by Ben Bova
Von Helmholtz looked surprised. “He won’t allow you to use the telescopes in the astronomy pod?”
Wunderly shook her head. “Urbain won’t let me have any time on the big ’scopes. They’re all being used full-time on Titan.”
“All of them?”
“All of them,” said Wunderly.
“Maybe we can talk him into letting you use one,” Gaeta suggested.
“He won’t. I’ve asked, more than once. Besides, I’d need a ton of computer time.”
“Maybe somebody else should ask him,” said Gaeta.
“Who?” Cardenas asked.
“Wilmot. Or if not him, maybe Eberly can swing it.”
Again she shook her head. “Urbain won’t listen to Eberly. He won’t even talk to him. They’re running against each other in the elections, remember?”
Eberly, meanwhile, was sitting tensely in the living room of his apartment, which had become the command center for his election campaign. A bank of computers lined the wall where the sofa had once been, each machine humming with continuous recording of the conversations in every public space in the habitat and quite a few private apartments and offices, including Wilmot’s and Urbain’s.
“I don’t like this constitution,” Morgenthau was saying. “I never did, and the closer we get to putting it into action, the less I like it.”
Eberly studied her fleshy face as she sat in the upholstered chair on the opposite side of the oval coffee table. Her usual smile was gone; she was deadly serious.
“Why didn’t you voice your objections when we were drafting it?” he asked sharply.
“I thought Vyborg and Jaansen were thrashing everything out satisfactorily, and then you made it clear that you wanted an end to their arguing.”
With growing impatience, Eberly said, “I’ve explained it to all of you time and again. As long as the emergency-powers clause is in the constitution all the rest of it doesn’t matter.”
“I still don’t like it,” Morgenthau insisted.
Eberly thought he knew what the problem was. Morgenthau was no fighter; she was an agent planted on the habitat ostensibly to help him, but actually to keep watch on him and report back to the Holy Disciples. Someone high up in the hierarchy must have finally reviewed the new constitution and told her that it didn’t suit the stern moral standards of the Disciples. She would never oppose me like this, Eberly said to himself. Not unless she’s under pressure from her superiors back on Earth.
“It’s too late to change it now,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, even. “The people vote on it in three weeks.”
Morgenthau said, “You could withdraw it. Say it needs further work.”
“Withdraw it?” Despite his self-discipline, Eberly nearly shouted the words. “That would mean we’d have to postpone the election.”
Morgenthau said nothing.
How can I get her back on my side? Eberly asked himself. How can I make her see that she’d be better off following my orders than the stupid commands from Earth?
“Listen to me,” he said, leaning forward in his chair, bending his head closer to hers. “In three weeks the people will vote. They’ll accept this constitution for the very same reasons that you distrust it: Because it promises individual freedom and a liberal, relaxed government.”
“Without any rules for population control. Without any moral standards.”
“Those will come later, after the constitution is adopted and we are in power.”
Morgenthau looked totally unconvinced.
“As I’ve explained more than once,” Eberly said, straining to hold on to his swooping temper, “once I’m in power I’ll declare a state of emergency and suspend all those liberal laws that bother you.”
“How can you declare a state of emergency if everyone is satisfied with the constitution?”
“We’ll need a crisis of some sort. I’ll think of something.”
Morgenthau’s face looked as hard as steel. “You were taken out of prison and placed in this habitat to form a proper, god-fearing government. You are not living up to your end of the agreement.”
“That’s not true!” he protested. Inwardly, a panicky voice whined, They can’t send me back to prison. They can’t!
“All we need to do is generate a crisis,” he said aloud. “Then Kananga and his security teams can clamp down.”
“It won’t be that simple,” Morgenthau said. “The more power you give Kananga the more he will seize control of everything. I don’t trust him.”
“Neither do I,” Eberly admitted, silently adding, I don’t trust anyone.
“And then there’s this Cardenas woman, working with nanomachines. They’re the devil’s spawn and yet you allow her to go right ahead and do her evil in our midst.”
“Only until I’m in power,” Eberly said.
“She’s got to go. Get rid of her.”
As Eberly nodded somberly, the solution to his problems suddenly struck him with the blinding force of a revelation. Yes! he said to himself. That will solve everything!
He made a warm smile for the still-scowling Morgenthau and, leaning forward, patted her chubby knee. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”
Her frown faded somewhat, replaced by curiosity.
“Trust me,” Eberly said, smiling still more broadly.
LABORATORY LAVOISIER
Kris Cardenas wondered why Urbain had asked her to meet with him. Not in his office, not even in the astronomy pod, where the big telescopes were housed. Here in the science building, in his main laboratory, which had been named for the eighteenth-century French founder of modern chemistry, Antoine Laurent Lavoisier.
Cardenas’s own lab (named after the American physicist Richard P. Feynman) was in a separate building, up at the top of the ridge on which Athens was built, as far away from the other labs as possible. As she made her way down the bricked path that curved past the low, white-walled apartment buildings and shops of the village, Cardenas felt the old resentment against unreasoning fear of nanotechnology still simmering deep within her.
Keep it under control, she warned herself. Keep everything in perspective. Remember that Lavoisier was beheaded during the French Revolution. Idiots and bastards have always been in our midst.
So she put on a sunny smile as she entered the lab complex and saw Edouard Urbain standing in the doorway to his laboratory, waiting for her. He looked nervous. No, Cardenas decided, not nervous. Excited. Expectant. Almost like a little boy standing in front of the Christmas tree, eager to tear into the brightly wrapped packages.
“Dr. Cardenas!” Urbain greeted her. “How good of you to come.”
“It was good of you to invite me,” she replied.
He ushered her into the lab. Cardenas was slightly taller than Urbain, her sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes a sharp contrast to his dark, slicked-back hair and eyes of mahogany brown.
The lab was two stories tall, its bare metal ceiling the underside of the building’s roof. A tall screen stood just inside the doorway, cutting off the main area of the lab from view. The place felt to Cardenas like an airplane hangar or an empty warehouse. With a slight gesture, Urbain led Cardenas along the screen toward its end.
“I wanted you to see this,” he said, his voice brimming with anticipation. She thought his moustache would start quivering any moment. “I am very proud of what we have accomplished.”
They reached the end of the screen. With a flourish, Urbain turned the corner and pointed to the massive object standing in the middle of the laboratory floor.
The first thing that Cardenas noticed was that the lab had been cleaned, the floor swept. Not a scrap of paper or equipment in sight. No wires snaking across the floor or dangling from overhead mounts. He’s spiffed up his lab, Cardenas thought. He’s got it looking like an old automobile showroom.
“There it is,” Urbain said, aglow with pride. “Titan Alpha.”
A spacecraft, Cardenas realized. More than
two meters tall; nearly three, she estimated. Standing on a pair of caterpillar treads, like an old-fashioned tank. Massive. Silvery-gray. Titanium, she guessed. Its oblong body was studded with projections.
“It has been built here, completely,” Urbain said, almost in a whisper. “It did not exist when we left Earth. None of it. My staff and I constructed it.”
Cardenas became aware that half a dozen men and women were standing off along the far wall of the lab, like students who had been lined up and told to remain quiet and respectful.
“You’ll go to the surface of Titan in this,” Cardenas said.
“Not in person, of course,” said Urbain. “Alpha is designed to be teleoperated from here in the habitat. It is a mobile laboratory that will explore the surface of Titan for us.”
“I see.”
Urbain snapped his fingers; one of the technicians across the lab whirled and began tapping out instructions on a desk-sized console. The spacecraft seemed to stir. A loud electrical hum filled the lab and a pair of long, skeletal arms unfolded from one side of its body. Pincerlike claws opened and shut. Cardenas instinctively moved back a couple of steps.
Urbain laughed. “Don’t be afraid. She won’t harm you. Those grippers can handle the most delicate biological samples without damaging them.”
“It’s… very impressive.”
“Yes, isn’t she? Alpha is equipped with a complete array of sensors. She can take samples, store them in insulated capsules and send them back to us, here in the habitat, for analysis.”
“Won’t it return after it’s finished its mission?”
“No. Never. She remains on Titan. We will send replenishments of fuel and supplies for its sensors.”
“Isn’t it nuclear powered?” Cardenas asked.
“Of course! The fuel is necessary for the sample-return rockets.”
“I see.”
Urbain sighed contentedly. “I haven’t had as much time to spend on this project as I would have liked. My hours are consumed with this political campaign, you know.”
Cardenas nodded. “Yet you’ve completed the job. It’s a great accomplishment.”
“I am blessed with a fine staff.”
Afraid that Urbain would order the bulky spacecraft to start trundling across the laboratory floor, Cardenas said, “I’m very grateful that you asked me to see it.”
She started toward the door, slowly. Urbain caught up with her in two strides.
“My motivation was not entirely from pride,” he said, looking a little less animated now. “I have a favor to request of you.”
Still walking along the screen, feeling somehow oppressed by the massive spacecraft, almost threatened by it, Cardenas replied with, “A favor?”
Urbain hesitated, as if he didn’t know how to choose the right words. “It concerns Alpha’s self-repair capabilities.”
Cardenas glanced sharply at him.
“I was wondering,” Urbain said as they turned around the end of the screen, “if nanomachines might be able to repair Alpha while she is on the surface of Titan.”
Cardenas nodded, thinking, So that’s it. They’re all terrified of nanobugs until they come up against something where nanomachines can help them.
“I mean,” Urbain went on, “you yourself have nanomachines in your body, don’t you? They’re constantly repairing your tissues, aren’t they?”
With a slight laugh of relief, Cardenas answered, “And you’d like to have a nanotech immune system built into your spacecraft.”
“Nanomachines that could continuously repair any equipment failures or damage.”
“Or wear and tear,” Cardenas added.
“Yes! Precisely.”
She stopped at the open doorway, thinking swiftly. “It would take time, Dr. Urbain. When do you plan to send the spacecraft to Titan?”
“As soon as we establish orbit around Saturn. Within a few days of that, at the most.”
“I certainly can’t come up with a set of therapeutic nanos that soon.”
“But perhaps they could be sent to Alpha after she is on Titan, once you produce them.”
“Perhaps,” Cardenas conceded.
“Will you look into the possibilities?” he asked eagerly.
Cardenas saw in his eyes that he regarded this machine of his almost like a human being, a woman he loved and cherished and wanted to protect, keep from harm. A kind-hearted Dr. Frankenstein, she thought, worried about the creature he’s created. Then a sharp pang of memory hit her. How many times have you been called Frankenstein? she asked herself.
“Can you do it?” Urbain pressured.
“I can try.”
“Good! Excellent!”
“Under one condition,” she added.
His brows rose toward his receding hairline. “Condition? If you mean you want me to allow that… that stuntman to go down to the surface—”
Cardenas said, “But we’ve tested the decontamination procedure several times now. I’ve sent you the reports.”
“Tests in the airlock. Yes, I’ve scanned your reports.”
“So you know that we can clean his suit to your satisfaction.” Suddenly Cardenas got a new inspiration. “We can decon your spacecraft the same way.”
“Alphacan be decontaminated the normal way.”
“Yes, but if you use nanomachines you won’t have to subject the spacecraft to such high levels of radiation. Won’t that be better for its electronics systems?”
Urbain started to reply, stopped himself, then admitted, “Yes. Definitely.”
“I can set that up for you in a couple of days. By the time we’re in Saturn orbit I’ll be able to decon your craft as clean as new-fallen snow.”
“But that doesn’t mean that I can allow the stuntman to go down to the surface. The IAA forbids it. My hands are tied.”
Don’t push it any farther, Cardenas told herself. You’ve got a toe in the door. Let it rest there, for now.
Yet she heard herself say, “There is one other thing.”
Urbain’s brows went up again.
“It’s rather minor…”
“What is it?”
“One of your staff people, Dr. Wunderly—”
“Wunderly?”
“She needs some telescope time to study the rings.”
“Impossible. I’ve told her—”
“Surely you can spare some time at one of the telescopes for her,” Cardenas said, more as a declaration than a request. “After all, you’re going to have your spacecraft operating on Titan’s surface in a few weeks, won’t you?”
Urbain hesitated. “Yes, that’s true enough.”
“And you want to be able to use nanomachines to keep it in good shape.”
His face showed clearly that he understood Cardenas’s threat. “I see. Yes. Very well, I will attempt to get some time for Wunderly on one of the telescopes so she can study her wretched rings.”
“Fine,” said Cardenas. “And I’ll attempt to develop a set of nanomachines that can auto-repair your spacecraft while it’s on Titan.”
“And to decontaminate Alpha,” Urbain reminded her.
Cardenas nodded her agreement and started for the door. Then she turned back. “By the way, how is the political campaign going?”
Urbain took in a sharp breath, as if surprised by her sudden change of subject. Then he shrugged. “It takes too much of my time. I must give speeches, prepare position papers on everything from medical care to garbage recycling. Every person in the habitat feels free to ask me pointless questions and to give me their own vapid opinions.”
“That’s politics, I guess,” Cardenas said, chuckling.
“I fear it will be even worse after I am elected.”
“You expect to win?”
“Of course. This is a scientific mission, isn’t it? The whole purpose of our flight to Saturn is scientific.”
“But the scientists are only a small part of the population,” Cardenas pointed out.
“Yes
, of course. But the others will vote for me. It is the only logical choice they can make. Eberly is the only other major candidate, and he has no scientific background at all.”
“What about the engineer, Timoshenko?”
Urbain made an unpleasant face. “He is nothing. A posturer. The engineers and technicians will vote for me, overwhelmingly.”
Cardenas held back the comment she wanted to make. Better not to disillusion the man, she thought. He’ll find out soon enough on election day. It’ll bruise his ego, but in the long run he’ll probably be relieved to get out of politics and give all his attention to his clunky Alpha.
SATURN ARRIVAL MINUS 45 DAYS
The three women met for breakfast in the cafeteria, so early that the place was hardly half filled. Holly thought the cafeteria seemed different this early in the morning: quieter, subdued, as if the people shuffling through the lines weren’t fully awake yet. She found Kris and Nadia Wunderly already at a table, heads leaning together, pleased grins on their faces.
Holly unloaded her tray of melon slices, bran cereal, soy milk, and faux coffee and sat down.
Wunderly looked happy, her big gray eyes sparkling. “I still can’t thank you enough for getting me some telescope time. You should see the dynamics of those rings! It’s … it’s…”
Cardenas laughed lightly. “Words fail you?”
A little embarrassed, Wunderly said, “I’d like you to see the imagery I’ve been getting.” Turning to Holly, Wunderly said, “You too, Holly.” Holly smiled at her. “Sure. I’d love to.”
Wunderly asked Cardenas, “I still can’t understand how you got Urbain to let me use the ’scope.”
Still grinning, Cardenas said, “Trickery and deceit. And a little blackmail.”
“Whatever works, I guess,” Holly said.
Wunderly dipped into her bowl of soy yogurt. “Thanks to you, Kris, I can feed Manny the data he needs.”
Holly’s innards twitched. “Manny?”
“He wants to dive through the rings,” Wunderly explained. “But he can’t do it without my help.”
