K
ris Cardenas smiled at Gaeta, who was sleeping soundly beside her. He’s all right, she repeated silently for the thousandth time. He got through the rings and he’s not hurt. He’s finished with these wild stunts; he’s never going to risk his life again, never going to leave me again.
She slipped out of bed and padded to the lavatory, still smiling.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee woke Holly. She’d set the coffee machine for seven A.M. It was better than an alarm clock for her. It wasn’t real coffee, she knew; the habitat’s climate wasn’t right for growing coffee, even at the endcaps. The biotechnicians had produced an ersatz coffee by genetically engineering one of the bean crops the farms could grow. They’d even come up with a completely caffeine-free variation, although Holly preferred the “high octane” version.
Slipping out of bed, she wondered what Raoul was doing at this moment. We’re drifting apart, she realized. He’d been
wholly involved with Manny’s mission to the rings while Holly herself was completely tied up in the election campaign.
Wish I’d never decided to run for office, Holly said to herself, as she brushed her teeth. She stared at her image in the mirror above the sink. But Malcolm’s just plain wrong. We can’t mine the rings if there’re living creatures in them. And we’ve got to figure out some way to allow population growth before women start getting themselves pregnant. Our whole society could fall apart once the women decide to ignore the ZPG protocol. Break one law and what’s to hold you to obeying all the others?
Wearily she trudged to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of the strong black coffee. Sitting at the little table, Holly asked herself, How can I counter Malcolm’s idea of using the profits we make from mining the rings to support population growth?
She spent the morning tussling with that problem.
Still in bed, Wanamaker said to Pancho, “You know, you’re a helluva pilot. I didn’t realize that until yesterday.”
She grinned at him. “And you’re a helluva lover, Jake. But I knew that all along.”
They laughed together. Pancho started to get out of bed, but he reached for her lean, long-limbed body.
“We’ve got nothing on the calendar,” he said, pulling her close. “Let’s spend the day in bed.”
“Maybe you got nothin’ to do,” Pancho said, pushing gently away from him, “but I gotta go over to Holly and help her figure out her next move.”
Frowning, Wanamaker grumbled, “What is this? You’re not her campaign manager, are you?”
“Sorta. Leastways, I can give her the benefit of my experience dealing with slimeballs like Eberly.”
“When did you ever—”
“Corporate politics, remember? Remember Martin Humphries?”
“He wasn’t a slimeball,” Wanamaker said. “A megalomaniac, maybe, but not a slimeball.”
As she got out of the bed, Pancho said, “Yeah, well, anyway, politics is politics and Holly needs all the help I can give her.”
Wanamaker sighed deeply. “Okay, you go play politics with your sister. If you want me, you know where I’ll be.”
Pancho laughed. “My hero.”
Nadia Wunderly had forced herself to get a good night’s rest. She had even managed to sleep, despite her eagerness to start working with Negroponte on the ice samples. Her sleep had been troubled by dreams, although she couldn’t remember anything specific from them once she’d awakened. Just a disturbing feeling that something was wrong.
Eberly, she realized, as she dressed. The news broadcasts were filled with Eberly’s proposal for mining the rings. I can’t let him do that, Wunderly told herself. He’ll ruin everything. Everything!
She stopped off at the cafeteria for a take-out breakfast of yogurt and honey, then hurried toward her laboratory. Ordinarily she’d have spent an hour at the gym, but not today, not with the samples waiting to be analyzed and Negroponte coming to work with her.
As she hurried through the morning sunlight toward her lab building, the thought of Eberly rose in her mind again. She had watched, horrified, the televised news reports of his debate with Holly. She saw his smug, smiling face as the stupid crowd cheered his proposal for mining the rings.
He can’t do that! Wunderly told herself. I won’t let him. I’ll kill him with my bare hands if I have to, but he’s not going to touch the rings!
Eduoard Urbain sat morosely at the breakfast table while his wife placed a dish of smoked salmon and thin slices of toast before him.
He had told Jeanmarie about Habib’s mad outburst of the day before. She had not been as sympathetic as he’d expected.
No one is on my side, he thought morosely, as Jeanmarie sat across the little table from him. She was smiling. Smiling! My staff is in rebellion, my Alpha is alone and silent on Titan, and my wife finds something to smile about.
“You seem cheerful this morning,” he said thinly.
“I have a meeting with my committee at ten,” Jeanmarie replied.
He said nothing, took up a piece of toast and placed a strip of fish on it. He brought it as far as his lips, then put it back on the plate again.
“I have no appetite,” he said.
“You’re concerned about your staff?”
He felt his brows hike up. “Concerned? Because they threaten a mutiny? Yes, of course I’m concerned.”
Jeanmarie put on a sympathetic expression. “Mon
cher,
why not allow them to do some useful work while your machine is idle? Whatever they accomplish will be credited to you, will it not? After all, you are their chief.”
“That’s what Habib said,” Urbain muttered.
“So? You see?”
He pushed the dish away. “I
must
find a way to regain contact with
Alpha.
I must.”
“Perhaps … ,” Jeanmarie began, then hesitated.
“Perhaps?”
“I was merely thinking, this Gaeta fellow. He flew to the rings again. Perhaps he could go down to Titan and see what’s wrong with
Alpha?”
He snorted with disdain. “Nonsense! The man is a stuntman, not a scientist. A performer.”
“Still, you could direct him, tell him what to do. And he could tell you what he sees once he’s there.”
Urbain shook his head. “It would never work. He wanted to go down to Titan when he first came to the habitat. He wanted to be the first man to set foot on the surface.”
“And you refused him.”
“Of course! I cannot allow contamination there. Titan bears a living ecology. I can’t have some video stuntman tramping around down there.”
“Yet you sent your machine to the surface.”
“It was thoroughly sterilized. Much more thoroughly than a human could be, even inside that monstrosity of a suit he has. The levels of radiation we used to sterilize
Alpha
would have killed him.”
Jeanmarie nodded as if she understood. Then she said, “Still, if all else has failed, perhaps this stuntman is your only recourse.”
“Never! I refused him once. Now you want me to go to him with my hat in my hand and beg his assistance? Never!”
“I understand,” Jeanmarie said. And she thought that she truly did understand, much better than her husband.
I
f they’re alive,” said Yolanda Negroponte, looking up from the microscope’s display screen, ”they’re unlike any kind of organism anyone’s ever seen before.”
Wunderly, sitting beside her at the lab bench, said quietly, “Well, isn’t that what you would expect?”
The biology laboratory was empty except for the two women; the other lab benches were bare, silent. Dust motes drifted through the sunlight slanting in through the tall windows. The small, white anodized freezer containing the ice particles sat between them, flanked by a pair of remote manipulators and the gray tubing of a miniaturized electron microscope.
A puzzled frown creased Negroponte’s face. “They’re not dust flecks. They have an internal structure, I can see that, but nothing seems to be going on inside them. Living cells are dynamic: the organelles pulsate, the whole cell quivers and vibrates. These things just lie there like raisins in a pudding.”
“Maybe they’re dead?” Wunderly asked. “Maybe they were alive once and now they’re dead. We might have killed them by taking them out of their natural habitat.”
Negroponte shook her head, making a long strand of blonde hair fall across her face. Pushing it back, she said, “You’ve kept the temperature and pressure the same as in the ring. There’s no
sign of contamination. If they’re alive in the ring they should be alive here.”
Wunderly got up from the little wheeled chair she’d been sitting in and headed for the coffee urn at the end of the bench.
“Maybe I’ve been wrong all along. Eberly will be glad to hear it.”
“Coffee’s a good idea,” said Negroponte, also rising from her chair. “Too bad they can’t make a decent espresso. It stimulates the brain.”
“Caffeine,” Wunderly murmured, as she filled a mug with the hot steaming brew, then handed it to Negroponte.
The two women sipped in silence for a few moments. Then Wunderly asked, “So Da‘ud really yelled at Urbain?”
“You should have seen him. Like a knight in armor facing down a dragon.”
“I didn’t think he had it in him.”
“He did it for me,” Negroponte said, still marveling at yesterday’s showdown. “I think my crying triggered something in him, something brave and strong.”
Wunderly brought her mug to her lips. “Maybe I should cry for him,” she muttered into the coffee.
“You’re still interested in him?” Negroponte arched a brow at her.
“Aren’t you?”
“More than before, Nadia.”
“Then he’s all yours,” Wunderly said, thinking, I’m not going to let Da’ud or any man get in the way of my work. I need her more than him.
Negroponte changed the subject back to biology. “What’s the temperature inside the cryo unit?”
“Minus two hundred, almost.”
Tapping a fingernail against her coffee mug, Negroponte said, “Biology depends on chemistry, and chemical reactions go slower as you drop the temperature.”
“Do you think … ?”
“They look like cells. They have an internal structure and they maintain their interiors within well-defined membranes. But they’re inert, seemingly.”
Wunderly’s eyes lit up with hope. “Maybe they’re not inert! Maybe they’re just
slow!
”
“Can you fit a minicam to the microscope?” Negroponte asked.
“Sure!”
Within half an hour they had a miniature video camera attached between the eyepiece of the microscope and the cable linking it to the display screen.
“Good,” said Negroponte once they had finished the rig and tested it.
Wunderly looked from the screen, which still showed the dark cellular object imbedded in the ice chip, to the biologist’s satisfied expression. “Now we wait for something to happen?”
“Now we go to dinner, linger over dessert, and then come back to see what’s been recorded.”
Wunderly nodded agreement. Dessert, she thought. I deserve a decent dessert.
Pancho had spent the day with Holly in her apartment. The two of them were desperately trying to find some way of trumping Eberly’s position on mining the rings. Pancho sat on the living room sofa, her long legs stretched out across its cushions.
“The IAA won’t allow it,” she said stubbornly, repeating it for at least the twentieth time.
Sitting at her desk, across the room from her sister, Holly shook her head. “Urbain’s given his okay. Even if the IAA does decide against mining, Malcolm could get our people to go ahead anyway.”
“And risk having Peacekeeper troops sent out here?”
“Panch, do you really think the IAA’s going to send troops all the way out here? Do you think Earth’s willing to go to war over mining the rings of Saturn?”
“It wouldn’t be a war, exactly,” Pancho said uncertainly. “Would it?”
“It would mean blood and killing,” Holly replied. “Jake’s right: spacecraft are really fragile. I don’t think the IAA would take the risk if our people put up a determined front.”
“They will if Nadia can prove the rings harbor life.”
“Not even then,” Holly said. “Malcolm’ll work out some weaselly deal that the IAA’ll agree to. Just wait and see.”
“A deal? Better’n war, I guess.”
The lights flickered once, twice, then steadied again. Both women looked ceilingward.
“Speakin’ of fragile spacecraft,” said Pancho. “This habitat isn’t the safest place in the solar system.”
“Timoshenko says he may have a bead on what’s causing the power failures.”
Swinging her legs down from the sofa, Pancho said, “Well, there’s an issue you can hammer on.”
“Panch, it’s not Malcolm’s fault that we have these outages.”
“It’s happening while he’s in charge. That makes it his responsibility. From what I hear, people are damned unhappy about losing power all the time. And it could get worse, couldn’t it?”
“I s’pose,” Holly said. “But I don’t think it’s enough of a problem to swing people to voting for me.”
“Elections aren’t won by the votes for a candidate,” Pancho said, stabbing her finger in Holly’s direction for emphasis. “They’re decided by the votes against.”
“So?”
“So you hang these power failures on Eberly. They’re
his
failures, and he’s not doing anything to fix the problem.”
“He’s trying.”
“You want to get elected or not?”
Holly stared at her sister for a long, silent moment. Then she shook her head stubbornly. “I just wish we had something to top him on the mining issue. That’s what’s gonna decide this election, Panch. Everything else is secondary.”
Pancho had to admit that she was right.