Aubrey snorted. “Christ, man,” he said. “This thing is worth more than this company’s last sixty years of revenue. Do you really think we’re not going to extract the whole thing?”
“No, sir,” Gruber said. “But there are practical and environmental issues—”
“Which we will solve one way or another,” Aubrey said, interrupting Gruber.
“Yes, sir,” Gruber said, pressing on. “Even so, it will present challenges, particularly in accessing the main seam in the lowland jungle areas. Challenges that will at present take us right to the line of CEPA regulations regarding mining and deforestation.”
“CEPA regulations aren’t written in stone,” Aubrey said.
“No, sir,” Gruber agreed. “But per your father’s orders, they still have to be followed.”
“Yes, of course,” Aubrey said, with the same tone of voice he’d earlier used to opine about the desirability of his father’s continued health. Holloway looked around the table to see if anyone evidenced any concern about this. The faces of the ZaraCorp executives were very carefully blank. Holloway smirked in spite of himself.
Aubrey looked around the table. “Gentlemen, I want to be clear about this,” he said. “This seam of sunstones could be of enormous benefit to the Zarathustra Corporation. I don’t need to remind you that our company’s preeminence in the Exploration and Exploitation segment of the economy has been under attack, both from increased regulatory interference by the Colonial Authority, and by other E and Es, primarily BlueSky, whose revenues exceeded ours last year for the first time in history. This sunstone seam, fully exploited, could put ZaraCorp in an unassailable profit position for decades. Decades. So we will exploit it fully.
“Therefore, gentlemen: The excavation of this seam is now the top priority of your planetary organization,” Aubrey said. “You need to go through your organization and find what resources you can commit on an immediate basis, and which resources you can shift to it thereafter. I have decided to stay on planet to personally supervise the start-up of this effort. If we’re not exploiting this seam in a month—and I mean exploiting it in a serious, focused way—then you all are going to be looking for new jobs. Which I will make it my personal business to ensure you never find. Are we clear?”
No one said anything. Wheaton Aubrey VII held no official executive title at Zarathustra Corporation, but then neither had Wheaton Aubrey VI before he became Chairman and CEO, nor his father before him. No one was under any illusion Aubrey VII was not next in line to the throne. No one was under any illusion Aubrey VII couldn’t bury them and their careers under six miles of shit.
“Good,” Aubrey said. “Then let’s get to it.” He grinned and thumped the table. “Damn! This is good news.” He looked down the table again at Holloway. “Now I really am glad you were disbarred, Holloway.”
“Thanks,” Holloway said, dryly.
Chapter Seven
Holloway woke up to his nose being poked.
He swatted his hand in front of his face without opening his eyes. “Quit it, Carl,” he said. He immediately dropped back into sleep.
Poke.
Holloway grunted and turned in his cot, away from his offending and offensive poking dog.
Poke.
This time the poke was on the back of his head. Holloway grunted and attempted a swat but ended up mostly just waving his arm around.
Poke.
This poke to the head occurred roughly at the same time a thought penetrated the fuzzy cotton batting in Holloway’s brain: Since when does Carl, face-licker extraordinaire, poke? It took another moment or two for the implications of that thought to settle in.
At which point, Holloway hollered and levitated himself as far off his cot as possible, coming down badly into the space between the cot and the cabin wall. The half of his body still on the cot leveraged the thing down, toppling it and swinging the cot forward into his face. Only his flying pillow kept him from a gash on his forehead.
The cat thing, standing to the side of where the cot used to be, watched all of this with interest. When the carnage was done, it looked over at Holloway and blinked.
“Jesus!” Holloway said, to the creature. “How did you get in?”
How did it get in? Holloway glanced up at the window above where his cot should be; it was firmly closed, as were all the other windows in the cabin. The door was likewise closed. There was no way that fuzzy little bastard could get in, unless …
“Carl!” Holloway called, and looked out into the cabin from the sleeping alcove.
Carl peeked his head around the work desk, his best oh crap I better not make eye contact look on display.
“You let this thing in, didn’t you?” Holloway said. “You went to your dog door and let him walk right through. Admit it.”
Carl offered an apologetic tail thump and hid.
“Unbelievable,” Holloway said. He glanced down at the cat thing again, which appeared serenely unconcerned about the entire domestic drama unfolding around it.
There was a ping. Holloway looked around the chaos of his sleeping alcove and found his infopanel on the floor next to his small nightstand. He’d been reading survey reports on it before he went to sleep. Now someone was calling him on it. Holloway picked up the infopanel and slapped it to life, audio only.
“What?” he said.
“Jack?” Isabel said. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I was up,” Holloway said, looking at the cat thing.
“Jack, that video you gave me,” Isabel said. “Is it real?”
“What?” Holloway said.
“I mean, this is video you took, right? It’s not something you found on the network somewhere,” Isabel said.
“It’s mine,” Holloway said. “You should recognize the cabin, Isabel.”
“I know, sorry,” Isabel said. “It’s just … well. Jack. Whatever this thing is on the video, no one’s seen it before.”
“You don’t say,” Holloway said. By this time the cat thing, bored with watching him, had started walking around the cabin like it owned the place.
“There’s nothing like it in the archives, even,” Isabel said. “Which is admittedly not saying much; it’s not as if ZaraCorp ever does anything more than the absolute minimum required by an E and E charter, and they’re focused on sapience detection anyway.”
“Uh-huh,” Holloway said. The cat thing had wandered over to Carl and put a hand on Carl’s muzzle, stroking it. Carl thumped his tail and then glanced over guiltily to Holloway.
“That’s right, you traitor,” Holloway said.
“What?” Isabel said.
“Sorry,” Holloway said. “Talking to Carl.”
“What I’m saying is that even in the archives there’s no evidence of a creature like this,” Isabel said, continuing on. “We have data on a few mammal-like creatures, basically rodents, and one of the flying creatures here is mostly mammal-like. But nothing even comes close to this. How big was this creature, Jack?”
Holloway looked at the creature, which had made its way into the kitchen area. “It’s about the size of a cat, I’d say,” he said. “A big cat. Like a Maine Coon. If you stood the cat up on its hind legs.”
“So it was primarily bipedal,” Isabel said. “I mean, so far as you observed it.”
The cat thing was climbing up one of the chairs at the kitchen nook table. “I’d say so.”
“That’s unusual too,” Isabel said. “All the other mammal-like creatures here are quadrupeds. Except the flying one. Did you see it use its hands? Did it show any significant manual dexterity?”