“Look, Prasad, you can see how we’re fixed. Ark Three-you must come and see her, you’d be my honored guest, we put on a hell of a dinner in the restaurant-”
Deuba inclined his head. “It would be my pleasure.”
“She’s a fine ship, and she might last years, decades. But maybe not forever. We need shore support. I accept that.” He waved a hand at Deuba’s villa, the reception room they sat in, expensively furnished, servants standing silently in the corners. “And I can’t think of a better place than this, a better partner than you. What I need from you is a liaison with your government, those Maoists who run your country now. We have a lot to offer.” He began running through the Ark’s assets, the nuke plant, the pioneering OTEC and manufacturing gear: the ship was a floating city full of the latest technological sophistication.“And then there are the people, my engineers and doctors and craftsmen and sailors-”
Deuba held up his hand.“My question is simple. It is the only datum the government would ask of you. How many are you?”
Piers said evenly, “Three thousand. That includes a non-productive percentage, the elderly, the very young, the disabled, the ill. I can give you precise figures.”
Deuba nodded. “ Three thousand,” he said mournfully. “You have seen our ever-changing shoreline, where the rafts of the dispossessed cluster like seaweed.”
“The Ark is no raft,” Nathan said, irritation growing.
But Deuba spoke to them of what had become of his country. “Nathan, you must understand our situation.
“It started even before most of us knew of the existence of the flood: a slow trickle of refugees coming across the border from India. Not that we would have called them refugees then. They were rich people, coming from India’s coastal cities, and they had access to the best science data and predictions. They knew what was coming. They sought to escape the regional wars and the disruption of the flooding in the short term, and to preserve their own comfortable lives in the longer term. They came here with money, intent on buying property and land in our higher provinces. Those who sold them land quickly grew rich too. I admit I saw the straws in the wind earlier than most. I bought up a good deal of land for a pittance, before selling it on to rich Indians for a healthy profit. The result was a last explosion of twenty-first-century affluence, a building spree in this city. A country that had been one of the poorest in the world actually became, for a brief interval, one of the richest, per capita. All because of its altitude. I myself used my wealth to buy and reinforce this place, my fortress.”
“You were wise.”
“Yes. Because then the trickle became a stream, as those of lesser means came pouring in. The middle classes, I suppose you would say, of India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. They too handed over their wealth for a place in this scrap of a country of ours. Many more grew rich, at least in paper and credit and gold, but gave up their most precious possession, in return, their own land.
“And still they kept coming, refugees from the Indian plains, millions on the move now, the poor, the dispossessed, the desperate, swarming through the drowning provinces of Utar and Pranesh and Bihar. We accepted some, we set up refugee camps. We were rich, we were humanitarian. But every effort was overwhelmed by the sheer masses on the move. The government tried to seal the border, but it is long and difficult to police. So in the end corridors were established.”
“Corridors?” Piers asked.
“We granted the refugees safe passage through Nepal to the higher ground, the crossing points to Tibet. We Nepali have always been a trade junction between India and Tibet.”
Piers frowned. “What then? What became of the refugees?”
“Ah-” Deuba spread his hands and smiled. “That is the responsibility of the properly constituted government in Tibet.”
It was hard for Lily to dispel his manner, his patter, and think through the implications of what he was saying. “It must have gone on for years. Whole Indian provinces draining through your country. It must have taken its toll.”
“Oh, yes,” Deuba said easily. “It began with food riots-all those people had to be fed while on our soil-we actually had a revolution. Perhaps you heard of it. Our Maoist insurgents, who for decades had been a troublesome presence in the hill country, managed to leverage the popular unrest to overthrow the government. Now we are treated to lengthy lectures on the philosophy of the great leader,” he said urbanely. “But little else has changed. The Maoists retained the old civil servants and junior ministers, and ride around in their government limousines. They even kept the monarchy, the symbol of the nation. But the Maoists have been able to maintain a productive dialogue with their counterparts over the Tibetan border, with whom they share an ideology, of sorts.
“And of course, in the end, the flow of refugees from India dried up, though we still get a few stragglers by one route or another.”
“Like us,” Piers said grimly.
“Indeed. My friend Nathan, we have done good business in the past. But I have to tell you I cannot help you now. I know exactly what the government’s response will be. They will not turn you away out of hand, but will set a quota. Three hundred, say, ten percent. The most skilled of your doctors and engineers and so forth. They can stay, they will be welcomed on shore. No children, however; we have enough of them. The rest must sail away.”
Nathan was angry now. “You’d cherry-pick my crew and tell me to fuck off? What kind of deal is that?”
Deuba shook his head sadly. “Not my terms, my friend. My government’s. Our country is full!”
Nathan reined in his temper. “Come on, Prasad. I know you better than that. Is this just some hard-ball game you’re playing here? Because if there’s anything you need-”
Deuba adopted a look almost of pity. “Look around you, Nathan. What do you have that I could possibly want?”
Nathan stood up. “All right. Then what about passage through the country to the Tibetan border?”
“I can certainly arrange that for you.”
“For a price?”
“A toll. Not a ruinous one. The journey will mostly be by foot, I am afraid. I can of course hire porters and so forth. We are not short of casual laborers! But you will need to go on ahead and arrange your own passage through the border itself.”
Lily touched his arm. “Nathan, is that really a good idea?”
“It’s an option,” Nathan said, visibly trying to calm himself. “Maybe we can do business with the Chinese if not with this lot.”
Deuba made placatory gestures. “Actually the Tibetan government is no longer Chinese, strictly speaking… It will take twenty-four hours to organize the journey. Please, accept my hospitality in the meantime. For friendship’s sake.”
Nathan glared. Then he softened, subtly. “The hell with it. All right. I need a shit, shower and shave anyhow. But look, Prasad, I still haven’t taken no for an answer. We are decent, resourceful, law-abiding people who would be an asset to your country.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Deuba said smoothly, “and if only it were in my power to make it so. In the meantime-come. I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Piers and Lily stood, uncertain. Lily felt humiliated by this out-of-hand rejection. Humiliated and scared.
They followed Deuba out of the reception room, shadowed by flunkies.
80
Before they set off the next morning Nathan came around his group, checking they had been taking the anti- radiation pills doled out by the Ark’s pharmacy. It wasn’t a cheery way to be woken up, Lily thought.
Another of Prasad Deuba’s bright young men, looking Chinese by extraction, was assigned to lead them to the Tibetan border. For the first few hours they drove. Then, all too soon for Lily, they ran out of road, and the party set off on foot, the three of them from the Ark, a few AxysCorp guards, Deuba’s guide, and a handful of sherpas carrying their luggage, wiry young men who carried huge bamboo baskets using straps across their foreheads.
The hike was a steady climb, hour after hour, broken only by dips into green valleys, descents which always
