Lifeline

Sandovaal strode to the holotank, squinting. “Magnify the image, Dobo. There, where it connects to Ramis’s suit.” Seconds later the weavewire filled the holotank; the sharp image warbled at the edges with the intense magnification.

Sandovaal’s voice rose imperceptibly. “Do a data search, Dobo—request all information Orbitech 1 will give us about how they draw out this fiber of theirs.”

Poking his finger into the hologram image, Sandovaal tried to touch Ramis. “And make a note about those tactile-response holotanks. Times like these are when it is worth putting the damned things together.”

Sandovaal traced the thin orange line from a belt around Ramis’s waist. Another space-suited person floated in and out of the recorder’s view. The narrator’s voice grew quiet as another voice came over ConComm. “I am ready, Mr. Brahms.”

The holotank swelled with the vision of Ramis. He squatted on Orbitech 1’s surface with his knees bent deep. The bulky MMUs looked as though they were going to make him topple backward.

Then Ramis sprang from the hull. The holocamera followed him as he receded from the colony. The view swung down for a parting shot at the unit reeling out the weavewire. A space-suited figure stood by the mechanism, stroking its surface as if it were alive.

Sandovaal remained quiet, staring into the holotank. The fiber seemed mystical to him.

“Dr. Sandovaal?”

Sandovaal waved Dobo quiet. A full minute passed before he whispered, “I must speak with Yoli Magsaysay.”

The dato did not share his enthusiasm. Sandovaal blew his nose and spoke slowly, controlling himself. His impulse was to explain again, as if to an uncooperative child. But he knew that would annoy Magsaysay more than anything.

“The weavewire is the key, Yoli. I did not know they could produce useful quantities of the stuff. But apparently this is a new discovery. We must have this weavewire—it is the only way.”

Magsaysay studied him before answering. “The only way, Luis? That sounds like a dangerous assumption from the outset.”

Dobo relaxed beside Sandovaal, and thankfully kept his mouth shut. Magsaysay drummed his fingernails on the table and continued. “We are doing well now, are we not? Your projections show a sufficient distance between ourselves and starvation. This weavewire is the only way for what?”

“The only way for us to exploit the Orbitech 2 site—all the resources left there.”

He kept a smile off his face as Magsaysay reacted. Sandovaal continued. “Did we not learn from our pigheaded ancestors, who were so enamored of the old ways that they refused to accept help, to consider more efficient methods of production?” A sudden vision of tractors rusting in rice paddies filled his head.

“Yes, we can survive and live forever in our little colony. We will keep the status quo and never achieve anything else. And when the Americans survive and reach higher and higher, we will be their little brown brothers again, even if we outnumber them two hundred to one. Look what happened to the Chinese, and they outnumbered the Americans by a thousand times!”

Sandovaal narrowed his eyes and leaned across the table to the president. “We sent Ramis to Orbitech 1 because we believed in helping people. It is time now to help ourselves. With the weavewire, we can safely Jump to the construction site and ferry all the supplies back here. The American crew left plenty of things there, including superior computers, materials, tools. With that, perhaps we can maintain our position as equals.”

Magsaysay shifted uncomfortably. “Improving our way of life is one thing—changing our culture is a different matter.”

Dobo seemed about to say something, but Sandovaal jutted out his jaw. “If we are growing antibiotics, then it is all right! But using the processing plant left at Orbitech 2, that is forbidden? This is like a race. Everyone else is riding a horse. We should not insist on walking because we are too lazy to look in the stable.”

The two men stared at each other. Sandovaal had known Yoli Magsaysay for scores of years. They had butted heads often, but they shared the goal of bettering the Filipino people. Down Magsaysay’s path, the Filipinos would keep to themselves, and the wall-kelp would see them through—just barely. But down the other path, they faced the danger of losing themselves and their culture, becoming ensnared with the Americans’ obsession with breakneck progress. Or what was left of it.

But the Aguinaldo also had the opportunity to hold its own, to be equals instead of patronized “little brothers.”

Sandovaal smiled plaintively. It was all an act, and he knew it. Magsaysay knew it, too. “Yoli, I followed you into space because I believed in your dream for us. Now I am asking you to follow my dream.”

After some moments, a grin came to Magsaysay’s lips, then he sighed. “You, my friend, have a point. But tell me—how will we get the weavewire to the Aguinaldo? Assuming Orbitech 1 will even give it to us.”