Grant glared at Ernie. “Watch what you’re saying. Third-rate mechanic? I would have gone to college and gotten an engineering degree. Then I would have gone to one of the big oil companies. Do you have any idea how much you can earn in two weeks on an oil rig off the coast of Alaska?”
Ernie laughed again. “Ah, come on. You’re no cleverer than me. To get an engineering degree you’ve got to be good at math. It would have taken you ten years to get your degree and you would been up to your eyeballs in debt. And let’s face it, you’re not such a great engineer. How long did you need last week to change the valves on that jeep?”
“I do my work thoroughly, that’s all.”
“Five hours! And when you were finished, you still had screws and other parts left over. In the end Lee had to help you.”
Ernie tried not to chuckle again. The whole thing had been pretty embarrassing for Grant, and the story immediately made the rounds in the colony. Due to his regular gaffes, many people were of the opinion that Grant would be better off working in the fields than in the workshop. But they simply had too few mechanics in the colony, and when the radio call had come through earlier that day, Grant had been the only one available.
Ernie marched on ahead, whistling merrily, while Grant trudged behind him, sulking. When they reached the edge of the forest half an hour later, they were still walking along in silence. They left the giant redwoods behind them and emerged onto a gently ascending plain. Verdant grassland reached all the way to the distant mountains in the west. More hills bordered the plains to the south and north, and between them, wispy white clouds slowly dissolved in the sun.
The scenery reminded Ernie of Montana, where he had often spent his vacations at his uncle’s as a child. It was as if you were approaching the distant Rocky Mountains from the prairie of the Great Plains. He had once taken part in an expedition by foot, under Russell’s command, to the mountains approximately thirty miles away. There they had discovered crystal-clear lakes, and breath-taking panoramas reminiscent of Montana’s Glacier National Park. He had to admit New California had some incredible landscapes on offer.
They stopped at a junction, where a dirt road branched off to the north, and another to the west.
“Which way do we have to go?” asked Ernie.
“Igor said the thing conked out on the cornfields.”
“So north.”
They marched up a small hill, with wheat fields to their right and barley to their left.
“The wheat is almost ready for harvesting,” said Grant.
“Which makes it all the more important that you get that old rust-bucket working again. I don’t think the guys and gals will be too thrilled about harvesting by hand.” Ernie remembered with dismay that he was scheduled for field work himself next week.
Grant just grunted.
From the top of a little hill they had a view across a small valley. The wheat field ended at the lowest point, where a little brook, emerging from the northern slope, flowed toward the forest. Beyond the brook, where the dirt track crossed over a little bridge, the cornfields began. Since they didn’t have any animal products to eat, corn, along with legumes, was one of their most important sources of protein.
Ernie recognized the off-road vehicle that had been turned into a tractor and combine harvester by Albert, together with Grant and Lee. Grant was very proud of it and never tired of telling people how complicated it had been to build. Apparently they had had to design a special cutting unit that only threshed the corn ears and sliced up the rest of the plant, before spitting it out onto the field. The machine worked pretty well and had reduced the time it took to harvest a whole field to a day, even though parts frequently broke. Ernie wondered what Grant had in actual fact contributed to its construction.
The troop of harvesters was sitting around the tractor. Ernie spotted his wife, who was on field duty today. With her closely cropped hair and muscular body—the result of daily tough physical exercise—she resembled a man. But Ernie loved the way she looked, as well as her dominant character. She was standing next to Stanislav Radinkovic, who was leading the troop today and who kept pointing at the immobile tractor. Beside them, Jim Harris and Catherine Hawke were sitting in the tall grass. The two of them were clowning around, and it was easy to see what they felt for one another. They made an extremely unlikely couple. Everyone knew how much Ben hated Russell. The fact that his daughter might now be hooking up with the son of his arch enemy must be bugging him big time. A few other youngsters were lounging beside them, among them Peter Richards, Edward Grazier and Courtney Cashmore.
“Radi” Radinkovic had caught sight of Ernie and Grant and went up to them. Andrea followed two steps behind.
“Finally you’ve come. We been waiting hours here, and nothing to do because machine broken,” complained Radi.
Ernie Grinned. Radi had emigrated to the United States with his family as a teenager, but still had a strong accent. The ecologist was an extremely able farmer with truly green fingers. Farming seemed to be in his genes.
Meanwhile Andrea had reached Ernie and came to a halt in front of him.
Ernie grinned at her. “Hey, honey, haven’t you had enough of gardening yet?”
The next thing he felt was Andrea’s hand giving him a gentle slap. He pulled her toward him and kissed her passionately. She embraced him with equal passion and pulled his head more firmly to hers. He became aware of the teenagers giggling in the grass, but he didn’t care.
“Tractor don’t drive no more. Harvested two rows, then broken!” said Radi. Ernie released himself from the embrace and looked at Radi, who had planted himself in front of Grant.
“Can you be a bit more precise? Is it the engine? Won’t it start?” asked Grant.
“No, on. Engine good. Can’t steer no more. Only straight ahead.”
“It must be the suspension arm. It broke once before. Probably the weld joint. I’ll have a look at it.” Grant dropped his backpack on the gravel path and sat in the driver’s seat of the jeep-cum-tractor. He turned on the ignition and the engine started without any trouble. He activated the combine harvester with a lever, put it into first gear, and then slowly took his foot off the clutch. With a judder, the vehicle started to move. Grant wrenched at the steering wheel, but he couldn’t change the direction of the tractor. Cursing, he turned off the engine and jumped out of the vehicle.
“Well? What’s the diagnosis, Professor?” asked Jim Harris with a smile. The sporty young man, who was the spitting image of his father, pushed his blond hair out of his face, but it was immediately ruffled up by the wind again. He had inherited his winning smile from his mother. No wonder Catherine had fallen for him. And she probably wasn’t the only young woman in the colony to have done so.
“It must be the suspension arm. It’s broken.”
“And that means . . .?” asked Peter Richards.
“It means we have to first remove the wheels, and then I can see which of the two are affected, and then I’ll dismantle it and take it back to the workshop to be welded.”
“Welded?” asked Radi, aghast. “That will take at least a day. The crops must be harvested.”
“Get another tractor.”
“It’s being used in field number eight for fertilizing.”
Grant shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it.” He walked over to his backpack and took out his tool kit. Ernie went and helped him with the jack. Together they jacked up the vehicle and removed the tires. Grant tapped the suspension arms on either side. “Seem to be okay.”
“Perhaps it’s something else,” said Ernie drily.
Grant glared at him. “Then why don’t you repair it, wise guy?”
“I was just saying.”
“Get out of my face!” said Grant irritably to Ernie and the others who were standing around him. “Go sit over there and let me do my work!” He shooed them away.
Ernie shrugged, took his wife by the hand and pulled her along with him. They sat down together in
the grass beside the track, and watched Ernie working on the tractor.
Grant needed two hours to remove both suspension arms. Finally the parts were lying in front of him in the grass. He wiped the sweat from his brow and swore. “Damn it, I just can’t tell which one is broken.” He looked up at Ernie. “I guess we should take both of them back to the colony and take them apart there. Then we’ll see which of the two it is.”
“And the tractor?” asked Radi.
“I guess it can stay here till tomorrow. Nobody’s gonna steal it. Ernie, grab the tools! I’ll take the parts and then we’ll head back to the workshop.”
Ernie shrugged, stood up and started to collect the tools that were scattered about.
“Is this normal?” Ernie heard Jim’s voice. The boy had crept underneath the vehicle.
“What are you doing there? Is what normal?” asked Grant. He yanked himself under and crawled after the boy.
Ernie shoved some pliers into the tool bag and went over to vehicle to watch what was going on. He kneeled down and bent his head so he could look underneath the tractor.
Jim was pointing at a spot where the tie rod disappeared into a housing on the axle. “There’s a corn cob in there!”
Grant cursed. Ernie could see it too. The green and yellow thing was stuck between the tie rod and the steering rack. It must be blocking the steering.
Jim grabbed it, and shook it until it loosened and came out. “I think I’ve repaired it,” he said quietly, and handed him the offending item.
Grant crawled back out from under the vehicle and stood up. He looked at Ernie, completely baffled. Peter Richards snickered loudly.
Ernie joined in. “Well, Mr. Engineer, and what about the suspension arms?” he asked sardonically.
“I . . . I think they’re still okay,” stammered Grant.
Andrea was the first to burst out laughing, and Peter, Jim and Catherine quickly joined in. Ernie wanted to restrain himself, but the sight of Grant, with the maize cob in his hand, staring at the tractor open-mouthed, was too much for him. He clutched his stomach and cried with laughter. He fell to his knees, both hands on the ground, and gasped for air.
Eventually Grant recovered his composure, looked at the corn cob and threw it in a high arc over the combine harvester.
Ernie was still chuckling when there was a squawking sound from the radio on the tractor. “Field troop one, come in please.” The distorted voice was that of Jenny Baldwin, who was on duty in the colony’s radio hut today.
Andrea fetched the radio from the tractor and pressed on the speaker button, still chuckling. “Field troop one here. Jenny, what’s up?”
“Is Jim Harris with you?”
Jim looked up. Tears of laughter were running down his cheeks.
“Yes, he’s with us. Do you want to speak to him?”
“No, but he should return to the colony as quickly as possible.”
Jim looked at Ernie in confusion.
“What’s up?” asked Andrea.
“It’s about his father.”
Chapter 10
Fifteen years ago
“It’s starting. Watch out,” said Dr. Cashmore. He flipped the switch, and the flasks on the table in front of him—which were attached via tubing to test tubes, heating elements and measuring devices—began to bubble.
Marlene swayed gently back and forth. Beside her, Russell Harris, Albert Bridgeman, Dr. John Dressel, and Dr. Jenny Baldwin were waiting for the result of the experiment. They were squashed together, since the laboratory container, which they had brought with them five years ago on the transport from Russell’s Planet, wasn’t very spacious. All of the equipment and utensils took up too much room. “How long will it take?” asked Marlene.
“Not long, a few minutes,” replied the chemist quietly. He smiled as he ran his hand softly, almost tenderly, over the test tubes. Marlene thought he would have made a good minister or pastor, and in fact many of the colonists did seek out Cashmore to talk through their personal problems. More so even than Dr. Lindwall, who as a doctor should have been the one to help people with their psychological problems. The wiry scientist was wearing a white lab coat, which after five years was impossible to get completely clean despite regular washing. But he wouldn’t be getting a new one. His hair reached down to his shoulders. Despite going grey, he looked younger with his long hair than he had in the past, when his hair had been cropped short.
Wolfe looked at Jenny Baldwin to her left. During an expedition a few months ago, the biologist had wanted to start classifying the indigenous flora and fauna in the lowlands. She and Russell had come across a swamp, at the far end of which bitumen bubbled up in a continuous stream from the ground. The natural asphalt pointed to the possibility of oil deposits nearby. In the course of a subsequent expedition two weeks ago, Drew Potter, the biologist, and Travis Richards, had undertaken a few test drillings, and after only about eighty feet they had struck oil. They had brought back several canisters of the black stuff to the camp and handed them over to Dr. Cashmore for analysis. The chemist had thrown himself into his new task with glee.
“In principle, the experiment is like a rectification column. The crude oil, cleaned and freed of suspended particulate matter, is in this container, which will now be heated up to four-hundred degrees Celsius. The escaping particles evaporate and move into the second test tube, in which there is a slightly lower temperature of three hundred and seventy degrees. Any heavy crude oil condenses at this temperature and drips into the vessel down here. Whatever remains flows into the next container and so on. By means of this column, we can separate the different component parts of the crude oil.”
“And you think that the oil on this planet might be identical with that on Earth?” asked Russell skeptically.
Drew Potter answered on behalf of the chemist. “The living organisms here are made up of the same carbon compounds as the fauna and flora on Earth. So there is no reason to assume the components of the crude oil are any different.” She hesitated. “Although I’m still very surprised at how similar the biology is on a cellular level.”
“We’ve already been through that,” remarked Albert Bridgeman.
But Jenny never tired of talking about it. “It’s incredible really. The cells function in exactly the same way as on Earth. Of course, the DNA of the life forms here are different from the ones on our home planet . . .”
“This is our home planet,” Wolfe interrupted testily.
“Whatever; they’re similar. The cells contain mitochondrion, which on Earth has always been regarded as an evolutionary accident. The proteins also correspond with those on Earth, although I’ve already found several new proteins. But the differences are so minute, they’re hardly noticeable. The other chemical components of the organisms are also almost identical. There are all the same vitamins here as on Earth, and almost the same trace elements.”
“Which is lucky for us, otherwise we couldn’t survive here,” said Cashmore.
“So how’s the experiment going, Doctor?” Albert interrupted the discussion. He had been so excited by the possibility of drilling for oil, he had already drawn up plans for a rudimentary refinery.
Dr. Cashmore turned around. “So, it’s now reached the necessary temperature. Any moment now, the first condensates ought to drip into the container. There, you see!” He pointed at the first test tube in the row. From an opening in the container above it, a black, viscous substance dripped slowly but steadily into the glass vessel.
“Those are heavy oils, which can be turned into heating oil, for example. And there!” He pointed at another test tube in the column, which was filling up with a colorless liquid. “That’s petroleum ether. Or ligroin, to be more precise. You can use it directly as fuel for simple gasoline engines.” He tore a yellow testing strip out of a folder and dipped it in the chemical. The strip quickly turned green. The chemist compared the color to a scale. “The octane rating of 60 fairly low, but by adding tetraethyllead we can get it
up to a usable level.”
“I’m sure I could produce a simple combustion engine in our forge, given enough time,” said Albert.
Marlene laughed. “We’ve got more than enough to do just cultivating crops so that we all have something to eat. For the time being, the jeeps we brought with us from Russell’s Planet will have to suffice.”
“But we also need to think ahead to the future,” objected Russell. “At the latest when our children are a little older, we’ll have to start thinking about whether we want to be a purely agrarian society or if we want to allow for a certain amount of industrialization. In that case, we need to start sharing our knowledge sooner rather than later.”
“I agree,” said Dr. Dressel. “The first children will soon be of an age when they would be starting school on Earth. It’s essential that they receive schooling, and we should start organizing it as soon as possible.”
Marlene nodded. “Yes, we’ll discuss it at the next meeting.”
In the five years since its foundation, the colony had made rapid progress. There was plenty of edible food in the form of plants and fruits, as Dr. Baldwin had been able to establish in her research. What’s more, they had planted fields in the highlands beyond the forest using the seeds that had been originally intended for cultivation experiments. Meanwhile, they had wheat, corn, spelt, barley, and sugar cane. Perhaps one day they would be able to grow rice in the lowlands, where the ground was wet enough, but the danger posed by the wotans was still too high.
They had built log cabins out of wood from the giant redwoods, and after a few months they had settled into something of a routine. Many of the colonists, including Marlene, even started to enjoy their life in exile. Here, they could conquer a whole world and establish a new civilization, free from the constraints of distant Earth. It was hard work, especially for Marlene, who was president of the colony. At first, the unfamiliar challenge had almost driven her to despair. What did she know about establishing a new society? Then she had given up on trying to plan and understand everything down to the smallest detail, and had learnt to delegate responsibilities. From that point on, things became easier.
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