The Disestablishment of Paradise (12 page)

‘Is it genuine?’ asked Hera.

‘Well it has all the right signatures and a priority coding and the salary provisions are correct so, yes, it looks bona fide to me. Why do you ask?’

‘I just wanted to check on the surface arrangements,’ said Hera hurriedly.

‘Yes, I thought that was a bit strange too. Are you sure you want to go through with this, Hera? It is a lot they are asking of you, especially in view of all that has happened. Solo on a
planet, even with us up here, can be a very lonely place.’

‘I’m sure I’ll cope,’ said Hera, and then she added, ‘but for personal reasons I’m not letting people know.’

‘Very sensible,’ concluded Abhuradin. ‘I think you must protect yourself.’

And there Hera let the matter rest. She speculated, though, about Abhuradin’s words, ‘It is a lot they are asking of you.’ This made it sound as if the order had been presented
to Abhuradin as an initiative from the Space Council and not a request from Hera. Mystery on mystery.

And there is more. While preparing this book I consulted the archives at the Space Council to obtain copies of the papers allowing Dr Melhuish to stay alone on Paradise. No such orders could be
found, though the transcripts of the hearing and the letter of suspension were present in Hera’s file. Hera’s copies were lost on Paradise. Captain Abhuradin’s copies had
disappeared with most of the other files relating to Paradise when the barge containing them was
by chance
mislabelled and shunted into the garbage trajectory in the direction of
Leo’s Eye, the name of the sun that shines on Paradise.

So who was Theodore Vollens? Was there ever anyone called Theodore Vollens? Did Hera have a guardian angel in the Office of the Secretary General? Or did Timothy Isherwood feel remorse for
something?

The mystery remains a mystery.

Ten days of rest was enough for Hera.

With her arm strapped up and her stitches out, she bade farewell to Sister Hilda and took passage for Paradise. But before departing she contacted Captain Abhuradin and arranged to disembark as
discreetly as possible. This proved easier than she had feared since Alpha Platform-over-Paradise was frantic with hundreds of people coming and going. No one took notice of a small woman wearing
the overalls and mask of a shuttle cleaner as she shuffled through the arrivals gate on Alpha.

The Disestablishment was in full swing. Cargo shuttles were in continuous twenty-four-hour service, as were the much smaller and faster personnel craft. Inez Abhuradin arranged for Hera to
travel down to the surface with one of the demolition crews, and it was thus that Hera first met Mack. It was not auspicious.

‘Been in the wars, lady?’ he said, noticing her arm in a sling

‘You could say that,’ she replied and turned away.

And that was the limit of their conversation.

Mack shrugged. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that most of the people on Paradise were touchy and odd.

Safely down on Paradise, Hera went straight to the ORBE HQ. The building was full of crates and cases and tired people who looked as if they had aged in the brief time that she had been off
planet. No one had warned them that she was coming; not even Hemi the administrator had been told.

So when Hera walked into the ORBE HQ and said, ‘Hello, everyone. I’ve been appointed interim director,’ her announcement was greeted with a surprised silence. This was followed
by muttered greetings and some enquiries about her health. Then people found urgent things to do elsewhere. The truth was that many felt betrayed by Hera and considered she had let them and the
whole ORBE enterprise down. They did not want to be associated with mystical science or the ridicule and anger that had followed the inquiry. Hera took this hard.

Only Hemi made her welcome.

He sat her down in his office, which was in a state of chaos, and brought her coffee. He made her show him where the stitches had been and describe what had happened. Finally, he said, ‘I
would have made you more welcome. Got a cake or something. I’ve only just now heard from old Ahab about your appointment. That’s why we weren’t ready for you.’

‘I didn’t want it announced before I got here. I thought it would be better this way. And I certainly didn’t want a cake.’

Hemi smiled. ‘Yeah, well, you know what I mean. I’d been starting to wonder what to do with your things . . . hoping to hear from you . . . but now I suppose you’ll see to
everything.’

‘I’m interim director, that’s all. Appointed to take care of the close-down.’

Hemi nodded and shrugged but did not smile.

‘You don’t seem very pleased.’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s just that this place . . . now . . . it’s like a body without a heart. Everyone seems angry or else they’re always linking up off planet.
I’ve probably blown next year’s budget with communications alone.’

‘Well, is there anything for me to do?’

‘There’s forms to sign – performance certificates, equipment sign-off registers – but hey, Hera, it’s nothing really. Nothing I can’t cope with.’

‘So what are you saying, Hemi?’

‘I’m saying I think you should take a holiday. This place’ll break your heart else. Go out to one of the islands. Swim a bit. Get some sun. I’ll stay in contact. You can
take your old SAS. I’ll fix the books. Write it off.’

‘You are very kind. I was told I was receiving a new one.’

Hemi looked surprised. ‘First I’ve heard of it. But hey, what’s new?’ Then he looked at her almost shyly. ‘And there’s a bit more too, eh? You know when you
appointed me administrator?’ Hera nodded. ‘Well I told you then I didn’t know much about plants and science and things, but I knew how to organize. I hope you’ve no regrets
about appointing me. Perhaps I could have protected you better, but—’

‘I’ve no regrets at all. In fact, you were one of my best appointments.’

‘See. I’m not sure what’s going on round here now, but I hear things. And, well, what I want to say is, with me, with my people, we have no problems with the idea that trees
have souls and spirits. One of our gods is Tane Mahuta, Great Lord of the Forest. And if that’s what is upsetting them buggers up there,’ he raised his eyes, ‘then I’m with
you, Hera.’

Hera was about to reply when Hemi stood up. Being well over six feet tall he towered over her. But he bent down towards her and before she could move, he pressed his nose against hers firmly and
flatly. ‘Kia kaha, kia m[#257;]ia ahakoa te huarahi ka wh[#257;]ia e koe.’

‘What does that mean, Hemi?’

‘Not easy to translate, Hera. But . . . . “Be strong. Be confident. Despite the path you have chosen.” That’s about right, eh. Goodbye, Hera.’

In the next few weeks the people who had called Paradise home began to move off planet. And as the offices and houses were cleared, the men with the sledgehammers and crowbars
moved in.

Hera, having followed Hemi’s advice, set up her own living quarters at one of the research stations on a distant part of the planet. The place she chose was called Monkey Terrace Station.
Originally this had been a supply depot for MINADEC workers, but it had then been taken over and refurbished by the ORBE project. The station was set back from a ledge of rock above a long stretch
of water called Big Fella Lake. It stood amid a stand of ancient monkey trees – hence its name.

MINADEC workers had chosen names which reflected the way they saw things. Monkey trees had the unusual characteristic of sending pairs of fibrous roots down from their upper branches on the
downwind side. Finding the soil, the roots dug deep and hardened. As the trees grew they gradually leaned and the roots took the weight. So it was true that, from a distance and with a bit of
imagination, the trees could look like a giant ape hunched on the ground with both arms forward as though ready to run. These trees gave the station protection from the cold winds in the winter and
pleasant aromatic shade when the summer sun was high. The view from the terrace looked straight across the lake to where tall dipper palms reached out over the water and rose and fell steadily.
Beyond them were gentle hills of deep forest called the Scorpion Hills, and it was here that a large
Dendron peripatetica
had been observed by one of the first MINADEC survey teams. The
Dendron was heaving its way down to the water and they watched it as it waded right through the lake – hence the name, Big Fella Lake. Far beyond the Scorpion Hills, and just visible on a
clear day, were the white but smoky fumaroles of the Chimney. So, all in all, Monkey Terrace Station was quite an historic place, and normally it was very peaceful.

It was here that one morning Hera was wakened by the clatter of two craft coming in low over the lake and preparing to land. She pulled on a pair of overalls, quickly coiled and pinned her hair
and slipped her feet into the soft meshlite survey boots that she wore for outdoors work. Not elegant, but so what? She didn’t really want visitors, and her greatest fear was that someone
would arrive to tell her that the order allowing her to stay had been revoked. By the time she ran outside, the two flyers had landed. One was a wide-bayed demolition transporter, and it had
settled on the beach below the terrace and there created a small sandstorm. Men wearing the blue and green of demolition workers were already jumping down onto the beach and starting to unbolt
their cutting wheels and portable generators. They were led by the tall solidly built man we have already met, Mack.

The other craft was a brand new Delta-class SAS flyer. It had come swooping in over the house in a display of virtuoso flying and had settled on the station landing pad. The pilot who stepped
out was none other than Captain Abhuradin in person. That lady, elegant as ever, greeted Hera as she came out of her door. ‘Well there you are, Dr Melhuish. Special delivery. One Delta-class
SAS flyer that answers to the name of Alan. You must have friends in high places. This is one of the newest models. Arrived yesterday. So I thought I’d bring it out myself and see where you
were and how you are and what you are doing. I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘I am. No other news?’

‘Nothing special. Except that I needed a break. Too many people in my life at present.’

Hera grinned. ‘Not out here.’ She turned. ‘Except I see you have brought some friends.’

‘They’re nothing to do with me. I gave them directions yesterday. Caught up with them this morning and guided them through the Chimneys. I thought perhaps you had requisitioned
them.’

‘Not me.’ Hera grinned at the suggestion. ‘I leave all that to Hemi.’

‘So how are you? Are you comfortable?’

Hera gestured around the small enclosure ‘Well, what you see is what there is. Big Fella Lake, a je y, a boat, greenhouses full of dead plants, a garden full of Tattersall weeds, a table
under the monkey trees, a nice little shilo with all facilities and a view that is forever changing.’

Abhuradin whistled – a very masculine sound for one so feminine. ‘Impressive.’

‘And as for me, I’m fine.’ Hera flexed her arm. ‘No pain now, but still a bit mixed-up inside. Up here.’ She tapped her head. ‘You know. I’ll be all
right though. Why don’t you go and have a look round inside while I see what these lads are up to? Make some coffee if you want. Everything’s in the kitchen.’

Hera turned to face the men who had followed Mack up the steps from the beach and were now standing around waiting. She addressed them from a distance: ‘Is this a social call, or are you
boys here on business?’

‘We’re . . . er . . .’ Mack removed his cap and rubbed his jaw, which had two days of stubble. ‘We were sent out here to take this place apart. Lucky the captain was
coming out this way or we’d never have found it. No one told us there was still someone living here.’

‘Well, there is and she’s staying. So there’ll be no demolition out here.’

Mack looked at his men. ‘OK . . . Well you probably haven’t heard the news, living out here miles from anywhere, but this planet Paradise has been dis-es-tab-lish-ed. Now, you know
what that means. Everyone is supposed to be off world in a couple of weeks’ time. We don’t want to rush you or anything like that, but . . .’

Suddenly Hera understood. This big ape of a man thought she must be one of the settlers, and from the way he was talking, he had already had some dealings with people who didn’t want to
go.

‘I know all about the Disestablishment. I am – was – part of the ORBE project. But I have special permission to remain. I’m staying down here.’

Mack nodded slowly, weighing this up. ‘You mean until everyone goes.’

‘No,
after
everyone goes.’

‘Uh huh.’ There was a pause while he thought that over. ‘That means you’ll be, er . . .’ There was a longer pause while he thought some more. ‘You’ll be
staying down here on the planet,
all alone
, right?’

‘Right. You’ve got it. Spot on. Give him a coconut, someone. And I’ll be living
here
. So that’s why I don’t want you, or any of your men, tearing the place
apart. Savvy?’

Mack nodded again. ‘So what happens when the platform goes e-vac and we all bugger off back to Birmingham?’

‘You what?’ It was Hera’s turn to stare.

‘When we leave. Shut up shop.’

‘I’ll be coming off planet when the platform clos— Look, I don’t want to stand here all day arguing the toss. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Captain
Abhuradin. But I’ll tell you this – I’m staying, and if one of your men touches so much as a screw he’ll have me to deal with.’

Mack lifted his hands as though to ward off a blow. ‘OK. We hear you. That right, you fellas?’ He turned to his men, all of whom were looking on with a variety of expressions on
their faces. Then one of them could contain himself no longer. He turned away and exploded into laughter.

‘Dickinson, get a hold of yourself.’

‘Y-yes boss.’ Then he broke down again, held his sides and stamped on the ground. Hera started to laugh. It was Mack’s face that was so funny. Next the other men broke ranks.
Only Mack was left, looking from one to the other. ‘Is there something I don’t understand?’ he said.