Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Surely not.” Ethan was shocked by the suggestion.

“If you work on somebody long enough, it’s been proven you can alter their attitudes no matter how dedicated they are. This Bamaputra’s sharp. And he’s a scientist himself. He can talk to folks like Blanchard and Semkin in their own language. He might eventually be able to convince some of our friends that what he’s doing really is in the best interests of the Tran, his backers’ ulterior motives notwithstanding.”

“You know, that whole business still bothers me.”

September turned to look at him. “How do you mean, feller-me-lad?”

“Well, I’m in the same sort of business. Trade, commerce, you know. There are other, less expensive ways to secure a trade monopoly than by changing around a whole world’s climate.”

A broad grin spread across the giant’s face. “I was wondering when that would occur to you.”

Ethan was startled. “You’ve been thinking along the same lines?”

“Have to be blind not to see it, lad. For instance, your company could simply apply for such a monopoly. Even though getting it’s an outside shot, if you paid off the right people and demonstrated your good intentions to the rest, you just might get permission. At least you try.”

While they mulled over the obvious, Hwang and her colleagues were engaged in animated discussion across the room. When it concluded, Williams and Cheela Hwang came over to join them. They brought confirmation of Ethan’s suspicions, but not in the manner he’d hoped.

It was much worse than anything he’d thought of.

“We’ve been doing calculations.”

“Isn’t that what you always do?” September quipped.

She didn’t even glance in his direction. Her expression was ashen. “We’ve been plodding through what we know and combining it with what we can extrapolate in the absence of actual raw data about the actual rate of melting of the ice sheet and the warming of the atmosphere in this region. We’ve had to guess as to how long this installation has been in operation. We do know, of course, that it can’t be longer than the existence of Tran-ky-ky has been known. The chances of it having been discovered by these people prior to the first official Commonwealth survey are slim.” She looked at the scientific calculator on her wrist, shoving back the sleeve of her survival suit to expose the small rectangular readout. It was filled with dancing figures.

“We’re pretty sure of our results. I wish we weren’t.”

Milliken Williams looked stricken. “They show that this Bamaputra is being much too modest when he says they’re going to change things on Tran-ky-ky over a period of time. The surface will indeed warm rapidly once the ice sheet begins to retreat. The trouble is that Tran physiology can’t adjust nearly as fast. The climatological shift will occur much too quickly for our friends to adapt to it.

“Those who live close to the equator have a chance of surviving, with help and care. Those in the northern zones, from the temperate to the subarctic, will die of heatstroke long before they can reach the southern continent, despite anything short of massive intervention on the part of Commonwealth authorities. Even if such intervention is forthcoming, we don’t see how a relief effort of that size can be mounted in time.” He made a disgusted sound. “Politics.”

“We’re not talking thousands of deaths here,” Hwang whispered. “We’re talking millions. Genocide. Not mass extinction, but close. Those Tran who survive will do so as government wards, not as the progenitors of a new ‘golden age.’ ”

All Ethan could do was gape at the two of them and say, “Why?”

“I’ll tell you why,” said Hwang evenly. “You recall what Bamaputra said about this Massul and Corfu being in charge of refugee relief efforts? This is going to simplify their work. Massul will be emperor of nothing.”

September was nodding his head understanding. “All adds up, don’t it?” He looked at Ethan. “What happens, feller-me-lad, to a world that gets warmed right up real quick, too quick for the Tran to handle the change? What’s the result down the line when the ice melts and the temperature starts staying above freezing day and night?”

“I don’t follow you, Skua.”

September tapped the side of his white-haired head with an index finger. “You gotta learn to think in global terms, lad. See, if it gets too hot for the Tran, it becomes, real comfortable for humans. You end up with a nice, temperate, attractive, watery world where what’s left of the native population is confined to a single land mass much larger than they need to support them. A native population so reduced and weak that it would be dependent for its very survival on the largess of the Commonwealth.”

“Precisely,” said Hwang. “This installation has been carefully concealed so that the change in the climate can be made to appear the result of natural causes. Giving the prevailing ignorance about this world that is still possible to do. The Commonwealth will be forced to step in to insure the survival of the Tran as a race. In the confusion many relief organizations will be establishing footholds here. Bamaputra’s people will be the first of many and the best positioned to take advantage of the catastrophe.”

“Maybe Bamaputra’s fooling everyone under him. Maybe they’re not aware of what he’s really doing here.” Ethan knew it sounded naive but felt it had to be said.

Hwang shook her head. “The calculations are too simple, too obvious. People like this Antal aren’t stupid. They must know what the end result of their operation here is going to be. It is possible that the lower echelon workers are being kept ignorant.”

“Don’t you see, young feller-me-lad? Bamaputra’s backers aren’t interested in commerce. They aren’t interested in trade monopolies. They’re interested in real estate. A world’s worth. Colonies are allowed on uninhabited worlds and Class I worlds with the consent of the dominant race, but not on anything in between. Tran-ky-ky’s real in between. Not that anyone would want to settle on Tran-ky-ky the way it is. But raise the temperature fifty degrees or so and melt the ice and this could be another New Riviera.”

“For the Tran it would become a literal hell,” said Williams. “For those who managed to survive, anyway. The racial remnants would eventually change into the Golden Saia state, but their numbers would be too reduced to object to an influx of settlers.”

It was quiet for a long moment, each of them lost in their own private contemplation of a horror greater than any had previously encountered or ever expected to.

“Are you sure about the rate of warming and melting?” Ethan finally murmured.

“Even if we are off by a factor of ten or twenty percent,” Hwang told him softly, “it still spells doom for the Tran as a developing race. They will never have the chance to build the advanced civilization Bamaputra talks about because they will not have the numbers to do it on their own. They will become wholly dependent on Commonwealth refugee agencies—or on this project’s backers.”

Williams smiled humorlessly. “I can see Bamaputra’s people displaying great concern for the survivors. It will be excellent public relations for them.”

September nodded knowingly. “They’ve figured it down to the last weld. Right from the start—except for us. We shouldn’t be here. At least we’ve managed to start ’em looking over their shoulders. Not surprised they’re handling us so careful. They know any of us gets back to Brass Monkey and starts talking, the Commonwealth itself won’t be big enough for them to hide in.”

“Then they’d better start running,” said Cheela Hwang softly, “because we’re leaving.”