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anything happens to the ship, I’ll never know. But because it will mean that another link with Earth has been broken – and, my dearest, with you.

13. Task Force

    “ T he president’s not going to like this,” Mayor Waldron said with relish. “He’s set his heart on getting you to North Island.”
    “I know,” Deputy Captain Malina answered. “And we’ll be sorry to disappoint him – he’s been very helpful. But North Island’s far too rocky; the only suitable coastal areas are already developed. Yet there’s a completely deserted bay, with a gently sloping beach, only nine kilometres from Tarna – it will be perfect.”
    “Sounds too good to be true. Why is it deserted, Brant?”
    “That was the Mangrove Project. All the trees died – we still don’t know why – and no one’s had the heart to tidy up the mess. It looks terrible, and smells worse.”
    “So it’s already an ecological disaster area – you’re welcome, Captain! You can only improve matters.”
    “I can assure you that our plant will be very handsome and won’t damage the environment in the slightest. And of course it will all be dismantled when we leave. Unless you want to keep it.”
    “Thank you – but I doubt if we’d have much use for several hundred tons of ice a day. Meanwhile, what facilities can Tarna offer – accommodation, catering, transport? – we’ll be happy to oblige. I assume that quite a number of you will be coming down to work here.”
    “Probably about a hundred and we appreciate your offer of hospitality. But I’m afraid we’d be terrible guests: we’ll be having conferences with the ship at all hours of the day and night. So we have to stick together – and as soon as we’ve assembled our little prefabricated village, we’ll move into it with all our equipment. I’m sorry if this seems ungracious – but any other arrangement simply wouldn’t be practical.”
    “I suppose you’re right,” the mayor sighed. She had been wondering how she could bend protocol and offer what passed for the hospitality suite to the spectacular Lieutenant Commander Lorenson instead of to Deputy Captain Malina. The problem had appeared insoluble; now, alas, it would not even arise.
    She felt so discouraged that she was almost tempted to call North Island and invite her last official consort back for a vacation. But the wretch would probably turn her down again, and she simply couldn’t face that.

14. Mirissa

    E ven when she was a very old woman, Mirissa Leonidas could still remember the exact moment when she first set eyes on Loren. There was no one else – not even Brant – of which this was true.
    Novelty had nothing to do with it; she had already met several of the Earthmen before encountering Loren, and they had made no unusual impression on her. Most of them could have passed as Lassans if they had been left out in the sun for a few days.
    But not Loren; his skin never tanned, and his startling hair became, if anything, even more silvery. That was certainly what had first drawn her notice as he was emerging from Mayor Waldron’s office with two of his colleagues – all of them bearing that slightly frustrated look which was the usual outcome of a session with Tarna’s lethargic and well-entrenched bureaucracy.
    Their eyes had met, but for a moment only. Mirissa took a few more paces; then, without any conscious volition, she came to a dead halt and looked back over her shoulder – to see that the visitor was staring at her. Already, they both knew that their lives had been irrevocably changed.
    Later that night, after they had made love, she asked Brant, “Have they said how long they’re staying?”
    “You do choose the worst times,” he grumbled sleepily. “At least a year. Maybe two. Goodnight – again.”
    She knew better than to ask any more questions even though she still felt wide awake. For a long time she lay open-eyed, watching the swift shadows of the inner moon sweep across the floor