Chapter 16. The Agaobiologist

“So what's the crisis here?” Derec asked. “And that screwy message of yours, that bit about my internal engineering'! What's that all about?”

They were standing in the control room of the Xerborodezees, where they had gone to get away from the others.

SilverSide walked in, sat down in one of the deep-cushioned passenger seats behind the pilot's upholstered bucket, and listened to Ariel and Derec.

“Some engineering I figured out, quite without your help,” Ariel said. “In fact I've brought this planet pretty much under control without your wisdom and guidance. All I need from you now is your muscle, that part between your ears.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Your internal monitor link with the robot cities: I'll bet you didn't know that that modulates hyperwave.”

“Au contraire,my dear,” Derec said. “That is a form of communication that depends on a special understanding of spacetime physics developed by my ever-so-eccentric father, the good Dr. Avery.”

“And au contraire right back at you, smarty. That is what the aliens on this planet, the Ceremyons, refer to as continuous modulation of hyperwave. Ask Avernus and Keymo, and Jacob, too. He even understands it. It's the communication version of Key teleportation, just like conventional discrete modulation of hyperwave is the communication version of hyperjump technology. I'll bet you didn't even recognize that!”

They had been together again for all of ten minutes, and already they were going at it hammer and tongs. Is this what love is all about? Derec asked himself.

“I'll have to think about that,” he said. Was it possible she was right? He changed the subject.

“Now what about the crisis? The reason for me being here.”

“There is no crisis. Except I had to get you here promptly to avoid one.”

She told him then how the robot city had disturbed the weather, how the Myostrians had capped and controlled the disturbance with the dome, how they were ready to close it completely until she came up with her plan of a planetwide farm, abandoning the idea of a planetwide city.

“So you see,” she concluded, “your task is straightforward and reasonably simple: just reprogram the Averies into farmers.”

“I presume that this is another example of your style of engineering?” Derec said.

“Not bad, huh? Social engineering, Derec. Something you wouldn't understand.”

“There is just one minor problem.”

He paused. Ariel said, “And that is?”

“In order to program the Averies to pursue a particular technology, one must know something about that technology. I know all about cities. I don't know the first thing about farms, and I suspect you don't either.”

Wolruf came into the compartment in time to hear Derec's last sentence. She took the passenger seat next to SilverSide.

Ariel looked stunned. That seems to be a piece of engineering she doesn't have covered, Derec thought. Perhaps there's more to engineering than meets her eye.

He was feeling smug and complacent. The bit about continuous modulation of hyperwave had thrown him for a moment. But now he felt that he was back in control of the expedition.

“So 'u don't know the first thing about farms, Derec. So what?” Wolruf said. “I seem to 'ave come in on the middle of the show.”

“So you can't reprogram Avery robots to be farmers,” Derec said, “if you don't know anything about farming and farm technology.”

“'ave no fear, Wolruf iss 'ere,” the small, furry alien said. “I wass raissed on a farm and educated at Agripolytech. I'm 'urn original 'ayseed engineerrr.”

“Okay, Derec. What do you say now?” Ariel said. “You think I didn't know that? Where have you been all this time?”

Derec ignored Ariel.

“You, a farmer?” He was looking at Wolruf.

“What products do 'u think the Erani bought from my family?” Wolruf asked. “The Erani am not all pirates like Aranimas. They'rrr mostly traders, and they live on an impoverished ball of rock that growss lichens betterrr than it doess tomatoess. In theess days of overpopulation, the Erani survive on the grain and farm products they buy from us.”

And there was Ariel, glowing now, when she had been shocked half out of her drawers before Wolruf put in her two cents. She had had no more idea than he that Wolruf was a farmer.

But Derec was quick to regroup, and he was now admitting to himself that Wolruf's contribution might well amount to more than two cents, Galactic Monetary Standard.

“Okay. I submit. I'll handle the computer technology, Wolruf will handle the farm technology, and you can continue to handle the social technology.”

“Not entirely,” Ariel said. You could tell she was about to reveal something that was not entirely easy to divulge. “You must meet with me and the aliens tomorrow morning. And it looks now as though Wolruf will also need to attend that meeting, as our farm specialist.”

“For what purpose?” Derec asked.

“They want to develop a schedule. The Cerebrons are anxious to return to their nomadic life, from which they've been diverted by the problem with our city. They've been camping out in The Forest of Repose, as they call it, the woods next to the city.”

Ariel looked at her watch.

“You may want to watch this,” she said. “It's sort of spectacular.We can watch the show from the lorry as we drive in to the city. We need to be getting back anyway. It's almost time for dinner.”

Jacob and Mandelbrot were standing near the lorry as Derec and Ariel started down the ramp. The robots had already loaded Derec's gear into the lorry.

Derec called, “I'll want you to drive, Mandelbrot.”

He wanted to stand by the driver, so as to watch better whatever show it was Ariel had scheduled for them, and he dam well didn't want that musclebot Jacob standing beside him, upstaging him, so to speak, in front of the audience sitting behind.

He glanced at Ariel, daring her to challenge his decision.

She looked at him quizzically, but then gave him a quirky little smile and didn't say anything. And that was as infuriating as if she had questioned his order. She knew exactly why he wanted Mandelbrot to drive. Somehow he always displayed his buttons, and Ariel knew exactly which ones to push.

But the show was every bit as spectacular as she had intimated. She stood up to point out the one she thought was the Cerebron leader, Synapo, circling high over the dome. And it was he who dropped first: a tiny black ball plummeting toward the forest like a lead shot, becoming a small bomb, trailing a shiny smoke that slowly expanded into a silver ball that drifted gently down into the tree tops and then bobbed up to rest on the top of the forest like a ball of mercury on a countertop.

That was a solo performance, and then from near Synapo's flight circle, another followed-Sarco, the leader of the Myostria, Ariel guessed-and after a time, over the space of a quarter-hour, they all dropped until they were dispersed like myriad beads of silvery moisture over the surface of the green foliage.

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