Rob glanced at it for a few seconds. “It seems like a list of the biggest asteroids. I don’t know what the other values are — diameters and orbital elements, maybe?”
“That’s the first set of entries. Did Cornelia tell you where I made my first money? I started out by mining the asteroids, and Regulo Enterprises is still doing it. You can’t make any money at that game unless you have good information — I learned that fifty years ago, from the first partner I ever had. Sycorax holds records on every known body in the Solar System. Of course, there are things out in the Halo that we haven’t managed to tag yet, but we’re not after those today, anyway. These data files have orbital elements, size, composition and a current position that is continuously recomputed. We can also list the mining costs for each asteroid, and the value of materials delivered to any chosen destination in the System. To stay ahead in this business, you need two things: better information than other people, and a willingness to settle for small percentage profits. How accurate do you think those figures are on the sheet you gave me?”
Rob was watching in admiration as the complex display unfolded on the screen before them. It was his sort of data bank. “Those are my first calculations, so I wouldn’t trust them to better than twenty percent. We should go for the high end of the range — let’s say we’ll need three billion tons of silicon, and about the same amount of metals. We can make do with a lot of variability in the metals’ mix, so long as we have a fair amount of iron and carbon in there.”
“That’s good enough.” Regulo was busy at the terminal, entering the specifications. “Now let’s see what Sycorax can come up with. It may take a minute or two. The files are still stored in the old way, carbonaceous, silicaceous, metal-rich and mixed composition. We want a mixture, and a particular one, so there has to be a good deal of sorting. I’ve also asked for a lowest cost delivery to L-4, so we won’t get too many things to choose from. We might as well do the mining there, rather than out in the Belt.”
He leaned back. “Speaking of mining, I’m still very interested in having a version of the Spider that can handle high-temperature materials. Did you take that idea any further?”
“Yes. It’s easy enough to do. But you haven’t told me why you want to do it.”
Regulo looked at him slyly. “Just another little idea I’ve been having. You know how we mine the asteroids, do you? We still dig holes in them, like weevils going at a lump of ship’s hard tack. I don’t like that, and I’m looking for alternatives. What would you charge to let me have the use of another Spider on something else for a couple of years?”
“Five percent of project revenues.”
“Net?”
“Gross. You see, I’m learning from you. But I wouldn’t lease one to you at all unless I could be sure that somebody competent would be working with it.”
“How about Sala Keino?”
“Does he work for you?” Rob looked puzzled. “Regulo, he knows more about big space structures than I could learn in ten years. Why isn’t he doing the beanstalk for you? I mean, I want to work on it, but he’s the one with the experience.”
“Not with the use of the Spider — and not with construction work down on Earth. I’m convinced that those are the two most important elements of the operation, the extrusion of the cables and the tether. Don’t you worry about Keino, he’ll be doing something else for me. I told you I want to develop a better mining method for the asteroids, and he’ll be busy with that. All right, let’s finish this off. What do we have?”
On the screen, the flickering display had settled down to show a single short table. Five objects were listed.
“Any one of those ought to do us,” Regulo went on. “There doesn’t seem to be much to choose between them. They’re all a couple of kilometers across, all with a reasonable mixture of silicon, metals and carbon, and they all have enough volatiles for transfer. I own mining rights to all five, and I don’t see any problem getting any one of them into Earth orbit. Don’t you worry about how they’ll get there, either — that’s one thing I’ve had a whole lot of experience with.”
He reached across and turned off the display. “Any other major problems that we should talk about now? If not, I suggest we get down to details. We need to go over your notes and mine, and see if there are any discrepancies. There are bound to be minor differences, but I must say I’m amazed that we agree as well as we do so far.”
Regulo leaned forward and picked up his sheaf of papers. He was silent for a few seconds staring down at them. His next question was one that came as a complete surprise to Rob, whose mind was still on the beanstalk design.
“Not planning any permanent bonds, are you, Merlin? Back on Earth, I mean.”
“As it happens, I’m not,” said Rob, after a few moments of confusion. “Though I must say I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Regulo slowly nodded. “Aye. Maybe it isn’t. But I was just thinking, the beanstalk is going to need a hard year or more of work from both of us. Lots of time for you away from Earth. That might be a problem if you had a tie to a man or woman back there.”
He was fiddling with the pile of papers in front of him. After a few seconds, he handed them over to Rob. Nothing further was said on the subject, but Rob felt that Regulo’s explanation of his question had been curiously unconvincing. He struggled to get his mind off it and back to work, as they began the detailed second stages of the beanstalk design. But he wished, one more time, that he could read Darius Regulo’s voice and facial expressions.
CHAPTER 8: “To meet with Caliban”
The main dining room of Atlantis was set in the outer part of the metal sphere that formed the heart of the asteroid. It had been designed by Darius Regulo as the show-case of the whole living area, and the facilities were arranged with that in mind. Sliding metal panels lined the outer wall, and behind them, revealed to the guests at the touch of a button set into the long table, were transparent viewing walls looking out onto the water-world beyond. Regulo kept them closed off completely during the whole of the meal, but Rob could not resist staring at them and speculating on the sights they concealed.
The working session with Regulo had gone amazingly fast. The two men seemed to catch at each other’s thoughts as soon as they were conceived, before they were fully spoken. Rob had built up a decent respect for his own abilities over the past few years, but he was not used to finding them matched or bettered in someone else. At the end of the session he could scarcely believe how much ground they had covered, nor the grasp that Regulo now had of all the details of his design work.
That had been on his mind through dinner, detracting from the pleasure of the strange meal. There were just four of them in the big dining room, Rob, Regulo, Corrie and Joseph Morel. As the various courses were served, the others looked at Rob, waiting to see his reaction to each. There was more variation than Rob could believe — especially when he was told that every item came from the sea-farms of Atlantis.
“We have to thank Joseph for that,” Regulo said, watching as Rob bit into a piece of meat, frowned in surprise, then chewed again. “He worked for years to breed a fresh-water fish that would taste like good beef. He’s fooled more than one with it — and you ought to try the cheese that we have coming up later. That’s your masterpiece, right, Joseph?”
Morel nodded without expression. His smooth, ruddy face was impassive, offering no hint at his feelings. Occasionally during the meal, when Rob was looking at Regulo or Corrie, he was aware of a cool, watchful look directed toward him from Morel, sitting to his left. But when he glanced in that direction, the cold gray eyes were always turned down to the table, or fixed on one of the others. Rob made a mental note to add a question to the list that he was preparing for Howard Anson’s Information Service.