“But listen to this last transmission from the Kibalchich, broadcast on the open band about three weeks ago.” His fingers spent a few moments working at the keypad, linking to the communications center log. Ramis and Karen remained silent, waiting for him. Brahms found what he wanted and played it over the set of desk speakers. “It’s voice only. We can’t even see for sure who was talking.”
He sat back and listened.
“This is Commander Stepan Rurik of the Soviet research station Kibalchich. We hereby sever all ties with other survivors on Earth’s space colonies. Do not attempt to contact us. We wish to remain isolated.”
Brahms drew his mouth tight. “We haven’t heard a word from them since. I’ve had my communications people try to contact them daily, but no one ever answers. I can’t tell if they’re just being stubborn, or if something’s happened to them.”
He frowned again. “And you want to go over there and investigate. My automatic inclination is to say no, it’s too dangerous. But then secondary thoughts kick in, and I come up with many different reasons why I should let you go.”
He held up his fingers, ticking them off. “First, I think it’s important for us to find out what happened to them, why they’ve broken off contact. Even if we were adversaries in the War, we could find some way to work things out, now that we’ve got so much to lose.
“Ah!” He smiled as if another thought had just occurred to him. “And you’d be going as a Filipino citizen, not as a representative of Orbitech 1. They won’t be able to hold anything against us.
“The second reason—if they all did die, it happened much too quickly for them to have used up all their supplies. Even though we now have the wall-kelp, the Kibalchich could have lots of other provisions just sitting there for the taking. Hmmm, although getting them back over here will be another problem.”
Karen spoke up. “I have an idea about that, Mr. Brahms.”
He looked at her and nodded. “Let me finish my reasons first, then I’ll ask.”
Karen nodded, then sat back. The words sounded like a reprimand to Ramis, but he could detect no negative tone in Brahms’s voice. The director held up his hand and ticked off a third reason, as if he didn’t want to lose his train of thought.
“Also, the Soviets were working on many different research items. They were very close-mouthed about everything, but we were able to watch them constructing the Kibalchich through our telescopes. All we know is that it was a research station. Now, if they are indeed gone, perhaps they left something behind that we can use. We can take their technology for our own benefit.
“Fourth—and this may be more important than you realize—by undertaking such an adventure, you will give a tremendous boost to our morale here. I’m not too stupid to admit that we’re in bad shape. Our researchers are too frightened or too depressed to do their best work. This mission of yours would give them something to hope for, something to watch. We could even hold a competition for designing the best apparatus to assist you in getting over there.
“After we broadcast it over ConComm, you’ll also be a hero, twice over—to Clavius Base and to your home, Aguinaldo.”
He smiled, looking boyish all of a sudden without his eyeglasses. “And, finally, what have we got to lose?”
Ramis grinned back at him, but in a corner of his mind he thought of another reason, one that Brahms no doubt had been reluctant to say out loud. If I don’t come back, that’s one less mouth you have to feed from your precious supplies.
Brahms cleared his throat and turned to address Karen. She jumped at the sudden attention and averted her eyes.
“Now then, Dr. Langelier, I’m interested in hearing your ideas about bringing supplies back.”
“Well, I don’t know if your assessors have been keeping you up-to-date on my work.”
Brahms flicked his eyes to the console screen on his desk surface. He brushed his fingers over a few keys and stared at the words scrolling up. “Ah, yes, your weavewire. But that was years ago, and in New Mexico yet. There haven’t been any new developments that I can see, unless you count those garments you’ve made.”
Karen wet her lips. “Let me explain, Mr. Brahms—put this in perspective. The weavewire is only one molecule thick and held together by an unusual type of potential. It won’t mean anything to you, but it’s called a one-and-a-half-dimensional material. It’s so thin you can’t see it, but it won’t break except under conditions so extreme we can’t even create them in the laboratory. And since it’s only one molecule thick, it requires very little raw material and weighs almost nothing, in addition to being extremely flexible.”
“And?” Brahms tapped one finger on the desktop with the first signs of impatience. “I’m sure that’s all summarized here.”
“Well, up until lately, I’ve only been able to draw out a couple hundred kilometers a day under stringently controlled laboratory conditions. As I draw it out I have to electromagnetically braid the fiber into a macroscopic weave so it will not be dangerous. Being one molecule thick, it can slice through anything—steel, people, the colony.
“Anyway, I’ve perfected a new process to draw out tens of thousands of kilometers a day without being under those stringent conditions. That is, I can make the weavewire on demand, anywhere and any time. Since the weavewire doesn’t even exist until it’s drawn out, we don’t have to store it—we can use it as an indestructible cable. When Ramis goes, he can trail a double wire behind him. If he reaches the Kibalchich, our two colonies will then be connected by a very thin and very strong cable—a lifeline, like they used to have between rescue ships. We can use it as a ferry to haul things back and forth, like a big pulley.”
Brahms watched her. “I thought you just said the wire would slice through any material—”
“Any material except itself! We could construct a harness made of weavewire that rides along the length of the line, use that to haul supplies back from the Kibalchich.”
Brahms got a far-off look in his eyes. “Yessss.” He stood up and nodded to them with his decision. “Ramis, as soon as Dr. Langelier has everything ready for you, I want you to go to the Kibalchich. I will announce the project and have a competition to design the best method for getting you there. That would certainly raise the colony’s morale.”
He pointed toward the door in an obvious gesture of dismissal. Ramis felt so uncomfortable at being near the director, he lost no time getting up from his seat.
“I can’t tell you how much of a pleasure it is to be able to make this kind of announcement instead of something much more unpleasant,” Brahms continued. “Good luck, and Godspeed.”
Relieved, and trying not to run, Ramis fled the acting director’s office.
Chapter 28
CLAVIUS BASE—Day 39
Leaning back on his bunk, Duncan McLaris stared at the gray-brown rock of the textured wall. Some of the rooms were finished with white ceramic tiles; others had been sealed and left au naturel. McLaris preferred the latter.
He tilted his gaze up to the narrow strip of thick glass that formed a window for him to look out at the lunar surface and the stars beyond.
With the new catacombs and the extra quarters dug in them, Cliff Clancy’s engineers had spread out. Many of the other Clavius Base personnel had moved into newer and more spacious quarters. Since he was now base manager, McLaris himself laid claim to one of the biggest new rooms—one close enough to the surface to have the lip of a window.