Birthright

forces. The explanation may have been simple, but the realities were awesome.

The Republic was inclined to waste men and money with passionate abandon, but it couldn't tolerate a waste of energy such as occurred daily on Zeta Cancri IV, so Bowman and Nelson had been contacted and offered the job of making the planet safe for a select group of 235 “miners,” skilled scientists who would find some way to put all that wasted energy to better use. The men had made a bid, the Republic had not even bothered to haggle, and the job was contracted. The explosions, as it turned out, weren't the only little detail the Republic had failed to mention. The gravity was nothing to write home about either. Only the most powerful of the Republic's mining ships would be able to land on the planet without being crushed to a pulp ... and that was in winter. In summer they would melt before they got within twenty miles of the planet's surface. For along with the explosions and the gravity, the climate was no bargain either. The planet moved in an elliptical orbit that took thirty-three years to complete. In winter it was a third of a billion miles from its huge binary parent, but by summertime it would be within 150 million miles. And atthat distance, nothing the Republic had yet developed could withstand the heat. Thus, even if they were successful in opening the planet up, it could only be “mined” for a few years at a time, and would then have to be abandoned until it had again moved a sufficient distance from Zeta Cancri. And, to top it off, the atmosphere was totally unbreathable. “Except for these little difficulties,” said Bowman, who had been cataloging them aloud, “the job's a cakewalk.”

“Yep.” Nelson grinned. “Can't figure out why the government felt it had to force two million dollars on us. Almost like a paid vacation.”

“Well,” said Bowman, sipping a cup of coffee, “any ideas?” “Most of them relate to the guys who sold us this bill of goods,” said Nelson. He sighed. “At least it's only springtime. We've got a little time to mull the problem over.” “Think anything could be alive down there?” asked Bowman. Nelson shook his head. “I doubt it like all hell. Still, there's no way to be sure without landing. In which case,” he added, “there probably still won't be any life, including us.” “Very comforting,” said Bowman. “I appreciate the Republic's confidence, but I'm beginning to wish that they had bestowed it elsewhere. We can't land on the damned planet, we can't find any friendly natives to do our work, and we can't chart those goddamn explosions.” “The explosions are the tricky part, all right,” agreed Nelson. “If it weren't for them, we might actually get the job done.”

“If it weren't for them, there wouldn't be any job,” grunted Bowman. “I've had the computer working on them for the better part of three hours, and they're absolutely random. You could get two in the same spot an hour apart, or you might go half a century without one. And without being able to chart or predict them, there's no way we can get close enough to the surface to learn any more than we already know.” “I suppose we could just orbit the damned thing for a few weeks, and then return and tell them we