by Bova, Ben
“I don’t think Da’ud’s weak, do you?”
“No, not weak, exactly. But you have to do the leading with him.”
“Maybe,” Wunderly conceded. “But maybe you scare him off if you come across too strong.”
Negroponte seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Da’ud’s good-looking but his work is more important to him than women.”
“Really? You think so?”
“Isn’t your work more important to you than men?”
Wunderly shook her head. “I don’t see a conflict between the two. Do you?”
The two women sat together in the noisy, busy cafeteria for more than an hour, heads together, talking about men and the problems they cause. Sometimes they laughed together; often they giggled. People passing them carrying their trays thought they were two old friends who had just been reunited after a long absence.
It was only as they left the table, cleared their trays and stacked them, and finally headed toward the bio lab that they started talking about biology and the ice samples.
Habib felt relieved to be away from the two women as he tapped politely on the office door of the chief of maintenance. They think they own you, he said to himself. And each of them wants you exclusively to herself.
“Come in,” came Timoshenko’s voice from the other side of the door.
Habib slid it back and entered the office. It was a spacious room, with a large desk and smart walls filled with data displays. Timoshenko sat behind a small mountain range of papers, which Habib thought strange. Why use paper when you can store information electronically? Not that the sheets were actually paper made from trees. Aboard habitat Goddard “paper” was actually thin sheets of reprocessed plastic.
“You wanted to see me?” Habib said from the doorway.
“You’re the computer genius?” Timoshenko asked, getting to his feet.
Habib smiled minimally. “I am the head of the science staff’s computer section. But I am not a genius, no, not at all.”
Waving him to the only chair in front of his desk, Timoshenko said, “Pardon my inimitable way of expressing myself. It’s a bad habit.”
“What can I do for you?” Habib asked as he sat down. “You realize, of course, that I am responsible to Dr. Urbain and if you need my time or the time of any of his other people he will have to approve of it.”
Timoshenko grunted and sank back into his chair. “I have a problem that involves the safety of this entire habitat.”
Habib felt his brows rise.
Pointing to the graph displayed on one of the smart walls, Timoshenko said, “We’ve been having power outages. I’ve determined that they’re caused by surges in the electromagnetic field surrounding Saturn.”
“Surges in Saturn’s magnetic field?”
Nodding, Timoshenko replied, “You scientists have known for years that there are electrical surges coming from the planet—”
“Electromagnetic.”
“Yes, of course. That’s what I meant.”
“And they apparently originate in the rings, somehow.”
“Whatever,” said Timoshenko, with some impatience. “The surges overload our power circuitry and cause outages.”
“I don’t understand,” said Habib. “We generate electricity from solar cells, do we not?”
“That’s our main source, yes. But the current generated by the solarvoltaics must be converted to frequencies that electrical equipment can use. It’s not a direct line between the solar cells and your coffeepot, you know.”
“Ah. Of course.”
“Those surges overload the inverters. It’s my job to correct the situation.”
Habib almost laughed. “I hope you don’t believe you can stop Saturn’s natural processes.”
“No, but if I know when the surges can be expected I can protect my power systems from them. I think.”
“You need to be able to predict when the surges will come?”
“Yes. That’s the first step toward ending these confounding outages.”
“They seem to be random in their timing?”
“Not exactly random,” said Timoshenko. “They seem to come every few weeks, in clusters.”
Habib stroked his beard absently. “Every few weeks?”
“More or less.” Timoshenko said, growing irritated at Habib’s echoing everything he said. He waited for another question. When Habib remained silent the engineer added, “If I knew when to expect the surges I could at least shut down nonessential electrical equipment so we wouldn’t overload the system and get outages.”
“I see.”
“I can’t shut down equipment for days at a time, you understand. A few hours, yes, maybe. So I need to know when the surges are coming.”
“Is shutting down equipment the best thing to do?”
“No. Shielding the inverters and the main power lines is what we have to do, but that takes time and materials and labor. In the meanwhile, either I shut down nonessentials when a surge is coming or we keep on having these damned outages.”
“I see,” Habib repeated.
“You scientists have the data on the surges. That’s where I got it from.”
“And you want me to analyze the data so that you can predict when surges will occur?”
“Yes!” Timoshenko said fervently.
“I’ll have to get Dr. Urbain’s permission to work on the problem. I don’t know if he’ll agree. He—”
“Tell Urbain that either we solve this problem or the entire habitat might go dark.”
Habib’s eyes widened. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“Can you assure me that it won’t get that bad? Suppose a really big surge knocks out our inverters completely? What then?”
“I understand,” said Habib. Rising from his chair, he added, “I’ll speak to Dr. Urbain about this immediately.”
“Good,” Timoshenko said, getting up from his chair and reaching across the desk for Habib’s hand.
But the computer scientist went on, “But I doubt that he will allow me to work for you. He won’t want to let me go.”
“He’ll have to,” Timoshenko insisted. “You’ll have to convince him.”
Looking thoroughly unhappy, Habib murmured, “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Timoshenko repeated, and thrust his hand across the desk again. Habib hesitated a moment, then took it in his own. The man’s grip was gentle, almost weak, Timoshenko thought.
“Thank you.”
Once Habib had left his office, Timoshenko plopped down in his oversize swivel chair again, thinking, If Urbain doesn’t give permission for Habib to work on this, I’ll go to Eberly and get him to draft the man. This is more important than trying to find some lost toy on Titan. This is vital!
13 APRIL 2096: URBAIN’S OFFICE
As he walked reluctantly along the hallway that led to Urbain’s office, Habib wondered how he could possibly convince the chief scientist to allow him to work with Timoshenko.
He won’t do it, Habib told himself. He will refuse. The only thing he cares about is his Titan Alpha. He’ll say Timoshenko is an alarmist, an engineer who doesn’t understand how important it is to bring Alpha back to life.
Habib dreaded asking Urbain’s permission. He knew he could not stand up to his chief’s wrath. Why has Timoshenko put me in this position? he asked himself. He should go to Urbain himself. Why is he making me do it? Why did I agree to do it?
Urbain’s office door was less than twenty meters away and Habib slowed his pace, approaching it. Then he saw Negroponte leaving Urbain’s office and stepping out into the hallway. She looked shaken, white-faced.
“What’s wrong, Yollie?” he asked.
Looking as if she were about to cry, the biologist replied, “I asked permission to work with Wunderly on her samples from the ring. He went hyperbolic. I thought he’d have a stroke.”
“He denied you permission?”
“He screamed at me. He threaten
ed to send me back to Earth with a reprimand and a negative recommendation.”
Habib had never seen Negroponte appear cowed or frightened. It surprised him. Something stirred inside him. He felt his cheeks flush.
“He can’t do that.”
“Can’t he?” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.
Anger! Habib realized it was the heat of anger rising inside him. Urbain has hurt her, humiliated her, made her cry. For one of the rare times in his life, Habib acted impulsively. He seized Negroponte’s wrist with one hand and slid open the door to Urbain’s office with the other. Practically dragging the biologist after him, he stormed into Urbain’s office.
“What is this?” Urbain demanded, looking up.
“You have no right to threaten members of your staff,” Habib said, wagging an accusing finger at his chief. Marching up to Urbain’s desk, he released Negroponte’s wrist. “You must apologize to Dr. Negroponte.”
“Apologize? I—”
“Dr. Negroponte is a capable biologist, so capable that Dr. Wunderly is seeking her help in analyzing her samples from the rings. And you threaten her? You scream at her?”
Visibly trembling, Urbain got to his feet. “I am the director of this scientific staff and I will not tolerate such insolence!”
Habib did not back off one millimeter. “You will apologize to Dr. Negroponte. Now!”
“What’s going on here?” Urbain shouted. “Have you both gone insane? Has everyone gone mad?”
“Dr. Negroponte is needed to analyze the ring samples. It is wrong for you to deny her permission to do so.”
“Titan Alpha is the first priority here.”
“Titan Alpha is dead or asleep. You don’t need your best biologist to stare at blank data screens.”
“You …” Urbain seemed to totter momentarily. He sank back into his chair.
Suddenly Habib realized the enormity of what he was doing. Yet the anger was still simmering inside him.
“Let her work with Wunderly,” he said, more reasonably. “If they find living organisms in the ring particles it will be to your credit. It will take some of the sting out of Alpha’s failure.”
“Failure?” Urbain’s eyes flashed. “Alpha is not a failure! I am not a failure!”
“No one has said that you are. But it’s nonproductive to keep your biologists twiddling their thumbs until you make contact with the machine again.”
“I will decide what is productive and what is not,” Urbain said sharply.
Habib took a breath. The blazing anger he had felt when he’d seen Negroponte close to tears had abated. But now that he had taken a stand he could not back down.
“Dr. Urbain,” he said slowly, “if you do not allow Dr. Negroponte to work temporarily with Dr. Wunderly, I will get the entire scientific staff to stop work.”
He heard Yolanda’s sudden gasp of surprise, but he didn’t take his eyes off Urbain.
The chief scientist sputtered, “A work stoppage? A strike? You can’t … it would be illegal … unjustified …”
“Most of your staff is doing nothing of importance now, anyway. They’ll refuse to work for you if you continue acting like a dictator instead of a colleague.”
“Dictator? Me?”
“Allow her to work with Wunderly,” Habib said, almost placatingly. “It will be to your credit, I assure you.”
Urbain opened his mouth, closed it again. His eyes moved from Habib to Negroponte.
“I really have nothing to do,” she said softly, almost whispering, “as long as Alpha is silent.”
“Go,” Urbain snapped. “Go work with Wunderly.”
“Thank you, sir!” she said.
“Keep me informed of your progress. I want daily reports.”
“Yes, of course.”
She reached out and took Habib’s hand. Together they walked back to the still-open door, leaving Urbain sitting at his desk looking shocked, bewildered.
Habib stopped at the door and turned back toward Urbain. “Oh, I should tell you, the chief of maintenance needs me to help him on the problem of the electrical outages we’ve been suffering.”
Urbain said nothing. He simply stared as the two of them left his office hand in hand.
Sinking his head to the desktop, Urbain wanted to weep. It’s all falling apart, he thought miserably. They are leaving me, leaving Alpha to remain mute and inert on Titan. I’ve lost control of my creation and now I’m starting to lose control of my staff.
What can I do? What can I do?
14 APRIL 2096: MORNING
Kris 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 s
omething 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.”
