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Authors: John Barnes
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declared that “Leadership isn’t what you do, or know, it’s what you are.”
Faczel shrugged just as if he could actually see Jak’s shudder. “Sorry to be adding all these complications, Jinnaka, but
the Assembly Steering Committee ordered this directly, and since four of Mr. Waynong’s cousins were voting on the subject—”
He shrugged again. “Good luck to you, sir.”
The vision clicked off. Before Jak could even decide to take off his goggles, there was another signal; an incoming call from
Hive Intel’s Deimos office.
Doctor Mejitarian’s big warm eyes had never looked so troubled before. “Hello, Jak. You’ll be happy to know that for once
this is not about the Princess. I wanted to let you know that we intercepted Hel Faczel’s message and he is correct in
all
particulars. Clarbo Waynong really is a fool and had no business passing the PSA, let alone being taken into Hive Intel.
“But in our business, we work with what we have. We are keeping Waynong in Hive Intel because he wants to be in Hive Intel.
We give him what he wants because he is the oldest son in the senior branch of an important patrician family. He is highly
electable and appointable, and therefore certain someday to be very powerful.
“We want him favorably disposed toward us.
“We need him to succeed at the present business, and we need his name to be all over the success when the story becomes public,
you see.
“Engineering his success is not going to be easy. (I assure you that you will get no help from
him.
) Nonetheless, if somehow he succeeds, we will know who engineered it. So, by way of incentive, direct from Dean Caccitepe:
if Hive Intel obtains control of the Nakasen lifelog through your efforts, in such a way that the public credit goes to Clarbo
Waynong, then we will at once completely decondition you from your attachment to Princess Shyf, terminate your double-agent
mission, and transfer you out of PASC and into Hive Intel. Make what we want happen, and everything you want is yours.
“Any questions?” The kobold’s grin was surprisingly warm.
“None at all, sir. It’s a deal,” Jak said. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
Mejitarian’s expression went flat. “I have been working with Clarbo Waynong for most of two years, and I would say, don’t
thank me for this opportunity until you’ve had some firsthand experience of it. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Jak took off his eyepieces and his headphones. Pikia was looking at him curiously.
“Bad luck, not of our making, but we’re going to be cleaning up after other people’s messes,” Jak said to her. “We’re getting
three backseat drivers. Two pushy zybotniks and a probable incompetent.” He gave her the truth about Sib and Gweshira, and
a highly edited version of the Clarbo Waynong problem. It was a chance to practice his cover story with a less-experienced
person.
When he finished, she made a soft click with her tongue.
“What?” Jak asked.
“Well, at least I’m not the most useless person on the team anymore.”
C HAPTER 5
If You Can Pull It Off, You’re In Out of the Cold
A n hour later, they were back on the acceleration couches, comfortable enough in slightly more than two g, as
John Carter
slid down into the atmosphere. The Martian scale height is large (pressure falls very gradually with increasing altitude),
and much of the post-Bombardment atmosphere is far above the surface, since the planet does not “hold it down” very hard.
Martian air is sticky so that it exerts great force on any airfoil, but its thinness and high heat capacity dissipate aerobraking
heat rapidly.
Thus the risk in coming into Mars’s post-Bombardment atmosphere at too steep an angle was not so much of burning up as of
being squashed flat; the danger of coming in too shallow was that the terrific lift of the sticky air could fling one away
from the planet all too easily.
John Carter
entered shallowly, and
Faczel shrugged just as if he could actually see Jak’s shudder. “Sorry to be adding all these complications, Jinnaka, but
the Assembly Steering Committee ordered this directly, and since four of Mr. Waynong’s cousins were voting on the subject—”
He shrugged again. “Good luck to you, sir.”
The vision clicked off. Before Jak could even decide to take off his goggles, there was another signal; an incoming call from
Hive Intel’s Deimos office.
Doctor Mejitarian’s big warm eyes had never looked so troubled before. “Hello, Jak. You’ll be happy to know that for once
this is not about the Princess. I wanted to let you know that we intercepted Hel Faczel’s message and he is correct in
all
particulars. Clarbo Waynong really is a fool and had no business passing the PSA, let alone being taken into Hive Intel.
“But in our business, we work with what we have. We are keeping Waynong in Hive Intel because he wants to be in Hive Intel.
We give him what he wants because he is the oldest son in the senior branch of an important patrician family. He is highly
electable and appointable, and therefore certain someday to be very powerful.
“We want him favorably disposed toward us.
“We need him to succeed at the present business, and we need his name to be all over the success when the story becomes public,
you see.
“Engineering his success is not going to be easy. (I assure you that you will get no help from
him.
) Nonetheless, if somehow he succeeds, we will know who engineered it. So, by way of incentive, direct from Dean Caccitepe:
if Hive Intel obtains control of the Nakasen lifelog through your efforts, in such a way that the public credit goes to Clarbo
Waynong, then we will at once completely decondition you from your attachment to Princess Shyf, terminate your double-agent
mission, and transfer you out of PASC and into Hive Intel. Make what we want happen, and everything you want is yours.
“Any questions?” The kobold’s grin was surprisingly warm.
“None at all, sir. It’s a deal,” Jak said. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
Mejitarian’s expression went flat. “I have been working with Clarbo Waynong for most of two years, and I would say, don’t
thank me for this opportunity until you’ve had some firsthand experience of it. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Jak took off his eyepieces and his headphones. Pikia was looking at him curiously.
“Bad luck, not of our making, but we’re going to be cleaning up after other people’s messes,” Jak said to her. “We’re getting
three backseat drivers. Two pushy zybotniks and a probable incompetent.” He gave her the truth about Sib and Gweshira, and
a highly edited version of the Clarbo Waynong problem. It was a chance to practice his cover story with a less-experienced
person.
When he finished, she made a soft click with her tongue.
“What?” Jak asked.
“Well, at least I’m not the most useless person on the team anymore.”
C HAPTER 5
If You Can Pull It Off, You’re In Out of the Cold
A n hour later, they were back on the acceleration couches, comfortable enough in slightly more than two g, as
John Carter
slid down into the atmosphere. The Martian scale height is large (pressure falls very gradually with increasing altitude),
and much of the post-Bombardment atmosphere is far above the surface, since the planet does not “hold it down” very hard.
Martian air is sticky so that it exerts great force on any airfoil, but its thinness and high heat capacity dissipate aerobraking
heat rapidly.
Thus the risk in coming into Mars’s post-Bombardment atmosphere at too steep an angle was not so much of burning up as of
being squashed flat; the danger of coming in too shallow was that the terrific lift of the sticky air could fling one away
from the planet all too easily.
John Carter
entered shallowly, and
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