You say you are bonded with affinity?
Thats right.
Are you an Edenist, then?
Vorix made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snicker.
No, Father, Powel said. Im simply practical. And if I had a fuseodollar for every new-landed priest who asked me that I would be a millionaire. I need Vorix upriver; I need him to hunt, to scout, to keep the Ivets in line. Neuron symbionts give me control over him. I use them because they are cheap and they work. The same as all the other settlement supervisors, and half of the county sheriffs as well. Its only the major Earth-based religions which maintain peoples prejudice against bitek. But on worlds like Lalonde we cant afford your prissy theological debates. We use what we have to, when we have to. And if you want to survive long enough to fill Group Sevens second generation with your noble bigotry over a single chromosome which makes people a blasphemy, then youll do the same. Now if youll excuse me, I have a settlement expedition to sort out. He brushed past, heading for the harbour.
Gerald Skibbow and the other members of Group Seven followed after him, several of them giving shamefaced glances to the startled priest. Gerald watched Rai Molvi gathering up his nerve to speak. Molvi had made a lot of noise at the meeting last night, he seemed to fancy himself as a leader of men. There had been plenty of suggestions that they form an official committee, elect a spokesperson. It would help the group interface with the authorities, Rai Molvi said. Gerald privately gave him six months before he was running back to Durringham with his tail between his legs. The man was an obvious lawyer type, didnt have what it took to be a farmer.
You were supposed to be here yesterday to brief us, Rai Molvi said.
Quite right, Powel said without breaking stride. I apologize. If you would like to make an official complaint about me, the Land Allocation Office which issues my contract is in a dumper down on the western edge of town. Its only six kilometres.
No, we werent going to complain, Rai Molvi said quickly. But we do need to establish certain facts to prepare ourselves. It would have been helpful had you attended.
Attended what?
Last nights council meeting.
What council?
Group Sevens council.
Powel took a breath. He never did understand why half of the colonists came to Lalonde in the first place. The LDC must employ some pretty amazing advertising techniques back on Earth, he thought. What was it the council wanted to know?
Well ... where are we going, for a start?
Upriver. Powel stretched out the pause long enough to make the other man uncomfortable. A place called Schuster County, on the Quallheim tributary. Although Im sure that if you have somewhere else in mind the river-boat captain will be happy to take you there instead.
Rai Molvi reddened.
Gerald pushed his way to the front as they all moved out from under the dormitorys creaking roof. Powel had turned, making for the circular harbour two hundred metres away, Vorix padding along eagerly behind him. There were several paddle-boats pulled up at the wooden quays inside the artificial lagoon. The bright red specks of scavenging chikrows swirled overhead. The sight with its sense of purpose and adventure was unbeatable, quickening his blood.
Is there anything we need to know about the paddleboats? he asked.
Not really, Powel said. They carry about a hundred and fifty people each, and itll take us about a fortnight to reach the Quallheim. Your meals are provided as part of your transit fee, and Ill be giving talks on the more practical aspects of jungle lore and setting up your home. So just find yourself a bunk, and enjoy the trip, for you wont ever have another like it. After we make landfall the real work begins.
Gerald nodded his thanks and turned back to the dormitory. Let the others pester the man with irrelevant questions, he would get the family packed and onto the Swithland straight away. A long river trip would be just what Marie needed to calm her down.
The Swithland followed a standard design for the larger paddle-boats operating on the Juliffe. She had a broad, shallow hull made of mayope planks, measuring sixty metres from prow to stern and twenty metres broad. With the water flowing by a mere metre and a half below the deck she could almost have been mistaken for a well-crafted raft had it not been for her superstructure, which resembled a large rectangular barn. Her odd blend of ancient and modern technologies was yet another indicator of Lalondes development status. Two paddles midway down the hull because they were far simpler to manufacture and maintain than the more efficient screws. Electric motors because the industrial machinery to assemble them was cheaper than the equivalent necessary to produce a steam generator and turbine unit. But then electric motors required a power source, which was a solid-state thermal-exchange furnace imported from Oshanko. Such costly imports would only be tolerated while the number of paddle-boats made the generator and turbine factory uneconomical. When their numbers increased the governing economic equations would change in tandem, quite probably sweeping them away entirely to be replaced with another equally improbable mismatch craft. Such was the way of progress on Lalonde.
The Swithland herself was only seventeen years old, and good for another fifty or sixty at least. Her captain, Rosemary Lambourne, had taken out a mortgage with the LDC that her grandchildren would be paying off. As far as she was concerned, that was a bargain. Seventeen years of watching hapless colonists sailing upriver to their dreams ruin convinced her she had done the right thing. Her colonist shipment contract with the Governors Transport Office was a solid income, guaranteed for the next twenty years, and everything she brought downriver for Durringhams growing merchant community was pure profit, earning hard fuseodollars.
Life on the river was the best, she could hardly remember her existence back on Earth, working in a Govcentral design bureau to improve vac-train carriages. That was somebody elses existence.
A quarter of an hour before they were due to cast off, Rosemary stood on the open bridge, which took up the forward quarter of the superstructures top deck. Powel Manani had joined her after he had led his horse up the gangplank, tethering it on the aft deck; now the two of them watched the colonists embarking. Children and adults alike shuffled round. The children were mostly gathered round the horse, patting and stroking it gently. Shoulder-bags and larger cases were strewn about over the dark planking. The sound of several heated arguments drifted up to the top deck. Nobody had thought to count how many people were coming on board. Now the boat was overladen, and latecomers were reluctant to find another berth on one of the other ships.
You got your Ivets organized well, she told the supervisor. I dont think Ive ever seen the gear stowed so professionally before. They finished over an hour ago. The harbour-master ought to nab them from you and put them to work as stevedores.
Humm, Powel said. Vorix, who was lying on the deck behind them, gave an uneasy growl.
Rosemary grinned at that. Sometimes she wasnt sure who was bonded to who.
Something wrong? she asked.
Someone, actually. Theyve got themselves a leader. Hes going to be trouble, Rosemary. I know he is.
Youll keep them in line. Hell, youve supered five settlements, and all of them wound up viable. If you cant do it nobody can.
Thanks. You run a pretty tight ship yourself.
Keep an eye out for yourself this time, Powel. Theres people gone missing up in Schuster County recently. Rumour has it the Governors none too happy.
Yeah?
The Hycel is carrying a marshal upriver. Going to have a scout round.