Chapter 16 
Chapter 16
THE MAP ROOM was in another of the plastic bubbles. It contained a mounted globe, a huge table upon which flat charts could be spread, a projector, and a wall screen.
Clavering went first to the sphere, sent it spinning with a touch of a finger, slowed its rotation with another touch, stopped it. “Here,” he said, “is Inferno Valley. A typical rift formation, as you will already have realized. To the north we have the Great Smokies, and to the south the Erebus Alps. North of the Smokies you find the Painted Badlands—and the sandstorms there can strip even one of my armor-plated devils to bare bones in minutes. South of the Alps there’s mountain range after mountain range—the Devil’s Torches, the Infernal Beacons, the Lucifers. . . .” He rotated the globe twenty degrees. “To the west of Inferno Valley there’s the Bitter Sea. Our chemical extraction plant is there. Even if the tourist trade died on us—and it shows no signs of ever doing so—we’d get by. And to the north we still have the Smokies, and to the south the Torches, the Beacons and the Lucifers.” The globe rotated again. “And here there’s a quite remarkable formation, stretching practically from pole to pole. The Satan’s Barrier Range. Worth visiting just to see the fantastic rock formations, such as the Valley of the Winds and the Devil’s Organ Pipes. When conditions are right you’d swear that some supernatural being was playing a gigantic organ—a little light music for Walpurgis Nacht.
“West of the Barrier there’re the Fire Forests and the Burning Pits. The Fire Forests are . . . clumps of young, new volcanoes, and their number grows every year. The Burning Pits are just what their name implies. Further west still, and we begin to pick up the foothills of the east-west ranges—the Great Smokies, the Torches and all the rest of them. There are, of course, valleys like this one, but smaller. There’s nothing that could accommodate a base, with its barracks and workshops and repair yards.”
“Mphm. Quite a world you have here, Captain Clavering. I suppose you run tours from Inferno Valley for your customers?”
“Yes. Unluckily the Organ Pipes Tour was a couple of days ago, and my air cars are now undergoing maintenance. You will appreciate that the abrasive winds make this essential after every outing. I’ll not be running another tour until Macedon comes in. Sobraon, of course, lifts off first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Taking her out?”
“Yes. Her master’s newly appointed and would like to see the Eblis pilotage both ways, arrival and departure, before he makes a stab at it himself. And now you really must excuse me. There’s always something to be done around a place like this. But you’ll have dinner with us tonight, of course. Sally will be wanting to see you again. You too, of course, Commander Williams, are invited.” He paused. “Come to that, why don’t you and all Rim Malemute’s people stay at the Lucifer Arms? I’ve plenty of accommodation.”
“And I’m entitled to reasonable expenses,” said Grimes.
Clavering laughed. “I should have made it clear that I want you as nonpaying guests. But I’m not averse to taking the government’s money.”
“And I’m not averse,” said Grimes, “to having some small percentage of what I pay in income tax and customs duty spent of my comfort.”
And had a flicker of apprehension showed on Clavering’s face when Grimes used the words “customs duty”?
Damn it all! thought the Commodore. I’m neither a policeman nor a customs officer.
Then he remembered young Pleshoff, whose career had been ruined, and Peter Fellini and Inga Telfer, who were dead.