Menni went on to describe the financial side of the project. A liberal estimate of total outlays set them at around 1,500 million. Obviously, only the state had the kind of resources necessary for such an undertaking. The government would issue a special loan over a period of four years which would cover the expenses of the project and the annual interest on the loan itself. Later, as the new country was opened up to exploitation, the interest and the principal would gradually be repaid through the sale or leasing of land for the purposes of mining or agriculture. Thus the state would acquire a piece of real estate worth tens of billions. All major financial institutions would support the loan, as it would provide them with a whole new field of operations, and numerous branches of industry would profit by the enormous orders entailed by the project.
“In addition,” said Menni, “I can mention one more important reason why all financiers and entrepreneurs should be interested in supporting the project. You are aware that at regular intervals during the past 150 years we have been beset by serious financial and industrial crises. At such times credit falls, the market shrinks, thousands of enterprises are ruined, and millions become unemployed. The renowned Xarma, who despite his socialist views is the most learned and profound economist of our time, has declared that a new and unprecedentedly deep crisis will occur in a year or two unless the market expands. He adds that there are no grounds for expecting the latter. You will recall that Xarma accurately predicted the last recession, and there is every reason to believe him this time as well. The construction of the Libyan canal, however, would stimulate the expansion of the market that we need, first by way of the project itself and later by bringing an entire new country into production. This, I think, would considerably delay the crisis and its attendant calamities.”
Menni concluded his report by pointing out that the grandiose dimensions and enormous complexity of the proposed project demanded the greatest possible measure of unity in its execution.
After a short intermission the chairman opened the discussion. The first to address a question to the speaker was Feli Rao, president of Railroad Credit, the largest Martian banking cartel. His hair was gray, but he looked much younger than his years, and his gaze was cold and piercing.
“In your report you made no mention of the administrative and organizational end of the matter. I assume, however, that your concluding remark on the need for unity referred to this. If I have understood you correctly, you are of the opinion that the supervision of the project should be entrusted to a single person who will select his own assistants and assume full control and responsibility for all details.”
“That is correct,” replied Menni.
“Don’t you think, however, that the interests involved here are too numerous and complicated to be handled by a single individual? Would it not be better to establish some form of collective leadership, if not in the technical sphere, then at least in the administrative one? And should we not grant a certain right of inspection to, say, the organizations offering financial cooperation?”
“I do not think that that would be the best solution. The project must be conducted according to a plan that has been predetermined and approved by the government. A collective principle may be useful for the development and discussion of the plan, but not for its execution. Inspection should be exercised by the government, Parliament, and public opinion, and continuous and candid reports should be provided for the purpose. In this form it will be sufficient. Allow me to remark that I do not envisage inspection by the government as the power to interfere at will in the details of the project. Interference is appropriate only when the approved plan must be revised or when previous estimates are disrupted.”
“I think that we can speak frankly,” said Feli Rao. “It is obvious to all that both justice and expediency demand that you be placed at the head of the project. Is what you have just said a statement of the conditions on which you would agree to accept such a position?”
“Yes. I could take no part in the project on any other conditions. I want all responsibility or none whatever.”
Uncertainty, vacillation, almost discontent could be sensed in the mood of the delegates. Rao continued:
“But it seems to me that the organization of the project involves a number of very complicated problems demanding a great deal of attention. At the same time these are questions that can hardly hold any immediate interest for you as a man of science. For example, you will have to calculate the number of workers required on the basis of your technical plan, but as to the conditions of their employment . . .”
“On the contrary, I consider that question to be very important precisely from the point of view of the success of the project. I am aware of the fact that many enterprises attempt to economize at the expense of the workers. A worker who is poorly fed or overworked is not in possession of his full labor capacity. A dissatisfied worker can behave unexpectedly and disrupt production. I need a full labor force and I do not need surprises.”
Feli Rao declared that he had no further questions for the time being. For a moment there was an oppressive hush. The next speaker was an engineer and representative of the Dynamite and Powder Trust by the name of Maro, a man who was very well known in his branch despite his relative youth.
“I should like to turn to a consideration of technical and financial questions,” he said. “Although the administrative issue is important, I feel that these aspects are even more so. Speaking for myself, I should like to say that I am confident in Menni Aldos personal integrity and support his views on the matter of public control. In my opinion the attitude of the government is of crucial significance here. In the final analysis, it is the state that bears responsibility for organizing inspection; by issuing a loan to raise the capital for the project it will thereby also provide a guarantee for all private financial interests and will stand between the creditors and the administration of the project. If it can agree to the conditions set by Engineer Aldo, then I do not think we need especially insist upon further discussion of them. I should therefore like to address that question to the representatives of the Central Government and the Libyan authorities present here today.”
The Minister of Public Works replied:
“We had intended to present the viewpoint of the government toward the end of the discussion, as is usually done at such conferences. However, in order to avoid misunderstandings we are obliged to answer a direct question. Let me first of all remind you that the final decision belongs to the Central Parliament. After a preliminary review of the matter the Council of Ministers did not for its part find anything unacceptable in the demands of Engineer Aldo, the initiator and author of the project.”
The governor of Libya declared that the government of his state fully agreed with the central authorities.
The atmosphere of the conference changed immediately. Maro’s maneuver had trumped the high card of the opposition. The discussion turned to technical questions and the conditions of the loans. Menni had won an indisputable victory.
It was time for dinner, and the conference adjourned. The delegates were invited to dine with the minister. On the way to the banquet hall Feli Rao approached Maro.
“I understand your position,” he said with an air of good-natured candor. “You are an executive of the Dynamite and Powder Trust, and orders for a half million tons of explosives are not very common. But tell me honestly, where have you found any assurances of Menni’s administrative talents? His technical plan is evidently irreproachable, and I can say that the financial one is very good. But the supervision of this colossal project and hundreds of thousands of workers . . . Where and when has he ever demonstrated such organizational ability? And he is only twenty-six. Don’t you think that you and the government are taking a leap into the unknown?”
An enigmatic smile flitted across Maro’s face.
“Administrative talents? How can you doubt them? Isn’t he the son of Duke Ormen Aldo?”
Rao gazed intently at Mar
o, whose eyes had once again become impenetrable.
“I think that you and I will come to an understanding in due course,” said the financier.
At dinner he sat next to the minister. When the hum of conversation had become animated and loud, Rao turned to his neighbor and said in a low voice:
“Just now, of course, it is easier for the government to hand everything over to Menni. But is it wise to contribute to the rise of such a talented and ambitious man? Might he not pose a threat in the future?”
“No,” replied the minister, “I know Menni. He is not our rival for the very reason that he is so ambitious. Rest assured that at this moment he has even more grandiose plans which he is not divulging for the time being. He is not interested in becoming a minister or President of the Republic. What is more,” the minister added with a smile, “he does not even want to be the financial emperor of Mars. His book on Libya ends in the words: All the deserts of the world have a future.’ His is the ambition of the gods.”
2. Nella
The city of Ichthyopolis is situated on terraces cut into the slopes of the coastal mountains descending to the southern shore of the narrow gulf at the beginning of the present Nepenthes Canal. At that time it had not yet become a city, but was only a large settlement with a few thousand inhabitants. Most of the few large buildings were public edifices. The rest of the town consisted of small wooden houses and mud huts. An old fisherman and his son lived for many years in one of these huts not far from the embankment, along which small boats used to dock. The son’s name was Arri; his father’s has been forgotten.
About six years before the beginning of the Libyan Project and the radical changes it brought to the life of Ichthyopolis, the old man was out on one of his usual fishing trips in his little schooner when he happened to run across a sloop from a wrecked ship. A girl of about twelve by the name of Nella was among the survivors he picked up. She told the fisherman the following story of her life.
Her father had worked as a mechanic in a factory in the capital. He had a fairly good salary and spared nothing to give his daughter a good upbringing. A machine exploded during a test and killed him on the spot, and soon her mother also fell ill and died. The authorities learned that the girl had an uncle, a minor official in the capital of the state of Meroe north of Syrtis Major; it was decided that she be sent to live with him, although she had never met the man. After the shipwreck the sloop had drifted on the sea for several days. The sailors had given her their water rations.
The fisherman took a liking to Nella, who he thought resembled his late wife. He wanted to suggest that she come and live with him but hesitated to ask her, for to him she seemed almost an upper-class young lady. When the mayor came to ask her where she wanted to go, she herself turned to the elderly fisherman and said:
“I would like to live with you. You and your son are very kind, and my uncle is a complete stranger. I will not be a burden on you. I am good at sewing and I can help around the house.”
The old man was very happy, for Nella brightened and enlivened his little hut. When the shadow of her misfortunes had lifted, her warm smile, silvery laughter, and gentle jokes—though they were sometimes too subtle for those around her—soon earned her the name of Merry Nella. She had an excellent voice, and as she went about her work she constantly sang the songs she had learned from her mother. Later she began making up her own melodies and beautiful lyrics. She also read a great deal, devouring everything she found in the local library. For the sake of his adopted daughter, the old man began subscribing to the newspaper.
Five years passed, and the little girl became a young woman. Arri was already twenty-two. While out fishing one day the old man accidentally injured himself on a harpoon; the wound became infected, and a week later he was dead. Arri and Nella continued living as brother and sister for several months. But one day, upon returning from an unusually long sea journey, Arri suddenly said:
“Nella, I have thought a great deal about it, and I do not think we can go on like this any longer. I love you too much, Nella, and if your heart is indifferent to me then I must go away.”
A look of sadness crept into the girl’s face.
“I love you very much, Arri. No one in the whole world is dearer to me. That is why I cannot lie to you. Just now my heart leapt with pain, not with joy. I will go, not you. This is your home, your country. You need not worry about me.”
“I am not worried about you, Nella, but it is I who must go, because everything here would only remind me of that which cannot be. My only salvation is to see new people and new lands and start a new life. I will even look for a different job. If you agree to stay here, then at least I will be sure where you are and it will be easier for me to know how you are doing, so that I can come to you if you should need me.”
Arri left, and Nella stayed on alone in the little house. Her smile faded, and she began singing mournful songs as she sat at dusk and sewed by the window.
The weeks and months dragged monotonously on. The nocturnal rains, which occur in winter in the tropical countries of Mars, came and went. Neighbors came to Nella and asked her about the strange rumors they had heard. People were saying that a former aristocrat was planning to drain the Libyan sea and its sandbank, one of their best fishing grounds, and flood the desert. And it seemed that the government was going to let him. Nella, who besides reading newspapers had also read Menni’s book, explained to them in detail what it was all about. The men calmed down, the women shook their heads skeptically. Soon the mystery became reality.
The Ichthyopolis roadsteads and the entire bay became livelier than ever. Several big ships arrived every day; some of them stopped outside the city, some did not, but they all eventually moved on to the far end of the bay, where the new canal was to begin. It was only about ten kilometers away, and some sort of activity between the ships and the shore could be observed from the crest of the hills along the coast. It was evident that something was being unloaded, though it was impossible to make out just what it was. Gradually, however, this something grew into a giant anthill that spread farther and farther off toward the mountains bounding the desert. Against the background of the reddish-gray soil the white spots of tents rapidly sprouted up in two parallel bands separated by a wide empty space. Thousands of black specks—obviously human beings—swarmed and flickered among them. Soon there were also larger, stationary black spots, probably temporary storehouses and huge machines.
Many new faces appeared in Ichthyopolis itself, and foreign accents could be heard on the streets. Several hundred young people left the city to work on the canal, where there were plenty of jobs and the pay was very good. The price of everything rose and kept on rising, but that was of little concern to anyone. Platinum money clinked dully on the sales counters more often than simple silver coins had done before. The merchants and even most of the fishermen seemed more cheerful, although it was also evident that a certain feverish nervousness had crept into their movements. The shops were filled with new goods. The women began wearing more colorful and stylish dresses, and the laughter became louder and shriller.
Nella had more than enough work. Most of the day she could be seen sitting at the open window with her sewing. Her countenance was no brighter than before, but when she raised her head from her work and gazed at the surface of the bay stretching off into the distance, a faraway dream, a look of expectation seemed to come into her gray green eyes. Her songs, quiet in the daytime, became louder in the evening, when the noisy life of the embankment had receded into the depths of the city and Nella felt more at ease.
Sometimes a swift, elegant cutter would dock not far from Nella’s house and several men would disembark and set off toward the city hall or the post office. They were led by a tall, athletic man with steel gray eyes. Usually he seemed not to notice anything going on around him, and his fixed gaze was directed forward toward some invisible goal. Once as the man walked by, however, he suddenly caught the sweet strains of a song. He tu
rned around and spied Nella. Their eyes met; she turned pale and bowed her head. After that, every time he happened to pass the house he looked intently at the beautiful seamstress, and Nella did not always lower her gaze.
It was a strange day. Since morning, gray clouds had billowed up beyond the mountains guarding the secret of the desert, only to scatter slowly and then form again. There was a prolonged rumbling followed by a muffled boom that sounded like thunder. The windows in the houses quivered, and there were moments when it seemed as though the ground was shaking. A breeze from the east brought with it clouds of fine, pungent dust. And then, something that had never been seen on Mars before—in the middle of the day a cloud formed over the city and it began to rain. Nella explained to one of her alarmed neighbors that there was nothing to worry about. It was all because of the dynamite charges being detonated in the mountains to cut a path for the canal. Yet she herself experienced a certain twinge of anxiety.
Toward evening the explosions ceased. Before sunset the cutter again docked at the embankment. This time the chief engineer got off alone. There was an unusual expression of nervous animation on his face; his eyes glittered feverishly, and his gait was not as even and confident as usual, as if he were slightly fuddled by the powder fumes.
Night came, and Nella was still sitting by the open window. She gazed at the dark sky and the brightly twinkling stars. The little face of Phobos capriciously altered its contours as it glided eastward across the sky, and objects below cast pale, delicate shadows in its light. On no other planet in the solar system can people see such a remarkable moon. The tiny crescent of Deimos seemed frozen in the firmament. Not far from it, the greenish evening star—Earth and her inseparable companion—descended into the sunset. The surface of the bay mirrored this picture in paler hues. Nella’s song poured forth, uniting the heavens and the sea and the heart of man. When it had died away, she heard the approach of heavy footsteps. A tall figure stopped in front of the window, and a soft, quiet voice said:
Red Star Page 21