Part 7 (1/2)

”Meaning cheaper?”

”Exactly. Generating a fusion reaction isn't that ex- pensive. Containing and channeling it are.”

They pa.s.sed the flagpole and encountered a small sign attached to a post made of coconut palm. Cora glanced expectantly at Mataroreva, who grinned at her.

”That marks the highest point of land yet measured on Cachalot. Thirty-two meters above sea level.” His grin grew wider and he gestured at the atoll. ”The name 'Mou'anui' is itself a joke. It's the name this atoll was given by the first workers who settled here. My ancestors were among them. It means 'big mountain'

in the ancient Tahitian tongue.”

”Everything's relative,” Merced said from behind him.

”Very true.”

”I would think you'd be swamped here.” Cora

33.

looked back at the calm water of the lagoon. ”We pa.s.sed over a pretty good-sized storm on our way down.”

”That's why most of the people on Cachalot would choose to live on the floating towns even if there was more land. It's safer, easier to ride with a storm rather than fight against it.” Mataroreva shrugged. ”But for an administrative center, for a central distribution and product collection and processing point, it was decided that a truly permanent installation was required. There are larger atolls, but none with this much stable land, so it was decided to place the fixed buildings on Mou'anui.

”The foundations of these buildings go many meters down into the solid rock of the sea mount on which the reef stands. The reef follows the contour of the crest of an ancient volcanic caldera. The mountain comes very close to the surface here. Even if the sand were to be completely washed away, most of the buildings would remain. We're safe. The majority of big storms strike the atoll on the far side anyway.”

”Is there any place,” Rachael asked, ”where real land actually projects above the water?”

Mataroreva thought a moment. ”Not that I've heard of. Sea mounts like the one below us come within a couple dozen meters of the surface. But wherever you see dry land projecting above the water, it's there be- cause the little hexalates have worked to make it so for millions of years.”

They pa.s.sed through the tinted plastic doors of the Administration Building. ”Most of the people I've seen so far have retained much of then: Polynesian ancestry in their faces and physiques,” Cora said.

”Oh, you know how it is,” Mataroreva replied cas- ually. ”The Commonwealth's not so ancient that pock- ets of settlers on nonurbanized worlds haven't retained then- ethnicity. That's not to say you won't find ancient Northern Europeans or Central American farmstockers

34 .

or Mongols working here on Cachalot. Not to mention a very few thranx, despite their natural hatred of large bodies of water. But the permanent residents, the ones who aren't here simply to try to get rich quick in phar- maceuticals, say, derive mostly from Polynesian or Melanesian ocean-going ancestors. I'm sure there's no genetic reason for it. But tradition dies as hard in cer- tain ethnic groupings as it does in families.”

Down a hall, than around a comer. ”Here we are.”

But the door before them refused admittance. ”Com- missioner Hwos.h.i.+en is not here,” it politely informed them. ”He is working elsewhere at the moment.”

”Where is he, then?” Mataroreva did not try to con- ceal his exasperation at the delay.

The door hesitated briefly, then replied, ”I believe

Commissioner Hwos.h.i.+en is in Storage and Packing

Number Two.”

”Oh, terrific,” their guide mumbled. Then his frus- tration vanished, as all such upsets seemed to after an instant. ”Nothing for it but to go find him, I suppose.”

He turned, began retracing their steps.