“Yes, and I notice how the ground slopes,” he replied. “We won’t get runoff. Good job.”
Weary or no, he possessed a quick intelligence. “It’s an ancient device, primeval,” she said. Unable to resist showing off a bit: “Ordinarily I’d pile a circle of stones outside the entrance and bank a fire there, to reflect heat inside, but we haven’t time, it’d probably drown anyway, and our bags will serve. Hoy, pass that vine over the thatch, or it’ll blow loose during the night.”
The first drops flew heavy, cold, and stinging. “After you,” he said with a bow. She crawled into the narrow space. Best avoid possible misunderstandings and undress in the dark. By feel she arranged her things, got out of her stinking clothes, slid into the bedding. Never mind a bath, toothbrush, all ordinary amenities. “Your turn,” she called.
He took her hint and also left his light in his pack. Often, inevitably, groping and twisting about, he bumped her. She grew acutely aware of it and commanded herself to be an adult. That didn’t quite work. Which was ridiculous, she thought exasperatedly. There had after all been a couple of other humans on the Jonna expedition, and it had become good between her and Jomo Mkato from Brusa, clearly understood on both sides as just physical and friendly, and then after she returned to Asborg she’d renewed two old acquaintances. Had she now a feeling of desperation, the body wanting whatever comfort it could grab?
Well, it wasn’t going to get any for a while, not of that kind.
XXXVII
RAIN rushed, wind brawled, branches creaked. Where did Orichalc huddle? He’d never been taught how to make a shelter, a fire drill, snares for small game, or, or anything.
Lissa heard a slight metallic pop. She felt more than she saw that Hebo lay raised on an elbow. “I’ve broken out rations,” he said. “You may not be hungry, but I’m starved.”
“Hoo! How could I have forgotten? Let me at it.”
“Have a spoon— Sorry. I was searching for your hand.”
Despite herself, she must suppress a giggle. “That isn’t where it grows. Here. Thank you.”
Avidly, they shared hardtack and meat paste. “This does beat lying in the open, no matter how well wrapped up,” he admitted. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your friend tomorrow.”
Alive, let’s hope, said neither of them.
“How’d you acquire all this woodcraft?” he asked. “Sure, I remember how slickly you got around on Jonna, and you mentioned taking outdoor vacations on Asborg, but I had the notion you were mainly a spacefarer.”
“One spacefares to someplace,” she replied. “I like it best when they’re places where a human can breathe.”
“How’d you get started on it, anyway? I should think the daughter of a head of a House would find plenty to do at home.”
Though her muscles ached, she wasn’t sleepy yet. Talking kept thought of Orichalc at bay. “Interest in one kind of nature led to interest in others. Frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t learned more about native life, in four years.”
“I learned as much as I needed to, and as much more as I [202] got a chance to.” Did she hear a defensive note? “I’ve been kind of busy, you know.”
“I wonder why,” she heard herself say.
“Huh? To make money. What else?”
“But in this particular way— No, I don’t want another argument. Not tonight. It’s only, well, as I said, I can’t help wondering.”
“What do you mean?” He sounded genuinely puzzled.
She had no choice but to be straightforward. “I’ve seen the screenings, read the accounts. Those facilities, mining, pumping, refining, synthesizing, lumbering, wrecking the natural environs. Monstrous already, and growing. And now you’ve established Forholt as a seed of the same thing on this continent too. Why?”
“Somebody would’ve. Or will your Susaians agree to limit their births and huddle on one island forever? They don’t act like they will. Nor should they. Law of life, isn’t it? A species expands to fill all the living space it can.”
“Nonsense. Natural species keep within bounds.” At once she wished she hadn’t said that. Population explosions and crashes happened to wildlife also, and ultimately extinction. Before Hebo could seize on her mistake, she continued: “The colonists aren’t that many to begin with. Yes, they’re looking toward the future. But they hope they can grow in a sane fashion. That’s what we’re working on, developing nondestructive technology for them.”
“Good luck. Meanwhile, though, they need housing, tools, vehicles, robots, factories, chemical plants, every damn thing. Cheaper for them to buy stuff made on the planet than import. Which, if you want moralizing noises, means they spend less of their slim resources than otherwise, and can get on with whatever else they aim to do. Or would you rather they started from scratch in a Stone Age?”
She resolved not to resent the sarcasm, or at least not show resentment. “Of course not. Please believe me, I’m not fanatical. Some modern technology is essential. But on this scale? With more to come, and worse—no. That’s what desolated Earth. [203] Restoration there took centuries, and was never complete. It’d most likely be impossible for Freydis.”
She caught her breath. The night roared around her. “But I said I’m not looking for a fight. Later, if we must. Here— Well, Captain Hebo, I realize you have your living to make. But why are you doing it with this dirty work?”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t say ‘dirty,’ ” he answered from low in his throat. “All right, I came to Sunniva from Sol because I thought I’d find people I’d met on Jonna, friendly people on Asborg, who’d maybe give me some ideas, some information about what to try next. And I learned about this need to fill, this opportunity, next door on Freydis.”
Again he was holding something back, she felt. Maybe that he’d expected to find her? No, he’d openly admitted as much, yet it certainly wasn’t the major reason he stayed. Greed for quick wealth, then? He’d flaunted that. But she’d come to know him yonder, just a little, and it didn’t ring true to her that the motive could be so simple.
However, his words offered an opening. “An investment for your capital, as well as your labor?”
“More labor than capital,” he said wryly.
“Yes. From the moment I learned it’s you who started Venusberg, I’ve wondered. Those facilities are huge. Even with robotics and nano, they can’t have grown from a mustard seed. Not to speak of the land they occupy and exploit. I checked that back on Asborg. Seafell claimed it long ago. They’d never done anything with it before, but I know damn well they wouldn’t make you a free gift of the lease merely to help the noble Susaians.
“You never claimed to me that you’re a rich man. On the contrary. And the time on Earth must have been costly. Where did you get your capital to invest?”
He was silent for a span amidst the storm-noise. She feared she’d overstepped. But when he responded, it was quietly. “From them, among others. Some from my savings, some from Rikha, and some from Seafell.”
[204] “Yes, obviously you’ve made a deal with them.” As for its details, the Houses maintained what secrets they saw fit. If every member knew, there’d have been a shipwreck’s worth of leaks, but one or two financiers could keep lips closed and databases secured. “That big, though? You told me you and your partner control Venusberg.”
“We do. Their part amounts to a loan, or a mortgage if you like. It’s being repaid out of profits, and afterward they’ll get a share of those. The contract won’t let me say more. Maybe I shouldn’t have said this much, but—” Through the gloom she made out that his head was turned her way, his eyes upon her.
“Still, the lender must expect a big payoff, or he, or they or whoever, wouldn’t have lent. That by itself is enough to explain why you operate as you do,” she said, abruptly bitter.
“I told you, Dzesi and I are free agents.”
“Absolutely free?”
“Uh, naturally a couple of their people have positions with us. Advisory.”
“And you’d better follow the advice, or they’ll call in the loan and close you down.”
“God damn it,” he exploded, “try being reasonable for a change!” A fist struck the ground. “You’re the one who first wanted the Susaian colony, aren’t you? How long do you think it can last, hugging Mother Nature? Come the day, they’d mucking well better have a global industrial base!”
Lissa’s fingers tightened on the edge of her sleeping bag. “I’ve been through that argument before.”
Memory rose in her, as if she sat again by her father, listening to him explain to some protesters who had invoked their right to be heard at a council of their House:
“Yes, we should perhaps have studied the situation more thoroughly before we made our agreement,” he had said in his grave manner. “But though we knew the basic facts, the exact values of the parameters weren’t established until our announcement of the [205] decision prompted an intensive research program by the Institute of Planetary Science.
“May I lay out the results? I’ll be telling you what several of you, at least, already know, but I wish to make clear that the council understands.
“Freydis is perpetually on the brink of catastrophe. Sunniva was cooler gigayears ago, when the first life developed there, and evolution kept pace with the slow warming, but today the planet is at the inner edge of the habitability zone. Nothing maintains liquid-water temperatures except the worldwide forests. Vegetation from outside can’t replace them; nothing else known to us takes up carbon with the same efficiency. At that, the forests barely maintain the composition. If Freydis loses any significant fraction of them, with nothing done to compensate, its biosphere is doomed.”
Runaway greenhouse. Increased atmospheric carbon dioxide trapping more solar energy. Rising temperatures evaporating more water, whose vapor is itself a powerful greenhouse gas. Drought, fire, dieback, desert spreading and spreading, while the heat mounts. As the life that renewed them vanishes, oxygen and nitrogen become locked in minerals. The oceans boil. Water molecules go on high, where ultraviolet splits them asunder; the hydrogen escapes into space, the oxygen is soon imprisoned in the rocks. When at last an equilibrium is reached, it prevails over a searing hell, it is the peace of the graveyard or the slag heap.
“And you’d let the Susaians breed till they’ve crowded out the trees?” somebody cried. “Don’t you care?”
“We have pledged our honor,” Davy answered. “Remember what a tremendous service the Susaian Orichalc did, not only for Windholm or Asborg or humankind, but every sentient race. If the Dominators had kept a monopoly of what we’ve since learned, the future might not be very pleasant.”
“But we can keep the colony on that island. It’s big and fertile. Pretty generous payment, I’d say.” The speaker’s companions muttered agreement.
[206] Davy shook his head. “That was discussed behind the scenes. Some of the Old Truth leaders felt it would be fair. Unfortunately, it would be unenforceable. One fundamental of their belief is individual liberty. We can sympathize, can’t we? Generations to come would revolt against forced limitations on family size. Best to face reality and help them cope with it.
“Besides, by now more Houses than only Windholm and Seafell support the idea. A Susaian population expanding over the planet means a growing market—for goods, services, everything— which pays out of its own productivity. Freydis will at last become profitable.”
“At the price of its life!”
“The scientists don’t extrapolate serious ecological trouble for another five centuries.”
“I plan to be alive then. Most of us do.”
“Mass extinction won’t happen. Haven’t you seen the proposals?”
“Yes, and we here don’t like any of them.”
Nor did Lissa. She hadn’t had the heart to say so, then and there, nor much about it afterward, for she knew that her father wasn’t happy about it himself.
She heard the mighty rushing of wind through the trees and across the heights. From somewhere resounded a call, a wild creature. It was like a trumpet in the night. It sang of marvels, mysteries, and nobody knew what insights to gain, or what profits of understanding and inspiration could be forgone forever.
“Yes,” she told Hebo, “I’ve seen the grandiose, expensive schemes. Increase the planet’s albedo, for instance, by orbiting a cloud of reflective particles around it. Or cut down the sunlight with a giant reflector at the L2 point. Or— Never mind. No doubt it can be done, if money’s to be made. But hardly any of Freydis’ life can survive a change like that. There’ll be nothing but cities, machines, and drab gene-engineered plantations. A corpse with worms and fungi feasting on it.”
[207] The bags side by side, she felt him stiffen. “How dramatic,” he said. With a sneer?
“We can do better. That’s what we’ve begun on, a handful of Susaians and humans, finding the ways. Already—”
“This’s turned into a head-butting contest,” he growled. “I’m dead worn out, and we’ve got work to do in the morning. Your work. Goodnight.”
He rolled over, his back to her. The rainfall loudened. She lay staving off anger, fear, despair, until she blundered into an uneasy sleep.
XXXVIII
SHE had set her brain to wake at the earliest clear light. In these latitudes at this time of year, nights were short. She sprang to consciousness, gasped, and sat up. Hebo’s eyes were already open. They widened—in appreciation, she felt fleetingly—but he put an arm across them before she could cross hers over her breasts. “Do you want to dress first or shall I?” he mumbled. Laughter broke from her of its own accord and shook her to full alertness.
The rain had ended a couple of hours ago, easing her worst dread. When she emerged, she found mist a-smoke over the ground and among the trees. The cold didn’t belong on the Freydis of popular imagination. A whole world, though, a whole congregation of miracles like none other in the universe— How was Orichalc? She sped to the last signs she had found yesterday.
“I’ll fix breakfast,” offered Hebo at her back. She nodded absently, her mind concentrated on brush, dead leaves, mud. It was not easy to trace the spoor farther; the rain had obliterated much. In vague wise she noticed him gather deadwood, use a lighter to start a fire, make a grill of green sticks on which to heat food in its containers. Well, naturally he’d have elementary skills.
He brought her a serving, together with his own. She glanced up from her crouch. He didn’t look as though he had slept well, either, but if he could smile, so could she. “Here.” She lifted a branchful of crimson berries she had cut off a chance-encountered bush. “Redballs for sweetener.”
“Have you eaten any?” he exclaimed.
“Not yet. I meant to share— What’s wrong?”
[209] “Whew! That’s not a proper redball, it’s a highland species, poisonous to us. Those little yellow dots on the leaves mark it. You’d have been one sick girl.”
“Thanks.” You are necessary, damn you. And you are trying to be friendly again, damn you. And I think you’re succeeding, damn you. Lissa took the opened container, set it down, spooned food from it with her right hand while her left hand turned debris over.
“Can you really still pick up sign?” he wondered.
“Yes. Tracks in the dirt don’t all slump away under rain. Many collect water before silt starts to fill them, and are temporarily more visible than before. Leaves blow onto others and protect them. Bent twigs and such don’t disappear overnight. The problem does get extra complicated. I find plenty of breaks in the trail. Just the same, I’m getting an approximate direction. Once this flinking fog lifts I’ll have better clues. Orichalc wouldn’t move purely at random, you see. No animal does. Whether or not he had much consciousness left, the body itself would tend to follow the least strenuous course. If we look ahead and study the contours—A-a-ah!” A breeze made rags of the gray. Dripping trees, begemmed shrubs, wetly gleaming boulders hove into sight.
Having
gulped their ration, swallowed some milk, and separated to do what else was needful, the searchers moved onward. Lissa led the way, slowly, often pausing to cast about or for eyes and fingers to probe, yet with a confidence that waxed and tingled in her. Up the slope they climbed, topped the ridge, and gazed across vastness.
The air had cleared, though it remained bleak, and heaven was featureless, colorless, save where the unseen sun brightened it a little, low above eastern bulwarks. Ground slanted downward, begrown with bushes and dwarf trees well apart, otherwise ruddy-bare to a narrow ledge. Underneath this a talus slope plunged into unseen depths. The far side of the gorge reared a kilometer beyond. Its course zigzagged north and south, a barrier between distant plain and distant mountains.
[210] “Look!” Lissa shouted. “The trail, straight and plain!” Runoff had gouged the slight hollowings unmistakeably deeper. Wavery as the footprints of a man staggering at the end of his endurance, tail dragging behind, they pointed to her goal.
Hebo caught her arm. “Easy,” he warned. “Remember what kind of soil and rock we’ve got hereabouts. You could lose your footing at best, touch off a small landslide at worst.”
“Orichalc didn’t.” Still, she placed her boots warily, one, two, one, two, on the way down.
The reddish body lay coiled in a clump of scrub. Lissa fell to her knees, crushing branches, to cast arms about it. “Orichalc, Orichalc, s-s-siya-a, shipmate, here I am, how are you, comrade, comrade?”
Cheek against skin, she felt not the wonted warmth but a faint incessant shuddering. Otherwise the Susaian barely stirred. Glazed eyes turned toward her and drooped again. The least of sibilations reached her ears.
She scrambled erect. “Hypothermia,” she heard her voice say; it rang within her skull. “Extreme. Fatal, I think, unless we act fast.”
“He didn’t wear any clothes?” Hebo asked, as if automatically.
“None of them foresaw the need, when they’d spend every night in camp.” Her own tongue likewise moved of itself. “You know, you ought to know, Susaians seldom do. They’re warmblooded, with thermostats better than ours. But the wind chill factor last night overloaded his. You or I would be dead. He’s dying.”
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