Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [26]
He had a practical wife named Lydia, three sons, a daughter, and (so far, at least) ten grandchildren, all of them intelligent and ambitious, sure to be movers and shakers someday. When the Hansa had called for an industrial head to run the new cloud harvester, Sullivan had gathered his family for dinner and sprang his suggestion. “With the terms the Hansa is offering, there’s no way for us to lose!”
“Well, you can, dear,” Lydia said. Then she took out a sheet of paper, marking one side Pros, the other side Cons. They had discussed the matter late into the night, always coming back to her stern finger tapping the columns that listed advantages and disadvantages.
On the pro side, the Hansa was offering the Gold family major industrial concessions, interest-free business loans, guaranteed orders for a large variety of products—enough to transform them from simple businessmen into an actual dynasty. The cloud harvester would be designed to allow for a rapid evacuation; there was a chance (though not a good one) that Sullivan and his crew might escape if they were attacked by hydrogues. At least it looked possible on paper.
The disadvantages were obvious…
Now, in the glassed-in forward dome of the largest Hansa vessel, the green priest assigned to this venture joined Sullivan as he continued his observation. Unusual among green priests, Kolker worked as a freelance telink communicator, hiring himself out from one Hansa ship to another. He wasn’t one of the nineteen volunteers who were assisting the EDF; he had already spent years in the commercial empire.
Though Kolker was always available to submit Sullivan’s important status reports to the Hansa or relay friendly messages to Lydia, the green priest spent the majority of his time sitting with one hand resting against the trunk of his potted treeling, wearing a distant smile. The loquacious Kolker never seemed to tire of chatting with his fellow priests through the telink network. He shared messages incessantly, sometimes talking aloud, sometimes just listening, even when there was no news.
A long time ago, Sullivan remembered finding a chest of his grandfather’s keepsakes, including a bundled stack of old-fashioned photo postcards. Seeing Kolker engaged in so much contact via the worldforest reminded him of those postcards. At least the telink didn’t require Kolker to add extra postage from the gas giant.
“I’ve described everything to the worldtrees and my fellow green priests, Sullivan.” He smiled, showing green gums. “New information and experiences help to distract them from all the damage the hydrogues have inflicted. But…I feel guilty to be here instead of helping in the burned forest.”
Sullivan pursed his lips as he watched the final cloud-harvester components being riveted together by groups of engineers wearing levitation packs. “You aren’t going to leave this station, are you, Kolker? I need your services. Sending a carrier pigeon just isn’t an option for me.”
“Leave here? Not on your life, Sullivan Gold. I am in an intriguing new environment, and only I can describe the details for the curious trees. They haven’t had many opportunities to see a gas giant. Besides”—he looked lovingly down at his treeling in its ornate pot—“it’ll do the forest good to see a place where our enemies have been resoundingly defeated.”
Sullivan glanced out into the expanse of clouds. “We don’t know for certain that the drogues are completely gone here, but we can hope.” As soon as the factory was completed, the cloud harvester’s lead engineer intended to design deep probes that would keep an eye out for returning hydrogues. Just for insurance, though Sullivan didn’t know how much good they would do.
The assembly work in Qronha 3’s high atmosphere continued at a furious pace. Sullivan scanned the project timetable again and proudly confirmed that each phase had been completed on schedule. Within a few days the facility would be