by Pam Uphoff
"That was the one with the slightly higher than normal rare elements in the soil. I'm surprised the bidding wasn't higher." That was from one of the board members.
McCamey shook his head. "It's too easy to get burned if the arrival location is not representative. And there are so many excellent worlds. I rather thought a few merely good ones would get passed up by the Majors."
Lon snorted. "And the first thing we'll have to do is move the gate anchor, at least a short distance. The terrain is . . . challenging."
He sat patiently through a variety of worlds they hadn't pursued. He'd always kept to himself the opinion that buying an entire planet based on samples all taken within a one kilometer radius of an almost random arrival location was insane. A coin flip would have done as well, deciding which worlds to pursue, or not.
Dallas also won their fifth bid, a bit of a risk due to the high numbers of animals seen. A rich fauna was likely to hide surprises, dangerous predators, primitive humans or worse, Neanderthals or the so called "dwarves" or "elves". People were just too fascinated by the worlds where other branches of the early hominid family were the winners in the evolutionary struggle. But of this whole sequence of worlds, no natives had been discovered by the first surveys. It wasn't a guarantee, but it lowered the probability of finding a thin population of indigenous peoples.
They bid on four of the next twelve, and lost them all.
Their last bid was a different sort of risk. They'd low balled a world with little fauna in evidence, and exceptionally uninteresting soil. Lon nodded in satisfaction as they took world Twelve fifty-three. At a mere nine million creds, they'd certainly find a way to at least break even. "It might be a good idea to take the whole team there first, shake out the kinks and get them settled and working before we hit the others."
McCamey nodded. "With as many new hires as we'll need, that's a good idea. Twelve-seventeen will need a full up geology team, and Twelve-forty is guaranteed to have dangerous predators."
Lon stared down at his list. "Actually I think our first move should be for a small, experienced team to collect drill cores from Twelve-seventeen. Then the lab can analyze them while we take the whole cadre through a shake down on fifty-three. That will give us a better idea of which way to move the gate anchor. We'll need at least a rough survey and road. Even if the road only has to last a few weeks."
Simon Meese, the Chairman, had been listening. "Good plan. We'll have to think up some proper names." He gave a nod of satisfaction. "I'd have liked to pick up a couple more, but we've got two hot prospects, in my opinion. Good job, everyone."
McCamey cornered Lon. "Are you heading straight back?"
"Yes. The Board will no doubt wheel and deal, but they don't need me for that. Just try and keep them from going overboard."
McCamey grinned. "You can't fool me. You just don't like having to get multiple partners to sign off on your plans."
"Exactly. Plus they all want their pet worlds to get priority. We can juggle five worlds fairly well. Ten would be impossible. Don't let them make us the operator for too many of them."
"All it takes is more people."
"More of the right people. Trust me, there are worse things than having to wait until a good team is available to explore your world."
"Have a good flight, and say hi to Carol for me."
Nelson Manrique grabbed Lon as soon as he stepped into the office. "Let's talk drill cores. And do you think a survey satellite would be a good idea? I've been talking to a man with a mobile launcher that will fit through the gate." The new chief geologist was bouncing on his toes, ready to go.
Lon shook his head. "There's no rush for a global survey Nelson. Let's get the cores drilled and in for analysis first. Then we'll know more about what we want. Starting with possibly moving the gate anchor."
Nelson scowled. "I hate working without a map, with no idea of where I am on a world." Nelson was experienced, and damn good. Dallas had hired him away from a dead-end job on a mining world, more with the allure of new horizons than salary. Although that was involved as well.
"I figure we'll need a six month survey on each of the three worlds. Get all the lab work back. Then contract for a satellite launcher to place several for each world we're still interested in."
Nelson continued grumbling as he split off for his own office.
Janice Berman sniffed. "What's he got to complain about? I'm supposed to report on the labor prospects. It'll be a short report. Zip. Zilch. Nada."
"Fortunately." Lon smiled at her indignant expression. "The labor worlds involve tons of paperwork, and if there are minerals to be found, no one gives a toss for the inconvenient natives. I worked just one inhabited world, before hiring on at Dallas. A more soul destroying job can't be found anywhere. Trust me on this."
She sniffed dubiously and stalked off.
The Government wouldn't lease worlds that had developed technology above the early industrial level, but seemed quite happy to sell more primitive people's worlds out from under them. The more primitive the world, the harder the adjustment for the natives. The best worlds for recruiting grunt labor were in splits recent enough that the natives spoke a variety of English. In most cases, familiarity had lessened the problems. But at least one of the worst instances of an overbearing Earth abusing the weaker natives had happened on a English speaking world.
There are no natives here. Relax.
Lon shook himself out of his black mood and detoured for a cup of coffee.
Three new worlds to explore. He sat down to start some new folders. Some people considered him a complete Luddite, keeping paper backups of everything. He had too much experience with power problems in the field to worry about their opinions.
He stretched happily and flipped on his computer, pulled up a spread sheet. Personnel, disposable equipment, movable equipment, and the biggest expense of all, gate time. Three million for thirty seconds added up quickly. He looked back at Twelve-seventeen's forested rough terrain.
"That one's going to be a bitch." The deep voice was familiar.
Lon looked up, grinning. "I was hoping I'd hear from you. Interested in a camp manager's position? Your choice of three—although given my druthers I'll take you along with me from world to world."
Ray was competent, well organized, fast, independent—everything a exploration manager could desire, taking care of everything needed to keep the cadre functioning.
"That's why I'm here. Going to tackle the steep one first?"
"Yeah. We'll do some coring, then if it looks to be worth the effort, we'll build a road down off the mountain and move the anchor. I'd better give the first small party a month between gate times. If we finish early, we'll just camp and wait for the gate. Then a month later, Twelve fifty-three. Two gate times, a week apart should be about right for the first setup. Sixty seconds out and thirty to return the big trucks empty." Lon switched to the view of Twelve fifty-three. Rolling grasslands with ice capped peaks just showing to the southwest and north. "Cool temps possibly indicative of an ice age. The surface layer is a fine loess soil, another indication of glaciers grinding down the rocks they lay on. Below that, we've got a thick layer of volcanic ash, partially decomposed into rich soil. Nothing notable, mineral-wise. Anything interesting will be beneath all that." The vid panned around. Small antelope eyed them from what they considered a safe distance, small birds flitted past.
"Nice. I'll have to bury the piping deep, though. Winter could be nasty." Ray smiled. "I'll bring my skis. Maybe add a couple of snocats to your list of supplies."
"Good thought. Do you know many good hunters? Twelve-forty could be challenging." Lon brought up the video on the last world. The hills were thinly forested, and a pack of canines stared straight at the vid. They looked bigger than wolves, a bit taller in the shoulder than the hips. Dire wolves? Paleontologists hated explorers giving out names without checking that they really were the same as the extinct Earth beast. But this lot looked pretty dire. And hungry
. They prowled out of sight to the side. Through the trees they could see sunlit greenery, and a couple of large hairy lumps walking away.
"Oh. Pleistocene mega-fauna. That's always fun. I'll put out some feelers. If nothing else, you can get some big game hunters in and thin out the local problems."
"Yeah. I'll shake down the cadre on Fifty-three. Six months should be enough for a first evaluation of the world. If the cores on Seventeen are good, I'll be back and forth, getting the anchor moved. Then we can either move the cadre, or if they're onto something good, start hiring another bunch. And depending on whether we've got the experienced staff on hand, six months later we can start Twelve-forty."
"Right. So you'll need the hunters in fourteen months, everything and everyone else immediately. What company personnel are you stuck with and who's contacted you?"
"Company-wise, the Chief Geologist slot is filled, do you know Nelson Manrique? I heard unofficially that a research MD has already been hired, pending the auction. I think Naomi Haskell is back, she's good with the aerial mapping. No doubt all the assistant slots will have multiple internal applications from the two mining worlds Dallas owns." Lon flipped to his email. Lots of familiar names, old field hands wanting jobs. He nodded in satisfaction. "George, definitely. Roxy, oh definitely. "
"Hey, you're a married man. Supposed to be immune to the drivers. Oh, wait, I'm single. Yeah. Roxy. Definitely."
Lon snorted. "I like Roxy because she doesn't wreck gyps, and doesn't sleep around and cause problems in camp."
Ray sighed. "Oh. You mean Roxy Seabaugh. Drat. Roxy Simmons is much more fun. Even if you are right about the problems."
Lon sent Ray away with a preliminary list of equipment, not to mention a job application. He whistled absently as he worked up his first year's budget, then sent it to accounting to double check his figures. By the time the Board of Directors was back in town, he'd have all the numbers ready for them.
Three new worlds to explore. It didn't get any better than this.
The tube station was a brisk walk away from home. Carol was out on the patio, fooling with her plants. "Her babies," she called them. Home always smelled just a bit like a jungle.
"Hey, you're early!" She kissed him ardently. Nothing like modern medicine to keep a woman healthy and active. They were both in their fifties, both successful. The perfect picture of the ideal couple.
"We got three worlds at auction today. You can now look forward to seeing much less of me."
"Don't be silly, it's the reunions I look forward to, and you know it." She flashed a grin at him. "But no doubt you should take me out to dinner to celebrate."
"That just happens to be what I had in mind. Feel up to the Celestial?"
"Absolutely."
They dined in luxury under the optically perfect dome, looking out over the city and up at the stars.
"I saw you finally got your bill out of committee."
She nodded. "High time. I swear I need a crystal ball to see what we're going to need by the time we can get anything done. With the influx of non-citizen workers we simply need more basic housing, and the World Council is going to have to address the issue of reproductive rights sooner rather than later. Merely declaring non-citizen children to be non-citizens doesn't remove the need for them to be housed, educated, vaccinated . . . " She heaved a sigh. "And I suppose you're going to make it worse?"
"Nope. There hasn't been a single inhabited world discovered in this new band. I haven't heard that they've pinned down the major splitting point, nor the cause of the lack of humans, but it is a lack." Much better to talk about a lack of humans. He and his wife had never had a child. At first they'd been too busy, and Lon's career completely unsuited to parenthood. Carol had decided to take the plunge in any case, and Lon had hunted for a more suitable job. He'd made the mistake of taking a development job on an inhabited world. He'd helped destroy a foreign government, and watched natives starve to death, while ship loads of wheat were barred from docking or sunk. He still had nightmares of the sunken accusing looks on the dead bodies of human beings. Starved and frozen in the streets, every morning. His co-workers had sneered at him for being soft on the natives, and he'd accused them of dehumanizing them and committing murder.
His firing had torpedoed their request for a child permit.
He been hired quickly enough by an exploration company, but she'd run for City Council before he was settled, and then she was too busy for children.
There were times when they each resented and blamed the other, but more when they admitted that they simply wouldn't have been good parents.
"Well, I hope you can find all sort of minerals and take a whole bunch of natives off the labor worlds. The situations there are getting bad. They simply won't limit their reproduction."
Lon bit his lip, but spoke anyway. "Maybe we need to just leave all the inhabited worlds alone. The vast majority were doing better before they were discovered."
"Without rights, education, vaccination, public health measures like sewers and water filtration?" She put her fork down and glowered at him.
"Yes. Now they starve, because we take over their economies and ruin the stability they had. Our aid just destroys the market for grain, so the farmers go broke and lose their land. What we are doing is wrong."
"But you're a part of it."
Lon remembered the bodies. "There are better ways to do it. There have to be."
She frowned at him. "Are you back to having nightmares? It isn't always as bad as Tourney. And the natives can adapt. The only difference is the education they get, the opportunities they have."
"You mean the opportunity to starve because we've deliberately disrupted their trade? Once we starve them into submission and move them, they adapt well enough. And they have plenty of opportunities for hard physical labor."
She glared at him. "Your experience was not typical. We save more lives with public works and immunizations than are lost by our taking over."
"If our motivation was simply to Do Good Things, we could skip the overthrow of governments, destruction of trade and starvation parts of the process. There's no excuse for the deaths, but there is a reason. 'We want everything of value on your world. Give it to us and live, or die and then we'll take it.' Until that changes, we're all collective murderers."
Carol closed her eyes in pain.
He sighed. "Sorry. So, how is Howie's re-election coming along?"
She took a deep breath and released it. "Oh, we poor volunteers are running about like maniacs, as usual. I've hosted three fund raisers so far. Honestly, why I want a life in politics is beyond me."
"He's one of the most powerful Councilors, he'll win, unless he does something remarkably stupid."
"I know, but that doesn't mean we can be complacent. Something odd could happen to change the electorates' focus."
Avoiding the hot topic, they munched their way amiably enough through six courses and finished up with white wine as midnight passed. They walked home, unbothered by the street people. Lon knew how to turn on the predator's body language, backed by the unmistakable confidence of a man who had fought before and won.
"Hmph. I'd argue harder if I didn't agree with you, you know. I'm glad you got all empty worlds. I know how you dislike dealing with the natives."
"Indeed. And I won't increase your city's problems, Councilor."
"Let me show you my appreciation for that, and perhaps I'll even show you how much I'm going to miss you. At least I won't have to worry about you agonizing over the fates of helpless natives."
Of course, the next morning the Board of Directors was back in town and full of their own ideas. They'd politicked and negotiated with the other exploration companies, and lowered the company's risk by swapping a quarter interest in Twelve-seventeen for twenty percent interest in two additional worlds. And Carolina New Horizons wanted their man leading the first exploration party. Jackson Jefferson. Lon's old boss and nemesis. His immediate superior on Tournay, all thos
e years ago.
"He's an experienced explorer, perfect for Twelve-seventeen, we'll see how he works out, while you shake down the cadre on Fifty-three. Good plan, that." Simon Meese eyed him thoughtfully. "You have reservations?"
"Jefferson. Well, it's been years. And the problems mostly involved natives. You might double check his experience at first in." Lon shrugged, backing down as Meese glowered.
"Carolina New Horizons thinks he walks on water."
Lon gritted his teeth and smiled. There are no natives. Jefferson won't be so cavalier with his subordinates' lives. "Right. Well, I'll start getting the equipment lined up for Fifty-three, and schedule some gate times."
"Right. Here's Jackson's number, co-ordinate with him." Meese gave him a stern look.
Play nice or he'll be my boss. Again. Gottcha.
Lon keyed in the number. Got a secretary, got transferred.
"Congratulations, Jefferson. You get the best looking world."
"Of course. No point in bidding too high, when anyone with any sense will be offering substantial interests, as soon as they feel the breeze through their pocketbooks. So, what are you taking first? When are you heading out?"
"I'm putting together an all new cadre, so I'm starting with Twelve fifty-three. I expect I can get regular gate times starting in about three months, but I may wait one more to let the temperatures warm a bit. Ice age world, you know? That'll give me time to get all the equipment delivered, as well."
Jefferson chuckled. "I have my people together already, and started ordering months ago. We were confident of getting at least one world. Bid or deal."
"Right. Well, then. Maybe I'll see you in Nowhereistan, maybe not. Good Luck." Lon disconnected and ground his teeth. Son of a bitch was going to get there ahead of him, possibly even return with preliminary results before Lon had even left. He tapped into the gate scheduling site and applied for a first gate in mid March. Even then he might regret not waiting one more month. Second gate a week later, to return all the trucks and carriers. Then gates every two or three weeks. They were easy enough to cancel, if he didn't need so many. He took a deep breath and started looking at his equipment needs. No need to even think about what Jefferson might be doing. Really.
