Turning from the window, he welcomed her with a smile. “Pannebaker says there’s a new roostertail forming. He’s heading out to the hot spot to get images. You know how he is with fresh geological activity.”
Elisa also knew how dangerous that was. “Did he sign a waiver?”
“He’s signed numerous waivers. He hasn’t managed to kill himself yet.”
“Then you’re set, sir.” Elisa took her place beside him at the wall of windows.
The lava flowed in slow-motion waves, their swells and dips caused by seismic instabilities. A reinforced landing gridwork stood in the middle of the three habitation and control towers. Armor-hulled smelter barges drifted on the molten sea, scooping up metals, separating out the valuable ones, and vomiting the detritus back into the pools.
The cratered other half of the binary planet filled much of the sky, tidally locked with the main body of Sheol. The two planetoids fell toward each other, orbiting around a common center of mass. The stresses squeezed and pushed the crust in a gravitational tug-of-war. Garrison claimed to have discovered that the broken planet was unstable—brilliant observation! It was the very instability that kept all the hot raw material flowing for easy industrial extraction. Beyond that, he was being an alarmist, looking for problems rather than solutions.
Right now, Iswander seemed preoccupied. Though Elisa wanted to explode with her news about Garrison—to scream, “My son has been kidnapped!”—she forced herself to remain calm. Lee Iswander was her best ally.
He turned to her and touched the front of his jacket. “New suit for my speech at Newstation in two days. Specially tailored. I want to cut the figure of a leader when I give my speech to the Roamer council. What’s your impression?”
“I’m not a fashion consultant, but it’s a good look. You always look like a leader, sir.”
Iswander did not hide his smile well. “I don’t ask my wife for her opinion on these things because she always dithers and says it’s fine. I wanted an honest answer.”
“I give you an honest answer every time. When you present yourself, the Roamers will see that you are a businessman and a leader, not some sloppy worker who shuffled off a production line. Your opponent won’t even bother to change out of his jumpsuit. I expect the decision will be obvious.”
“Then I accept that. Sam Ricks cannot possibly believe he has a chance of winning, although there are some clan members who prefer their eccentricities to the reality of business and politics.” He frowned.
“Roamers are a dying breed,” Elisa said, thinking of her husband and his backward family. Garrison had already caused so much trouble. She searched for a way to tell Iswander, but he was obviously preoccupied.
“I’ve been looking at the records of the Roamer clans, studying their interactions with the Confederation government—the concessions we’ve received, the inroads we’ve made. Even though you married a Roamer, I’m not sure you understand the mindset, Elisa: clan connections, seat-of-the-pants innovations, personal promises and barter, exchange of favors. My business model takes us away from those old, inefficient ways. It’s time for the clans to get serious. I truly believe that I’m best qualified to be the next Speaker.”
Even with the concern about Garrison and Seth weighing on her mind, Elisa realized in a broader sense that Lee Iswander’s advancement as Speaker would open up many opportunities for her. Caught up in his governmental role, he would need to delegate the Sheol operations, put her in charge. “Having watched Roamer politics from the outside, I’d say anything would be better than Isha Seward, sir.”
He gave her a wry frown. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”
“You’re obviously the stronger candidate, sir. It goes without saying.”
“But the clans need it said. Isha Seward was just the interim Speaker after Del Kellum retired. She knows it, and everybody knows it. She was chosen as a compromise candidate because she was lackluster and didn’t offend anyone. Now it’s time for vision, and I’ve certainly proved myself.” He chuckled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be giving you my speech.”
“The election’s only a few weeks away,” Elisa said.
He went back to his desk where reports streamed across the data-screens embedded in its flat surface. “If I’m going to be elected as the next Speaker I’ll have to keep in touch everywhere, in real time. Not just through business shuttles, like I have now. Maybe I should bring a green priest here.”
Elisa nodded. “Many have hired themselves out, and they take oaths of confidentiality. A green priest stationed here with a treeling could be in instantaneous contact with every other green priest at any other outpost, ship, or settlement. Would you like me to look into it, sir?”
“I doubt it would do any good.” He swiveled in his chair to look out at the oceans of turbulent magma. “They prefer to be back on their forested world—or at least in a more hospitable place than this. All this fire and lava would make them nervous.”
Elisa made a note in the back of her mind that she would send out an inquiry; perhaps with a sufficient financial incentive, she could find an open-minded green priest who would be willing to move to Sheol. But she couldn’t devote her time and energy to solving that problem until after she tracked down Garrison and got Seth back. It was time to tell Iswander.
She struggled with her sense of failure, as well as the guilt of knowing that this unexpected matter was going to take her away from her work. Before she could make her request, though, Alec Pannebaker broke in on the comm. “The plume’s about to burst, Chief. Right on schedule, right on target. I’m getting images that’ll take your breath away!”
Elisa felt tremors in the deck of Tower One, and moments later they calmed down. Sheol was in a constant restless slumber on an unquiet seismic bed.
Out on the lava lake near Pannebaker’s small shielded craft, a large bubble became a spurting geyser of lava. It sprayed high, then rained down in a roostertail. Pannebaker whistled as he withdrew his shielded boat. “Those will make great PR images!”
Iswander sounded skeptical. “‘Come to Sheol and see the sights’?”
“No, Chief—I was thinking more of how it shows you’re a visionary with the foresight and the balls to establish a viable industry where even other Roamers feared to tread. No one can argue with your profit reports.”
“It might be good for your Speaker campaign, sir,” Elisa said after the deputy signed off. “But you should delete the part about the balls.”
As Iswander returned to his desk, Elisa stood straight-backed, anxious. She had never brought personal problems to him before. Finally, she said without preamble, “Garrison’s gone, sir. He stole one of your ships.”
Iswander sat back. “What are you talking about?”
“He left between six and ten hours ago. He kidnapped our son and flew off.”
“I can’t believe your husband would do that. He seemed like such a…”
“Passive man?” Elisa said. “Yes, he fooled me too.”
“I was going to say ‘good father.’ Is he still insisting that we’re operating too close to safety margins? It’s nonsense. We’ve been here for years without any mishap, and the recent structural scans should have put all concerns to rest.”
“He thinks the seismic makeup of Sheol is changing, and the old calculations are no longer valid.”
Iswander was disturbed. “My consultants double-checked their test results and disproved your husband’s concerns. Even so, he riled up the other workers. If they find out he’s fled, they’re going to demand answers—and I don’t need nervous work crews.”
“I suspected he might be plotting something.” Elisa focused more on her specific problem than on the overall question and its impact on Iswander operations—which demonstrated just how rattled she was. “I could tell by his mannerisms. Garrison can’t keep a secret to save his life.”