Read Online Exile by Al Sarrantonio - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Al Sarrantonio
Tags: Science-Fiction
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room for it.
Soon that burning hungerâan infectionas rapacious as Puppet Death but infinitely more grandâhad been passed on to Targon Ramir, and there were two earthlings whose dream it was to terra-form Venus.
"It can be done now!" Frolich said. "Look at Titan! Every technique needed has been successfully tested on Titan! Every single one! Forty years ago Titan was a smoggy mess, the air a choking noxious orange mix of sulfides and organic garbage. The surface was no better, a nitric swamp with burning patches of land unfit for habitation.
"But look at it now! It's habitable! The colonists can see the stars at night, can walk outside their habitats with little more than an oxygen clip on their noses!" Carter enthusiastically waved a data generator under Targon's nose, made him watch a series of before-and-after photos of the moon,
"In another twenty years they won't even need oxygen and they'll be swimming and fishing in the oceans!
"And we could start now on Venus! All we have to do is make everything bigger! Drop the first units down on parachutes in titanium tube clustersâone every three hundred square kilometers would do it. Then we work on the atmosphere from above at the same time, start poking holes to let the clusters do their job! I'm telling you . . ."
Targon Ramir had spent most of his time in those early days just calming Carter down. And there had been a lot of calming down to do, since Frolich, even at that early age, had shown no patience for fools and no tolerance for bureaucracyâthough he had grown better at it over the years, learning, like any dog needing a bone, that it was better to lick the master's hand than bite it.
And now
Targon Ramir sighed, letting all the years slip away from him until he was left in this time. In this office, on this planet that Carter Frolich, with Targon's help, had begun to turn into the dream they had both shared all those young years ago.
Now they were two old men, and one of them was responsible for possibly destroying all the work that they had devoted their lives to.
Targon sighed again and finally said out loud, knowing that his secretary, Ms. Garn, would hear what she had been waiting to hear in the next room, "Ad! right, Fion, I'll take that call now."
The floor-to-ceiling windows in front of Targon melted away, showing the floor-to-ceiling worn face of Carter Frolich.
"Targon," Carter said. He looked ill, even worse than the last time Targon had spoken with him.
"Carter," Targon said, nodding his head in greeting and respect.
"I'm told that plasma generators are now in place at each facility," Carter said simply.
"I'm afraid they are, Carter," Targon said.
With a pang, Targon thought that Carter was going to break into tears. He looked such a broken man, so old.
"I'm sorry," Targon said.
Carter Frolich slowly shook his head.
"I'm sorry, too, Targon," he said. "And I don't understand how you could do this."
"Carter, I've explained this to you before," Targon said. "There's more to this than the dreams of two men now. I have this planet to think of, and the future of the people on it."
Now red anger replaced Frolich's sadness. "Venus doesn't belong to you!"
"It doesn't belong to any of us, Carter." With another pang, Targon remembered his early days as an apprentice, how their heated arguments had gone well into the night then: Even though he had been younger and more inexperienced, the basic philosophies of Targon Ramir and Carter Frolich had been in place then, and hadn't changed now. "The fact is, I can't let this planet fall into Martian hands. And I won't."
"Prime Cornelian has vowed to let our work go forward! He has promised not to interfere with the completion of what we've started, Targon!"
Carter's naïveté in political matters was astounding and always had been to Targon. Though Carter could woo the last dollar out of a governor's wallet, he still could not believe that anyone could possibly possess anything
Soon that burning hungerâan infectionas rapacious as Puppet Death but infinitely more grandâhad been passed on to Targon Ramir, and there were two earthlings whose dream it was to terra-form Venus.
"It can be done now!" Frolich said. "Look at Titan! Every technique needed has been successfully tested on Titan! Every single one! Forty years ago Titan was a smoggy mess, the air a choking noxious orange mix of sulfides and organic garbage. The surface was no better, a nitric swamp with burning patches of land unfit for habitation.
"But look at it now! It's habitable! The colonists can see the stars at night, can walk outside their habitats with little more than an oxygen clip on their noses!" Carter enthusiastically waved a data generator under Targon's nose, made him watch a series of before-and-after photos of the moon,
"In another twenty years they won't even need oxygen and they'll be swimming and fishing in the oceans!
"And we could start now on Venus! All we have to do is make everything bigger! Drop the first units down on parachutes in titanium tube clustersâone every three hundred square kilometers would do it. Then we work on the atmosphere from above at the same time, start poking holes to let the clusters do their job! I'm telling you . . ."
Targon Ramir had spent most of his time in those early days just calming Carter down. And there had been a lot of calming down to do, since Frolich, even at that early age, had shown no patience for fools and no tolerance for bureaucracyâthough he had grown better at it over the years, learning, like any dog needing a bone, that it was better to lick the master's hand than bite it.
And now
Targon Ramir sighed, letting all the years slip away from him until he was left in this time. In this office, on this planet that Carter Frolich, with Targon's help, had begun to turn into the dream they had both shared all those young years ago.
Now they were two old men, and one of them was responsible for possibly destroying all the work that they had devoted their lives to.
Targon sighed again and finally said out loud, knowing that his secretary, Ms. Garn, would hear what she had been waiting to hear in the next room, "Ad! right, Fion, I'll take that call now."
The floor-to-ceiling windows in front of Targon melted away, showing the floor-to-ceiling worn face of Carter Frolich.
"Targon," Carter said. He looked ill, even worse than the last time Targon had spoken with him.
"Carter," Targon said, nodding his head in greeting and respect.
"I'm told that plasma generators are now in place at each facility," Carter said simply.
"I'm afraid they are, Carter," Targon said.
With a pang, Targon thought that Carter was going to break into tears. He looked such a broken man, so old.
"I'm sorry," Targon said.
Carter Frolich slowly shook his head.
"I'm sorry, too, Targon," he said. "And I don't understand how you could do this."
"Carter, I've explained this to you before," Targon said. "There's more to this than the dreams of two men now. I have this planet to think of, and the future of the people on it."
Now red anger replaced Frolich's sadness. "Venus doesn't belong to you!"
"It doesn't belong to any of us, Carter." With another pang, Targon remembered his early days as an apprentice, how their heated arguments had gone well into the night then: Even though he had been younger and more inexperienced, the basic philosophies of Targon Ramir and Carter Frolich had been in place then, and hadn't changed now. "The fact is, I can't let this planet fall into Martian hands. And I won't."
"Prime Cornelian has vowed to let our work go forward! He has promised not to interfere with the completion of what we've started, Targon!"
Carter's naïveté in political matters was astounding and always had been to Targon. Though Carter could woo the last dollar out of a governor's wallet, he still could not believe that anyone could possibly possess anything
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