“Jack Mario.” He held out his right hand.
Cara took the opportunity to move and give Lorient some space. Jack seemed to have no reservations about physical contact. He shook both their hands enthusiastically, Cara first, then Ben. “Nice to see you again, Commander Benjamin. Strange feeling this cryo. Glad it’s a once-in-a-lifetime event. Any better, Director Lorient?”
“We’ve been offered tea, Jack.” Lorient sounded doubtful.
“Excellent. Lead me to it.”
“Ah, you haven’t tasted Ada’s tea yet.” Cara smiled and turned to Lorient. “Can I trade you a coat for that blanket, Director? There’s a chill wind blowing from the north.”
Lorient nodded. Cara directed a thought to a passing med-tech and was pointed to a store where she found a selection of basic clothing for the revived settlers. Marrying up people with their luggage boxes couldn’t be done in the cryo revival unit, and Serafin’s engineers were still building the riser next to the hospital where newly revived settlers would pick up their basic kit. Director Lorient’s personal possessions had already been delivered to the riser allocated to the settlers for both accommodation and administration.
She requisitioned two padded jackets and took them back to the recovery room where Anna Govan was completing a final check on Lorient. She gave him a hypospray shot into the inside of his left arm. “That should help a little, Director, but only time will really cure the way you feel. Any better?”
“Still cold.”
“Here.” Cara handed him a padded jacket, taking care not to invade his personal space. He shrugged into it and tightened the adjuster straps for a better fit. Jack Mario just slung his jacket casually over one shoulder and almost bounded to the door. Lorient walked like a man whose back was made of glass.
They paused on the front doorstep of the hospital building, and Lorient drew a deep breath of planetside air. “What’s that smell?”
Cara realized she’d already acclimatized. “Olyanda. The air, the water, the vegetation, the wildlife. It’s just the way the planet smells. You won’t even notice it by tomorrow.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jack said. “Fresh. New.”
Lorient gazed out across the compound while Cara tried to picture it through his eyes: a mishmash of earthworks, low, gray risers that looked like tunnels, some finished and some not; vehicles; crates; people hurrying in all directions; heavy machinery; bots; and the saucer-shaped landing vehicle. Across the river another building stood alone with only a narrow pontoon bridge linking it to the rest of the compound.
Lorient’s voice was polite but cold. “Tell me what I’m seeing here, please.”
Ben caught Cara’s eye. He didn’t even need to say anything. His look said: watch your step. He pointed to the saucer and kept his voice perfectly light and friendly. “The LV is our technical headquarters. It contains all the equipment that we’ll need to use during the first year, shielded from the electromagnetic surges. It’s ATC, Air Traffic Control for all the shuttles to and from the ark as well as for all the planet-based transport. It’s also a base for the mapping and exploration teams. All the planetary data is stored in the central matrix.”
“This is the one you remove before you leave.”
“If that’s what you still want at the end of the year. We won’t actually take it away because it costs more to transport something like that than the hardware is worth, so we’ll recycle the metals for you and bury all that can’t be used. You have the whole year to make up your mind about living without the benefits of any kind of technology. We can still set up a basic fiber-optic underground telecom system for you if you decide you want one, and leave all the groundcars in working order; they’re all mechanical, pretty well EM-proof, though they’ll have corrosion problems like anything else on a high EM planet.”
Lorient shook his head. “We’d spend too much effort trying to maintain technology we couldn’t replace. Better to make a clean break and go back to fire and the wheel. Right, Jack?”
Jack barely hesitated. “Yes, of course.”
Lorient nodded stiffly. “What are all the other buildings? It looks like a city already.”
“It’s all temporary. They are either biodegradable or made of material that can be recycled. Some risers are dormitories, others are stores and workspaces. The big one in the middle is the food hall, also a communal meeting hall, and the smaller one next to it is yours. I’m afraid for starters you’ll be living and working in the same space. We can put up dividers wherever you need them, though.”
Lorient made a noncommittal grunt that might have been approval or not. He set off briskly across the compound, but soon slowed his pace as his physical condition caught up with his intent.
“I’m itching to start work,” Jack Mario said. “When does our stuff arrive?”
“Your personal packs are in your quarters already,” Cara said. “The colony admin records should be shuttled down within a day or two. Everything is all running more-or-less to schedule.”
“The rest of our people?” Lorient asked.
“Your admin team is in resuscitation already, and tomorrow we begin reviving your artisans and specialists,” Ben said. “We’ve already got some preliminary survey results which show ironstone outcrops about thirty klicks away. We can take your smiths there as soon as you are ready to make a start on smelting. There’s good clay for building the furnaces and enough wood nearby for charcoal. Yan Gwenn has an airbus standing by to take them out to the ironstone site.”
Lorient nodded, but the listlessness in his eyes was fast disappearing. He walked on a few more paces and then turned. “No airbuses. Do we have timber for wagons?”
Ben nodded. “Of sorts.” He stopped and pointed to the growths by the river. “Suzi Ruka’s got a fine Latin name for them, but for want of something easier those are what we’ve started to call broccoli trees. The thick trunks yield planks more than a meter wide—a lightweight but close-grained wood. There’s a forest of them—that dark line in the distance beyond the bend in the river—about ten klicks away.” He started walking again. “We’ll take your foresters.”
“No.” Lorient spoke sharply, and then, as if he’d realized he’d overstepped the mark, he softened his voice. “They have to build this colony themselves. Ten klicks—it’s not impossible, is it? They can go there by themselves.”
Ben frowned. “But it’s chicken and egg. You need wagons to bring the timber and iron down to the manufactory, and to build your wagons you need timber for the carcass and iron for nails and to strengthen the hubs and rims of your wagon wheels and for your couplings. You’ve got to start somewhere. That’s all we’re offering, a start. It’s what we’re here for.”
“What about native wildlife?” Jack asked. “Anything we should know about?”
“There’s a big predator in the mountains, a quadruped that can walk upright and climb like a cat, but it’s solitary and seems relatively shy of us. The lyx is about the size of a wolf, but it has six legs and no tail. It’s a hunter, a meat-eater and runs in family packs, but it generally takes the easiest prey, so probably not adult humans, unless they’re starving. Don’t let your children wander off alone, though.” Ben counted them off on his fingers. “There are leapers, only medium-size predators, but they pack a punch. They have colossal hindquarters and enough spring in their back legs to propel them ten meters in one leap, and they have forepaws with talons that inject a soporific, so all they need to do is sink their claws in and wait for the anesthetic to take effect so they can rip their prey apart.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“I was with Youen when he found the one in the mountains, Director,” Cara said. “It didn’t seem to know what to make of us and didn’t stay around for long enough to look threatening, but creatures adapt just like we do, so take note of any behavioral changes.”
“The Dee’ells attached to Mapping are logging new species all the time,” Ben said. “But not too many real native nasties yet. The m
ost dangerous creatures we’ve found so far are reptans. We don’t know much about their habits, but they seem to be restricted to the swampy ground of the delta. They’re not very big, but they’re venomous and mean.”
They walked on in silence for a while. Cara was well aware that they were here because the law said they had to be, not because Lorient wanted them, but she thought that he had accepted Ben’s logic. However, he stopped again and waved toward the river.
“We’ll cut a few of those trees to make the first wagons. We’ll take the smiths to the ironstone site and build the first manufactory right there.”
“Director Lorient, can we discuss this?” Jack asked.
“There’s nothing to discuss, Jack.” Lorient turned to Ben. “When do we have use of the first beasts of burden?”
Cara saw Ben’s eyebrows raise slightly, but to his credit he kept his voice even and reasonable. “The first few draft horses and oxen will be revived within the week. Some of the riding horses a little after that. Most of your stock has to be tank-reared, of course.”
Cara glanced across the river to the large prefabricated building standing alone.
“Clones.” Lorient’s mouth set in a hard line.
“Oh, not clones, Director,” Cara had to chip in. “Calvin Tanaka is so proud of the bloodlines he’s secured for you. Rare breeds that have been preserved in sanctuaries: cattle from Dexters to Charolais, Shire horses and Clydesdales, Saddleback pigs, Merino sheep . . .”
“Grown in vats.”
“But from genuine frozen embryos. Truly, they’re all individuals, not clones.”
She frowned. Did he really think they’d pull a bait-and-switch trick?
Lorient rubbed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. “We’ll talk about that later.” He took a deep breath. “For now, we have a plan.”
Cara tried not to catch Ben’s eye again. She could feel what he thought about doing it the hard way. *Standing up in a hammock.* She aimed a thought at him and saw his cheek twitch as he tried not to laugh. It served to defuse his thoughts, though.
Lorient paused to watch construction on a row of four identical dormitory risers. “The panels just slot together?” he asked.
“More or less,” Ben said. “They come flat-packed, but each sheet of medonite has a built-in memory which, when activated, changes the sheet to a preprogrammed shape.”
“Interesting.” Lorient approached the dining hall, the same shape as a dormitory riser, but much larger, with the curve of the roof rising to about seven meters. “And this hall is made in the same way, yes?”
“Yes, medonite and bioplas panels with memory.”
“I see.” He stepped inside and looked around.
Cara took medonite risers for granted. They were a fact of life on new colony worlds, but she wondered how someone like Lorient felt, seeing a temporary town for the first time. To him, it must look like the vids of disaster rescue operations on Earth—the aftermath of a tsunami, earthquake, or hurricane—with all its associated emotions. Yet inside, the dining hall looked mundane enough; rows of empty tables and benches, only the first few made of imported medonite, the rest made from local broccoli wood.
She waved at Ada Levenson, busy in the kitchen area at one end, and flashed her a message not to disturb them. There was always hot water available from the spigot and a choice of instant powders. “Tea?” she asked Lorient. “Any particular flavor? Or there’s caff, but it’s not good.”
Ben pulled a face. “Cara was raised on Earth. She likes coffee. I’ve grown up with this stuff. Tastes fine to me. Pick your poison, gentlemen.”
Everyone helped themselves to a drink from a selection of powders, filling their mugs with hot water from the spigot, and they sat at the nearest table.
Jack sipped his drink cautiously, then grinned and took another swallow. “That’s not bad.”
Lorient sat down opposite Ben, looking thoughtful.
“This place . . . all the risers . . . they could be taken down and moved?”
“They could, but at the end of the year we’ll recycle them as raw medonite for your artisans. Their value doesn’t merit a ticket home.”
“You misunderstand me. I mean can they be moved now? I’d like to set up a separate village, close to the trees.”
“Two separate camps?” Ben massaged his forehead with fingers and thumb. “We’d still have to revive your settlers here. All the equipment would have to be ferried across from the shuttles. We’d have to have storerooms on both sites . . . two lots of plumbing, double security . . .”
“Director Lorient?” The look on Jack’s face told Cara that this had come as a surprise to him, too.
“I’ve thought about it, Jack, and that’s what we’ll do. I’d like us to be separate right from the start.” He turned to Ben. “Take it as a nonnegotiable request.”
Cara felt that Ben was squashing down if not anger, at least frustration, but he merely half-inclined his head to Lorient. “It’s your colony.”
“Yes, it is.”
*No plan survives first contact with the enemy,* Cara said, directly to Ben.
*You’re right there. It’s going to be a long year.*
• • •
When Lorient requested they revive his wife and son immediately, Cara was surprised that Ben agreed to shuffle the resuscitation order, but even so it was another three days before they were able to have Rena and Danny Lorient’s cryo container shipped down from the ark. Since it wasn’t possible to retrieve just two individuals, the whole container of a hundred body pods had to be revived, out of order. By bumping the Lorients up the list, they had to revive another ninety-eight nonessential personnel, families and lower grade administrators, before the blacksmiths and artisans. Cara would have argued, but Ben judged that giving Lorient his family would be a stabilizing influence and therefore worth the time penalty.
Cara was curious about Lorient’s family. Rena and Danny had been well in the background on all the holovids of Victor Lorient, despite the fact that Rena had done a lot of good work with families. She knew about Danny, of course, from the files. He could have been perfect, but they’d let him be brought into the world with Down syndrome, something that had been curable for centuries in utero. Cara had her own views on that.
*We’re in the food hall, Anna,* Cara said when the doctor announced that she was about to start the revival process and that Lorient was practically breathing down her throat.
*Can you come over to the hospital? I’ve stuck the director in the hallway for now, but I’d sure appreciate it if someone could distract him while I get on with this. Danny Lorient is on our red flag list, and I need all my wits about me. No one has ever put someone like him through cryo before. I don’t know what complications might arise.*
*Ben’s talking to Wenna. I’ll get him, and we’ll come right across.*
Cara caught Ben’s eye and explained the situation, and they left the food hall together, walking across the compound in the cool spring sunlight. There were four large scars where accommodation risers had been removed for transplantation to the settlers’ new village, which Jack Mario had firmly named Timbertown after someone had jokingly called it Broccoliburg. Most of Serafin’s engineers were away working on the new site, ferried there daily by Yan Gwenn’s drivers in groundcars. The regular route had been pounded into a hard roadway, but they’d need to lay a road surface before wheeled wagons could use it, especially if it rained again.
On the edge of the compound a shuttle, its cargo doors open, sat squat on the landing pad while Marta, bright scarf wrapped around her neck to protect her gills from the chill air, supervised the unloading process, tagging containers for storage, transport to Timbertown, or immediate use in Landing. Cara smiled when Marta’s markers on the Timbertown crates turned out to be “BB”—Broccoliburg.
Everything was running, if not according to the original plan, at least smoothly.
*Can you connect me with Anna?* Ben asked.
There was
an answer but it was vague. She tried again. *Anna?* Cara picked up Ben’s consciousness and sought Anna’s to form a triad.
*Not now, Cara. There’s a panic on. Danny Lorient has gone into arrest.* She caught the echo of Anna’s hurried command to her team. *A shot of Concordine on my count of three. One, two, three.* She was still open to them as she transmitted instructions to the emergency staff.
Cara looked at Ben.
“Keep up with what’s happening,” he said.
She patched him back into Anna’s head. *Another shot of Concordine. One, two, three. Come on, Danny, breathe. In, out. In, out. Good boy. Life signs?*
*Weak but stabilizing.* That was Ronan Wolfe’s mental voice, then . . . *What the hell . . . Who said he could come in here?*
With a jolt, Cara realized that Lorient was in the emergency room.
Ben and Cara began to run in the direction of the stairs. They found the emergency room by the commotion. Two med-techs had manhandled Lorient back out into the corridor. He took a swing at one of the nurses, who retaliated by grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm behind his back until he gasped for her to let go. By that time Ben was there.
“I’ll take it from here,” he said, putting himself between Lorient and the emergency room door.
“Victor—oh, please don’t hurt him.” A pale-faced, mousy woman, hair slick from the shower and wearing a hospital gown, stepped forward. Rena, Mrs. Lorient, Cara supposed. “He said he heard Danny calling out.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” Ben shoved Lorient up hard against the corridor wall as he tried to struggle free. “Take it easy, Director, Doctor Govan’s doing everything she can.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Rena babbled. “What’s happening? What’s the matter with Danny?”
Ben obviously needed no help with Lorient; though he was a big strong man, his movements were unfocused and he didn’t use his body well. Cara didn’t need to be Empathic to read the fear and anxiety coming from both Lorients. In Victor it had manifested as anger, in Rena as near panic. She took a deep breath and found her own quiet calm and put a comforting arm around Rena Lorient’s shoulders and led her to a seat. “Danny’s had a bad reaction to cryo, but they’ve stabilized him. He’s going to be all right.”
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