Across the Great Rift

by Washburn, Scott;

  “Good job, Sheila,” he said to his companion.

  “Thanks, not that I did anything except check you figures,” said Sheila MacIntyrre.

  “You kept me on the straight and narrow. Nobody else I’d rather have backing me up.”

  Sheila nodded and then leaned back in her chair and stretched. She ran her fingers through her short hair. Crawford looked on admiringly. She really was a good-looking woman. Why hadn’t he ever made a pass at her?

  “So, it finally begins,” said Sheila.

  “Hmmm?” said Crawford, still admiring.

  “The job. Building the gate. Hey, Chuck, you awake?”

  “What? Oh yeah, the gate.”

  Sheila laughed. “Use up all your attention on Phase I?”

  “Oh, I’m still paying attention.” Sheila did not seem to catch what he was really saying, or she deliberately ignored it. Probably just as well, either way. Before he could think of anything else to say, his com pinged. It was a line from his office, not any of the other controllers involved in this operation. “Yeah?” he growled. He’d given orders not to be interrupted.

  “Chief, the Gov wants to know how things are going?”

  “Gently, Chuck,” said Sheila before he could reply.

  “Right,” said Crawford, biting off his angry reply. “Tell His Excellency that we are proceeding on schedule. No problems.”

  “Uh, he wants to know how long this will take?”

  “He’s got a copy of the bloody schedule! Tell him to read it!”

  “Chuck…” said Sheila.

  “All right, tell him that we expect to finish disassembly in approximately ninety-two hours—per the schedule I sent him—be sure you tell him that!”

  “Right, Chief,” snickered the man on the other end. “Oh, he wanted me to remind you about the meeting with him at 1800.”

  “I’ll be there.” Crawford cut the connection. “That’s all I need: His Grand High Muckety-Muck looking over my shoulder and asking: ‘are we done yet?’”

  “Guess he’s a bit nervous about things, not that I can blame him.”

  “I suppose.” Crawford looked over at Sheila. “How about you? You nervous? Are your people nervous?”

  “A bit. Well, more than a bit. They’re worried about the Venanci squadron and now this whole business of the system being occupied. A lot of them are asking if it is a smart move to build the gate here. Some think we should have gone somewhere else and set up shop there.”

  “We can’t do that. I’ve tried to explain why to everyone. In any case,” he waved at the display showing the disassembly, “it’s too late now. We can’t reassemble the ship and we can’t go somewhere else without leaving critical structural elements behind. We’re committed.”

  “I know,” sighed Sheila, “and I think once we really get cracking on the gate, everyone will accept it. I just think that a lot of people are worried that Shiffeld is rushing this. We haven’t even finalized any sort of agreement with the locals, have we?”

  “No, but they are working almost non-stop on that. If I didn’t have this job to do, I’d probably still be stuck in those meetings. The last I heard they were going to send a ‘commission’ to the base of the people we met and try to hammer out a final agreement.”

  “Really? That sounds like a pretty exciting assignment.”

  “Yeah, I almost wish I was going along.”

  * * * * *

  “So, Mistress Nassau, what do you have for me today?” asked Rikard Shiffeld. Regina eyed the governor from across his huge desk and still could not decide if she liked the man or not. She had joined the expedition fairly late and her contact with him had been minimal. Of course, he was one of the Protector’s pets, and that was a mark against him right there. Or maybe not, she admitted; viewed from outside, she could well be mistaken for one of the Protector’s pets, too.

  “Please just call me ‘Regina’, Sir Rikard,” she replied with a faint smile. “Titles get so tiresome after a while.”

  “Yes, they do, don’t they? That’s why I settle for ‘sir’ rather than the more accurate unant, but you were going to report on terraforming activities… Regina.”

  She raised an eyebrow at his not-so-subtle reminder that his title was a hereditary one dating back centuries, while she was nothing but a successful tech with ties to the academic class. She shrugged her shoulders in answer to Shiffeld’s question and her unspoken thoughts as well. “We’ve done just about all we can from way out here. I’ve had my survey teams glued to their instruments since we dropped out of hyper and we’ve collected all the data we can. To learn anything more, we’ll need to get closer—or get the data from the locals.”

  “We have made contact with the locals living on the fourth planet,” said Shiffeld. “As you believed, they are from a different group than the ones we met the other day. Fortunately, their language is nearly the same, so we are making progress in our communications. It will probably be some time, however, before we can make it clear what we are proposing.”

  “Just what are we proposing… Governor?”

  Shiffeld leaned back in his leather-upholstered chair and stared at her with unwavering eyes. She stared back at him just as steadily. Wondering just how far you can trust me, aren’t you? Well, she couldn’t really blame him. Her record of accomplishments in terraforming spoke for itself, and that was why the Protector had insisted she go on this mission. But her reputation for outspokenness and opposition to government policies also spoke for itself. She wasn’t a team player and Shiffeld certainly knew it.

  “Our mission is to build a gate and terraform one of the planets in this system, Regina,” said Shiffeld eventually. “The Protector himself laid that mission upon us and we must do everything in our power to carry it out.”

  “I will not terraform that planet out from under the rightful inhabitants, Governor. To do so would be a moral abomination.”

  Shiffeld’s expression did not change, he’d clearly been expecting exactly that answer. After a moment he shrugged. “Of course not, you are quite correct. But you are assuming that the current inhabitants would object to having their environment improved. All of our readings indicate a fairly small population clustered along the equator. Clearly they don’t find their world very hospitable, either. So, assuming we can get their permission to proceed, what action could we take?”

  Regina had been expecting an argument, but it still took her a moment to marshal her thoughts. While she did so, she noticed Shiffeld’s eyes drifting down over her sheer blouse. About time; she was beginning to think she was losing her touch. “All right, assuming we could proceed—and that’s a big assumption—the primary challenges would be that the temperatures are too cold and the air is too thin, and what air there is contains too little oxygen. But there are large ice caps at both poles. These probably contain substantial amounts of frozen carbon dioxide as well as water. At the least, we can melt these, which will increase both the temperature and atmospheric pressure.”

  “How do you go about melting ice caps?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “We start out by using nuclear devices. Carefully detonated, they can bring about melting without throwing up a lot of dust, which would counteract the heating process we are trying to start. Once we start getting an increase in the carbon dioxide levels, the heat will continue building on its own, accelerating the melting.”

  “I see. They must be rather large bombs, aren’t they?”

  “The devices are quite large, sir. Very powerful.”

  “I can see why you would be reluctant to use them with people down there.”

  “Actually, as you said, our scans indicate that nearly all the population centers are near the equator. If they stayed away from the poles the danger to them would be minimal.”

  “Interesting. But you said that melting the ice was ‘the least’ you could do. That implies that there are other methods available.”

  “Possibly, and that is why we need to examine the pla
net directly. Just melting the ice caps will only marginally improve the planet’s environment. If we can find significant magma pockets we can do a great deal more.”

  “Magma pockets?”

  “Yes. On planets of this size and age you will often find pockets of molten rock in subterrainean reservoirs. These will contain vast amounts of dissolved gasses and are under enormous pressure. If they can be tapped, the gas and the liquid rock will rush out like opening a shaken bottle of champagne. This can add billions of cubic meters of gas to the atmosphere and the outpouring of liquid magma will also increase the surface temperatures.”

  “Fascinating. And just how do you ‘tap’ such a pocket?”

  “Again, we would use nuclear devices. They have special penetrator delivery vehicles to blast through the planet’s crust. We can get at pockets as deep as a hundred kilometers with them. The gas released is mostly sulfur dioxide and carbon dioxide, but once things have settled down we begin introducing our special strains of bacteria. They can metabolize the sulfur and carbon and release free oxygen. Then we need to build up the nitrogen levels in the atmosphere and to do that…”

  Regina was speaking faster and faster as she got into her subject, but Shiffeld gently cut her off. “That’s amazing, Regina. But releasing those magma pockets sounds rather…dramatic. How would that affect the people down there?”

  Regina frowned. “The release of a major magma pocket—and we would normally try to find a dozen or more of them—will make the nuclear devices used to do it look like firecrackers. There will be major seismic activity and the rain of molten rock could extend for hundreds of kilometers in every direction. I certainly would not want to be down there when it happened.”

  “No, of course not. Well, thank you for the update, Regina, but I actually asked you here for another reason.”

  For an instant she wondered if he was going to… no, his eyes weren’t on the right spots. “Oh?”

  “First let me ask you: how much confidence do you have in your number two?”

  “Doctor Ramsey? He’s good. A bit conventional for my tastes, but he knows his stuff.”

  “Good. So, he could look after your shop for a week or two, if necessary?”

  “I suppose so, why?”

  Shiffeld leaned back again and started tapping a finger on his desk. “We’ve taken our negotiations with the locals as far as we can go here. They are now telling us that they must go back to their base—an asteroid, apparently—to consult with their leaders. They’ve invited us to send a delegation there to complete the deal. Seeing how well you seem to get along with these people, I’d like you to go with our mission.”

  Regina’s eyebrows shot up and she could not keep the look of surprise off her face. She had not expected this. At the same time, a jolt of excitement passed through her. “That’s… that’s very interesting, Governor. I think I’d like that very much. Count me in. Who else is going?”

  “Two of them should be waiting outside right now,” replied Shiffeld. He pressed a button on his comp and a moment later the door opened. She immediately recognized Charles Crawford and Petre Frichette.

  “Ah, Mr. Crawford, Lord Frichette, thank you for coming. I’m glad we’re finally getting a chance to meet in a less formal setting.” The governor came around from behind the desk and actually offered his hand to Frichette. “I wanted to thank you personally for your gallant action against the traitor. We all owe you a large debt of gratitude.”

  “I wasn’t acting alone, sir. And I wouldn’t have even been there except for Charles Crawford.”

  “Yes, of course, well done to both of you. But, please, sit down, I have something I want to talk to you about.” The men sat down as directed. Crawford didn’t look happy, but he nodded to Regina.

  “Gentlemen, I was just telling Mistress Nassau that we are sending an embassy to the locals’ base to finalize the trade agreement with them. I need both of you to accompany her.”

  “What?” snapped Crawford. “I can’t go anywhere right now!”

  “Why not? I’ve looked over your schedule of activities and for the next three weeks, at least, and your direct supervision doesn’t appear to be needed. Every action has been pre-planned in considerable detail. You’ve told me earlier that you have complete confidence in your subordinates, surely they can carry on.”

  “Well, yes, but there are always problems to be dealt with and…”

  “Your subordinates can deal with routine problems, and for anything bigger you will still be in radio communications. Please, I know this is difficult, but the fact is that we are all going to have to do more than we expected, and this is particularly true for we leaders. All of us are going to have to start wearing more hats and we are also going to have to delegate a larger share of our load to our subordinates.”

  “I realize that, but what’s so damn important about this mission that I have to go along?”

  “I should hardly have to point this out to you, Charles, since you first brought it up yourself. Getting the help of the locals in the mining and manufacturing sector is going to be crucial in freeing up the manpower to crew our warships. I need someone there who will know exactly what is needed from them and make sure that we will get it. At the same time, I want an evaluation of their overall technological capabilities. There is no one in the fleet better suited than you to carry that out and see that it is done right. In fact, I want you in charge of the entire mission. Everyone else will answer to you. Is that acceptable?”

  Regina watched Crawford’s face as he digested this. She was coming to know him and she suspected that he would be far more moved by Shiffeld’s comment about ‘getting it done right’ than he would be by the bribe of being put in command. She was sure Crawford was much more interested in seeing a job ‘done right’ than he was in titles or prestige.

  “How long will we be gone?” he asked.

  “A week to ten days, I would think.”

  “Well, I suppose I could manage to…”

  “Good! That’s settled then,” said Shiffeld. “I’ll be sending along a few clerks and such as well as my new assistant, Beatrice Innes. Remarkably able woman, I’m finding, she’ll be able to handle all the fiddly details of the agreement.”

  “Then why not just put her in charge and let me stay here?” grumbled Crawford.

  Shiffeld frowned and was tapping his desk again. “Mr. Crawford, I’m aware that you techs are an independent lot, used to making your own decisions and having your own way. But in our society you’re the exception, not the rule. The vast majority of our people—probably the majority of your own people—are used to having the peerage around giving orders.” Regina snorted before she could stop herself and Shiffeld’s frown was turned on her. “Yes, I know that certain people look upon our system as outdated and anachronistic, but the fact remains that we’ve been doing things this way for over a thousand standards and it’s not going to change any time soon. The common people do look to the peers for leadership and they get very uncomfortable when it isn’t there. Lord Frichette, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  “Uh, yes, sir. The ratings take most of their orders from the petty officers rather than directly from a peer, but they know the PO’s authority ultimately derives from a peer, so they obey. And if there isn’t a peer somewhere up the chain of command…” Frichette trailed off.

  “Chaos,” said Shiffeld. “I don’t need to remind any of you that our people have been walking around like a pack of zombies for the last two weeks. The only thing holding them together is the familiar routine of their jobs. But that will only last so long. And as soon as we start asking them to do unfamiliar things—like man the warships—it could break down completely.”

  “So what do you plan to do about it?” asked Regina. She didn’t entirely agree with his analysis, but she could not entirely discount it, either.

  “We are going to need to raise up new leaders to fill the gaps. That is already happening on an informal basis
, but we are going to have to formalize it to make it stick. I’m planning to start with you, Charles.”

  “What?” gasped Crawford. The man looked stunned. Regina felt a bit stunned herself. Was Shiffeld actually suggesting…? Apparently he was; he sat up very straight as he looked at Crawford and spoke in a formal tone:

  “Charles Crawford, I’m dubbing you knight, and appointing you to the position formerly held by Sir Douglas Mueir. As Baron Dougherty’s official representative, you are hereby charged with undertaking whatever tasks are deemed necessary to complete construction of the gate as ordered by the Protector. Do you understand and accept?”

  “I…I…” gobbled Crawford. The man looked as completely flustered as anyone Regina had ever seen. He swallowed, jerked his head, and croaked: “Y-yes, sir.” Shiffled smiled slightly and then turned to her.

  “Regina Nassau…”

  “Wait!” said Regina holding up a hand. “Can I assume that you are invoking the emergency powers proclaimed by the Council of Twelve following the War of the Four Families, Governor?”

  Shiffeld leaned back with a look of surprise. “Well, it seems you know more history than just that of the terraforming sciences. But yes, those proclamations are still in effect, despite being two hundred standards old. They give me the power, in the absence of higher authority, to fill critical positions and grant titles as I see fit.”

  “But those titles don’t become permanent unless confirmed by the Council, correct?”

  “Well, yes…”

  “Fine. Go ahead then.”

  Shiffled looked puzzled, but then shrugged and went ahead and made her a knight, too, charging her with undertaking terraforming operations. “Do you understand and accept?”

  “I understand, but I only accept with the proviso that whatever terraforming is decided upon will be acceptable to the local inhabitants.”

  Shiffeld frowned. “We are obligated to follow our orders, Mistress…”

  “And I’m obligated to follow my own conscience, Governor. There it is: take it or leave it.” Shiffeld looked seriously tempted to leave it, but after a moment he nodded.