Theoretically. But there would be time to make sure.
The aircar was dropping toward the ground and the Cobras were beginning to converge on it. "Good job," Banyon's voice came from Jonny's phone. "Let's head back."
The last few clouds had cleared shortly before sunset, and the night sky was alive with stars. Walking hand in hand just inside the perimeter, Jonny and
Chrys took turns naming the recognizable constellations and trying to match the more distorted ones with their Aventinian counterparts. Eventually, they ran out, and for a time they just walked in silence, enjoying the night air. Jonny, his audio enhancers activated, heard the faint roar before Chrys did; and by the time she took notice the steady volume level showed their plan had succeeded.
"The flatfoot herd?" she asked, peering off into the darkness.
"Right," he nodded. "And they're not getting any closer. At least a kilometer away-maybe two."
She shook her head. "Strange. I remember some biology class in school where the instructor took it upon himself to 'prove' that no land animal larger than a condorine could ever evolve with a magnetic sense unless there was some ridiculously high local field present. I wish he was here to see this."
Jonny chuckled. "I remember reading about the old theory that all the native plants and animals on the various Dominion worlds were mutated descendents of spores or bacteria that had ultimately been blown there by solar winds from
Earth. The argument was still going strong when the Trofts and Minthisti were found, I understand, and I have no idea what its proponents made of Aventine. If there are still any of them around. I guess the possibility of making a public fool of yourself is just one of those risks scientists have to face."
"You know, that universal genetic code thing has always bothered me, too," Chrys mused. "Why should all the life we find show the same DNA and protein forms? It doesn't seem reasonable."
"Even if that turns out to be the only workable structure?"
"I've never liked that theory. It seems arrogant, somehow."
Jonny shrugged. "I don't especially care for it either. I've heard the Troft theory is that some major disaster three or four billion years ago nearly sterilized this whole region of space, taking with it an early starfaring people. The algae and bacteria that survived on each world were therefore all from one common stock, though they've since evolved independently."
"That must've been one gantua of a disaster."
"I think it was supposed to be either a chain of supernovas or the final collapse of the galaxy's central black hole."
"Uh-huh. Almost simpler to believe God set it up this way deliberately."
"Certainly makes a colonist's life easier to be able to digest the local flora and fauna," Jonny agreed.
"Though the vice versa is occasionally a problem."
Jonny tensed; but Chrys's tone hadn't been one of accusation. "I appreciate your letting me go with the others today," he said, as long as they were now on the topic. "I know I promised to stay out of things on this trip-"
"You could hardly hold out when you were needed," she put in. "And it wasn't like you were in serious danger out there. Were you?"
"No, not with the aircar and Menssana as backup. Still, I'll try to behave myself the rest of the trip."
She chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze. "It's all right, Jonny. Really. I wouldn't want you to just sit on your hands when you're needed. Just be careful."
"Always," he assured her, wondering at her abrupt attitude change. This was the old Chrys back again, the one who'd been so supportive of his service when they were first married. What had happened to change her? Was she simply reacting to the new environment, slipping into old thought patterns with the reminder of their past struggles on Aventine?
He didn't know. But he liked the change... and he had the rest of the trip to figure out how to keep her this way when they returned home.
Chapter 10
The clearance to remove their filter helmets had come from the Dewdrop just before the evening's medical exam, and in the hours between then and bedtime
Joshua thought his nose had become thoroughly accustomed to the exotic scents of
Qasama's air. But the group hadn't taken more than three steps outside their guest house in the morning before Joshua realized that belief had been a little premature.
The new odor seemed to be a mixture of baking aromas with some not-quite-aromatic smoke with something he couldn't begin to identify.
He apparently wasn't the only one. "What is that I smell?" Cerenkov asked Moff, sniffing the breeze.
Moff inhaled thoughtfully. "I smell the bakery one street down, the boron refinery, and the exhaust of vehicles. Nothing more."
"A boron refinery?" Rynstadt spoke up. "In the middle of the city?"
"Yes. Why not?" Moff asked.
"Well..." Rynstadt floundered a bit. "I would assume it would be safer to put industries like that away from populated centers. In case of an accident or something."
Moff shook his head. "We have no accidents of any consequence. And the equipment itself is safest right where it is."
"Interesting," Cerenkov murmured. "Could we see this refinery?"
Moff hesitated a second, then nodded. "I suppose that would be permissible. This way."
Bypassing the car waiting for them at the curb, he set off, the four Aventinians and five other Qasamans following. The refinery turned out to be less than a block away, located in an unremarkable building midway between two of Sollas's extra-wide avenues.
Joshua had never seen this kind of light industrial plant before, and the masses of tanks, pipes, and bustling Qasamans gave him more of a feeling of confusion than of productivity. But Rynstadt-and to a lesser extent York-seemed fascinated by the place. "Very nice setup," Rynstadt commented, gazing around the main room. "I've never heard of a boron extraction method using cold bubbled gas.
What gas is that, if I may ask?"
"I'm really not sure," Moff said. "Some sort of catalyst, I expect. You are an expert in this sort of chemistry?"
"No, not really," Rynstadt shook his head. "I dabble in a lot of fields-my job as an educator requires me to know bits and pieces of almost every subject."
"A general scientific expert, then. I see."
There was something about the way Moff said that that Joshua didn't care for, as if Rynstadt's supposed expertise had added a point against the mission's peaceful image. "Would something tike this method be marketable on Aventine,
Marck, do you think?" he spoke up, hoping Rynstadt would pick up the cue.
He did. "Almost certainly," the other nodded at once. "Boron plays a major part in at least a dozen different industries, and while our methods aren't expensive something cheaper would always be welcome. Perhaps we can discuss this in more detail later, Moff, either with Mayor Kimmeron or someone in planetary authority."
"I'll pass on your request," Moff said. His tone was neutral, but to Joshua's eye he seemed to relax just a bit. Like tiptoeing through a mine field with these people, he thought.
"Well, I think we might as well move on, then," Cerenkov said briskly. "I'd still like to see the art gallery you mentioned yesterday, and perhaps one of your marketplaces."
"Of course," Moff agreed. "Back to the car, then, and we'll be off."