by Ben Bova
“What do you want, Mr. Simpson?”
“There’s been an accident, Professor.”
“An accident?”
“The lobber from Selene. It exploded on liftoff.”
“What?” Uhlrich shot to his feet.
“The two men in the crew were killed. Dr. Cardenas wasn’t aboard it, though. She’s okay.”
“It exploded? How? Why?”
“That’s what we’ll have to find out,” said Grant. “The flight monitoring people have all the telemetered data from the vehicle. I think the copilot said something about a pressure drop just before she blew up.”
Uhlrich slumped back into his chair and stared sightlessly at Grant.
“It blew up?” he asked, his voice a thin, pitiful whine.
Grant looked at Trudy. She seemed shocked, distraught.
“I’ll get down to the flight control center and see what the telemeter record can tell us,” Grant said.
Uhlrich shook his head in misery. “Selene will send investigators. They’ll get in our way, poking and probing everywhere. Just when we’re starting to get results from the first telescope, they’ll ruin everything.”
“Professor, two men were killed. Of course Selene will want to investigate.”
“They’ll ruin everything, everything,” Uhlrich moaned.
Trudy suggested, “Maybe I could go out to Mendeleev and work the telescope from there, out of their way.”
“No!” Grant snapped.
She turned toward him. “Why not?”
“You’ll be safer here.”
“Safer?” Uhlrich demanded. “Safe from what?”
“Nanomachines,” said Grant. As he spoke the word he realized that his deepest fear was looming before him. “I think this place is infested with destructive nanomachines.”
“That’s insane!” Uhlrich roared. “You’re insane!”
“Face the facts, Professor. Winston was killed at Mendeleev. Now the lobber blows up.”
“There is no evidence that nanomachines destroyed the lobber,” Uhlrich insisted. “None at all!”
“They killed Winston and now they’ve blown up the lobber,” Grant countered stubbornly.
Leveling a finger at Grant, Uhlrich seethed, “If you mention nanomachines to anyone outside this room I’ll fire you! I’ll send you packing, Simpson!”
“Send me where? Do you think Selene or anyplace else will take somebody from a site that might be infested with a plague of nanomachines?”
QUARANTINED
Trudy watched Grant leave the office, sliding the door shut with a heavy thud. She turned to Professor Uhlrich and saw him seated at his desk, his head in his hands.
“I’m ruined,” Uhlrich moaned. “Utterly ruined.”
Without thinking about it, Trudy got up from her chair, went around the professor’s desk, and knelt at his side.
“It might not be that bad, Professor,” she said, her voice soft, tender.
“They’ll stop our work, I know they will,” Uhlrich said. “Just when we were starting to get significant results…” His voice trailed off.
Trying to make him feel better, Trudy said, “I can write up our spectrographic results. We can publish that. First spectra from Sirius C. Oxygen and water vapor in the planet’s atmosphere. That’ll put Farside’s name on the map!”
Uhlrich seemed inconsolable. “What good will that do? We won’t be able to make any progress beyond that.”
“But it’s a breakthrough!” Trudy insisted. “I’ll bet it’ll impress those guys in Stockholm.”
He looked up at her. “The Nobel committee? Do you think so?”
“Certainly. And we won’t be shut down for long, I bet. Selene’ll send some accident investigators here and soon’s they figure out what caused the explosion we’ll be back in business.”
Uhlrich began to nod. But then he said, “What if Simpson is right? What if this facility is infected with nanomachines? They’ll shut us down, perhaps permanently.”
Trudy had no reply for that.
* * *
Dog tired after hours of poring over telemeter data, Grant made his way to the cafeteria and blindly punched buttons for a late supper. The cafeteria was almost empty at this time of the night; only a pair of technicians at one of the tables and a lone administrator bent over a digital reader as he sipped at a mug of tea.
Grant carried his tray to the farther end of the table and plunked himself down.
“Mind if I join you?”
He looked up to see Kris Cardenas standing there, holding a dinner tray.
“I didn’t see you come in,” said Grant.
Cardenas nodded as she sat beside him. “You seemed totally wrapped up in your own thoughts.”
Grant said, “Yeah.”
“Tough day.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve made arrangements to meet with Halleck’s engineers from here,” she said. “We’ll do the conference electronically instead of in the flesh.”
“Good.” Grant stuck a fork in the plate before him. He had forgotten what it was supposed to be. Some soy derivative or another, masquerading as real food.
“Have you found anything?” Cardenas asked quietly.
With a halfhearted shrug, Grant answered, “Looks like the oxygen feed line to the rocket engine gave out. Pure oxygen dumped into the hot exhaust. Boom.”
“And what caused the line to fail?”
Grant looked at her. Cardenas seemed wary, as if she expected an answer she didn’t really want to hear.
“Don’t know yet,” he said.
Before she could reply, Grant added, “But the coupling that connected the feed line to the rocket’s combustion chamber was made of the same alloy that our space suit collars are made of.”
“The same alloy?”
“Yeah. Some coincidence, eh?”
“What are you saying, Grant?”
He ran a weary hand across his saddened eyes. “The same kind of nanobugs that ate through Winston’s space suit collar could have eaten through the oxygen line’s coupling.”
Cardenas took the news without flinching. “But how could they get there? It’s just not likely. It’s pretty close to impossible.”
“Close only counts in horseshoes,” Grant said. “Maybe it is unlikely, but that’s what happened, I’m certain of it.”
“You’re jumping to a conclusion that—”
“Here’s another conclusion I’ve jumped to,” he interrupted. “It’s not just the shelter at Mendeleev that’s been hit by the nanos. We’re infected here, right here, at Farside.”
“You don’t have any evidence for that!”
“Tell that to Derek and his copilot. For chrissakes, Kris, you came within ten seconds of getting killed yourself!”
The two technicians at the other table looked up at the sound of Grant’s raised voice. The administrator kept on reading peacefully.
Cardenas stared at Grant for several moments, silent, looking almost resentful.
“We’re going to have to quarantine this facility, Kris,” Grant said, his voice lower. “Nobody in, nobody out. Not until we find out how those bugs got here. And who brought them.”
NANOFEAR
This teleconference is a farce, Cardenas thought. Instead of discussing the design of the space-based telescope mirrors, Halleck’s engineers wanted to talk about nothing except the accident.
She was sitting in the recliner in her quarters, facing the wall screen, which showed the three engineers side by side at a table in one of Selene’s conference rooms. Two of them were good-looking young men, the third an older woman, portly, matronly, wearing a scarlet red scoop-necked blouse that showed plenty of fatty cleavage. The men had the sense to wear ordinary business attire: dark cardigan jackets over turtleneck shirts.
“There are all sorts of rumors flying around Selene,” said one of the young men. He was blond, with pale blue eyes.
“I’m sure there are,” Cardenas said, eager to ge
t back to the subject for their meeting.
The other guy, his dark hair shaved down to a fuzz, added, “Selene’s sending an accident investigation team to Farside.”
Before Cardenas could reply, the woman asked, “Do you think nanomachines could have had anything to do with the accident?”
“That’s what everybody’s wondering about,” said the blond.
Cardenas bit back the sharp denial that was her first instinctive reply. Measuredly, she answered, “That’s a possibility that must be investigated, of course. I think it’s a remote possibility, but still, the investigators will have to look into it.”
The blond went on, “I mean, Farside’s using nanos to build their mirrors, after all.”
“That,” said Cardenas, “is like saying that since Farside is using plasma torches in the construction of the underground facilities here, plasma torches might have caused the rocket’s explosion.”
“Not really the same, though, is it?” the woman engineer said, with a knowing smile that was almost a sneer.
Cardenas admitted, “Not quite the same, I suppose.”
The data bar across the bottom of the wall screen started blinking red, then displayed: ADDITIONAL CALLER, MRS. ANITA HALLECK.
The screen split to show Halleck, looking elegant in a crisply tailored pale chartreuse blouse and with a long fall of chestnut hair draped artfully down one shoulder.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, a slight smile curving her full lips. “I just arrived here at Selene, only to find that you’re at Farside, Dr. Cardenas.”
Somewhat flustered, Cardenas replied, “I didn’t realize you intended to join this conference in person, Mrs. Halleck.”
“Oh, yes,” Halleck said coolly. “My staff must have failed to make that clear to you.”
The three engineers on the other half of the screen looked just as surprised as Cardenas felt.
“Well,” Cardenas temporized, “I should be back at Selene in a few days, at most.”
Halleck seemed to consider that information for a moment. Then, “I doubt that I can wait that long. But I do want to personally inform you that despite this unfortunate accident at Farside, I intend to press ahead with our construction of the mirrors using nanomachines. I want to make that perfectly clear.”
Cardenas sat up straighter. “I’m delighted to hear that, Mrs. Halleck.”
“Just because there’s been an accident at Farside, there’s no reason to delay our own work.”
The woman engineer’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, of course.” The two male engineers glanced at each other, then they began to nod, too.
Cardenas suppressed a grin. At least Halleck has her head screwed on right, she thought. Now maybe we can get back to work.
* * *
Grant was just getting into bed when Trudy called. He started to tell the phone to answer, but hesitated as he realized that he was naked. Hell, she’s seen me naked, he thought. Still, he ordered the phone, “Reply audio only.”
Trudy’s face filled the wall screen. She looked tired, concerned, almost frightened.
“Grant? I’m sorry to call so late.…”
“It’s all right,” he said, sitting on his bed and pulling the sheet up to his waist.
“I’m worried about Professor Uhlrich,” she said.
“The Ulcer?”
“Grant, he’s terribly concerned,” she said earnestly. “He tries not to show it in front of you, but he’s worried that this team of investigators coming in from Selene is going to shut us down completely.”
“He’s worried he won’t get the Nobel Prize,” Grant replied sourly. “That’s the only thing he gives a damn about.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Isn’t it?”
Trudy bit her lip for a moment, then asked, “Can I come over to your place? We need to talk—”
“No!” he snapped.
She looked surprised, hurt.
Agonized, Grant explained, “Look, Trudy, my body’s filled with nanomachines. All this trouble might be my fault. I’m not going to risk hurting you. I can’t.”
“But you said Dr. Cardenas told you it couldn’t be your fault.”
“Who else? I get injected with nanos at Selene. I come back here and the tractor engine dies, then Win gets killed, and now the lobber blows up—everything I touch!”
“It’s not you, Grant. I know it’s not.”
He knew he should feel touched at her reaction. Instead he felt almost angry. “And how do you know it’s not?” he challenged.
Her face dimpling into a grin, Trudy said, “You’ve touched me, haven’t you? I haven’t fallen apart.”
Grant shook his head wearily. “Trudy, this isn’t a joke.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“You’re not made of metal,” Grant said.
“So there’s no problem then, is there?” She looked absolutely impish now.
“You can’t—”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Trudy said. Then the screen went blank.
SELENE
Doug Stavenger was getting into bed next to his wife, who was intently studying a handheld reader.
“Must be pretty interesting,” he said, sliding a hand along her naked thigh.
Edith gave him a sidelong glance. “Must be six thousand requests from Earthside news bureaus for interviews with Professor Uhlrich.”
“Because of the accident?”
“No,” Edith said, finally shutting down the reader and placing it carefully on her night table. “Because of New Earth.”
Stavenger felt his brows hike with surprise. “You mean that report Uhlrich released yesterday…?”
Edith snuggled down under the sheet as she replied, “Yep. Not only is New Earth just about the same size as Earth, it’s also got an Earth-type atmosphere: oxygen and water vapor.”
“And the news media are clamoring for interviews with the professor?”
“They surely are. He’s a famous man, all of a sudden.”
“They’re not asking about the accident?”
“Nope. I guess they figure rockets blow up now and then. That’s not news. New Earth’s atmosphere is news.”
Stavenger said, “Just as well, I suppose.”
“Got a lot of requests to visit Farside, interview the professor face-to-face.”
“Can’t do that,” Stavenger said. “The facility is under quarantine.”
“What? Since when?”
“Since late this afternoon. There’s a possibility that the rocket blowup was caused by nanomachines.”
“Holy spit! Nanos?”
“It’s a remote possibility, but if Farside is infected, we don’t want it to spread here.”
“Hell no,” Edith said with fervor.
“The council’s sending an investigating team over there tomorrow.”
“Will Kris Cardenas go with them?”
“Kris is already there,” Stavenger said. “She just missed being on the lobber that blew up.”
“Lord a-mighty on a bicycle,” Edith muttered. “What a news story that’s going to make.”
“No!” Stavenger snapped. “Not a word to the news media.”
“I knew you’d say that!”
“We don’t want to start a frenzy. Next thing you know the Luddites back Earthside will start trying to tell us how to run Selene again.”
“But we’ve got all these media folks wanting to interview Uhlrich.”
“Let them do it electronically. Nobody’s going to Farside.”
“Except me,” said Edith.
“No, no, no!”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she countered. Turning toward him, laying a hand on his bare chest, Edith said, “You can tell the Earthside folks that I’ll coordinate their requests for interviews. Tell ’em Farside’s too small to accommodate them all, so I’ll manage things from there and they can all pool their interviews, just like we did during the war.”
“I don’t wa
nt you going to Farside,” Stavenger insisted.
But he knew she would go anyway.
* * *
Sitting alone in her VIP suite at the Hotel Luna, Anita Halleck debated calling Carter McClintock while she was visiting Selene. She had sensed subtle vibes from Carter when she’d seen him at Farside. He’s interested, she thought. He’s curious to know what his father had.
Chuckling to herself, she thought, It would blow Morgan’s mind if he knew his son went to bed with me. It might give the old man a heart attack. That would be poetic justice.
And stupid, she decided. That part of your life is over and done with. No regrets, no looking back. The only part of your life you can shape is the future.
Still, she thought, Morgan’s thinking of putting money into Professor Uhlrich’s operation. And Carter’s at Farside to help his father make the decision. Morgan wants to use Farside to kill my program; that would leave Dan Randolph high and dry, after all the money he’s already sunk into it.
So she put through a call to Carter McClintock.
McClintock looked decidedly uneasy when his face appeared on the wall screen of Halleck’s sitting room.
“You’re on the Moon?” he asked, his handsome face wearing a patently forced smile.
“At Selene, yes,” she replied. “I came for a conference with Dr. Cardenas, but apparently she’s detained at Farside with you.”
“Not with me,” he blurted. “She … she’s working with Professor Uhlrich, you know. Building the mirrors for his telescopes.”
“Yes. I’m here to see what progress she’s made on the mirrors for my array. If any.”
“I’m sure she’s doing her best,” McClintock said.
“Of course.”
“Er … how long will you be at Selene?”
“Only a day or so.” Halleck hesitated, then plunged, “I thought we might have dinner together while I’m here.”
He blinked at that. “I won’t be able to get away,” he said hurriedly.
“That’s all right. I’ll come over to Farside. Pay my respects to the professor and all that.”
McClintock shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Anita.”
“And why not?”
