whatever site we finally choose. Most of the main components can go into production right away. They’re all very straightforward – pumps, refrigerating systems, heat exchangers, cranes – good old-fashioned Second Millennium technology!
“If everything goes smoothly, we should have our first ice in ninety days. We plan to make standard-sized blocks, each weighing six hundred tons – flat, hexagonal plates – someone’s christened them snowflakes, and the name seems to have stuck.
“When production’s started, we’ll lift one snowflake every day. They’ll be assembled in orbit and keyed together to build up the shield. From first lift to final structural test should take two hundred and fifty days. Then we’ll be ready to leave.”
When the deputy captain had finished, President Farradine sat in silence for a moment, a faraway look in his eye. Then he said, almost reverently. “Ice – I’ve never seen any, except at the bottom of a drink …”
As he shook hands with the departing visitors, President Farradine became aware of something strange. Their aromatic odour was now barely perceptible.
Had he grown accustomed to it already – or was he losing his sense of smell?
Although both answers were correct, around midnight he would have accepted only the second. He woke up with his eyes watering, and his nose so clogged that it was difficult to breathe.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Mrs President said anxiously.
“Call the – atischoo! – doctor,” the chief executive answered. “Ours – and the one up in the ship. I don’t believe there’s a damn thing they can do, but I want to give them – atischoo – a piece of my mind. And I hope you haven’t caught it as well.”
The president’s lady started to reassure him, but was interrupted by a sneeze.
They both sat up in bed and looked at each other unhappily.
“I believe it took seven days to get over it,” sniffed the president. “But perhaps medical science has advanced in the last few centuries.”
His hope was fulfilled, though barely. By heroic efforts, and with no loss of life, the epidemic was stamped out – in six miserable days.
It was not an auspicious beginning for the first contact between star-sundered cousins in almost a thousand years.
12. Heritage
W e’ve been here two weeks, Evelyn – though it doesn’t seem like it as that’s only eleven of Thalassa’s days. Sooner or later we’ll have to abandon the old calendar, but my heart will always beat to the ancient rhythms of Earth.
It’s been a busy time, and on the whole a pleasant one. The only real problem was medical; despite all precautions, we broke quarantine too soon, and about twenty per cent of the Lassans caught some kind of virus. To make us feel even guiltier, none of us developed any symptoms whatsoever. Luckily no one died, though I’m afraid we can’t give the local doctors too much credit for that. Medical science is definitely backward here; they’ve grown to rely on automated systems so much that they can’t handle anything out of the ordinary.
But we’ve been forgiven; the Lassans are very good-natured, easygoing people. They have been incredibly lucky – perhaps too lucky! – with their planet; it makes the contrast with Sagan 2 even bleaker.
Their only real handicap is lack of land, and they’ve been wise enough to hold the population well below the sustainable maximum. If they’re ever tempted to exceed it, they have the records of Earth’s city-slums as a terrible warning.
Because they’re such beautiful and charming people, it’s a great temptation to help them instead of letting them develop their own culture in their own way. In a sense, they’re our children – and all parents find it hard to accept that, sooner or later, they must cease to interfere.
To some extent, of course, we can’t help interfering; our very presence does that. We’re unexpected – though luckily not unwelcome – guests on their planet.
“If everything goes smoothly, we should have our first ice in ninety days. We plan to make standard-sized blocks, each weighing six hundred tons – flat, hexagonal plates – someone’s christened them snowflakes, and the name seems to have stuck.
“When production’s started, we’ll lift one snowflake every day. They’ll be assembled in orbit and keyed together to build up the shield. From first lift to final structural test should take two hundred and fifty days. Then we’ll be ready to leave.”
When the deputy captain had finished, President Farradine sat in silence for a moment, a faraway look in his eye. Then he said, almost reverently. “Ice – I’ve never seen any, except at the bottom of a drink …”
As he shook hands with the departing visitors, President Farradine became aware of something strange. Their aromatic odour was now barely perceptible.
Had he grown accustomed to it already – or was he losing his sense of smell?
Although both answers were correct, around midnight he would have accepted only the second. He woke up with his eyes watering, and his nose so clogged that it was difficult to breathe.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Mrs President said anxiously.
“Call the – atischoo! – doctor,” the chief executive answered. “Ours – and the one up in the ship. I don’t believe there’s a damn thing they can do, but I want to give them – atischoo – a piece of my mind. And I hope you haven’t caught it as well.”
The president’s lady started to reassure him, but was interrupted by a sneeze.
They both sat up in bed and looked at each other unhappily.
“I believe it took seven days to get over it,” sniffed the president. “But perhaps medical science has advanced in the last few centuries.”
His hope was fulfilled, though barely. By heroic efforts, and with no loss of life, the epidemic was stamped out – in six miserable days.
It was not an auspicious beginning for the first contact between star-sundered cousins in almost a thousand years.
12. Heritage
W e’ve been here two weeks, Evelyn – though it doesn’t seem like it as that’s only eleven of Thalassa’s days. Sooner or later we’ll have to abandon the old calendar, but my heart will always beat to the ancient rhythms of Earth.
It’s been a busy time, and on the whole a pleasant one. The only real problem was medical; despite all precautions, we broke quarantine too soon, and about twenty per cent of the Lassans caught some kind of virus. To make us feel even guiltier, none of us developed any symptoms whatsoever. Luckily no one died, though I’m afraid we can’t give the local doctors too much credit for that. Medical science is definitely backward here; they’ve grown to rely on automated systems so much that they can’t handle anything out of the ordinary.
But we’ve been forgiven; the Lassans are very good-natured, easygoing people. They have been incredibly lucky – perhaps too lucky! – with their planet; it makes the contrast with Sagan 2 even bleaker.
Their only real handicap is lack of land, and they’ve been wise enough to hold the population well below the sustainable maximum. If they’re ever tempted to exceed it, they have the records of Earth’s city-slums as a terrible warning.
Because they’re such beautiful and charming people, it’s a great temptation to help them instead of letting them develop their own culture in their own way. In a sense, they’re our children – and all parents find it hard to accept that, sooner or later, they must cease to interfere.
To some extent, of course, we can’t help interfering; our very presence does that. We’re unexpected – though luckily not unwelcome – guests on their planet.
Similar Books
