five-person S group before I decided to seek my fortune all to hell and gone. They bought out my share, and I used it to buy shares in several of the fabricators we brought. Just as soon as your gorgeous genius Amanda can figure out how to make money here that you can take to a bank, I’ll be rolling in the dough, assuming we haven’t run the fabs down into wreck and ruin. That reminds me, we need a sinking fund to recapitalize our industrial assets. Admittedly, that’s hard to do when we can’t figure out how to capitalize anything. Which brings up that thing we’re not permitted to talk about?”
“Hold it, Pipra, you danced right by the question I mostwanted answered. How many unplanned pregnancies among the industrial workers?”
“None.”
“None?”
“Yep, no planned pregnancies. No unplanned ones, either. And to answer your next question, we brought our own medical facilities and supplies and, so it appears, the problem is totally Navy.”
“That’s interesting,” Kris said. NELLY, PASS THAT ALONG TO DOC MEADE.
DID IT BEFORE YOU ASKED. SHE SAYS IF YOU DON’T DROP BY HER PLACE BEFORE THREE, SHE MAY HAVE SOMEONE FOR YOU TO TALK TO.
TELL HER I’LL BE THERE.
“Yes. Isn’t it,” Pipra said. “Now about the unmentionable.”
The unmentionable was a weird plant found in a couple of rivers on the South Continent. It traveled. Sometimes at an amazing speed in water. It did photosynthesis, so biologists agreed it qualified as a plant, but it could identify predators and make tracks for the other side of the pond. And if the pond dried up, the things had been seen inching their way toward the nearest water.
Its power source was mitochondrial DNA that made human adrenaline seem tame.
What the boffins were excited about was hitching these organelles to nanos as fuel sources. Kris had lost nanos during strong winds. She would have killed for what this little bugger could do to turbocharge the microcosmic world.
“We should be getting our first shipment off to human space soon,” Kris said. “The new Endeavor is out of the yard. I’ll need to check on the new Hornet .”
Kris had been hard on ships named Hornet , much like she’d been on Wasp . On her third in the last three years. The Endeavors had gotten off easier—or harder, depending on your perspective. Only one busted, but that in less than a year.
“As soon as they’re ready to go, I’ll send them on their way with a full load of plants and plenty of seeds.”
“You going to send anyone home that wants to go?”
“No,” Kris said, bluntly.
“A good idea,” Pipra agreed, “although I must tell you, the word is getting around that there are ships going back. If you don’t do it quickly, you may have a problem on your hands.”
“And I don’t have problems already?” Kris said, dryly.
“More tomorrow than you had today,” Pipra offered.
“No doubt. Now, talk to me about boring production statistics.”
The meeting went two hours as they weighed the different demands for production. The Alwans like human tech: TVs, computers, now, even electric cars. Oh, and electric egg warmers. The more of them, the better.
Egg warmers, under the eyes of old birds, left the younger Alwans free to participate in the growing high-tech economy. While the old birds complained and grumbled about changes they didn’t like, more of the younger ones were galloping off into the future with both feet.
Or, better said, plowing ground with new farm gear.
Kris had discovered, as more ships arrived with hungry crews to feed, that both the native Alwans and the humans were on the edge of starvation. If the crop next month was as good as promised, Kris might not have to worry so much about where her fleet’s next meal came from.
However, until the harvest was in safe storage, Kris worried.
For two hours, they juggled production of Smart Metal TM for warships, properly balanced with electronics and weapons. But the electronics had to be taken
“Hold it, Pipra, you danced right by the question I mostwanted answered. How many unplanned pregnancies among the industrial workers?”
“None.”
“None?”
“Yep, no planned pregnancies. No unplanned ones, either. And to answer your next question, we brought our own medical facilities and supplies and, so it appears, the problem is totally Navy.”
“That’s interesting,” Kris said. NELLY, PASS THAT ALONG TO DOC MEADE.
DID IT BEFORE YOU ASKED. SHE SAYS IF YOU DON’T DROP BY HER PLACE BEFORE THREE, SHE MAY HAVE SOMEONE FOR YOU TO TALK TO.
TELL HER I’LL BE THERE.
“Yes. Isn’t it,” Pipra said. “Now about the unmentionable.”
The unmentionable was a weird plant found in a couple of rivers on the South Continent. It traveled. Sometimes at an amazing speed in water. It did photosynthesis, so biologists agreed it qualified as a plant, but it could identify predators and make tracks for the other side of the pond. And if the pond dried up, the things had been seen inching their way toward the nearest water.
Its power source was mitochondrial DNA that made human adrenaline seem tame.
What the boffins were excited about was hitching these organelles to nanos as fuel sources. Kris had lost nanos during strong winds. She would have killed for what this little bugger could do to turbocharge the microcosmic world.
“We should be getting our first shipment off to human space soon,” Kris said. “The new Endeavor is out of the yard. I’ll need to check on the new Hornet .”
Kris had been hard on ships named Hornet , much like she’d been on Wasp . On her third in the last three years. The Endeavors had gotten off easier—or harder, depending on your perspective. Only one busted, but that in less than a year.
“As soon as they’re ready to go, I’ll send them on their way with a full load of plants and plenty of seeds.”
“You going to send anyone home that wants to go?”
“No,” Kris said, bluntly.
“A good idea,” Pipra agreed, “although I must tell you, the word is getting around that there are ships going back. If you don’t do it quickly, you may have a problem on your hands.”
“And I don’t have problems already?” Kris said, dryly.
“More tomorrow than you had today,” Pipra offered.
“No doubt. Now, talk to me about boring production statistics.”
The meeting went two hours as they weighed the different demands for production. The Alwans like human tech: TVs, computers, now, even electric cars. Oh, and electric egg warmers. The more of them, the better.
Egg warmers, under the eyes of old birds, left the younger Alwans free to participate in the growing high-tech economy. While the old birds complained and grumbled about changes they didn’t like, more of the younger ones were galloping off into the future with both feet.
Or, better said, plowing ground with new farm gear.
Kris had discovered, as more ships arrived with hungry crews to feed, that both the native Alwans and the humans were on the edge of starvation. If the crop next month was as good as promised, Kris might not have to worry so much about where her fleet’s next meal came from.
However, until the harvest was in safe storage, Kris worried.
For two hours, they juggled production of Smart Metal TM for warships, properly balanced with electronics and weapons. But the electronics had to be taken
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