Oakes closed his eyes for a long blink, opened them. Once more, Lewis demonstrated impeccable reasoning. Who else could they trust as they trusted each other?
"Yes. I understand."
Oakes glanced around his cubby. No visible sensors, but this had never reassured him. The damned ship always knew what was happening shipside.
I will have to go groundside.
The reasons were compelling. Lewis would take Lab One to the Redoubt, of course. But there were too many other delicate matters in balance at Colony.
Groundside.
He had always known he would have to quit the ship one day. It did not help that circumstances had made the decision for him. The move was being forced and he felt vulnerable. This incident with the Nerve Runners did nothing to reassure him.
What a dilemma!
As he gathered more power and exercised it, shipside became increasingly untrustworthy. But Pandora remained equally dangerous and unknown.
It occurred to Oakes then that he had been hoping for a tranquilized and sterilized planet, a place made ready for him by Lewis, before going groundside.
Sterile. Yes.
Oakes stared at Lewis. Why did the man appear so smug? It was more than survival against odds. Lewis was holding something back.
"What else do you have to report?"
"The new E-clones. They were in an isolated chamber and all survived. They're clean, completely unprogrammed and beautiful. Just beautiful."
Oakes was distrustful. The statistical incidence of deviation among clones was a known factor. The body, after all, was transparent to cosmic bombardments which altered the genetic messages in human cells. Rebuilding the DNA structure was Lewis' specialty, yes, but stil.... "No kinks?"
"I used 'lectrokelp cells and went back to recombinant DNA as a foundation for the changes." He rubbed the side of his nose with a forefinger. "We've succeeded."
"You said that last time."
"It worked last time, too. We simply couldn't keep up with the food supply necessary t...."
"No freaks?"
"A clean job. All we get is accelerated growth to maturity. And that kelp isn't easy to work with. Lab people hallucinating all over the damn place and aging faster tha...."
"Are you still able to waste lab technicians on this?"
"They're not wasted!" Lewis was angry, exactly the reaction Oakes had sought.
Oakes smiled reassuringly. "I just want to know that it's working, Jesus, that's all."
"It's working."
"Good. I believe you're the only person who could make it work, but I am the only person who can give you the freedom in which to do this. What is the time frame?"
Lewis blinked at the sudden shift of the question. Cagey old bastard always kept you off balance. He took a deep breath, feeling the wine, the remembered sense of protective enclosure which Shi.... the ship always gave him.
"How long?" Oakes insisted.
"We can continue an E-clone's growth, the aging, actually, and arrive at any age you want. From conception to age fifty in fifty diurns."
"In good condition?"
"Top condition and completely receptive to our programming. They're mewling infants until they become ou.... ah, servants."
"Then we can restore the Redoubt's working force rather rapidly."
"Ye.... but that's the problem. Most of our people know this and the.... ahh, saw what I did with the clones and the sympathizers. They're beginning to see that they can be replaced."
"I understand." Oakes nodded. "That's why you have to stay at the Redoubt." He studied Lewis. The man was still worried, still holding something back. "What else, Jesus?"
Lewis spoke too quickly. The answer had been right there in front of his awareness awaiting the question.
"An energy problem. We can work it out."
"You can work it out."
Lewis lowered his gaze. It was the answer he expected. Correct answer, of course. But they had to produce more burst, their own elixir.
"I will give you one suggestion," Oakes said. "Plenty of hard work precludes time for plotting and worry. Now that you've solved the clone problem, put your people to work eliminating the kelp. I want a neat, simple solution. Enzymes, virus, whatever. Tell them to wipe out the kelp."
An infinite universe presents infinite examples of unreasoned acts, often capricious and threatening, godlike in their mystery. Without god-powers, conscious reasoning cannot explore and make this universe absolutely known; there must remain mysteries beyond what is explained. The only reason in this universe is that which you, in your ungodlike hubris, project onto the universe. In this, you retain kinship with your most primitive ancestors.
AS SHE stood frozen in terror of the foul-breathed stranger, Hali tried to think of a safe response. The terrible differences of this place where Ship had projected her compounded her sense of helplessness. The dust of the throng which followed the beaten man, the malignant odors, the passions in the voices, the milling movements against a single su....
"Do you know him?" The man was insistent.
Hali wanted to say she had never before seen the injured man but something told her this could not be true. There had been something disquietingly familiar about that man.
Why did he speak to me of God and knowing?
Could that have been another Shipman projected here? Why had the wounded man seemed so familiar? And why had he addressed her directly?
"You can tell me." Foul-breath was slyly persistent.
"I came a long way to see him." The old voice which Ship had provided her sounded groveling, but the words were true. She felt it in these old bones she had borrowed. Ship would not lie to her and Ship had said this.... a very great distance. Whatever this event signified, Ship had brought her expressly to see it.
"I don't place your accent," Foul-breath said. "Are you from Sidon?"
She moved after the crowd and spoke distractedly to the inquisitor who kept pace with her. "I come from Ship."
What were those people doing with the wounded man?