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39
N’Jarr Valley
December 2078, Earth-Relative
AFTER MONTHS OF CONFINEMENT ABOARD THE GIORDANO BRUNO, Daniel Iron Horse found the mountains surrounding the N’Jarr as seductive as certainty, and set his sights on a high ledge east of the settlement, hoping for perspective of one kind or another. He had no equipment and his shoes were all wrong, and it crossed his mind that a fall in this terrain could easily result in a very fancy death. But Da
From the moment Emilio Sandoz left the valley to meet Mendes on the road, Da
For a time, he abandoned himself to a pure enjoyment of strength and agility, but altitude was a factor. Winded, he gave up a few hundred meters shy of the target ledge, and found instead a rubble-filled indentation that had collected enough debris to provide a humus cushion. Swinging into it, he sat quietly awhile, studying the layout of the evacuated village—alert to clues about social structure—and prayed for the well-being of the refugees who’d left it two weeks earlier. It had been a long time, he realized, since he’d felt like either a political scientist or a priest.
Chagrined by the time it took for his breathing to come back to normal, he admitted to himself that altitude was not the only thing slowing him down. The words of Vincenzo Giuliani came to him: "You are young, Father Iron Horse." Not all that young, Da
High above the valley, the only sound was the roar of water falling from a cataract so near he could feel its mist when the breeze shifted. Alone now and able to think, Da
Nothing came clear. Judging by the outcome of the first mission, catastrophe lurked behind the smallest mistake; muddled impasse seemed the best that they could hope for. That’s Sandoz talking, Da
Hardly aware of his movement, he stood and began again to climb toward the ledge he’d set out for, and by the time he reached it, the solution had come to him like the revelation at Cardoner, and seemed so obvious that he wondered if Vincenzo Giuliani could have foreseen this situation. That was impossible, and yet…
You win, you old fox, Da
The irony of what he was going to propose was palpable, and he knew that he would not live long enough to see the outcome. But at the very least, he thought, it might buy time. And time was all that mattered.
JOHN CANDOTTI WAS SITTING ON A TREE STUMP, SURROUNDED BY THE pieces of a broken pump he was trying to fix, when Da
"Nothing. I slipped," Da
John pulled his chin in, surprised by the question and by Da
"So it’s just after supper, ship’s time? Good. I’ve got a job for you," Da
John blew out a breath and put down the gasket he was making. "Ours is not to reason why," he muttered, and followed Iron Horse to the edge of the valley where the lander crouched. "I don’t suppose you’d like to explain?" he asked, as they climbed inside.
"Look," said Da
Frowning, John said, "But then he’ll tell Carlo—"
Da
Lips compressed, John shook his head, but sat down in front of the console and raised the Giordano Bruno.
"Joh
"We, um, got your message, Frans," John said, not sure if Carlo was monitoring the conversation. "Sandoz is taking care of it." He coughed and looked up. Da
"How’d you find out about that?" Frans asked warily.
"Lucky guess. Had a taste yet?"
"No."
"Well, Da
"Beauty," Da
It took five.
"Nice to hear from you, Gia
"Evening, Carlo," Da
"Business is business," Carlo said, by way of truncated explanation. "No hard feelings?"
"Hell, no. This is all going to shake out fine," Da
The silence from the Bruno didn’t last long. "And your terms are?" Carlo asked with admirable dignity, given that he could probably hear the small, blissful noises John was making.