“It should be,” Blalok replied. “It furnishes all of our Lani for replacement and export. It can turn out over a thousand a year at full capacity. Of course we don’t run at that rate, or Flora would be overpopulated. But this is a big layout, like you said. It can maintain a population of at least forty thousand. Old Alexander had big ideas.”
“I wonder what he planned to do with them?” Kennon said.
“I wouldn’t know. The Old Man never took anyone into his confidence.”
Jordan came up as the jeep settled to the ground. “Been expecting you for the past half hour,” he said. “Your office said you were on your way.—Good to see you, too, Doc. I’ve been going over the records with Hank Allworth—the stationmaster here.” Jordan held out his hand.
“You’re an Earthman, eh?” Kennon asked as he grasped the outstretched hand. The gesture was as old as man, its ritualistic meaning lost in antiquity.
“No—Marsborn—a neighbor world,” Jordan said. “But our customs and Earth’s are the same.”
“You’re a long way from home,” Kennon said.
“No farther than you, Doc.” Jordan looked uncomfortable. “But we can compare origins later. Right now, you’d better come into the office. I’ve run across something peculiar.”