He threw another kick at the sand, sending flying shards of mica and feldspar and quartz onto the highways of the wind.
Pericles had been thinking. “We won’t spend much more time here, Captain.” The proud head lifted for a last look at the dead ocean. “There’s not much to see.”
They’d been back in the offices on Calder only a half-month when Pericles announced his decision.
Dream-partner or no dream-partner, Casperdan exploded.
“You quadrupedal cretin! Warm-blooded sack of fatuous platitudes! Terraforming is only a theory, a hypothesis in the minds of sick romantics. It’s impossible!”
“No one has ever attempted it,” countered the horse, unruffled by her outburst.
“But … my God!” Casperdan ran delicate fingers through her flowing blond hair. “There are no facilities for doing such a thing … no company, no special firms to consult. Why, half the industries that would be needed for such a task don’t even exist.”
“They will,” Pericles declared.
“Oh, yes? And just where will they spring from?”
“You and I are going to create them.”
134
Dream Done Green
She pleaded with him. “Have you gone absolutely mad? We’re not in the miracle business, you know.”
The horse walked to the window and stared down at the Greengreen Sea. His reply was distant. “No . . . we’re in the dream business . .. remember?”
A cloud of remembrance came over Casperdan’s exquisite face. For a moment, she did—but it wasn’t enough to stem the tide of objection. Though she stopped shouting.
“Please, Per . . . take a long, logical look at this before you commit yourself to something that can only hurt you worse in the end.”