Prothero's call; as director it was his duty to shield his people from extramural hassles and financial headaches. What he had to have was a positive commitment: If the money were to run out then the whole enterprise would be a complete and utter waste.
'We've yet to decide on the most efficient cell voltage. At the moment we're testing a range of power requirements.' Hanamura stared into space, his high fine cheekbones catching the light. 'I'd say a year to eighteen months, providing there are no unforeseen problems.'
'But you already have a lab model operating successfully,' Chase said, doing his best to sound reasonable. 'How do you know that marine trials won't actually help you select the optimum cell voltage? You can carry on the work here in any case while we test the process at sea.'
Hanamura glanced toward Carter Reid, his number two, who shook his head dubiously. Hanamura looked at Chase.
'Does that mean you can't or won't?' Chase said.
'It means we're not ready.'
'Is there any technical obstacle to prevent us from building a pilot plant and installing it in an oceangoing vessel?'
'No,' Hanamura admitted slowly, his handsome face puckered in a frown. 'I just don't like the idea of running marine trials until we've ironed out all the bugs.'
'I don't like it either, Frank, but we don't have the luxury of choice. How soon?' Chase asked bluntly.
'Maybe six months, and that's working double shifts.' Hanamura swept a lock of glossy black hair from his forehead. He was being rushed and didn't like it. 'It would mean building one from scratch.'
'What about the lab model you already have? Couldn't you adapt that one for marine trials?'
'Come on now,' Hanamura protested. 'Gavin, be reasonable. We need the lab model here. Anyway, it's too small. The pilot plant would have to be at least four times the capacity.'
'Okay, starting tomorrow, what's the absolute minimum, given all the resources we can muster?'
'Cutting it to the bone I'd say three months.'
'Right, that gives you till September fifteenth,' Chase said briskly. He was satisfied, but he didn't intend to show it. He'd succeeded in bringing Hanamura down from a year to six months to three months, but it would have been a tactical error to ease off now. 'What about location? I can have one of the Scripps' research fleet standing by-- choose anywhere within a week's cruising from San Diego.'
Hanamura looked at Carter Reid, who shrugged, and then turned to Chase. 'Providing it's well clear of the algae blooms, anywhere in the Pacific will do.' His dark eyes sparkled angrily for a moment, as if he'd suddenly realized he'd been backed into a corner. But it was too late. He jabbed a finger. 'And I want to be there, Gavin, directing the operation personally. If we have to meet this September fifteenth deadline I'm going to make damn sure the trials are conducted properly. Any objections?'
Chase shook his head, smiling sweetly. 'None whatsoever.'
Cheryl coughed up more of the evil-smelling black stuff and wiped her streaming eyes. She raised her head and caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her face was deathly pale and covered in beads of sweat, a faint bluish tinge to her lips. She knew the signs and symptoms, had seen them in others, so there was no point in fooling herself.
Dan hadn't noticed anything, she was certain; he would have come straight out and said something. A lump came into her throat, whether at the thought of Dan or out of self-pity she didn't know. But this wouldn't do, she told herself sternly. He'd know in an instant something was wrong if he saw her like this. She doused her face in cold water and pinched her cheeks to bring the color back.
Outside the cabin in the fresh air she felt better. The grandeur of the Oregon landscape with its thickly wooded slopes rising steeply to bare granite peaks had a healing effect, and the sky, a brilliant translucent blue, was unsullied by any trace of industrial fouling.
This was a good place to have built a settlement. She had been right to bring Dan here, to start anew. They had been warmly welcomed by the Earth Foundation settlers, who had made them part of the small community in what had been the Willow Valley Reservation a few miles from the California border on the northern shore of Goose Lake. Yet in the last two years there had been changes, disturbing changes, mainly caused by the exodus from the south. First it had been a trickle of refugees, increasing to a steady stream, seeping northward like an insidious stain. Now this part of Oregon was dotted with tiny isolated communities, and what had once been the little townships of Beatty, Bly, Adel, Plush, and Valley Falls were in danger of being swamped.
There had been other changes too, even more disturbing to Cheryl. She found it hard to define, to be precise about, but it was as if the attitude, the temper of the people was undergoing some kind of transformation. A kind of nervous brooding suspicion where previously there had been tolerance and a feeling of fellowship. The change was more psychological than anything else, she felt, convinced that it wasn't her imagination playing tricks. She likened it to a kind of subversive paranoia, slowly infiltrating the community and corrupting people's minds.
And why, for God's sake, was she sick? Surely this beautiful place, with its mountains and lakes and thousands of square miles of forests, was as healthy an environment as you could wish for--if you couldn't survive here, then nowhere on the planet was safe.
Dan was with some of the other young people over at the community center, discussing an extension to the school. By the time he returned Cheryl felt much better, had regained her color and composure, and to her relief Dan gave her a casual wave over the heads of the others, apparently noticing nothing out of the ordinary.
Watching him, she felt the stab of a familiar poignancy. He was perhaps a fraction taller than his father and not quite as broad, but it might have been the young Gavin Chase, the same shock of black hair hanging over his forehead, the same intelligent blue-gray eyes and the firm, rather stubborn mouth. It had taken a long time to absolve herself of the guilt for separating father and son. Even though Dan had never once reproached her for leaving Gavin--even though he had made the choice freely to come with her to the settlement--the knowledge that her decision had brought about the estrangement had been a heavy burden to bear. She hadn't entirely come to terms with it and knew in her heart of hearts she never would.
'What are you doing this afternoon?' Cheryl asked him. 'Like to row across the lake?'
Dan looked at her oddly, then shook his head. 'Sorry, Cheryl, I've already promised to go riding with Jo over by Drews Gap. We're going to have a picnic and collect some herbs.'
'Just the two of you, you mean?'
'Sure,' Dan said, flashing her a wide grin. 'You don't mind, do you?'
'It isn't up to me to mind. I take it her parents know?'
'Yeah, they said okay.' He'd lost the crisp correctness of his English accent and now spoke without the reserve that many Americans took to be standoffishness in the British character. 'Anyway, I thought you had things to do this afternoon--didn't you say Tom Brannigan had called a council confab?'
'That's not until four. Never mind, you go off and enjoy yourself.' Cheryl patted his shoulder and went ahead of him onto the porch. It had been a mistake to suggest a change in the routine, she realized that now. But she was afraid that time was slipping by too fast and she needed his company to reassure her that all was well. All wasn't well though. She felt queasy again at the thought and had to make a willful effort to control her panic.
They stood together looking across the little square around which were grouped the rough timber buildings of the community center, the surgery and dispensary, and the three cooperative stores that served the needs of the three-hundred-strong settlement. Outwardly primitive, the sturdy pine-clad buildings were fitted out with all modern amenities, including electricity and nonfreeze plumbing. It was a tenet of Earth Foundation philosophy that technology was the friend and not the enemy. There was no reason not to take full advantage of man's inventiveness and enterprise if used sensibly and with due consideration for the environment. No one here subscribed to the back-to-nature fallacy: That was simply a stupid and short-sighted return to the Stone Age. They were far from the masochists and martyrs who felt conscience-stricken at the thought of killing a rabbit or burning a log. The important thing was to live in harmony with their surroundings and not to plunder or despoil out of sheer greed, indifference, or asinine thoughtlessness.
Above all, to inculcate those same beliefs in the rising generation. Theirs was the earth to inherit, providing their forebears hadn't already squandered the inheritance.
'Are you serious about Jo?' Cheryl asked, surprising herself with the question. She didn't want to pry.
'Do I have to be?'
'I just wondered.'
