James P Hogan. Inherit The Stars. Giant Series #1

with excitement and anticipation as the new pioneering frontier

began planet-hopping out across the Solar System.

And so NWRL Bonneville had been left with no purpose to serve. This

situation did not go unnoticed by the directors of IDCC. Seeing

that most of the equipment and permanent installations owned by

NWRL could be used in much of the corporation’s own research

projects, they propositioned the government with an offer to buy

the place outright. The offer was accepted and the deal went

through. Over the years IDCC had further expanded the site,

improved its aesthetics, and eventually established it as their

nucleonics research center and world headquarters.

The mathematical theory that had grown out of meson dynamics

involved the existence of three hitherto unknown transuranic

elements. Although these were purely hypothetical, they were

christened hyperium, bonnevillium, and genevium. Theory also

predicted that, due to a “glitch” in the transuranic

mass-versus-binding-energy curve, these elements, once formed,

would be stable. They were unlikely to be found occurring

naturally, however-not on Earth, anyway. According to the

mathematics, only two known situations could give the right

conditions for their formation: the core of the detonation of a

nucleonic bomb or the collapse of a supernova to a neutron star.

Sure enough, analysis of the dust clouds after the Sahara tests

yielded minute traces of hyperium and bonnevillium; genevium was

not detected. Nevertheless, the first prediction of the theory was

accepted as amply supported. Whether, one day, future generations

of scientists would ever verify the second prediction, was another

matter entirely.

* * *

Hunt and Gray touched down on the rooftop landing pad of the IDCC

administration building shortly after fifteen hundred hours. By

fifteen thirty they were sitting in leather armchairs facing the

desk in Borlan’s luxurious office on the tenth floor, while he

poured three large measures of scotch at the teak bar built into

the left wall. He walked back to the center, passed a glass to each

of the Englishmen, went back around the desk, and sat down.

“Cheers, then, guys,” he offered. They returned the gesture.

“Well,” he began, “it’s good to see you two again. Trip okay? How’d

you make it up so soon-rent a jet?” He opened his cigar box as he

spoke and pushed it across the desk toward them. “Smoke?”

“Yes, good trip. Thanks, Felix,” Hunt replied. “Avis.” He inclined

his head toward the window behind Borlan, which presented a

panoramic view of pine-covered hills tumbling down to the distant

Columbia. “Some scenery.”

“Like it?”

“Makes Berkshire look a bit like Siberia.”

Borlan looked at Gray. “How are you keeping, Rob?”

The corners of Gray’s mouth twitched downwards. “Gutrot.”

“Party last night at some bird’s,” Hunt explained. “Too little

blood in his alcohol stream.”

“Good time, huh?” Borlan grinned. “Take Francis along?” “You’ve got

to be joking!”

“Jollificating with the peasantry?” Gray mimicked in the impeccable

tones of the English aristocracy. “Good God! Whatever next!”

They laughed. Hunt settled himself more comfortably amid a haze of

blue smoke. “How about yourself, Felix?” he asked. “Life still

being kind to you?”

Borlan spread his arms wide. “Life’s great.”

“Angie still as beautiful as the last time I saw her? Kids okay?”

“They’re all fine. Tommy’s at college now-majoring in physics and

astronautical engineering. Johnny goes hiking most weekends with

his club, and Susie’s added a pair of gerbils and a bear cub to the

family zoo.”

“So you’re still as happy as ever. The responsibilities of power

aren’t wearing you down yet.”

Borlan shrugged and showed a row of pearly teeth. “Do I look like

an ulcerated nut midway between heart attacks?”

Hunt regarded the blue-eyed, deep-tanned figure with close-cropped

fair hair as Borlan sprawled relaxedly on the other side of the

broad mahogany desk. He looked at least ten years younger than the

president of any intercontinental corporation had a right to.

For a while the small talk revolved around internal affairs at

Metadyne. At last a natural pause presented itself. Hunt sat

forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and contemplated the last

drop of amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it around first

from right to left and then back again. Finally he looked up.

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