Power Lines by Anne McCaffrey And Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

“And you actually have the unmitigated gall …” declared the occupant of the main screen, Farringer Ball, the secretary-general of Intergal’s Board of Directors, “to tell me that the planet is making these demands on us! His round, fleshy face had taken on a reddish orange hue.

Yana thought some of that color had to be generated by the faulty connection or the disrupted innards of the comm screen. No human flesh could turn such a shade.

“Yes, Farrie, that’s what I’m saying,” Whittaker Fiske replied, smiling gently as a fond parent might to an erring child. “And I’ve proof enough that I haven’t lost my marbles or melted my circuits or any damned thing else you can think up to account for such a—” Whittaker Fiske paused and grinned before he added, “delusion. Delusion it isn’t!” He said that with no smile whatever and a very solemn expression. “We may not have encountered such a phenomenon before, Farrie, but we have now, and I don’t need my nose rubbed in it any more than it has been. So let’s get on with—”

“We’ll get on with nothing, Fiske,” Farringer Ball said explosively, and a thick finger rose from the bottom of the screen, followed by a hand that was shaking with anger. ‘I’m sending a relief company down immediately, with a squad of medics to check out every single—”

“Just be sure none of the company or the medics happen to have Petaybee as their planet of origin,” Torkel interrupted.

“Huh? What’s that, Captain?” The secretary-general shifted his scowl slightly to Torkel.

“It’ll be hard to do, Secretary Ball, since most of your best men and women come from this planet.”

“I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Farringer turned away from the camera to address others on his end of the communications channel. “We’ve got a planet issuing orders, respected scientists gone barmy, and now captains telling secretary-generals how to choose reinforcements! This situation is now Class Four!”

“You never were reasonable, Farrie,” Whittaker Fiske remarked in an amiably placatory tone, “when you come up against something remotely unusual.”

“Remotely? Unusual?.”

“Like I said …” Whittaker glanced around the screens at the other people who were attending the conference from a distance. “You can’t handle what isn’t in the book. This isn’t. I came here myself to sort out what looked like a minor glitch. And it’s the majorest one I’ve ever encountered. However, keeping both mind and options open, I’d still like to get on with the substance of this conference. Take a trank, Farrie, and listen, will ya? I’ll explain if you stop interrupting me.”

“We do owe Whittaker the courtesy of hearing him out, Farringer,” said one of the other board members, a woman of elegant bearing and composure. She had a beautiful countenance, sculpted on classic lines that owed nothing to surgical skills. Her black hair waved back to frame her heart-shaped face; even the harsh colors of the comm unit could not hide the porcelain fairness of her complexion, or the clear, bright blue of her eyes. Her makeup was discreet, and the only hint of her high rank was the exotically set firestones that she wore as earrings. Marmion de Revers Algemeine had made several fortunes on “hearing people out.” I rather fancy the idea of a planet knowing what it wants, and doesn’t want! Sentience on a vast scale.” She leaned forward, elbows on the surface in front of her, and rested her chin on her fists. “Besides, Whittaker never gives boring reports.”

She flicked her glance sideways, but as the speakers were in different offices, at widely separated locations, it was impossible to tell if she was looking at someone in her vicinity or one of the other attendees.

This won’t be the least bit boring, Marmie,” Whittaker said, grinning. “Torkel sent me an urgent call that there was a breakdown in the terraforming on this planet—we used Terraform B, the Whittaker Effect, which has never before broken down—so I figured that a simple adjustment would suffice, but I certainly wanted to be on hand …”

“Yes, yes, we know your grandfather developed that program,” Ball said testily, flicking his fingers impatiently.

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