Planets Falling by James G. Scotson Page A

  An entire deck was devoted to growing different strains cultivated from the leaves of plants from a dozen planets.  Verat was reknowned for his ability to grow, harvest, dry and mix hundreds of different tea blends.  Each was very unique and typically very potent.  Some were great for staying alert, others were calming, and a few would render the drinker helplessly trippy for many hours.  Grey knew that the best way to garner Verat's support was to make sure he had a bracing cup in his hand.

 
    Chapter 15 - Revelation
     
    "What we have here is a genuine event," Gorian Mestrian exclaimed as she planted her feet on the table, her fuzzy wool socks in plain view.
    Footwear was pretty much optional on the station.  Given the lack of an outside to track indoors, most of the staff lumbered around without shoes or with feet adorned by slippers.  In fact, dress code was pretty lax.  It wasn't unusual to spend the day in a pair of flannel pajamas and a lab coat.  The only time attire was important was when the staff scientists and technicians were mucking about on an experimental deck or near the reactors.
    Cross contamination would be a cause for instant dismissal. Whole experiments could be ruined.  Worse, because the reactors worked on a combination of nuclear and biochemical reactions, a stray strain of microbial life could jeopardize the Platform's very existence by plunging the power station into the engineering version of a very bad cold or more omniously, an incurable cancer.
    "Ok folks.  Pay attention. Here's what we have to date," Grey announced, pointing at the image forming holographically at the center of the table.  "About 20 hours ago, three probes around experimental planet C9 began transmitting some really funky patterns.  We may have had more time to gather information, but Verat here decided to clock out.”  He glared at the dark, slouching figure in the corner.  “Ten hours ago, the patterns stopped and all has been quiet."
    Verat interrupted, crinkling his nose.  "Gorian, when was the last time you changed your socks?"
    Gorian put her feet down with a frown.  "My feet smell rosy.  You might consider your own hygiene, my friend.  You reek of some kind of weed mixed with liquor.  What's in that cup of yours?  It looks like peat and smells awful."
    "Want some?"  Verat growled.  "May bring you down back to us commoners."
    Grey dropped his head.  "Verat and Gorian, chrissakes, we need to take these results seriously.  None of the simulations remotely predicted geothermal feedback."  He glanced up at the suspended holographic sphere hovering above the table.  The image was cloaked in dense, tan and white clouds.  Grey could not help thinking about the caramels he hoarded as a kid.  Buttery goodness in a planet.
    As the faux planet spun lazily in front of the primary investigators of the C9 project, the clouds parted and amber tendrils of light appeared in little flashes scattered across the northern hemisphere of the globe.  If he squinted, Grey would have bet a week's pay that he saw the surface peeking out at him, green and slick.
    But that was impossible.  Planet C9 or Nine as most of the principles called it was a typical cloud planet - atmosphere dominated by swirls of water vapor, humidity so great that a few moments on the rocky surface without an away suit would be akin to walking into a very oppressive sauna, with no escape.
    Not that the time spent sweating would be lethal.  The air was now breathable after nearly four decades of pre-conditioning by the machinations of several of the principles' family members.  Their intent was to make the planet habitable for sentients, allowing them to live in peace, grow families, and build a history there.
    Within a century- give or take a decade or two - their goals would be achieved.  By then, much of the water suspended in the atmosphere would be captured in plants and animals or condensed in lakes and streams.  The terraforming