Nicole smiled again and shook her head. Genevieve’s optimism was always infectious. It was a shame —
“Oh, Madame des Jardins.” The voice interrupted her thought. The hotel manager was beckoning to her from the desk. Nicole turned around. “There’s a message for you,” the manager continued. “I was told to deliver it to you personally.”
He handed her a small plain envelope. Nicole opened it and saw just the tiniest portion of a crest on the note card. Her heart raced into overdrive as she closed the envelope again. “What is it, Mother?” Genevieve inquired. “It must be special to be hand delivered. Nobody does things like that these days.”
Nicole tried to hide her feelings from her daughter. “It’s a secret memo about my work,” she lied. “The deliveryman made a terrible mistake. He should never have given it even to Herr Graf. He should have put it in my hands only.”
“More confidential medical data about the crew?” Genevieve asked. She and her mother had often discussed the delicate role of the life science officer on a major space mission.
Nicole nodded. “Darling,” she said to her daughter, “why don’t you run upstairs and tell your grandfather that I’ll be along in a few minutes. We’ll still plan dinner for seven-thirty. I’ll read this message now and see if any urgent response is required.”
Nicole kissed Genevieve and waited until her daughter was on the elevator before walking back outside into the light snow. It was dark now. She stood under the streetlight and opened the envelope with her cold hands. She had difficulty controlling her trembling fingers. You fool, she thought, you careless fool. After all this time. What if the girl had seen…
The crest was the same as it had been on that afternoon, fifteen and a half years ago, when Darren Higgins had handed her the dinner invitation outside the Olympic press area. Nicole was surprised by the strength of her emotions, She steeled herself and finally looked at the rest of the note below the crest.
“Sorry for the last-minute notice. Must see you tomorrow. Noon exactly. Warming hut #8 on the Weissfluhjoch. Come alone. Henry.”
The next morning Nicole was one of the first in line for the cable car that carried skiers to the top of the Weissfluhjoch. She climbed into the polished glass car with about twenty others and leaned against the window while the door automatically shut. ! have seen him only once in these fifteen years, she thought to herself, and yet…
As the cable car ascended, Nicole pulled her snow glasses down over her eyes. It was a dazzling morning, not unlike the January morning seven years earlier when her father had called for her from the villa. They had had a rare snowfall at Beauvois the night before and, after much pleading, she had let Genevieve stay home from school to play in the snow. Nicole was working at the hospital in Tours at the time and was waiting to hear about her application to the Space Academy.
She had been showing her seven-year-old daughter how to make a snow angel when Pierre had called a second time from the house. “Nicole, Genevieve, there’s something special in our mail,” he had said. “It must have come during the night.” Nicole and Genevieve had run to the villa in their snowsuits while Pierre posted the full text of the message on the wall video-screen.
“Most extraordinary,” Pierre had said. “It seems we’ve all been invited to the English coronation, including the private reception afterward. This is extremely unusual.”
“Oh, Grandpapa!” Genevieve said excitedly, “I want to go. Can we go? Do I get to meet a real king and queen?”
“There is no queen, darling,” her grandfather replied, “unless you mean the queen mother. This king has not yet married.”
Nicole read the invitation several times without saying anything. After Genevieve had calmed down and left the room, her father had put his arms around Nicole.
“I want to go,” she had said quietly.
“Are you certain?” he had asked, pulling away and regarding her with an inquisitive stare.
“Yes,” she had answered 6rmly.
Henry had never seen her until that evening, Nicole was thinking as she checked first her watch and then her equipment in preparation for her ski run down from the summit. Father had been wonderful. He had let me disappear at Beauvois and almost nobody knew I had a baby until Genevieve was almost a year old. Henry never even suspected. Not until that night at Buckingham Palace.
Nicole could still see herself waiting in the reception line. The king had been late. Genevieve had been fidgety. At last Henry had been standing opposite her. “The honorable Pierre des Jardins of Beauvois, France, with his daughter, Nicole, and granddaughter, Genevieve.” Nicole had bowed very properly and Genevieve had curtsied.
“So this is Genevieve,” the king had said. He had bent down for only a moment and put a hand under the child’s chin. When the girl had lifted up her face he had seen something that he recognized. He had turned to look at Nicole, a trace of questioning in his glance. Nicole had revealed nothing with her smile. The crier was calling out the names of the next guests in the line. The king had moved on.
So you sent Darren to the hotel, Nicole thought as she schussed a short slope, aimed for a small jump, and was airborne for a second or two. And he hemmed and hawed and finally asked me if I would come have tea. Nicole dug her edges into the snow and came to an abrupt stop. “Tell Henry I can’t,” she remembered saying to Darren in London seven years earlier.
She looked again at her watch. It was only eleven o’clock, too early to ski to the hut. She eased over to one of the lifts and took another ride to the summit.
It was two minutes past noon when Nicole arrived at the small chalet on the edge of the woods. She took off her skis, stuck them in the snow, and walked toward the front door. She ignored the conspicuous signs all around her that said eintritt verboten. From out of nowhere came two burly men, one of whom actually jumped between Nicole and the door to the hut. “It’s all right,” she heard a familiar voice say, “we’re expecting her.” The two guards vanished as quickly as they had appeared and Nicole saw Darren, smiling as always, occupying the doorway to the chalet.
“Hi there, Nicole,” he said in his normal friendly fashion. Darren had aged. There were a few flecks of gray around his temples and some salt with the pepper in his short beard. “How are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Darren,” she answered, aware that despite all her lectures to herself, she was already starting to feel nervous. She reminded herself that she was now a professional, as accomplished in her own way as this king she was about to see. Nicole then strode forcefully into the chalet.
It was warm inside. Henry was standing with his back to a small fireplace. Darren closed the door behind her and left the two of them alone. Nicole self-consciously removed her scarf and opened her parka. She took off her snow glasses. They stared at each other for twenty, maybe thirty seconds, neither saying a word, neither wanting to interrupt the powerful flow of emotions that was carrying each of them back to two magnificent days fifteen years before.
“Hello, Nicole,” the king said finally. His voice was soft and tender.
“Hello, Henry,” she replied. He started to walk around the couch, to come close to her, perhaps to touch her, but there was something in her body language that stopped him. He leaned on the side of the couch.
“Won’t you sit down?” he invited.
Nicole shook her head. “I’d prefer to stand, if it’s all right with you.” She waited a few more seconds. Their eyes again locked in a deep communication. She felt herself being drawn to him despite her strong internal warnings. “Henry,” she blurted out suddenly, “why did you summon me here? It must be important. It’s not normal for the king of England to spend his days sitting in a chalet on the side of a Swiss ski mountain.”
Henry walked toward the comer of the room. “I brought you a present,” he said as he bent down with his back to Nicole, “in honor of your thirty-sixth birthday.”
Nicole laughed. Some of the tension was easing. “That’s
tomorrow,” she said. “You’re a day early. But why—”
He extended a data cube toward her. “This is the most valuable gift I could find for you,” he said seriously, “and it has taken many marks from the royal treasury to compile it.”
She looked at him quizzically,
“I have been worried for some time about this mission of yours,” Henry said, “and in the beginning I could not understand why. But about four months ago, one night when I was playing with Prince Charles and Princess Eleanor, I realized what was bothering me. My intuitive sense tells me that this crew of yours will have problems. I know it sounds crazy, particularly coining from me, but I’m not worried about the Ramans. That megalomaniac Brown is probably right, the Ramans couldn’t care less about us Earth-lings. But you’re about to spend a hundred days in confined quarters with eleven other…”
He could tell that Nicole was not following him. “Here,” he said, “take this cube. I had my intelligence agents put together full and complete dossiers on every member of the Newton dozen, including you.” Nicole’s brow furrowed. “The information, most of which is not available in the official ISA files, confirmed my personal view that the Newton team contains quite a few unstable elements. I didn’t know what to do with—”
“This is none of your business,” Nicole interrupted angrily. She was affronted by Henry’s involvement in her professional life. “Why are you meddling—”
“Hey, hey, calm down, will you,” the king replied. “I assure you my motives were all good. Look,” he added, “you probably won’t even need all this information, but I thought that maybe it could be useful. Take it. Throw it away if you like. You’re the life science officer. You can treat it however you want.”
Henry could tell that he had botched the meeting. He walked away and sat down in a chair facing the fire. His back was toward Nicole.
’Take care of yourself, Nicole,” he mumbled.
She thought for a long moment, put the data cube inside her parka, and walked over behind the king. “Thank you, Henry,” she said. Nicole let her hand fall on his shoulder. He didn’t turn around. He reached up with his hand and very slowly wrapped his fingers around hers. They remained in that position for almost a minute.
“There was some data that eluded even my investigators,” he said in a low voice. “One fact in particular in which I was extremely interested.”
Nicole could hear her heart amid the crackle of the logs in the fireplace. A voice inside her shouted Tell him, tell him. But another voice, full of wisdom, counseled silence.
She slowly withdrew her fingers from his. He turned around to look at her. She smiled. Nicole walked over to the door. She put her scarf back on her head and zipped her parka before going outside. “Good-bye, Henry,” she said.
15
ENCOUNTER
The combined Newton spacecraft — had maneuvered so that Rama filled the expanded viewpoint in the control center. The alien spaceship was immense. Its surface was a dull, drab gray, and its long body was a geometrically perfect cylinder. Nicole stood beside Valeriy Borzov in silence. For each of them, this first sight of the entire Rama vehicle in the sunlight was a moment to savor.
“Have you detected any differences?” Nicole said at length. “Not yet,” Commander Borzov replied. “It looks as if the two of them came off the same assembly line.” They were quiet again.
“Wouldn’t you love to see that assembly line?” Nicole asked.
Valeriy Borzov nodded. A small flying craft, like a bat or a hummingbird zoomed past the viewport in the near field and headed off in the direction of Rama. “The exterior drones will confirm the similarities. Each of them has a stored set of images from Rama I. Any variations will be logged and reported within three hours.”
“And if there are no unexplained variations?”
“Then we proceed as planned,” General Borzov answered with a smile. “We dock, open up Rama, and release the interior drones.” He glanced at his watch. “All of which should take place about twenty-two hours from now, provided the life science officer asserts that the crew is ready.”
“The crew is in fine shape,” Nicole reported. “I’ve just finished looking at a synopsis of the cruise health data again. It’s been surprisingly regular. Except for hormonal abnormalities in all three women, which were not totally unexpected, we have seen no significant anomalies in forty days.”
“So physically we’re all ready to go,” the commander said thoughtfully, “but what about our psychological readiness? Are you troubled about this recent spate of arguments? Or can we chalk it up to tension and excitement?”
Nicole was silent for a moment. “I agree these four days since the docking have been a little rough. Of course, we knew about the Wilson-Brown problem even before launch. We partially solved it by having Reggie on your ship during most of the cruise, but now that we’ve joined the two spacecraft and the team is all together again, those two seem to be at each other at every opportunity. Particularly if Francesca is around.”
“I tried to talk to Wilson twice while the two ships were separated!” Brozov said in a frustrated tone. “He wouldn’t discuss it. But it’s clear that he is very angry about something.”
General Borzov walked over to the control panel and started fiddling with the keyboards. Sequencing information appeared on one of the monitors. “It must involve Sabatini,” he continued. “Wilson didn’t do much work during cruise, but his log indicates that he spent an inordinate amount of time on the videophone with her. And he was always in a foul mood. He even offended O’Toole.” General Borzov turned and looked intently at Nicole. “As my life science officer, I want to know if you have any official recommendations about the crew, especially with respect to psychological interactions among the team members.”
Nicole had not expected this. When General Borzov had scheduled this final “crew health assessment” with her, she had not thought that the meeting would extend to the mental health of the Newton dozen as well. “You’re asking for a professional psychological evaluation also?” she asked.
“Certainly,” General Borzov replied. “I want an A5401 from you that attests to both the physical and psychological readiness of every one of the crew members. The procedure clearly states that the commanding officer, before each sortie, should request crew certification from the life science officer.”
“But during the simulations you asked only for physical health data.”
Borzov smiled. “I can wait, Madame des Jardins,” he said, “if you’d like time to prepare your report.”
“No, no,” Nicole said after some reflection. “I can give my opinions now and then officially document them later tonight.” She hesitated several more seconds before continuing. “I wouldn’t put Wilson and Brown together as crew members on any subteam, at least not in the first sortie. And I’d even have some qualms, although this opinion is certainly not as strong, about combining Francesca in a group with either of the two men. I would place no other limitations of any kind on this crew.”
“Good. Good.” The commander grinned broadly, “I appreciate your report, and not just because it confirms my own opinions. As you can understand, these matters can sometimes be fairly delicate.” General Borzov abruptly changed the subject. “Now I have another question of an altogether different nature to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“Francesca came to me this morning and suggested that we have a party tomorrow night. She contends that the crew is tense and in need of some kind of release before the first sortie inside Rama. Do you agree with her?”
Nicole reflected for a moment. “It’s not a bad idea,” she replied. “The strain has been definitely showing… But what kind of party did you have in mind?”
“A dinner all together, here in the control room, some wine and vodka, maybe even a little entertainment.” Borzov smiled and put his arm on Nicole’s shoulder. “I’m asking your professional opinion, you understand,
as my life science officer.”
“Of course,” Nicole said with a laugh. “General,” she added, “if you think it’s time for the crew to have a party, then I’d be delighted to lend a hand…”
Nicole finished her report and transferred the file by data line over to Borzov’s’s computer in the military ship. She had been very careful in her language to identify the problem as a “personality conflict” rather than any kind of behavioral pathology. To Nicole, the problem between Wilson and Brown was straightforward: jealousy, pure and simple, the ancient green-eyed monster itself.
She was certain that it was wise to prevent Wilson and Brown from working closely together during sorties inside Rama. Nicole chastized herself for not having raised the issue with Borzov on her own. She realized that her mission portfolio included mental health as well, but somehow she had difficulty thinking of herself as the crew psychiatrist. ! avoid it because it “s not an objective process, she thought. We have no sensors yet to measure good or bad mental health.
Nicole walked down the hall of the living area. She was careful to keep one foot on the floor at all times; she was so accustomed to the weightless environment that it was almost second nature. Nicole was glad that the Newton design engineers had worked so hard to minimize the differences between being in space and on the Earth. It made the job of being a cosmonaut much simpler by allowing the crew to concentrate on the more important elements of their work.
Nicole’s room was at the end of the corridor. Although each of the cosmonauts had private quarters (the result of heated arguments between the crew and the system engineers, the latter having insisted that sleeping in pairs was a more efficient use of the space), the rooms were very small and confining. There were eight bedrooms on this larger vehicle, called the scientific ship by the crew members. The military ship had four more small bedrooms. Both spacecraft also had exercise rooms and “lobbies,” common rooms where there was more comfortable furniture as well as some entertainment options not available in the bedrooms.
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