Terry Pratchett - Strata

Terry Pratchett

CORGI BOOKS

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Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781407035536

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STRATA
A CORGI BOOK : 9780552133258

Originally published in Great Britain by Colin Smythe Ltd

PRINTING HISTORY
Colin Smythe edition published 1981
NELedition published 1982
Corgi edition published 1988

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Copyright Colin Smythe Ltd 1981

The right of Terry Pratchett to be identifed as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Condition of Sale

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Set in 11/13pt Palatino by Kestrel Data, Exeter, Devon.

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I met a mine foreman who has a piece of coal with a 1909 gold sovereign embedded in it. I saw an ammonite, apparently squashed in the fossil footprint of a sandal.

There is a room in the basement of the Natural History Museum which they keep locked. Among other oddities in there are the tyrannosaurus with a wristwatch and the Neanderthal skull with gold fillings in three teeth.

What are you going to do about it?

Dr Carl Untermond

The Overcrowded Eden

It was, of course, a beautiful day a Company brochure day. At the moment Kins office overlooked a palm-fringed lagoon. White water broke over the outer reef, and the beach was of crushed white coral and curious shells.

No brochure would have shown the nightmare bulk of the pontoon-mounted strata machine, the small model for islands and atolls under fifteen kilometres. As Kin watched, another metre of beach spilled out of the big back hopper.

She wondered about the pilots name. There was genius in that line of beach. A man who could lay down a beach like that, with the shells just right, deserved better things. But then, perhaps he was a Thoreau type who just liked islands. You got them sometimes; shy silent types who preferred to drift across the ocean after the volcano teams, dreamily laying complicated archipelagos with indecent skill. Shed have to ask.

She leant over her desk and called up the area engineer.

Joel? Whos on BCF3?

The engineers lined brown face appeared over the intercom.

Guday, Kin. Let me see now. Aha! Good, is it? You like it?

Its good.

Its Hendry. The one whos the subject of all those nasty depositions youve got on your desk. You know, the one who put the fossil dino in

I read it.

Joel recognized the edge to her voice. He sighed.

Nicol Plante, shes his mixer, she must have been in on it too. I put them on island duty because, well, with a coral island there is not the temptation

I know. Kin thought for a while. Send him over. And her. Its going to be a busy day, Joel. Its always like this at the end of a job, people start to play around.

Its youth. Weve all done it. With me it was a pair of boots in a coal measure. Not so imaginative, I admit.

You mean I should excuse him?

Of course he did. Everyone was allowed just one unscripted touch, werent they? Checkers always spotted them, didnt they? And even if one went unnoticed, couldnt we rely on future paleontologists to hush it up? Huh?

Trouble was, they might not

Hes good, and later on hell be great, said Joel. Just gnaw one ball off, eh?

A few minutes later Kin heard the machines roar stutter and stop. Soon one of the outer office robots came in, leading

a squat fair-haired youth, tanned lobster pink, and a skinny bald girl hardly out of her teens. They stood staring at Kin with a mixture of fear and defiance, dripping coral dust onto the carpet.

All right, sit down. Want a drink? You both look dehydrated. I thought they had air conditioning in those things.

The pair exchanged glances. Then, the girl said, Frane likes to get the feel of his work.

Well, okay. The freezers that round thing hovering right behind you. Help yourself.

They jerked away as the freezer bumped into their shoulders, then grinned nervously and sat down.

They were in awe of Kin, which she found slightly embarrassing. According to the files they were both from colony planets so new the bedrock had hardly dried, while she was manifestly from Earth. Not Whole, New, Old, Real or Best Earth. Just Earth, cradle of humanity, just like it said in their history books. And the double century mark on her forehead was probably something theyd only heard of before joining John Company. And she was their boss. And she could fire them.

The freezer drifted back to its alcove, describing a neat detour around a patch of empty air at the back of the room. Kin made a mental note to get a tech to look at it.

They sat gingerly on the float chairs. Colony worlds didnt have them, Kin recalled. She glanced at the file, gave them an introductory glare, and switched on the recorder.

You know why youre here, she said. Youve read the regulations, if youve got any sense. Im bound to remind you that you can either choose to accept my judgement as senior executive of the sector, or go before a committee at Company HQ. If you elect for me to deal with it, theres no appeal. What do you say?

You, said the girl.

Can he speak?

We elect to be tried by you, Mizz, said the boy in a thick Creed accent.

Kin shook her head. Its not a trial. If you dont like my decision you can always quit unless of course I fire you. She let that sink in. Behind every Company trainee was a parsec-long queue of disappointed applicants. Nobody quit.

Right, its on record. Just for the record, then, you two were on strata machine BVN67 on Julius 4th last, working a line on Y-continent? Youve got the detailed charge on the notice of censure you were given at the time.

Tis all correct, said Hendry. Kin thumbed a switch.

One wall of the office became a screen. They got an aerial view of grey datum rock, broken off sharply by a kilometre-high wall of strata like Gods own mad sandwich. The strata machine had been severed from its cliff and moved to one side. Unless a really skilled jockey lined it up next time, this worlds geologists were going to find an unexplained fault.