The Disestablishment of Paradise Read Online Free Page A

sweeping clean. Some woman (Hera had been told her name but had forgotten it), a hardliner by repute, had taken over. No doubt they had been stewing over the latest
production statistics for Paradise. ‘When did Abhuradin hear the news?’
    ‘Just a short time ago, she said.’
    ‘She hasn’t been sitting on it?’
    ‘Look, I’ve no idea. But I don’t think so. She didn’t sound happy, I can tell you that.’
    ‘Does anyone else know?’
    ‘No. Don’t think so. Alpha coding, so that’s just us. She didn’t want to tell me, but I told her you were out in the field and probably wouldn’t respond unless you
knew what the fuss was.’
    ‘Yeah. Good lad. OK. I’m on my way. Call all the heads of departments in. Tell them to drop whatever they are doing and, if they are within three hours’ flying time, to get
back to HQ pronto. If not, tell them to stand by for a tri-vid link. Don’t tell them what the issue is. I don’t want a lot of gabble on the airwaves until we’ve had a chance to
talk. I want a quick meeting before I go up top. And you start gathering statistics. Usual stuff – number of out-plantings, endangered species, economies of scale and so on. And get on to the
hospital too; get any info you can on how the anti-toxin programme is working.’
    ‘Will do.’
    ‘I’ll give you an ETA as soon as I’m airborne. We’ve got a battle on our hands, sunshine.’
    She broke contact.
    The student working out on the barge called across the water to her: ‘Bad news?’
    ‘I’ve got to get back to HQ ,’ answered Hera. She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m going to have to leave you here. You’ll have to camp out overnight.’
    The student grinned. ‘Suits me,’ she said. They had planned to camp anyway, so the tents were already up and there was food.
    ‘I reckon you’ve got two hours’ maximum working time before the tide changes. When the tide does turn, get out of it. Don’t play silly buggers. All right? Winch the barge
up like I showed you and then climb up as high as you can and get round to where the strait narrows. Enjoy the view. When the surge comes it is one of the sights of Paradise. It comes right through
here. A twenty-foot wave, breaking all the way. You won’t regret it.’
    With that Hera ran over to the small cove where they had moored the powerboat. She spread its solar panels and engaged the engine.
    ‘I’ll send the cutter back for you tomorrow,’ she called, and with a wave was on her way, skimming over the surface of the shallow straits. Low tide was a dangerous time and
she stood on a toolbox to look out for the warning sign of waves breaking on water. A strong sea was running against her in the middle of the strait, but once she had bounced through that she
rounded the headland where the calypso lilies trailed their long fronds in the water, and was gone.
    At the Calypso Station, itself no more than a radio point and a landing pad, she took the survey and survival (SAS) flyer and was in the air in minutes.
    The meeting got under way as soon as Hera arrived at ORBE HQ. Those section chiefs who were too far away were already linked by tri-vid, and could be seen in miniature, sitting
atop their projection mats with backgrounds of desert or jungle or mountain peak behind them.
    All members of the ORBE project were field workers; all were used to living rough and taking care of themselves – and they were not unused to emergencies either. Hair pinned up or
shaven-headed, stubble-jawed or bearded, they arrived as they were, in their work clothes, which could be anything from full protection suits if they were working amid dangerous plants like the
sugar lilies or the umbrella trees, or in a variety of brightly coloured shirts and shorts if they had been in the fields or greenhouses. Hera was typical, her greying hair held back by a red
bandanna and her trousers stained from contact with the dark green pancake wrack.
    She outlined the situation quickly, for there