Lifeline

McLaris shrugged. “It wasn’t my idea in the first place.”

“Yes, cover your rear. I understand. You’ve grown a beard, Duncan.” It looked thin and scraggly on McLaris’s naturally boyish-looking face. “Are you trying to hide behind a disguise?”

McLaris stiffened, but ignored the comment. “We’ve been monitoring your ConComm link with the Aguinaldo all along—we just haven’t replied to your transmissions.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve called to discuss an important project between our two colonies. Strictly business.”

Brahms sat back, raising his eyebrows and keeping in motion just to gain a moment to think. His walls of suspicion flew up. Out of range of the holoscreen, he gripped his fists.

“What have you done now, commandeered the Clavius Base communication center? How many people are you going to hurt this time?”

McLaris shot back, “I didn’t throw a hundred and fifty people out the airlock.”

Brahms glared at the image. “You would have done the same. I know you, Duncan. We’re two sides of the same coin. Pressed against the wall, with all this hanging over your head, you would have taken the same desperate measures that I was forced to! Besides, Ombalal gave the order.”

“Give me a break, Curtis. Ombalal had trouble getting dressed in the morning! I know you, too.”

Brahms breathed through his nose, but didn’t reply. McLaris took a long moment to continue. “I didn’t call to argue with you, Curtis. I need to speak with you as an official emissary of Clavius Base.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t leave you out in the wreckage of the shuttle you crashed. I told them what you did.”

“Yes, and they saw what you did, too. They learned what I was running away from. You legitimized my actions.”

“I see.” Brahms drew his lips tight.

He had expected McLaris to get his claws into the Moon base’s management ranks, where he could eventually betray them as he had betrayed Orbitech 1. But Brahms hadn’t expected it so soon.

McLaris cleared his throat, changing the subject. “I hear the Filipinos’ wall-kelp has made things rather more, ah, pleasant up there.”

Brahms answered in a clipped voice. “We are very thankful to the Aguinaldo.” If it had come sooner, or if we had even known about it, I might not have been forced into the RIF, he thought. McLaris continued to stare at him with what looked to be an accusing expression. Damn him, Brahms thought. What would he have done in my situation? Let the people riot, and have everyone die? We didn’t know!

“Down here, we’re finding ways to bleach out the taste. We’ll share some of our results with your people, if you’re interested.”

Brahms fought to control his emotions. McLaris had shown his true nature—running away, hiding his head in Moon dust, letting someone else tackle the problem. Brahms covered his anger with a vacant, placid expression. This was not the time to strike—that would come some time in the future.

McLaris continued, “Now we see that the Filipino boy has gone over to the Kibalchich. He’s a brave one.”

Brahms pushed his face closer to the holoscreen. “Duncan, what do you really want? I have no desire for chitchat. Why did you contact me?”

The one-second lag was all he needed. McLaris launched right into his proposal, catching Brahms off guard. “I don’t have to give you growth statistics or projections of what will happen if our colonies remain separate, little islands slowly withering away. It could be decades before Earth sends somebody back here, if at all. Now that you’ve already linked up with the Aguinaldo—”

“I wouldn’t call a one-shot trip on a sail-creature an everyday occurrence,” Brahms broke in. With the light lag, McLaris continued speaking before he realized he had been interrupted.

“It doesn’t matter. They did it once, it can be done again. The English, even the Vikings, beat greater odds crossing the Atlantic. Now you’ve sent a representative aboard the Kibalchich. In a few years, there could be regular trade between the Lagrange points.”

Brahms held up a hand, maintaining a skeptical expression. “You didn’t contact me to pump me up on space exploration, either.”

McLaris drew his mouth in a scowl. “You haven’t changed, Curtis. You’re still a bottom-line man.” Brahms didn’t break his smile; McLaris knew him.

“So here’s the bottom line. You will soon have access to the Kibalchich whenever you want to go there. Believe it or not, the people on the Aguinaldo are not too far behind in their access to you, if they can find a practical way to use those sail-creatures of theirs. You three Lagrange colonies are approaching a point where you don’t need Earth to survive.”