“Probably failure of the force unit. Survey had warned us, on the basis of sonic probes, that there was a layer of allotropic ice at the depth we were reaching. Without counter-pressure in the bore the stuff exploded into the lower density form, and the released energy vaporized it. That left a cavity through which molten rock farther down could rise.”
“Sounds reasonable. You did damn well to snatch that unit away.”
“Have your technies learned anything from it?”
“I’ve had a lab report,” the Buffalo nodded. “There was crystallization in the Terence head. It broke apart under stress.”
“What?” Sevigny started so violently that Oscar almost fell off. The dirrel chattered an indignant remark and clung tighter with his small half-human fingers.
“But…how did any such thing get by inspection at the manufacturer’s?” Sevigny choked.
The Buffalo’s fist clenched on his desktop. “That,” he said, “is what I’d like to know.”
He leaned over and refilled both tumblers. “Son,” he continued, “we got troubles. That’s why I wanted to see you and listen to you. To size you up. This isn’t the first accident the project ought not to have had.”
“But-” Sevigny realized he was gaping and drew his lips shut.
“I’ve QT’d them fairly well.” said the chief. “Can’t go on doing that, though, if the farce proceeds. Oh, there’s been a semiplausible explanation every time. But the upshot is that I’m not sure any longer who the devil I can trust.”
He sighed; then his gaze nailed the younger man and he asked, “How much do you know about the political background of this undertaking?”
“Why…uh…the Corporation’s an international venture, chartered under the Commonwealth, with the different governments holding most of the stock.” Sevigny hunted through memories. “That’s about all I know,” he admitted lamely.
“Guess I needn’t’ve expected more. Where you come from, the clan is the economic as well as the political unit; and with so little to trade thus far, Venus doesn’t have a lot of contact with Earth. Never mind. I’ll try to fill you in.”
The Buffalo stubbed out his cigar and lit a fresh one. He didn’t speak until several noisy puffs had gotten it well burning.
“We’re in a funny situation nowadays,” he said. “People haven’t quite realized it yet, but the era of stability has begun to end. (Hey, ain’t that a lousy hunk of rhetoric?) Our hyperballyhooed world order was really a peace of exhaustion, following the global wars and their aftermath. Problems weren’t so much solved as swept under the carpet, while the leading countries proceeded with their glorious conquest of space. Now the human race is getting restless again. The fact that nobody resisted hard when you Cythereans declared your independence is considered a textbook example of how Man Has Matured and suchlike brain grease. Actually, though, if you’ll excuse me saying it, the significant fact was not that you got away with breaking loose, but that you got the idea in the first place. Since then, more cracks have appeared in the system.
“Well—” He filled his mouth and blew rings. “You needn’t look so alarmed. I’m not about to read you my Lecture Number twenty-seven-B, Theory and Practice of Declinesmanship. What matters is that the project of terraforming Luna had enemies from the start. Setting up the Corporation was a necessary dodge. We’d never’ve swung it as a straightforward public enterprise.”
Sevigny took a long and badly wanted swallow from his tumbler. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why, the Venus project was far bigger and less directly rewarding-”
The Buffalo shook his massive head. “Nuh-uh, son. The cost was relative peanuts in your case, even with spaceships as crude and expensive as they were at that time. Those algae only had to be seeded. Oh, sure, when they’d finished their job, a hellful of work remained. Still does, after all these decades. But…it can be done piecemeal, by private outfits. There’s the origin of your clans. And then, too, Venus is quite a ways off. A morning and evening star, no more. It doesn’t hang overhead, it doesn’t rise big as a pumpkin over anyone’s personal hills, to keep him reminded.
“You’d be surprised how much purely sentimental opposition there was to changing the looks of the dear old Moon. How many older people who remember have stayed resentful to this day. And also, when a world hasn’t got an atmosphere to start with…well, you should hear our cost accountants squeal every time the latest budget is presented. Mainly, though, various interests on Earth have their own sound, cold-blooded reasons for not wanting this to go through.”
Unnoticed by himself, Sevigny’s hand dropped to the butt of his gun. “Are you implying sabotage, Mr. Norris?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Still, a series of major setbacks for us would make very nice political ammunition, don’t you think?”
Sevigny shook his head. “Sorry, but 7 should think Earth is committed. I mean, uh, with the enormous investment already made—that can’t simply be written off. Can it?”
“One of our own best talking points,” the Buffalo agreed. “Please don’t think I’m being paranoid. Just because everybody picks on me…I only thought I’d mention the general background, and ask you to read a few books and articles I’ll list. They’re kind of interesting in their own right, regardless.”
“Frankly, what little I know of politics bores me like an auger.”
“Which shows how little you know about politics, son. It’s the only game in town. I do wish you’d study up a bit before you go to Earth.”
“What?”
“Would you pick his jaw off the floor, please, Oscar?” The Buffalo grinned. “Sure. After what you did at Site Four, you rate a vacation. Need one, too. Human nerves don’t unstretch overnight, and that was a rough job for you.”
“But I hadn’t planned—”
“Eh? You didn’t mean to drop in when your contract expires, at least? See the green hills of Earth, the ocean Columbus sailed, Westminster Abbey, the Taj Mahal, the Brisbane Follies?”
“No. Why spend a lot of money on tourism, when what I want is heavy reclamation equipment to use at home?”
“If you’d let me show you some pictures from the Follies, you’d know why. But no matter.” The Buffalo jabbed his cigar in Sevigny’s direction. “You’ll go at Corporation expense, and we aren’t gonna look too squinch-eyed at your accounts.”
He grew serious. “I can’t leave right now, with everything there is to do,” he explained, “and as I told you, I’m no longer sure who I can trust. But you’re outside these factions, you’re a bright boy, presumably a tough fighting man, and the Treaty of Toronto gives you the right to bear arms anywhere. All I want you to do is convoy that force unit you rescued to World Safety Corps headquarters, and ride their tails to make certain they conduct a thorough investigation. That crystallized metal looks mighty like sabotage to me. A heavy dose of radiation ’ud cause it, and how could that happen by chance? I could ask the Corps to send someone here, but the evidence would have to go Earthside anyway, and without one of my boys riding along. Not that I don’t think the Corps is honest; however, if the news is simply that I’ve sent an engineer to discuss possible changes in machine design, then no one will be tempted to try some fancy stunt. You’ll have an easy trip, a couple of weeks’ layover, a chance to wash some of that damned Swede-faced seriousness out of your system—and serve the project better than you could here. How’s about it?”
“Oh!” exclaimed the girl. “I beg your pardon.”
Sevigny held stiff the arm against which she had stumbled until she regained balance. Her floor-length gown and curl-toed silver shoes were made to throw anybody.
So were their contents. She was bronze brunette, with spectacular half-Oriental features, and the decollete dress fitted her like another skin. He had spent several seconds after he stepped out of his room, admiring her as she undulated down the hall. “Quite okay,” he said. “In fact, frankly, a pleasure.”
She laughed. The synthodiam
ond necklace sparkled no more brightly than her teeth. “I didn’t know a wild Cytherean warrior could turn so pretty a compliment.”
In spite of what the Buffalo had said, Sevigny had a normal capacity for fun. But to maintain his clan’s good name, he responded, ‘Ts that what they believe on Earth? Not true, my lady. We work hard and don’t fight except when we have to.”
‘Poof.” She wrinkled her nose. “There goes another illusion. Did you arrive today? I’m sure I would have noticed otherwise.”
“Yes, on the Lunar packet.”
“The Moon?” She widened an incredible pair of eyes. “Then you must be connected with the terra-forming.” He nodded. “But this is wonderful. How long will you be here?”
“Only till tomorrow, my lady. I’ve business elsewhere.”
-He had intended to go directly from Pacific Spacedrome to Paris. But for some reason no trans-planetary flight was available for days which could accommodate the ponderous engine he had in charge. Swearing, he had gotten a surface boat to Honolulu and arranged a private charter. Now the crate rested in a hotel storeroom and he had a loose evening.
It didn’t worry him. A few dollars to the service captain had let him leave Oscar on guard. The dirrel was quite able to chatter an alarm into a short-range sender in the unlikely event that something suspicious happened; and the receiver lay in Sevigny’s tunic pocket. He hadn’t told the quarantine inspector about that piece of equipment. It might be illegal, and he didn’t intend to do without it.
“Damn,” said the girl. She frowned, charmingly. Then: “Please don’t think I’m forward. The mores on Venus are probably different from here. But… have you got anything particular to do tonight?”
“No. I was about to have dinner.” Sevigny’s pulse quickened. “Is there a chance of your joining me, my lady?”
“More than a chance, thank you. I know this looks like rushing matters, but you see, the whole interplanetary situation fascinates me. One hears so many arguments and, oh, documentaries on TriV and so forth, but all second hand. This is my first encounter with someone who’s actually lived it.”
Sevigny managed to harness his delight and say in an academic tone, “That’s surprising. I thought you upper level people knew everybody.”
Her lashes fluttered. “I’m not upper level, if you mean the ten or twenty per cent who keep civilization running. My father has money, yes, but he got it in entertainment.” She laughed anew. “So I’ve a date with a man whose name I don’t even know. I’m Maura Sumantri—born in Djakarta, educated in Chicago, and here for the surfriding.’
‘
“Donald Sevigny, Clan Woodman of the Shaws, at your service.” He made a formal bow.
Her hand rested lightly in his before she said, “I was supposed to eat at the Kamehameha tonight with my club. Nobody will be mad if I don’t show, but I’d better call to tell them. ’Scuse. I’ll be right back.”
With conscious pleasure, Sevigny watched her walk off. He had grown used to Earth weight faster than expected, but had forgotten how much it added to the female gait. The analytical part of him considered ways and means. She could prove expensive. However, he had a goodly piece of cash on him, and had been told to indulge himself a bit…Why not? He hadn’t relished the idea of a solitary evening. Now, with luck, he might have company till his jet took off tomorrow. Judging by how gracefully she moved, she hadn’t tripped against him by accident.
Maura returned in a few minutes. She took his arm and they strolled to an elevator. “I suppose I ought to decide where we’re bound,” he said, “but as a complete stranger…”
“Don’t worry about clothes,” she said. “On Earth a uniform is correct any place, from the Imperial Saturn to a Subchicago pot mill, and that outfit of yours is really a uniform, right? I like the Moon Room here myself. The view is gorgeous.”
“Quite,” he said, looking downward.
At the top of the elevator’s range, they were met by an expertly obsequious headwaiter and conducted to a table next to the glasolite dome. Sevigny had stopped being surprised at the amount of live service in an automated society. What else was the bulk of the population able to do? He was also getting used to being stared at. The stares were discreet here, and largely veiled by dimness, but he knew he was a conspicuous object.
Seated, he turned eyes away from the shadowed people, and caught his breath. Left and right at the foot of the Goldwater’s soaring skyscraper, Honolulu stretched farther than he could see, a galactic sprawl of light, ruby, old gold, topaz, emerald, turquoise, sapphire, amethyst, flashing and glistening across night-purple hills. Southward the ocean sheened beneath a sky crowded with softened stars, and a lowering second quarter Moon turned the Waikiki surf to what he guessed a snowstorm must be.
Maura regarded him gravely. “Yes,” she said, “old Earth is beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Here, at least,” he answered.
“M-m-m…all right, I daresay you’ve seen pictures and statistics. Most of the planet has become rather awful. Too many people, too little opportunity. Your ancestors were right in going to Venus. But will you ever make it over into this?”
“Someday.” He thought, with an unawaited pang, of forests that roared in the wind, leaves that gleamed with raindrops, and a wild bull shaking his horns against nacreous heaven. “Here and there, in its own way, it already is—no, not the same. Can’t be. But we’ve got room.”
He pointed at Luna. Atmosphere fuzzed its edge, made the dark part glimmer and the bright part shine as men had never seen before. “You Earth people, though, will have the same thing, yonder, in not too many more decades,” he said.
“Do you really believe that?”
“Why, of course. The Lunar area equals a fourth of Earth’s land surface…
Cocktails arrived. Maura smiled and clinked glasses. “I’m afraid you’re an idealist, Don. But welcome, nevertheless.”
The martini was cold and pungent on his tongue. He studied the menu with scant comprehension. “I must admit our eating habits are barbaric on Venus,” he surrendered, “and the Corporation is more interested in nourishing our bodies than our souls. What do you suggest?”
“By Sol, a man who doesn’t have to pretend masculinity! Let me see…Whale teriyaki looks good. With that we’d probably want consomme Mexique, filet of mahimahi, tossed salad, and may I be greedy and have ice cream with that wonderful Martian herb sauce for dessert?”
“Uh, champagne’s right, isn’t it?” He selected one by the simple criterion of price and gave his order.
Appetizers were set down, pate de foie gras, smoked oysters, marinated artichokes, and thousand-year eggs were separate adventures for Sevigny. “A whole dimension of living,” he exulted. “How can I thank you for programming me?”
“Show me around your planet in exchange, if I can eventually promote a ticket there.”
“You must. Frontiers don’t happen often in history. The Moon’s more accessible, true. But it won’t have breathable air for a long time.”
“If ever.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Why are you so doubtful?”
“Oh…one hears so many things. Like, well, doesn’t Earth’s magnetic field shield us from a lot of radiation? And the moon hasn’t got any to speak of.”
“Nor Venus. Given enough atmosphere, that doesn’t matter. Ours amounts to a good bit more than yours.”
“But the Moon’s so small! How can it hold onto gases?”
“Loss to space isn’t that fast. They won’t have to worry about it for an estimated half million years. As for atmospheric shielding, the Moon actually has an advantage over Earth. So low a gravitational field makes a correspondingly lower gradient. A surface pressure equal to three-fourths of Earth sea level, which is what’s planned, means that there will be a measurable concentration at altitudes which correspond to open space here. Charged particles won’t penetrate deep, and actinic rays will be absorbed.”
“I’ve heard, though, that th
ere isn’t enough gas to be had.”
“The selenologists swear there is. Not as such, naturally. As buried ice; water of crystallization; carbon, nitrogen, and sulfur compounds released when minerals—and the organics left over from the original nebula—break down. What we’re doing, actually, is using deep wells and atomic bombs to start vulcanism. The same process that gave all the smaller planets their atmospheres. Only we’re going to tickle Luna so much that everything will happen several orders of magnitude faster than it did in nature.”
“But suppose your figures are wrong?”
“That’s been thought of. It won’t be hard to deflect some comets into collision orbits, if necessary, and they’re mostly big balls of frozen gas.” Sevigny chuckled. “One way or another, the final stages ought to be quite a show—from this safe, comfortable distance!”
“And what will you have when you’re finished?” she argued. “Poisons.”
She cant be that ignorant. Can she? Must simply be making conversation. Letting me show off my male knowledge.
“Venus didn’t have anything else,” he reminded her. “Nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and a certain amount of water in the clouds. But the photosynthesizing algae grew exponentially once they’d been seeded in the upper atmosphere. They released oxygen; also, they kept sinking to lower levels where it was so hot they decomposed into carbon and water. The greenhouse effect dropped off until temperatures went below a hundred; and for ten years it rained without pause. Given liquid water, the Urey process operated, raw rock consumed still more CO-two and at last there was air that men could breathe.” He sipped from his glass. “Solar protons and ultraviolet radiation helped, too, especially in breaking down hydrogen compounds. In other words, a weak magnetic field is an asset to the terraformer.”
“Do you plan the same thing for Luna, then?”
“What else? Different in many details, of course. Luna isn’t identical with Venus or ancient Earth. Right now the air we’ve already given it is a lot like Mars’. Radiation’s been releasing oxygen from water; the free hydrogen goes up and the free oxygen promptly attacks methane, ammonia, sulfites, and hydrogen sulfide. This yields carbon dioxide, free nitrogen, and more water to split. But once the atmosphere is thick enough—anyhow, that part is quite well understood, what has to be done. Far more so than the present stage of operations.” He thought of Decker, buried under the ruins of his own, Don Sevigny’s, well, and his fingers tightened on the stem of his glass.
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