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essentially a moving fusactor, the Empire disliked shipping them to distant
points. Finally, since fusactors were unitized, once assembled, they were
almost impossible to repair and were designed to melt into an impermeable bloc
within their own shielding in cases of malfunction.
Without dozers, he couldn't reclaim. Without reclamation, the base couldn't
support itself, except slightly above subsistence level, because Imperial
technology was all geared to either fusion power or high-energy synthetics.
Without local metals, which no longer existed except in deep deposits or in
system asteroids unreachable without high energy technology, the locals had no
way to develop substitutes with which to rebuild their planet and their
society.
Gerswin didn't have enough dozers to continue full-scale reclamation more than
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a tour or so into the future, and that was assuming rather optimistic
projections. And so far, the base had just begun to make a dent in reverting
the ecology.
"So you worry ..."
He hadn't realized he had spoken aloud until he heard the echo of his words in
the small office.
He frowned.
The Empire wouldn't close down Old Earth Base yet, but with the resource
commitment it required, he could see the supply lines getting tighter and
tighter, year after year.
"What can you do? Order more equipment they won't send you? Exaggerate the
requirements along with everyone else? Then they'll cut everyone back
farther."
He flicked off the screen and stood, stretching, looking at the lighter gray
square where
Vierio's holoview of his wife's estate house had covered half the wall
opposite the console.
His steps circled the console.
The old exec, Byykr, had understood some of the problem. But Byykr was gone,
and Commander
LeTrille was merely going through the motions. Commander Manders understood,
but was too tired to start a fight with the Imperial bureaucracy, although,
Gerswin admitted to himself, Manders usually took his recommendations.
What good was a recommendation when you couldn't get what you needed and
didn't know what else to recommend?
What did Old Earth need?
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Metal, power, and arable land.
The arable land might be possible before too long. Acreage had increased to
the point where at subsistence level it would support most of the scattered
Noraro population, assuming the produce could even be distributed. But the
land still required a sponge grain scavenge crop every third year.
The power was barely adequate and completely dependent upon the Empire. One
possibility existed-
coming up with an oilseed plant that could be refined to approximate synthetic
fuels-but that required more land, reduced food crop yields, and demanded a
refining technology which would require metals and power.
He shook his head.
"Face it, Gerswin. You don't know enough. You can't figure your way out of
this one."
As for the metal-unless they could literally mine something . . .
His eyes glinted, and he sat down at the console, flicking it back on and
beginning to punch in the numbers, the requests for data.
Finally, when all the requests had been routed, he sat back in the swivel.
Then he laughed.
"It works, or it doesn't."
With that, he stood and walked over to the small wall locker, from which he
removed his set of practice knives and sling, plus the quarterstaff.
He whistled three double notes, then stopped before touching the exit stud and
stepping out.
"Marliss, I'm going to get some exercise. Should be back in less than an
hour."
"Yes, ser."
The major refrained from frowning. The man, a former shambletown youth, was
fresh from recruit training and nearly cowered every time Gerswin looked at
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him.
The idea just might appeal to someone, and the scale was modest enough. A mere
two fusactors to power a river reclamation plant.
He remembered what Mahmood had said about drainage. If all those metals were
still being leached into the waters, then they'd have to end up in the major
drainage rivers.
Now . . . If the ecologists and the engineers could figure out how to make it
work and package it, and if Manders bought the idea . . .
He shrugged. If not, he'd try something else.
He straightened the leathers of the sling and whirled it experimentally as he
touched the southeast interior exit portal, easing himself and the staff
through. He needed more work with the quarterstaff, but Zyleria was on leave,
and she was the only one with real training in handling it as a weapon.
He stepped through the outer portal and into the chill outside air.
Plick. Plick. Plick.
The scattered rain droplets hit his flight suit, the last from the passing
dark shower under the overclouds, and were gone with a gust of wind.
Gerswin turned west, toward the area he used for his practice with what both
Vierio and Matsuko had called "primitive" weapons.
The key was hope. If he could convince the Empire that certain investments
would reduce the long-term costs, and that the improvements would begin fairly
soon, he had a chance. No Emperor really wanted to be the one to abandon Old
Earth, but it would be harder and harder to get more than a token commitment
in the years ahead.
He glanced at the lower hills to the west where the first generation pines had
been planted.
Trees-they would help. Then some oilseeds; a source of metals-not much, but
enough to keep things going for a while, and time.
Crack!
The first stone smacked into the center target head.
Crack!
Crack!
Chapter L
Gerswin blinked and studied the figures on the console again.
Old Earth Base was getting shorted again. Transport costs were attributed by
the mass cube ratio multiplied by the energy cost. The farther a destination
drop, the higher the imputed cost.
Although the out-base runs were supposed to be rotated so that every base was
assigned the first, second, third, or fourth drop in roughly equivalent
numbers, Gerswin could find no record of Old
Earth ever having been assigned first or second drop order. The effect was to
increase the energy
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on the "hardship" destination drop port list, which would have allowed a
greater cost ratio.
While the I.S.S. picked up all the costs from its overall transport budget,
and not from each base's budget, the political implications bothered Gerswin.
If it had only been the mass-cube energy cost assignments, he would not have
been so concerned, but the same sort of calculations had been employed in
determining costs for foodstuff supplies, personnel transfers, spare and
replacement parts, and even for dietary trace elements. The composite gave a
picture of Old Earth
Base as either inefficient or exceedingly expensive to operate, or both.
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Gerswin pursed his lips.
Added to that were the actual personnel assignment policies, which tended to
order either low performers or trouble-makers to Old Earth. Although he
doubted that anyone was trying to close down the base, or that someone was
benefitting from the current allocation practices, there was no doubt in his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]