Eclipses v1 0, p.24
Eclipses (v1.0), page 24
Beth sighed. “If they’re coming this evening, they will have to spend the night. I suppose they will be hungry, too … do you know how many? Maria’s gone for the day and the servants have gone home. I may have to call for help.” She looked at the communication console behind Aram’s desk, mentally listing those on the staff who would be able to respond at short notice.
“Just two,” Aram said absently. “Did Alexi tell you what he wants me to do?”
“Yes.”
Aram swung his feet off the desk. “He wants me to risk breaking millions of contracts on a venture to the End of the World. The Empire would crumble … honestly, Beth, I don’t know what would happen to Serensunar if the Water Baron reneged.”
Beth knew Aram was deeply troubled. He walked to the far wall of his office and opened the insulated drapes with a touch of a button. Beyond, the back lawn spread downslope to the pampered orchard bordering the curving reservoir. The scar the earthquake had left was covered but still discernible. This was Aram’s view … shaped evergreen defining fountains. Pruned rosebushes lining rock-encased ponds where exotic fish swam year round. Greatland apple trees looking more like sculpted hedges than an orchard. The fruit was more ’ peach-like, Beth knew, but she had never convinced Aram. To him, a peach was the fuzzy pink-yellow fruit growing along the coast that blackened at the barest hint of frost.
“Aram, you’ve broken contracts before.”
Aram turned away from the window and looked at her. “Not broken, Beth … renegotiated. There are times when circumstances are extenuating and the contract terms become untenable. I am a reasonable man and I deal with reasonable people. We do renegotiate from time to time.”
“What circumstance could be more extenuating than a million lives?”
Aram sighed. “Another million lives, Beth.” He hooked his thumbs onto his belt and began pacing on the starburst-patterned carpet. It was typical of Serensunarian textiles that the carpet didn’t show his thirty years of pacing. “There is a difference between crop failures, mines running out or floods, and deliberately ruining the life structure of millions, their quality of life and even the lives of all the present coastal dwellers and the people sleeping in those ships!”
Beth loosened the clasp that kept her hair out of her way and began twisting a lock. “Someone had to decide between the quantity and quality of life in Greatland.” The words were a gently worded accusation Aram would not overlook. Beth lifted her blue eyes to meet his: They were shadowed by the thick brows pinching together in a frown.
“I don’t care if the coast refugees want to spread their food so thinly that they have only lean people. Charity is a personal decision. But I do care when they demand my water to sustain them when I’ve already committed it to my people and their progeny. I let them saturate themselves to that point where I can keep up with their increasing water needs. If I allot them more, we’ll look like them in another generation— skinny and mean!”
“Then the water must come from somewhere else,” Beth said evenly.
“Ah, then you do know of Alexi’s plan.”
Beth smiled. “I said that I did. You didn’t hear me.” Aram patted her shoulder with apology and affection. “I was so engrossed with voicing my opinion, I guess I didn’t hear.”
“When you can’t hear Alexi, he thinks it’s because you won’t. It infuriates him. Not many people can help but hear what he has to say when Alexi shouts.” Alexi is Aram’s son. Why doesn’t he know this yet?
“And he can’t hear anything when he’s shouting …”
“…so don’t blame you? I know, Aram, but I can’t help wondering if either of you hears the other. The plan is a good one and can solve the water problem for Serensunar.”
Aram was shaking his head in disgust as he went to his desk and sat on the edge near Beth. “If it could work, don’t you think someone would have tried it years ago?”
“Who but the Water Baron has the resources even to try it? Name one other.”
“Research City.”
“You know Research City is committed to bringing the present overload up to sustenance. Its programming is effective at tactical and technical decisions, but it precludes consideration of the plan.”
“Feasibility is all I’d ask,” Aram said. He reached for his pipe, lighted it. “I know most of this planet’s fresh water is locked in the icecaps. And I know there are favorable currents to be used in bringing icebergs halfway around the world to the continent. But that’s precisely the point. The currents have been bringing those icebergs out of the arctic for centuries. Have you ever seen an iceberg off the coast? They melt before they are a quarter of the distance.”
“Left to float on their own, that’s true. But a tugboat will speed up the process. I envision the day when people will devise a way to install a shaft, screw to the berg itself and not even need tugs!”
“You actually believe in the plan,” Aram said in amazement. “Beth, it won’t work.”
“Have you checked your data?”
Aram scowled. “Even if I were to grant that part of the project could be accomplished—and I don’t—what are they going to do when the petroleum runs out on the coast? The computer projects that day as only fifty years off and cites it as a big strike against the plan. Sibemia has already said it has no intention of contracting petroleum for burning purposes. It galls them that the continent wastes its resources. How will the coast meet even half-sustenance for its people in fifty years?”
“Atomic power could fill the void.”
“Bah. Sibemia killed off their fishing contractors with thermal pollution, but they had petroleum to fall back on. The coast doesn’t. Fishing is its major source of protein, since they can’t afford to run beasts on their land.”
“But there will be no thermal pollution because they will use the runoff from the icebergs as coolant. The superheated water will be used with heat exchangers to speed up melting the icebergs for human consumption. The temperature of the ocean water will not be changed.”
Aram threw up his hands. “The whole family has gone mad.”
Beth glared at him.
“I’m sorry, Beth. I don’t mean to dismiss you that way, but the point remains that this project would require my pledging water now and increasing coastal population now to prepare irrigation for barren land with water that may never come. No, it’s too risky.”
He did hear Alexi, Beth thought. He did understand, but he’s unwilling to take the risk … and despite Alexi and Pola’s data, there is a risk. Why can’t my children talk to their father? Why must I always be the one to see both sides? “I’d best find Hilde and ask her to help me set a table for our guests. We can manage for two without calling the servants back.”
“Let’s feed them first,” Aram said, easing himself off the desk. “They’ll be more manageable on full stomachs.”
Beth stood up. Aram embraced her, kissing her neck. When he straightened, his coarse, pepper-colored curls were below Beth’s eye level.
“I have a small contract in mind,” Aram said, taking her hand as they walked toward the door. “I’ll help Hilde in the kitchen, which will conserve your strength for what I have in mind for later …”
Beth raised a speculative brow. “Someone must pick up Marc from the landing platform … later.”
“I’ll take care of that, too.”
Beth squeezed his hand in agreement.
Chapter 24
While Aram took the two travel-weary delegates to the poolside gardens, Beth, Hilde and Alexi cleared the dining room of dishes and feast remains. Alexi had been uncharacteristically quiet during the meal. Aram had interpreted the silence as surliness, but Beth knew Alexi merely did not trust his temper and had not wished to cause his father any embarrassment, nor did he wish to fortify Aram’s present position by arguing. The cost might be to the detriment of the delegates. Beth suspected Alexi had been hurt when his father failed to invite him to join the delegates. But Aram was gone with the two guests before she could have a private word with him.
“Do you think he’ll listen?” Alexi asked as Beth carried the soup tureen into the kitchen and emptied the leftovers into a freezer pouch.
“He did listen, and he is listening now to the delegates,” Beth said wearily.
“But will he do it?”
“Mother, he has to,” Hilde said. Of the five children, Hilde was the one who physically most resembled Beth. Her hair was blonde and long—almost as long as her body, though you couldn’t tell the length from the pompous coiffures in which she wore it. She seemed to tower over Beth and stand equal to Alexi, but she was no taller than her mother. Hilde was thinner than Beth; she had to belt borrowed clothes; and she was decidedly beautiful, while Beth was only attractive. It’s her eyes, Beth thought. They are Aram’s: wide, soft brown, with thick lashes.
“Those people up there are doomed to die if he doesn’t capitulate,” Hilde said, blinking back tears.
“Oh, Hilde, don’t be so dramatic. The whole situation has enough drama without you forcing yourself to cry,” Beth said.
“Have you talked to him?” Alexi asked.
“Yes,” Beth said, “but I’m not done yet. I’d like to join them in the garden. Jacobsen seems to have your father’s ear.”
“Erik suggested that Pola come tomorrow—to see if she can get through to him. Aram listens to Pola.”
“She can’t—” Beth paused. Her second eldest child, Pola, was a soft-spoken, serene woman. Her quiet delivery of logic enraged Aram, for he tried—and failed—to match her composure. “Well, never mind. If Jacobsen and I fail tonight, we may still need Pola for—” The thought that crossed Beth’s mind made her dizzy, and she pushed it aside.
“We can’t fail just because of Aram,Alexi said.
Beth almost screamed. She was the abraded gasket between these two powerful personalities. Then she realized Hilde and Alexi were staring at her. Beth grabbed a cloth and began wiping the already polished countertops, rearranging dishes and platters to erase invisible spots. “Aram is as right as we are,” she said, while forcing calmness into her voice. “There are millions within the Empire to be considered. They have the right to expect Aram to uphold his contracts. Why do you think there are refugees circling Serensunar? Not because of trusts that were kept! Where a planet’s ecology and integrity are concerned, the margin for error is very small. If this plan fails—if only a part of it fails—the error margin will be so wide there will be no chance of recovery.”
“Gloom peddler,” Alexi said. “It doesn’t follow that Serensunar’s fate will parallel Earth’s even if we do fail … and we won’t!”
“Dad’s reacting to over-optimism,” Hilde told her brother. Beth and Alexi stared at Hilde.
Hilde shrugged under their gazes. “That’s what Erik says … I talked with him today, too. How come you don’t think I could come up with that phrase?”
Beth crossed the kitchen and hugged Hilde. “Because you’re a late bloomer, like me. You’ll have to put up with bouncing with your emotional reactions and having blind spots until you’re thirty.”
“Wisdom, only with age.” Hilde pouted.
“Thanks a lot, Hilde,” Alexi said. “Wait until you see how thin the fifteen years between us seems when you’re thirty.” “And how young you feel.” Beth winked at Alexi. “I’m going out to the garden … oh, Alexi, will you please pick up Marc from the landing at Second Moonrise?”
“Sure, but let me know what happens.”
Beth put her cloth down and straightened the folds of her sari. “Aram may put off giving the delegates a decision until morning,” she said. “Now, don’t leave all those dishes for Maria to do tomorrow. Get this kitchen back in shape or you’ll have vengeance served for supper.”
The bug lantern Aram had carried with him reflected mellow colors off the placid pool. Flowering vines twisted on trellises and bridge rails. Night bloomers, set in colorful pots along the bridge, had opened, and their scent molecules drifted. The two delegates and Aram sat at a handcarved table with a flask of refreshing punch set at each elbow. Aram was speaking.
“… is time for the coastal people to think in terms of a republic or monarchy. Individual contracting can’t work much longer with the great influx of population.”
“You mean when the rest of the refugees arrive?” asked Sven eagerly. He was middle-aged, angular-faced, with close-set eyes and hair severely drawn back. His cotton clothing was crumpled from the journey.
Aram frowned at Sven. “I was referring to the children who will be bom to the present population. Since there is no limit on progeny and the birthrate continues to increase, coastal population will increase without refugees.”
“I find it interesting that you do not suggest democracy or the quasi-communal system that is used in Sibernia,” said Jacobsen, obviously forestalling an immediate conflict.
“The communal system works well with a limited population. Sibemia will always have a limited population because of its small water supply. If they ever learn how to wring water from rock, they too will have to change. I suspect they will see it if the need ever arises; they’re practical,” Aram said. “As for democracy, forcing the will of a simple majority on the entire population is tyranny to just less than half the people of the land. No, I suggest a republic wherein minority rights would have protection and voice. Or perhaps a monarchy with a leader answerable to everyone.”
“A benevolent dictatorship, such as you have in. the Empire.”
Aram nodded, set down his drink, ready to speak when Sven cut him off by saying, “But who can say the dictator will always be benevolent?”
Aram shrugged. “Dictators have only as much power as their people choose to allow them.”
Sven was doubtful. “But if the dictator turned renegade …”
“Why do you see this as a good course of action for the coast?” Jacobsen said, cutting off Sven again.
But Aram maintained eye contact with Sven. “Benevolent dictators are not irresponsible fools. They do not renege!” Aram’s words cut the air like a steel blade.
Sven squirmed. He didn’t know what had tempered Aram’s blade, but Beth knew. She left the shadow where Aram’s eye had glimpsed her and settled into the remaining chair. “I’m sorry to be late. Please go on, Jacobsen^” she said, deliberately giving the conversation back to the more levelheaded man.
Jacobsen smiled pleasantly and turned back to Aram.
Aram waved off Jacobsen’s repeating the question. “Because then you could require contracts for progeny and do public works.”
Jacobsen tugged on his chin where the frazzled end of a worried beard tried to grow. He was almost bald, and Beth wondered if the nervous habit had migrated from head to chin in search of hairs. “If we could stabilize our present population, we could increase our population with refugees.”
Aram leaned back in his chair. He raised his brows as if the thought were new to him before nodding. Beth knew Aram was pleased Jacobsen had caught the plan and pleased the man had the good sense to voice it rather than let the hated Water Baron have to suggest it.
“I’m prepared to meet the increasing water needs for generations yet to come both in the Empire and on the coast,” Aram said. “If the growth is from refugees instead of offspring, I would not object. Then, unless we all learn how to squeeze water from rock, the Empire and the coast will have to contract for progeny. It will come to all of us one day.”
There was a long silence. Only Aram was comfortable in it. He was looking at the night bloomers on the bridge, but everyone knew his attention had not left his companions.
Finally Sven leaned forward. “We need action now. You have forgotten the seas, Aram. We can expand into the seas … under them, I mean. Domed cities and undersea farming. Fresh water from salt.”
Aram nodded. “Can we start today? Next year? In ten years?”
Sven didn’t reply.
“If Research City cannot name the day, I hesitate to even guess,” Aram said. His voice was gentle, but the rebuke was felt by everyone.
“But Aram, there are difficulties in getting the coastal people to agree on a form of government,” Jacobsen said, picking up the more fruitful topic again. “Time is the key to the refugee issue. It will be years before we can form an effective government and stabilize the birthrate and years beyond that before we can bring the refugees down. They can’t wait. The cold-sleep is dangerous beyond fifteen years, and some of them have almost doubled that time. There’s no safety margin left. It’s pure chance whether any will survive twenty or a hundred years.”
“None of us will survive a hundred years on Serensunar if we do not allow them to take that chance.”
Jacobsen sighed. “You won’t open the passes.” ;
“No,” Aram said. Then, gently, “Form the republic and then appeal to the computer to reopen the spaceport. That is the logical path.”
Jacobsen shook his-head. “We need a compassionate path right now, not a logical one years off.”
“Aram, you could take all those people onto Empire lands right now by requiring immediate progeny contracts of your citizens, and you have the power to do it,” Sven said. “Why do you hate refugees?”
“It always comes to that. Aram the Evil, hater of women and children. I don’t have survivor guilt. I have no atonement to make.” Aram looked up at the sky. “It’s almost Second Moonrise. I must pick up my son from the landing. Hilde’s waiting at the house to show you to your rooms.”
Sven glared at Aram. “You didn’t answer, Baron. Is your power so important that it’s worth a million lives?”
The weariness was gone from Aram’s eyes. There were sharp white facets flickering across the brown. “You are a fool. What topples if I fall? Me? Hah! I am a solitary man on a world of millions. What falls is the only structure on Serensunar. How the hell will you get a drop of water if no one administers the dams and reservoirs? Shall everyone cross the desert and riftlands, cross the bridge to dip buckets on the other side? Is there more water here than on your side? Is it sweeter?”
