Heads. Part 2

The first sign of trouble came quickly. Janis Granger, a.s.sistant to Fiona Task-Felder, visited barely six hours after the unloading of the heads.

I had neglected to inform Rho about what had happened in lunar politics since her departure to Earth: Fiona Task-Felder's election to president of the Multiple Council, something I would have said was impossible only a year before.

Janis Granger made a meeting request through the Sandoval BM secretary in Port Yin. I okayed the request, though I didn't have the slightest idea what she wanted to talk about. I could hardly refuse to speak with a representative of the council president.

Her private bus landed at Pad Three six hours after I gave permission.

I received her in my spare but s.p.a.cious formal office in the farm management warrens.

Granger was twenty-seven, black-haired with Eurasian features and Amerindian skin - all tailored. She wore trim flag-blue denims and a white ruffle-necked blouse, the ruffles projecting a changing pattern of delicate white-on white geometries. Janis, like her boss and 'sister' Fiona, was a member of Task-Felder BM.

Task-Felder had been founded on Earth as a lunar BM, an unorthodox procedure that had raised eyebrows fifty years before. Membership was allegedly limited to Logologists n.o.body knew of any exceptions, at any rate - which made it the only lunar BM founded on religious principles. For these reasons, Task-Felder BM had been outside the loop and comparatively powerless in lunar politics, if such could be called politics: a weave of mutual advantage, politeness, small-community cooperation in the face of clear financial pressures.

The Task-Felder Logologists tended their businesses carefully, Played their parts with scrupulous attention to detail and quality, and had carefully distributed favours and loans to other BMs and the council, working their way with incredible speed up the ladder of lunar acceptance, at the same time believing six impossible things before breakfast.

'I have the BM Project Status report from the council Janis Granger said, seating herself gracefully in a chair across from mine. I did not sit behind a desk; that was reserved for contract talks or financial dealings. 'I wanted to discuss it with you, since you manage the major scientific project undertaken by Sandoval BM at this time.'

I had heard something about this council report; in its early drafts, it had seemed innocuous, another BM mutual-activity consent agreement.

'We've gotten a consensus of the founding BMs to agree to consult with each other on projects which may affect lunar standing in the Triple,' Granger said.

Ny hadn't she gone to the family syndics in Port Yin? Ny come all this way to talk with me? 'All right,' I said. 'I a.s.sume Sandoval's representative has looked over the agreement.'

'She has. She told me there might be a conflict with a current project, not your primary project. She advised me to send a representative of the president to talk with you; I decided this was important enough I would come myself.'

Granger had an intensity that reminded me of Rho. She did not take her eyes off mine. She did not smile. She leaned forward, elbows still on the chair rests, and said, 'Rhosalind Sandoval has signed a contract to receive terrestrial corpsicles.'

'She has. She's my direct sister, by the way.' Granger blinked. With any family-oriented BM member, such a continent would have elicited a polite 'Oh, and how is your branch?' She neglected the pleasantry.

'Are you planning resuscitation?' she finally asked.

'No,' I said. Not as yet. 'We're speculating on future value.'

'If they're not resuscitated, they have no future value.'

I disagreed with a mild shake of my head. 'That's our worry, n.o.body else's.'

'The council has expressed concern that your precedent could lead to a flood of corpsicle dumping. The Moon can't possibly receive a hundred thousand dead. It would be a major financial drain.'

'I don't see how a precedent is established,' I said, wondering where she was going to take this.

'Sandoval BM is a major family group. You influence new and offshoot families. We've already had word that two other families are considering similar deals, in case you're on to something. And all of them have contacted Cailetet BM. I believe Rhosalind Sandoval-Pierce has tried to get a formal exclusion contract with Cailetet. Have you approved all this?' I hadn't; Rho hadn't told me she'd be moving so quickly, but it didn't surprise me. It was a logical step in her scheme. 'I haven't discussed it with her. She has Sandoval priority approval on this project.'

This seemed to take Granger by surprise. 'BM charter priority?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

I saw no reason to divulge family secrets. If she didn't already know, my instincts told me, she didn't need to know. 'Business privilege, ma'am.'

Granger looked to one side and thought this over for an uncomfortably long time, then returned her eyes to me. 'Cailetet is asking council advice. I've issued a chair statement of disapproval. We think it might adversely effect our currency ratings in the Triple. There are strong moral and religious feelings on Earth now about corpsicles; revival has been outlawed in seven nations. We feel you've been taken advantage of., 'We don't think so,' I said.

'Nevertheless, the council is considering issuing a restraining order against any storage or use of the corpsicles.'

'Excuse me,' I said. I reached across to the desk and brought out my manager's slate. 'Auto counsellor, please,' I requested aloud. I keyed in instructions I didn't want Granger to hear, asking for a legal opinion on this possibility. The auto counsellor quickly reported: 'Not legal at this time' and gave citations.

'You can't restrain an autonomous chartered BM,' I said. I read out the citations, 'Mutual benefit agreement 35 stroke 2111, reference to charter family agreements, 2102.'

'If sufficient BMs can be convinced of the unwisdom of your actions, and if the financial result could be ruinous to any original charter BM, our council thinker has issued an opinion that you can be restrained.'

It was my turn to pause and think things over.

'Then it seems we might be heading for council debate,' I said.

'I'd regret causing so much fuss,' Granger said. 'Perhaps we can reach an agreement outside of council.'

'Our syndics can discuss it,' I allowed. My backbone was becoming stubbornly stiff. 'But I think it should be openly debated in council.'

She smiled. If, as was alleged by the Logologists, their philosophy removed all human limitations, judging by Janis Granger, I opposed such benefits. There was a control about her that suggested she had nothing to control, neither stray whim nor dangerous pa.s.sion; automatonous. She chilled me.

'As you wish,' she said. 'This is really not a large matter, It's not worth a lot of trouble.'

Then why bother? 'I agree,' I said. 'I believe the BMs can resolve it among themselves.'

'The council represents the BMs,' Granger said.

I nodded polite agreement. I wanted nothing more than to have her out of my office, out of the Ice Pit Station.

'Thank you for your time,' she said, rising. I escorted her to the lift. She did not say good-bye; merely smiled her unrevealing mannequin smile.

Back in my office, I put through a request for an appointment with Thomas Sandoval-Rice at Port Yin. Then I called Rho and William.

Rho answered. 'Mickey! Cailetet has just accepted our contract.'

That took me back for a second. 'I'm sorry,' I said, confused. 'What?'

'What are you sorry about? It's good news. They think they can manage it. They say it's a challenge. They're willing to sign an exclusive.'

'I just had a conversation with Janis Granger.'

'Who's she?'

'Task-Felder. Aide to the president of the council,' I said. 'I think they're going to try to shut us down.'

'Shut down Sandoval BM?' Rho laughed. She thought I was joking.

'No. Shut down your heads project.'

'They can't do that,' she said, still amused.

'Probably not. At any rate, I have a call in to the director.' I was thinking over what Rho had told me. If Cailetet had accepted our contract, then they were either not worried about the council debate, or ...

Granger had lied to me.

'Mickey, what's this all about?'

'I don't know,' l said. 'I'll field it. The new council president is a Task-Felder. You should keep up on these things, Rho.' 'Who gives a rille? We haven't had any complaints from other BMs. We keep to our boundaries. Task-Felder. Dust them, they're not even a lunar-chartered BM. Aren't they Logologists?'

'They have the talk seat in council,' I said.

'Oh, for the love of,' Rho said. 'They're crazier than mud. When did they get the seat?'

'Two months ago.'

'How did they get it?'

'Careful attention to the social niceties,' I said, tapping my Palm with a finger.

Rho considered. 'Did you record your meeting?'

'Of course.' I filed an automatic BM-priority request for Rho and transferred the record to her slate address.

'I'll get back to you, Mickey. Or better yet, come on down to the Ice Pit. William needs someone besides me to talk to, I think. He's having trouble with the QL again, and he's still a little irritated about our heads.'

My brother-in-law was in a contemplative mood. 'On Earth,' he said, 'in India and Egypt, centuries before they had refrigerators, they had ice, cold drinks, air conditioning, All because they had dry air and clear night skies.'

I sat across the metal table from him in the laboratory's first room. Outside, William's arbeiters were busily, noisily, constructing an enclosure for Rho's heads, using the Nernst BM design. William sat in a tattered metal sling chair, leaving me the guest's cushioned armchair.

'You mean, they used storage batteries or solar power or something,' I said, biting on his nascent anecdote.

He smiled pleasantly, relaxing into the story. 'Nothing so obvious,' he said. 'Pharaoh's servants could have used flat, broad, porous earthenware trays. Filled them with a few centimetres of water, hoping for a particularly dry evening with clear air.'

'Cold air?' I suggested.

'Not particularly important. Egypt was seldom cold. Just dry air and a clear night. Voila. Ice.'

I looked incredulous.

'No kidding,' he said, leaning forward. 'Evaporation and radiation into empty s.p.a.ce. Black sky at night; continuous evaporation cooling the tray and the liquid; temperature of the liquid drops; and given almost no humidity, the tray freezes solid. Harvest the ice in the morning, fill the tray again for the next night. Air conditioning, if you had enough surface area, enough trays, and some caves to store the ice.' 'It would have worked?'

'h.e.l.l, Micko, it did work. Before there was electricity, that's how they made ice. Anyplace dry, with clear night skies ...'

'Lose a lot of water through evaporation, wouldn't you?' William shook his head. 'You haven't a gram of romance in you, Micko. Not at all tempted by the thought of a frosty mug of beer for the Pharaoh.'

'Beer,' I said. 'Think of all the beer you could store in Rho's annex.' Beer was a precious commodity in a small lunar station.

He made a face. 'I saw the record of that Granger woman. is she going to give Rho trouble?'

I shook my head.

'Serves Rho right,' William said. 'Sometimes...' He stood and wiped his face with his hands, then squeezed thumb and pointing finger together, squinting at them. 'You were right. A new problem, Micko, a new effect. The QL says the disorder pumps have to be tuned again. It'll take a week. Then we'll hit the zeroth state of matter. Nothing like it since before we were all a twinkle in G.o.d's eye.'

We had been through this before. My teasing seemed a necessary anodyne to him when he was b.u.mping against another delay. 'Violation of third law,' I said casually.

He waved that away.

'William, you're an infidel. The third law's a mere bagatelle, like the sound barrier-'

'What if it's more like the speed of light?' William shut one eye halfway and regarded me balefully. 'You've laid out the money this far. If I'm a fool, you're a worse fool.'

'From your point of view, I wouldn't find that rea.s.suring,' I said, smiling. 'But what do I know. I'm a dry accountant. Set me out under a clear terrestrial night sky and my brain would freeze.'

William laughed. 'You're smarter than you need to be,' he said. 'Violating the third law of thermodynamics - no grief there. It's a sitting duck, Micko. Waiting to be shot.' 'It's been sitting for a long time. Lots of hunters have missed. You've missed for three years now.'

'We didn't have quantum logic thinkers and disorder Pumps,' William said, staring out into the darkness beyond the small window, face lit orange by flashes of light from the arbeiters at work in the pit below.

'The pumps make me twitch,' I confessed, not for the first time.

William ignored that and turned to me, suddenly solemn. 'If the council tries to stop Rho, you'd better fight them with all You've got. I'm not a Sandoval by birth, Mickey, but by G.o.d, this BM better stand by her.'

'It won't get that far, William,' I said. 'It's all dust. A burble of politics.'

'Tell them to cut the d.a.m.ned politics,' William said softly. The rallying cry of all the Moon's families, all our tightly bound yet ruggedly individual citizens; how often had I heard that phrase? 'This is Rho's project. If I - if we let her have the Ice Pit for her heads, n.o.body should interfere. d.a.m.n it, that's what the Moon is all about. Do you believe all you hear about the Logologists?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'They certainly don't think like you and me.' I joined William at the window. 'Thank you,' I said.

'For what?'

'For letting Rho do what she wants.'

'She's crazier than I am,' William said with a sigh. 'She says you weren't too pleased at first, either.'

'It's pretty gruesome,' I admitted.

'But you're getting interested?'

'I suppose.'

'The Task-Felder woman made you even more interested?'

I nodded.

William tapped the window's thick gla.s.s idly. 'Mickey, Rho has always been protected by Sandoval, by living here on the Moon. The Moon has always encouraged her; free spirit, small population, place for young minds to shine. She's a little naive.'

'We're no different,' I said.

'Perhaps you aren't, but I've seen the rough.'