Ysbel sympathised with the idea that the bureau should encourage the natives to adopt alternative economic strategies; Landers shared the majority opinion that human intervention had merely accelerated changes in native society that had been under way before First Contact. Their differences surfaced during the last evening of the mission, when Landers asked Ysbel if she thought that the protesters like them were right to stand in the way of progress, especially if it benefited the majority.

‘I believe that they have genuine concerns about the project, and a right to defend their livelihood and community,’ Ysbel said carefully, suspecting a trap.

‘And I believe that we should crack on with getting the natives up to speed, because it would be selfish to do otherwise,’ Landers said. He was a compact fellow in his early thirties, one of those rare pale-skinned types, with sharp blue eyes and artfully disordered blond hair. Quick-witted, good at charming his superiors and dealing with native councils and lawkeepers, but fundamentally unserious and not much interested in the lives of ordinary natives. Smiling at the three D&W staff members and a visiting demographist who was studying changes in land use in the New Territories, telling them that there might be a few bumps along the way, a little friction, but nothing that couldn’t be resolved.

‘That’s what our bureau does, and that’s what we did here. Getting the two sides to sit around the same table and thrash out their differences in proper native fashion. Give them a little time, and they’ll realise that everyone benefits. More income for the fisherfolk, more employment for the town, and the prospect of a nice profit for the cartel that’s funding the plant. Not bad going for a few days’ work, even though I say so myself.’

They were sitting on the flat top of the burrow the local D&W staff had moved into after their office had been burned down. It was a couple of kilometres north of the town, with a view of the ocean and the last light of sunset smouldering at the level line between sea and sky, the first stars popping out overhead, the air pleasantly warm. There was a posse of self-appointed native guards outside the burrow’s door and bots were patrolling high above, but these precautions were not really necessary. The protest had burned itself out, the two sides were talking and as far as Landers was concerned all was well. He asked the staff members what they did for fun around here, and a young man told him that there was a beach close by where the surfing was good.