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 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. 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.”
“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 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.
