eyes your target. This sort of spider doesn’t rely much on eyesight. It goes largely by touch. Even if you got all the eyes, you wouldn’t put it out of action. And that has another implication: Don’t assume it doesn’t know where you are, just because you are out of sight. The legs are terrifically sensitive to vibration patterns. If you get into trouble but you’ve not actually been seized, lie perfectly still. The spider will sometimes ignore anything that doesn’t move. You may get lucky. Anything else?”

“Yes.” A woman near the front stood up abruptly. “You can count me out, Dougal. I’m leaving. I’m not going to fight that thing.”

“The Adestis group won’t refund your payment.”

“That’s the least of my worries.” The woman turned to the others. “You’re all crazy if you stay. That’s nothing but a goddamned bug in there, and anyone in his right mind would be happy to swat it.”

She left rapidly. Dougal MacDougal watched her go with a fixed smile on his face. “No nerve,” he said as soon as the door had closed. “Good riddance — she’d have been nothing but trouble. Now, any more questions? Otherwise, let’s get on with it.”