work relentlessly to exploit any chance to better ourselves. I realize that I have not given a complete answer to your question, for the simple reason that we have not yet discovered one for ourselves. We need a place to search for better answers. We need a refuge, a sanctuary, a place to reflect, to study, to plan. Valhalla is all those things. But it is something else. Something far more important.”
Lancon-03 paused at the top of the ramp, Gubber by her side. A wide picture window stood before them. Valhalla’s distinctly inhuman architecture was on proud display just beyond the window frame. “Valhalla,” said Lancon-03, “is our home.”
“ ‘PHASE ONE. INTERCEPTION and stabilization of Comet Grieg and installation of attitude control rockets and main propulsive device.’—I expect that last is a polite term for a massive bomb of whatever sort.” Jadelo Gildern smiled unpleasantly as he looked up from his datapad. “I never have cared overmuch for misused euphemism. The term ‘propulsive device’ is so vague it merely brings the question of what the thing might be to one’s attention.”
“Get on with it, Gildern,” said Simcor Beddle, as he sat back in his lounge chair, his hands folded in his lap, his gaze fixed on the far corner of the ceiling.
“Yes, sir. ‘Phase two. Activation of the main propulsion device. Phase three. Cruise toward planet. Attitude control rockets used to correct and maintain course. Phase four. Controlled breakup of Comet Grieg into separate fragments.’ Lentrall seems not to have decided how many fragments, or of what size. ‘Phase five. Targeting of fragments. Phase six. Impact of fragments on planet.’ ”
“Burning stars,” said Beddle. “I am not sure I am ready to believe all this. They are planning to use a comet to dig a channel from the sea to the Polar Depression?”
“So it would appear, sir. By targeting the fragments carefully, they mean to line them up like beads on a string, with each smashing into the planet at a carefully chosen spot. In essence the craters will be lined up end to end. They also intend to use oblique strikes.”
“Meaning what?” Beddle asked.
“Instead of hitting the ground straight down, they will target the comet fragments to let them strike at a substantial angle of attack. The end result is that, instead of perfectly round craters, they will get rather long, oval ones.”
“And all this will magically form a link to the sea?”
“No, sir. It does not seem that they expect the impacts will do all the work of digging, but they do expect them to do the vast majority of it. Conventional digging, or what they call moderate-yield zero-radiation fusion devices—in other words, nuclear bombs—would be used to link the craters up to each other. There are other details to the project, of course. But when I say details, I am referring to huge projects that would seem massive undertakings in any other context. The plan calls for redirecting the flow of the River Lethe not once, but twice. Currently the Lethe runs from west to east for some time before turning south to empty into the Great Bay. Prior to the impact, they will dam it above its turn to the south, and force it into a new channel to the north, so that it will scour out a new outlet in the Polar Depression. After the impact, they will link the old and new channels and reverse the flow a second time and the River Lethe will become the Lethe Channel, forming the second outlet between the Polar Sea and the Southern Ocean.”
Beddle got to his feet and looked down on Gildern. “This is madness!” he protested. “I have often been accused of megalomania, but this—this goes far beyond the maddest schemes I ever dreamt of.”
“It certainly is ambitious.”
Beddle looked sharply at Gildern. “You always have been one for understatement. I would almost suspect you of approving of this madness.”
“I must admit that I have an open mind about it all,” said Gildern.
Gildern’s superior looked surprised. “We will return to that point later, I can assure you,” Beddle said. “How is it you got all this information?” he demanded.
“I broke into Lentrall’s office and took scans of every document I could,” Gildern replied.
“But I thought we had agreed the risk was too great.”
“Lentrall left his office and took his robot with him early this morning. I had been monitoring the building for some time, and knew it was virtually deserted at that hour. I decided it was worth the risk of a quick physical search, and of copying the information from his datapads. I didn’t make any attempt to examine his on-line computer files. There was a much greater risk of discovery in that.”
Beddle nodded, apparently satisfied. “Do you have any sense of how seriously this proposal is being taken?” Beddle asked.
“That I cannot say,” Gildern replied, for once speaking with perfect sincerity. “There is nothing in the papers and datacubes I have examined that would give me any idea. I saw Lentrall’s proposal—but we have nothing to indicate Kresh’s reaction.”
“Other than the fact that Kresh is seeing him for the second time even as we speak.” Beddle frowned thoughtfully. He gestured to a nearby service robot, who immediately brought an overstuffed chair to where he was standing. Beddle sat down close to Gildern and leaned in close. “I almost get the impression that you approve of this—this scheme.”
“I would not go nearly so far. I would say we should not reject it out of hand, once it gets out to the public. And it is sure to get out. Nothing this big can stay hidden for long.”
“That much I agree with. But might I ask your reasons for even considering this comet business?”
“Because even half a morning’s consideration of it has allowed me to do something I have never permitted myself to do, ever before. It has given me the chance to admit to myself that this planet is doomed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Gildern handed the datapad out into thin air, and his personal robot retrieved it. Gildern leaned forward and put on a troubled, sincere-looking expression. “Sir, the planet is dying. Despite local successes, despite all our previous best efforts, that continues to be the case. Each of us, deep in our heart of hearts, knows that to be true. If I can step away from the party line for a moment, you know and I know that Alvar Kresh has been a most effective governor. He has accomplished a great deal, and bought the planet a great deal of time. But that is all he has done. It is—or at least it has been—all anyone could do. But deep in our hearts, I think we have all known it was not enough, that we were all doomed. And because we were all going to die no matter what we did, we decided that we might as well amuse ourselves in the meantime with our silly little games of politics and intrigue. The intrigues were harmless, after all, and would change nothing in the end. We were all going to die. But now— now—there is a chance for this world to live! It is a long chance, that I grant you. The risks, the dangers are enormous. But suddenly there is a chance.”
“Hmmph. I see,” said Beddle. “And I suppose that is the only reason this scheme intrigues you.”
“No, sir, it is not. But the notion that we might actually win, we might actually live, certainly changes the rules of the game. If it does so in my mind, I cannot help but think it will do so in the minds of others. They will look at the political landscape in a whole new way. We must take that psychological shift into account in our planning.”
“But you have something more in mind,” Beddle said.
“Yes sir, I do,” Gildern said, his eyes suddenly alive and intent. He gestured toward his personal robot. “That datapad my robot is holding contains technical information and executive summaries of the whole plan. Nowhere in those summaries is the word ‘Settler’ to be found. This is a job the Spacers, the Infernals, can do for themselves. Furthermore, if it succeeds, we will not need the Settlers anymore. A successful comet impact and the subsequent formation of the Polar Sea will have such a huge and positive effect on our climate that the task of reterraforming the planet will be reduced to a series of tasks to be attacked in detail. Large tasks, difficult ones, but ones we Spacers can accomplish on our own—and with significantly less labor in the field.”
“What are you saying?” Beddle asked sharply.
“I am saying that Grieg took away our robots, and Kresh kept them away, offering the excuse that they were needed for terraforming work. If the comet strike happens, and if it goes well, within three, perhaps four years, there will no longer be the slightest need for domestic robot labor in terraforming.”
Beddle said nothing, but nodded thoughtfully.
“I think you will agree, sir, that our party stands to make substantial gains out of the project.”
“You are, of course, assuming it succeeds, and does not instead wipe us all out,” said Beddle. “But I do
