Wine of the Gods 4: Explorers (2 page)

25 November 3476ce

The Hague,
Earth

"Must be your kind of sale, Hackathorn."

Lon glanced toward the voice, and jolted to a
stop. "Florian Hastenberg. Didn't recognize you in the Authority suit." He gave a stiff nod and shifted back into motion.

Unfortunately Hastenberg followed. "Yeah, I got tired of kissing corporate butt. I see you're all in team rah rah colors. Doesn't it just make you feel like a tot on a field trip?"

"Never bothered me. It helps keep things moving at the gate."

"Riiiight. And li
ke I said, you're all happy because there's no natives in this band."

Lon turned around
, stepped in close and let his voice go cold. "Yeah. As a matter of fact, I am." He turned away, and this time Hastenberg let him go. Asshole. Only thing he'd ever been right about was the maroon and dark blue checked jacket that all Dallas Dimensional Exploration representatives had been ordered to wear today, for the sale.

Forty-two newly discovered trans-dimensional
worlds were up for today's sealed bid auction.  The Trans-dimensional Gate Authority had found a major band of habitable worlds and opened them to exploitation.

The Dallas Dimensional Exploration Company was what the industry called wildcatters. They specialized in exploring undeveloped
worlds. Once they had a good grasp of the mineral wealth available, or anything marketable about the plants or animals, and had evaluated any native cultures for use as labor they'd sell limited rights to other companies. Mining companies, agrobusinesses, labor brokers, colonization groups. Whatever had value would be sold.

But the first ste
p was a government auction. Once they had leases in hand, Lon's plans could move from paper to actuality, and he'd lead the first team through the gate to explore the new world. He had twenty-nine profitable explorations behind him, out of fifty-six worlds. A solid and respectable percentage, and his reputation was bolstered by his not wasting money when the profit simply wasn't there. The eight worlds the company was bidding on today all looked, on the face of it, to be at least colony prospects. The bidding was based on the raw data returned from the very brief government expeditions. The big mining companies would be taking the worlds with the obvious minerals potential. Wildcatters like Dallas would pick up the rest, spending less money and taking a larger risk.

Lon spotted a clump of maroon
and blue and eased into the group. The Board of Directors was treating this like a holiday, in their new Company jackets, jostling for seats like kids at a circus. Lon stifled a wish to be back in Dallas with the rest of the staff. They would be watching remotely, one wall of the conference room displaying the auction room as if from a balcony, above the attendees. A better view than he had, from the floor.

The room quieted abruptly as the officials
walked in and sat down.

"In accordance with the regulations, bidding is now closed. We will proceed immediately to the next phase of the auction. All w
orlds are leased as Class three: unexplored worlds with breathable atmospheres. All lease payments are due and payable upon certification of the auction results. We begin bidding today with world number one-thousand two-hundred and eleven."

The first two worlds were only moderately promising, but drew multiple bids in the midrange. On the third world the gate had anchored right on top of a argentite deposit. Peru Silver out bid the rest at a touch over three billion creds, setting a new record for an unexplored world.

Whispers ran around the room about the risk, if the rest of the world didn't live up to
the anchor point's promise.

Lon's attention jumped back to the auction
eer as the Company's first bid came up.

"Lot one
-thousand two-hundred and fourteen. Class Three, uninhabited world. There are five bids." The officials started opening the envelopes and reading out the bids. Everyone in the room leaned forward.

Gerald McCamey was
Lon's immediate superior, also attending in person, like it or not. He'd been in on final decisions on the Dallas bids. And very, very closemouthed. But with the bids closed, the need for secrecy was gone. He still kept his voice down. "We've bid fifty-three million for this one." He crossed his arms and looked unmoved as the first bid was for seventy-five million.

Lon crossed that one off
his list, and waited two more worlds for the next on their list. That one they took for eighty million, just edging out Hesperus Enterprises.

"That was the one with the
slightly higher than normal rare elements in the soil. I'm surprised the bidding wasn't higher."  That was from one of the board members.

McCamey shook his head. "It's too easy to get burned if the arrival location is not representative.
And there are so many excellent worlds. I rather thought a few merely good ones would get passed up by the Majors."

Lon snorted. "And the first thing we'll have to do is move the gate anchor, at least a short distance. The terrain is . . . challenging."

He sat patiently through a variety of worlds they hadn't pursued. He'd always kept to himself the opinion that buying an entire planet based on samples all taken within a one kilometer radius of an almost random arrival location was insane. A coin flip would have done as well, deciding which worlds to pursue, or not.

Dallas
also won their fifth bid, a bit of a risk due to the high numbers of animals seen. A rich fauna was likely to hide surprises, dangerous predators, primitive humans or worse, Neanderthals or the so called "dwarves" or "elves".  People were just too fascinated by the worlds where other branches of the early hominid family were the winners in the evolutionary struggle. But of this whole sequence of worlds, no natives had been discovered by the first surveys. It wasn't a guarantee, but it lowered the probability of finding a thin population of indigenous peoples.

They bid on four of the next twelve, and lost them all.

Their last bid was a different sort of risk. They'd low balled a world with little fauna in evidence, and exceptionally uninteresting soil. Lon nodded in satisfaction as they took world Twelve fifty-three. At a mere nine million creds, they'd certainly find a way to at least break even. "It might be a good idea to take the whole team there first, shake out the kinks and get them settled and working before we hit the others."

McCamey nodded. "With as many new hires as we'll need
, that's a good idea. Twelve-seventeen will need a full up geology team, and Twelve-forty is guaranteed to have dangerous predators."

Lon stared down at his list. "Actually I think our first move should be for a small, experienced team to col
lect drill cores from Twelve-seventeen. Then the lab can analyze them while we take the whole cadre through a shake down on fifty-three. That will give us a better idea of which way to move the gate anchor. We'll need at least a rough survey and road. Even if the road only has to last a few weeks."

Simon Meese, the Ch
airman, had been listening. "Good plan. We'll have to think up some proper names." He gave a nod of satisfaction. "I'd have liked to pick up a couple more, but we've got two hot prospects, in my opinion. Good job, everyone."

McCamey
cornered Lon. "Are you heading straight back?"

"Yes. The Board will no doubt wheel and deal, but they don't need me for that. Just try and keep them from going overboard."

McCamey grinned. "You can't fool me. You just don't like having to get multiple partners to sign off on your plans."

"Exactly. Plus they all want their
pet worlds to get priority. We can juggle five worlds fairly well. Ten would be impossible. Don't let them make us the operator for too many of them."

"All it takes is more people."

"More of the right people. Trust me, there are worse things than having to wait until a good team is available to explore your world."

"Have a good flight, and say hi to Carol for me."

Nelson Manrique grabbed Lon as soon as he stepped into the office. "Let's talk drill cores. And do you think a survey satellite would be a good idea?  I've been talking to a man with a mobile launcher that will fit through the gate." The new chief geologist was bouncing on his toes, ready to go.

Lon shook his head. "There's no rush for a global survey Nelson. Let's get the cores drilled and in for analysis first. Then we'll know more about what we want.
Starting with possibly moving the gate anchor."

Nelson scowled. "I hate working without a map, with no idea of where I am on a
world." Nelson was experienced, and damn good. Dallas had hired him away from a dead-end job on a mining world, more with the allure of new horizons than salary. Although that was involved as well.

"
I figure we'll need a six month survey on each of the three worlds. Get all the lab work back. Then contract for a satellite launcher to place several for each world we're still interested in."

Nelson continued grumbling as he split off for his own office.

Janice Berman sniffed. "What's he got to complain about? I'm supposed to report on the labor prospects. It'll be a short report. Zip. Zilch. Nada."

"
Fortunately." Lon smiled at her indignant expression. "The labor worlds involve tons of paperwork, and if there are minerals to be found, no one gives a toss for the inconvenient natives. I worked just one inhabited world, before hiring on at Dallas. A more soul destroying job can't be found anywhere. Trust me on this."

She sniffed dubiously and stalked off.

The Government wouldn't lease worlds that had developed technology above the early industrial level, but seemed quite happy to sell more primitive people's worlds out from under them. The more primitive the world, the harder the adjustment for the natives. The best worlds for recruiting grunt labor were in splits recent enough that the natives spoke a variety of English. In most cases, familiarity had lessened the problems. But at least one of the worst instances of an overbearing Earth abusing the weaker natives had happened on a English speaking world.

There are no
natives here. Relax.

Lon
shook himself out of his black mood and detoured for a cup of coffee.

Three new worlds to explore. He
sat down to start some new folders. Some people considered him a complete Luddite, keeping paper backups of everything. He had too much experience with power problems in the field to worry about their opinions.

He stretched happily and
flipped on his computer, pulled up a spread sheet. Personnel, disposable equipment, movable equipment, and the biggest expense of all, gate time. Three million for thirty seconds added up quickly. He looked back at Twelve-seventeen's forested rough terrain.

"That one's going to be a bitch."
The deep voice was familiar.

Lon looked up, grinning.
"I was hoping I'd hear from you. Interested in a camp manager's position? Your choice of three—although given my druthers I'll take you along with me from world to world."

Ray was competent, well organized,
fast, independent—everything a exploration manager could desire, taking care of everything needed to keep the cadre functioning.

"That's why I'm here. Going to tackle the steep on
e first?"

"Yeah. We'll do some coring, then if it looks to be worth the effort, we'll build a road down off the mountain and move the anchor. I'd better give the first small party
a month between gate times. If we finish early, we'll just camp and wait for the gate. Then a month later, Twelve fifty-three. Two gate times, a week apart should be about right for the first setup. Sixty seconds out and thirty to return the big trucks empty." Lon switched to the view of Twelve fifty-three. Rolling grasslands with ice capped peaks just showing to the southwest and north. "Cool temps possibly indicative of an ice age. The surface layer is a fine loess soil, another indication of glaciers grinding down the rocks they lay on. Below that, we've got a thick layer of volcanic ash, partially decomposed into rich soil. Nothing notable, mineral-wise. Anything interesting will be beneath all that." The vid panned around. Small antelope eyed them from what they considered a safe distance, small birds flitted past.

"Nice. I'll have to bury the piping deep, though. Winter could be nasty." Ray smiled. "I'll bring my skis. Maybe add a couple of snocats to your list of supplies."

"Good thought. Do you know many good hunters? Twelve-forty could be challenging." Lon brought up the video on the last world. The hills were thinly forested, and a pack of canines stared straight at the vid. They looked bigger than wolves, a bit taller in the shoulder than the hips. Dire wolves? Paleontologists hated explorers giving out names without checking that they really were the same as the extinct Earth beast. But this lot looked pretty dire. And hungry. They prowled out of sight to the side. Through the trees they could see sunlit greenery, and a couple of large hairy lumps walking away.