‘Yes. Kenny Xin bought two, and both were put on Mayé’s rocket. And now we’re asking ourselves: where’s the second one?’
Shaw stared at him. Lee was right, this was alarming. This meant no lime soufflé. What it did mean, she didn’t want to think about.
Charon, Outer Space
Evelyn Chambers saw Olympiada Rogacheva floating from the sleeping area into the lounge with an expression of grim contentment. The spookily unreal aspect of her appearance had vanished. For the first time, the Russian seemed to see herself as the chief indicator of her own presence, as someone who didn’t only exist thanks to her association with other people, but who would continue to be there even if her life’s coordinators took their eyes off her.
‘I told him to kiss my ass,’ she announced, and settled next to Heidrun.
‘And how did he take that?’
‘He said he wouldn’t do that, exactly, but he wished me luck.’
‘Seriously,’ said Heidrun, amazed. ‘You told him you were leaving him?’
Olympiada Rogacheva looked down at herself with the shy sensuality of a teenager exploring the new territory of her body.
‘Do you think I’m too old to—’
‘Nonsense,’ Heidrun said stoutly.
Olympiada smiled, looked up and floated away. An imaginary Miranda Winter somersaulted weightlessly, shrieked and squeaked. Finn O’Keefe read his book, to keep from seeing her red lips forming a blossom of promise, or uttering words of breathtaking banality. They were hurrying through space in the constant presence of Rebecca Hsu, they heard Momoka Omura making her acid comments, and Warren Locatelli boasting, Chucky telling bad jokes even more badly than they deserved, Aileen making bouquets of brightly coloured flowers of wisdom, Mimi Parker and Marc Edwards finding fulfilment in togetherness and Peter Black telling the latest news from time and space. They even heard Carl Hanna playing guitar, the other Carl, who wasn’t a terrorist, just a nice guy. Walo Ögi played chess under the ceiling and lost his third game against Karla Kramp, Eva Borelius was trapped in the hamster-wheel of her self-reproach, and Dana Lawrence, the self-declared heroine, was writing a report.
Evelyn Chambers said nothing, glad of the emptiness in her head. For the first time since leaving the Moon, she felt distinctly better. Looking back, that strange experience in the mining area had been too embarrassing for her to mention, but she would have to find words for it sooner or later. She felt a vague sense of dread, as if a monstrous presence in that sea of mist had become aware of her, and had been watching her since then, but even that she would deal with. She gently pushed herself away, left Olympiada to her own devices and floated over to the bistro.
‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’ Rogachev, strapped into a harness, looked up from his computer. ‘You?’
‘Better.’ She rubbed her temples with her index fingers. ‘The pressure is easing.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘But what if I yield to my professional curiosity?’
‘You can ask anything you like.’ Rogachev’s smile melted the ice between his blond eyelashes a little. ‘As long as you don’t expect to get an answer to everything.’
‘What are you doing on that computer all the time?’
‘Julian deserves a response. We had a fantastic week thanks to him. However it may have ended, we were given a lot. And now we’ve got to give something in return.’
‘You want to invest?’ asked Mukesh Nair, floating over.
‘Why not?’
‘After this disaster?’
‘So?’ Oleg Rogachev shrugged. ‘Did people stop building ships just because the Titanic went down?’
‘I’ll admit, I’m uneasy.’
‘You know how failure works, Mukesh. It’s always sparked by a fear of crisis. It starts with a soluble problem, but it drags a psychosis along behind it. A shark psychosis. It only takes one shark to paralyse the tourism of a whole region, because no one will go into the water even though the likelihood of being eaten tends to zero. The collapse of the economy, of the financial markets, has always involved psychoses. Not the individual terrorist attack, not the bankruptcy of an individual bank, the threat comes from the general paralysis that follows. Should I make my decision to invest in Julian’s project, in the breakthrough of the global energy supply, dependent on a shark?’
‘The shark was an atom bomb, Oleg!’ Nair opened his eyes wide. ‘Possibly the start of a global conflict.’
‘Or not.’
‘At any rate, there was nothing Julian could have done about it,’ Evelyn confirmed. ‘We were the victim of an attack meant for somebody else. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
‘But someone must know who was behind it!’
‘And what are you going to do if they don’t?’ Rogachev asked ironically. ‘Suspend all space travel?’
‘You know very well that’s not what I think,’ Mukesh grumbled. ‘I just wonder if an investment would be sensible.’
‘I do too.’
‘And?’
Rogachev pointed at the computer screen. ‘I’ve worked it out. There’s about six hundred thousand tonnes of helium-3 stored on the Moon, ten times the potential energy yield of all the oil, gas and coal supplies on Earth. Perhaps even more, because the concentration of the isotope on the back of the Moon might be even higher than it is in the Earth’s shadow. That’s five metres of saturated regolith; the most interesting part is the first two to three metres, or exactly the depth ploughed by the beetles.’ Rogachev typed on his computer. ‘Leaving out transport to Earth, the energy balance is as follows: one gram of regolith equals seventeen hundred and fifty Joules. Some of this is lost in heating and processing, leaving us with, let’s say, fifteen hundred Joules. That’s an area of ten thousand square kilometres that needs to be ploughed and processed to cover the current energy needs of Earth. One thousandth of the Moon’s surface. Where productivity is concerned, beetles work with sunlight, which means that they spend half the year without energy, meaning that we would need twice as many of the things as we have at present.’
‘And how many is that?’
‘A few thousand.’
‘A few thousand?’ cried Mukesh.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Oleg, unmoved. ‘Assuming we’re deploying that many, then supplies would last for around four thousand years, always assuming that the world population stagnates and the Third World’s energy needs remain lower than those of the developed countries. Neither of these two things will be the case. Realistically, we can expect a global population of twenty-five billion by the end of the century, and an overall increase in electricity usage. In that case the Moon will supply us with energy for seven hundred years at most.’
‘And then?’ asked Evelyn Chambers.
‘We’ll have used up another fossil resource, and we’ll be standing right where we are today. The Moon will have been levelled, uninteresting to hotels and pleasure trips, but may have been able to preserve a few conservation areas. Whether we’ll be able to see them for dust is a whole other question.’
‘Thousands of mining machines.’ Nair shook his head. ‘That’s crazy! We’ll never be able to pay for them.’
‘We will.’ Rogachev snapped the computer shut. ‘We had a deficit problem with space travel, too. The lift changed everything, and building a few thousand machines like that isn’t such big news. Thousands of tanks will be built too, and a levelled moon is just a levelled moon.’
‘Shit,’ Chambers said to herself.
‘Yes, shit. I know what you’re thinking. Yet again we’ve destroyed a natural wonder for the sake of a short-term effect.’
‘But it’s going to be worth it?’
‘It’ll be worth it for seven hundred years, and from a distance the Moon won’t look much different from what it looks like today.’ Oleg pursed his lips. ‘So I think I’m going to invest part of the originally planned sum in Orley Space.’
‘Congratul
ations.’
‘Not least on your advice.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you forgotten? Isla de las Estrellas?’
‘I hadn’t been to the mining zone then.’
‘I understand. Shark psychosis.’
‘No, not at all. You’ve just expressed in words what I’d already worked out in the land of mists. The idiocy of the whole thing. When we talk about moon mining, most people think about a few lonely bulldozers lost in the vastness of the Moon. Instead, we’re losing the Moon to the bulldozers.’ She shook her head. ‘Of course it’s better to destroy the Moon than the Earth, aneutronic fusion is clean, and if it lasts seven hundred years, then fine. But I’m still allowed to think it’s crap.’
‘I thought I’d put the other half of the money into buying up Warren Locatelli’s Lightyears.’
‘What?’ Mukesh Nair rolled his eyes. ‘You want to—’
‘I don’t want to look ruthless.’ Rogachev raised both hands. ‘Warren’s dead, but holding back won’t bring him back to life. He was a little god, and like all gods he left a vacuum. In my view, Lightyears is the best imaginable candidate for a buyout. Warren Locatelli did amazing things in solar technology, there’s still much to come and the best brains in the sector are working for his company. So let’s be under no illusions: solar technology’s going to be the only way of solving our energy problems in the long term!’ He smiled. ‘So we may not even have to level the Moon.’
‘And you’re sure that Lightyears will simply allow itself to be swallowed up?’ the Indian asked suspiciously.
‘Hostile takeover.’
‘You’ll have to offer a huge amount of money.’
‘I know. Are you in?’
‘God almighty, you ask some questions!’ Nair rubbed his fleshy nose. ‘This isn’t really my area. I’m just a simple—’
‘Farmer’s son, I know.’
‘I’ll have to think about it, Oleg.’
‘Do that. I’ve already talked to Julian. He’s with me. Walo too.’
‘One of them gets a leg, the other an arm,’ hummed Evelyn, as Nair floated off with solar cells in his eyes. Rogachev smiled his vulpine smile and remained silent for a moment.
‘And you?’ he asked. ‘What are you going to do?’
She looked at him. ‘About Julian?
‘You do administer the capital of public opinion, as you put it so nicely.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Evelyn pulled a face. ‘I won’t hurt him.’
‘A good friend,’ Rogachev chuckled.
‘Friendship hasn’t got much to do with it, Oleg. I was well disposed towards his projects before I went to the Moon, and I still am, regardless of what I think about the plundering that’s going on up there. He’s a pioneer, an innovator. No criminal gang is going to blow my sympathies for him out of my head just like that.’
‘So are you going to make a programme about what happened?’
‘Of course. Will you be on it?’
‘If you like.’
‘In that case can I take the opportunity to ask you some questions about your private life?’
‘No, you can only do that here.’ He winked at her. ‘As a friend.’
‘At the moment the word is that you’re being abandoned.’
‘Ah, right.’ He glanced away. ‘Yes, I think Olympiada mentioned something along those lines.’
‘Christ, Oleg!’
He shrugged. ‘What do you expect? Since we got married she’s left me every two weeks or so.’
‘She seems to mean it this time.’
‘I’d be glad if she would turn her thoughts into actions. Admittedly this is the first time she’s left me without being falling-down drunk.’
‘You don’t care?’
‘No! It’s way overdue.’
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t get this at all. Why don’t you just leave her, in that case?’
‘I did, ages ago.’
‘Officially, I mean.’
‘Because I promised her father I wouldn’t.’
‘I see. All that macho crap.’
‘What? Keeping your promises?’ Rogachev studied her. ‘Shall I tell you the biggest reproach she levels at me, Evelyn? Do you want to know? What do you think?’
‘No idea.’ She shrugged. ‘Infidelity? Cynicism?’
‘No. That I’ve never taken the trouble to lie to her. Can you imagine that? The trouble?’
Confused, Evelyn said nothing.
‘But I don’t lie,’ said Rogachev. ‘You can accuse me of all sorts of things, probably rightly, but if there’s something that I’ve never done and never will do, it’s lying or breaking promises. Can you imagine that? Someone ignoring all your bad qualities and telling you off for your good one?’
‘Perhaps she means it’s more bearable—’
‘For whom? For her? She could have gone, at any time. She should never have married me. She knew me, she knew exactly who I am, and that Ginsburg and I were just trying to marry our fortunes together. But Olympiada agreed because she couldn’t think of anything better to do, and even today she can’t think of anything to do but suffer.’ Rogachev shook his head. ‘Believe me, I’ll never stop her. I’ll never force her to leave me. She may think I’ve degraded her, but she’s got to regain her own dignity. Olympiada says she’s dying by my side. That’s tough. But I can’t save her life, she has to save her own life, by going.’
Evelyn stared at her fingertips. Suddenly she saw the foot of the beetle coming down again, felt the creature’s pale eye settling on her from the realm of the dead. I see you, it said. I’ll watch you every day as you prepare yourself for death.
‘You’ve saved my life,’ she said quietly. ‘Did I ever thank you for that?’
‘I think you’re trying to right now,’ said Rogachev.
She hesitated. Then she leaned across and kissed him on the cheek.
‘I think you’ve got a few more positive characteristics,’ she said. ‘Even if you’re pretty ignorant otherwise.’
Rogachev nodded.
‘I should have started sooner,’ he said. ‘My father was a brave man, braver than the lot of us put together, but I couldn’t save his life. I try again every day, by piling up money for him, buying companies for him, submitting people to my will and thus to his, but still he is shot over and over again. He will never come back to life, and I don’t know how to deal with it. There’s no middle way, Evelyn. Either you’re too far away, or you’re too close to it.’
* * *
‘You’re not that far apart,’ hissed Amber. She was angry, because Julian and Tim could do nothing but bicker, and even angrier about the immovable persistence with which each clung to his resentment, while Lynn slept her time away as if under chloroform. ‘Both of you suspected her of being in a pact with Carl.’
‘Because that’s how she behaved,’ said Tim.
‘Ludicrous! As if Lynn would seriously have been capable of destroying her own hotel!’
‘You saw her yourself,’ bellowed Julian. ‘It may seem weird to us in retrospect, but Lynn is mentally disturbed.’
‘Not much gets past you, does it?’ sneered Tim.
‘That’s enough,’ Amber snapped at him. ‘This is kindergarten stuff. Either you learn to talk to each other sensibly, or it’ll be me you’re dealing with. Both of you!’
They had withdrawn into the landing module so as not to let the others see the spectacle of their rancour. Neither of them was any good at holding things back. The mouldering corpse of their family life lay naked and repulsive before them, ready for the autopsy. After the Io had rescued Nina Hedegaard from a hell of dust, and the surviving members of the group had climbed aboard the landing module to get back to the mother ship, Lynn had collapsed in tears. Immediately after the coupling manoeuvre, she had regained consciousness, without recognising anybody, faded away again and set off on a horrific twenty-four-hour journey. Since then she had looked more or less composed, except that she couldn’t remember most of what had
happened on the Moon. Now she was asleep again.
‘Just to clear up a few things—’ Tim began.
‘Stop.’ Amber shook her head.
‘Why?’
‘I said, stop!’
‘You don’t know what I—’
‘I do. You want to attack your father! How long is this going to go on for? What are you actually accusing him of? Of making space travel economically viable? Of giving zillions of people jobs?’
‘No.’
‘Of making people’s dreams come true? Of fighting for clean energy, for a better world?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then what?’ she yelled. ‘Oh, Christ, I’m so fed up with this wretched trench warfare. So fed up!’
‘Amber.’ Tim crouched down. ‘He didn’t care. When we—’
‘Care about what?’ she interrupted him. ‘Maybe he wasn’t there for you very often. As I see it, he cares day in, day out, for a weird cosmic phenomenon called humanity, which does all kinds of terrible, stupid things. Sorry, Tim, but I can’t stand the peevish way young people talk about their parents, even if they produce miracles, all that in-an-ideal-world claptrap – I don’t buy it, I’m afraid.’
‘It isn’t just that he wasn’t around,’ Tim defended himself, ‘but that on the few occasions when he should have been there, he wasn’t! That Crystal lost her m—’
‘You’re completely unfair, you little shit,’ Julian snorted. ‘Your mother had a genetic predisposition.’
‘Crap!’
‘She did! Capito, hombre? She’d have lost her mind even if I’d been there for her every hour of every day.’
‘You know very well that—’
‘No, she was sick! It was in her genes, and before I married her she’d fried half of her brain on coke anyway. And where Lynn’s concerned—’
‘Where Lynn’s concerned, you listen to me,’ Amber interrupted. ‘Because as a matter of fact, and Tim’s completely right here, you can’t look into anyone else’s head. You think life’s a film and you’re directing it, and everyone acts and thinks according to the script. I don’t know whether you really love Lynn, or only the part that she’s supposed to play for you—’