"Which will do well enough," Toshiro said.
"You sound worried."
Toshiro shrugged. "Concerned. A setback."
"Hell, you're not going to live long enough to go back to Japan no matter what happens," Justin said. "So you can stop worrying."
Toshiro smiled politely.
"Well, it's true," Justin said. "Coming back with me?"
"Thank you, I am on duty here," Toshiro said.
Justin nodded and crossed the large central control room toward the green door at its far end.
"That wasn't very nice," Joe Sikes told him. He jerked his head toward Toshiro, who was now absorbed in some kind of computer game involving medieval Japanese warriors.
"Well, yeah, you're right, but it's still true," Justin said. "There's no way we'll build enough industry to fire up Geographic and go back to Earth or anywhere else. Not that I'd go. I can't figure why he wants to."
Edgar Sikes shrugged. "Beats me, I guess. I asked him once."
"What'd he say?"
"Roots."
"Eh?"
"Roots. Can't say I blame him. How'd you feel if you were the only white kid here?"
"I don't think I'd notice."
"Toshiro does," Edgar said. "There were four Orientals in the Earth Born, but they're all dead in the Grendel Wars. Anyway, that's what he said. I asked him why he wanted to see Earth again, and he said ‘Roots.' "
The waldo room was at the rear of the telecommunications building. "Cassandra, ready or not, here I come," Justin said, and waited for the door to open. It didn't. He frowned.
"Sorry, I've been doing some reprogramming," Edgar said. "Let Justin in, please, Cassandra." The door swung open.
He was immediately assailed by a sweet-sour triple dose of Eau de Diaper. His sister Linda was seated at the robotics control panel. Her blond pigtails made her look even younger than her seventeen years. She leaned back into a thick leather chair, silvered goggles covering her eyes. She might have been asleep. A hand-carved cradle that could have been built in the fourteenth century, but in fact was a product of Carlos's workshop, stood next to her workstation. A three-month-old baby watched as if he knew what his mother was doing.
Joe shushed the baby unnecessarily, then tiptoed over to Linda and planted a big juicy one on her lips.
Sis leapt out of the illusion sputtering, waving her hands in alarm.
Then she pulled her goggles off, and sighed.
"Joe Sikes, I hate when you do that." She peeled off her headset, and stood to hug Justin.
"Hey, Cad," he said to the baby. The three-month-old was still fat and wrinkly, his stubby little fingers reaching out and trying to grasp a chunk of the world. His watery blue eyes struggled to focus.
Linda had discovered boys when she was fourteen, and when she was fifteen they discovered her right back. She had been extremely popular and enjoyed every minute of it, a dozen lovers in as many weeks. Then she was pregnant, and suddenly she was tired of casual sex, tired of popularity, tired of the game.
And bang, she was attached to Joe Sikes, elderly, slope-shouldered, hardworking Joe Sikes. Justin remembered thinking it was pure lust. His little sister was one of those rare women who became almost ethereally beautiful as she swelled and neared term. If so, lust had ripened into something more stable-but a palpable erotic haze still shimmered in the air between them. His step-sister had found a husband and lover. She had also found a friend and teacher, and under Joe's instruction was rapidly developing into one of the most capable of the Second's engineers. Now she studied-Aaron had once said that while the First had ice on their minds, Linda had integral equations on hers-worked, and nursed her baby, and the only way to see her was to come to the command center.
"What we got?" Joe Sikes asked. His forefinger traced a lazy circle on the back of her neck.
"Geographic relays checked out," Linda said. "I'm certain that the, uh... will you stop that for a moment? Thank you. Nothing garbled in transmission. We're getting the right data, and it still looks the same, there are explosions in the mines."
"Explosions," Justin said.
"In the mines," Edgar repeated. "Ain't we got fun?"
"That sounds-" Justin stopped. "Can't be grendels."
"Unless they've learned to use grenades," Edgar said.
"Now, there's a grim thought. Something break in?"
"Not bloody likely," Joe Sikes said.
Justin nodded agreement. The mines didn't exactly have doors. "So what is it? Machinery failure?"
Linda looked worried. Her face was thinner than Jessica's but somehow softer at the same time. Little Cad had been good for her-good for the elder Weyland, as well. At least six children would eventually call Cadmann "Granddad." Colonel Weyland doted on all of them, but Cadzie, as the colonel's first namesake, would get special attention. Justin felt a pang of jealousy, followed by an answering pang of shame.
"I'll do a show-and-tell at the meeting tonight," Joe said. "We'll want to make an emergency trip up in maybe a week." He was pugnacious and happy, and Justin didn't understand that.
"You think it's that serious?"
"Kid, this isn't a conveyor belt breakdown. Here-Cassandra, show us Mine Disaster Three." A phantasm formed above a holopad. It looked like an ant farm done in neon vermilion.
Joe set his blinking cursor where several tunnels joined in an angular lump. "It looked like a momentary flare of heat-very sharp-here in the processing equipment. And the sensors actually burned out. Weird. The entire assembly is completely jammed. The repair robots can't get to them.
It's like something warped the entire unit out of alignment. Linda took a sonic profile of the entire operation. Look at the patterns of vibration leading up to the incident-"
A graph of sound patterns replaced the ant farm: the usual jagged hills and valleys produced by running machinery, punctuated by a sudden and violent pulse.
"We're going to translate that into sound. Listen-"
Chug chug chug.
Tung.
"Jesus Christ," Justin said.
Joe's lips twisted in a bitter smile. "The Merry Pranksters."
For a moment, nobody said anything. Then Justin cleared his throat.
"That's a pretty nasty accusation. They've never done anything like this."
"First time for everything."
"You're just unhappy about getting wet."
"Nah, that was fun." He looked at Edgar and got an answering nod.
"This is something else."
"So how could they have done it?" Justin demanded. "The only way to get all the way to the mining site is with Robor. Or one of the Minervas. God knows they're under control. How could they get in?"
"And that would be the point, now, wouldn't it?" Joe's usually even tones went flat and nasty. "It was impossible to carve fifty-foot buttocks on Isenstine Glacier, wasn't it? And wasn't it impossible to use seismic charges to send Morse code limericks to the geological station?"
Justin restrained a chuckle, and raised a hand in protest. "That may be true-but they've never done anything destructive, and you know it. What would be the point? This isn't their style, Joe."
Joe's head cocked, and he waited.
"This isn't funny! It's just vandalism."
Joe patted Linda's shoulder possessively. "It was just a matter of time before they crossed the line," he said. "The point was always to get our attention, wasn't it? I know that there are certain residents of Surf's Up-"
Justin started to protest, but Joe waved him off. "You may know who they are, and you may not. That doesn't concern me at the moment. What does concern me is that this has gone far enough."