by Ben Bova
"Soon now we will be reaching Saturn. Soon our real work must begin. But before we can start, we have the responsibility of creating a new order, a new society, a new government that will represent us fairly and justly and accomplish all that we want to achieve.
"The first step in creating this new order is the naming of names. We have the opportunity, the responsibility, of choosing the names by which our community will be known. It may seem like a trivial task, but it is not. It is of primary importance.
"Yet what do we see all around us? Instead of unity, there is strife. Instead of clear purpose, there is confusion and struggle. We are divided and weak, where we must be united and strong."
Holly listened in growing fascination, feeling herself drawn into his web of words. It's enthralling, she realized. Malcolm is mesmerizing all these thousands of people.
"We are the chosen ones," he was telling them. "We few, we chosen few, we who will establish human purpose and human dignity at the farthest outpost of civilization. We who will bring the banner of humanity to the cold and hostile forces of nature, we who will show all the universe that we can build a strong and safe haven for ourselves, a paradise of our own creation.
"The naming of names is merely the first step in this quest. We then must create a new government and elect the leaders who will serve us as we begin to create the new society that we desire.
"Instead of rivalry, we must have cooperation. Instead of struggle, we must have unity. Instead of weakness, we must have strength. Let each man and woman here firmly resolve that this society shall be strong and united. Ask not what gain you as an individual will obtain. Ask rather what strength you can contribute to help create a free and flourishing new order. We can build a paradise with our own hands! Will you help to do it?"
They bellowed, "YES!" They clapped and cheered and whistled. Eberly stood at the podium, head bowed, soaking up their adulation the way a flower drinks in sunlight.
The crowd quieted, watched his silent form up on the podium. Slowly Eberly raised his head, looked out on them with an almost beatific smile on his lips.
"Each of you—each man and woman here—must pledge yourselves to the unity and cooperation we need to create the new order. I want each of you to reach out and clasp hands with the person next to you. Friend or stranger, man or woman, take your neighbor's hand in your own and swear that we will work together to build our new world."
The crowd murmured, heads turned, feet shuffled. Then, slowly at first, people turned to each other and clasped hands. Holly watched as more and more people embraced, their differences forgotten for the moment, many of them openly sobbing. Holly realized that Malcolm was the only person in the entire habitat who could bring the people together like this.
She was proud to have helped this great man achieve this moment of unity, this powerful emotion of loving friendship.
URGENT COMMUNICATION
TO: Dr. Professor E. Urbain, Habitat Goddard.
FROM: H. H. Haddix Chair, IAA Executive Board.
SUBJECT: Titan Contamination Risk.
In response to your request, the Executive Board initiated a thorough assessment of policy in regard to human exploration of the Saturnian moon, Titan. After review by the astrobiology and planetary protection committees of the International Astronautical Authority, it has been unanimously decided that any human excursion upon the surface of Titan is strictly forbidden. Protection of the indigenous life-forms of Titan takes precedence over all other goals, including scientific investigation. Robotic exploration of Titan's surface is permitted, providing existing planetary protection decontamination procedures are strictly adhered to.
H. Harvey Haddix.
Chair, IAA Executive Board.
Rev. Calypso J. C. Abernathy.
Imprimatur.
SATURN ARRIVAL MINUS 288 DAYS
Ruth Morgenthau hated these nature walks that Eberly insisted upon. He's absolutely paranoid, she thought as she trudged reluctantly along the path that led through the park from Village A toward the orchards. He worries that someone might be bugging his apartment the way we're bugging everyone else's.
It's no longer Village A, she reminded herself. It's Athens now. And the orchard is officially the St. Francis of Assisi Preserve. Morgenthau almost giggled aloud. What a name! What arguments they had had, real shouting battles between herself, Vyborg, and Kananga. Even the normally moderate and reserved Jaansen had raised his voice when it came to naming the habitat's various laboratory buildings.
The months-long campaign to produce actual names for the habitat's villages, buildings, and natural features had been little more than a farce. Every vote had a scatter factor larger almost than the number of votes. Everyone in the habitat had an opinion about what the names should be, and hardly two votes agreed with each other. It was a grand mess, but Eberly came through with a magnificent solution.
"Since there is no unanimity among the voters," he told his inner cadre of confidants, "we will have to make the decisions ourselves."
That set the four of them wrangling, with Kananga insisting that African names be just as numerous as European or Asian, Vyborg holding out for names that had powerful psychological connotations among the populace, and Jaansen firmly—sometimes stubbornly—proffering his own list of famous scientists' names. Eberly had stayed above the fray, listening to their squabbles with cold disdain. Morgenthau found the whole affair disgusting; she hadn't cared what names were chosen, as long as they were not blatantly secular. She had flatly refused to allow the biology facility to be named after Charles Darwin, of course.
In the end, Eberly resolved most of their disputes. When they could not agree, he made the decision. When they wrangled too long, he stepped in and told them to stop acting like children. Morgenthau watched over him carefully, though, and he knew it.
Village A got a European name: Athens. Village B went to the Asians: Bangkok. Village C became Cairo; D became Delhi and E was named Entebbe. The Americans—North and South—complained bitterly, but Eberly stared them down by solemnly proclaiming those were the names that the habitat's residents had voted for. After all, he pointed out, Americans actually were a minority in the habitat's population.
Since the votes were secret ballots, Eberly refused to allow anyone to recount them. In a great show of seeming impartiality, he erased all the votes—"So that no one can tamper with them, or use them to cause unrest in the future," he announced.
There were some grumbles, but the people by and large accepted the names that the voters allegedly chose. Eberly saw to it that there were plenty of American and Latino names sprinkled among the buildings and natural features, to keep everyone reasonably satisfied.
It was a strong, masterful performance, Morgenthau felt. Yet a tendril of worry troubled her. Perhaps Eberly was too strong, too determined to have his own way, too hungry for power. We are agents of God, she reminded herself. We seek power not for ourselves, but for the salvation of these ten thousand lost souls. She wondered if Eberly felt the same way. In fact, she was almost certain that he did not. Yet authorities higher than her own had chosen Eberly to lead this mission; her job was to support him—and keep him from straying too far from the path the New Morality and Holy Disciples had chosen for him.
So Morgenthau walked beside him along the Washington Carver Pathway, which led from Athens to the St. Francis Orchard and beyond, over the little rolling knolls that bore the incongruous name of the Andes Hills toward the farmlands of the Ohio region. She desperately hoped that Eberly would not decide to walk all the way to California, the open region up by the endcap. Her feet hurt enough already.
"You're very quiet this afternoon," Eberly said as they walked along the meandering brick path. Those were the first words he himself had spoken in many minutes.
Morgenthau could feel sweat beading on her brow. "I'm just happy that the names have been settled on," she said. "You did a masterful job, a brilliant job."
He allowed a wintry smile
to curve his lips. "Just as long as the actual votes have been totally erased."
"Totally," she swore.
"And no one outside our inner circle knows about how the names were chosen."
"No one."
"Not even Holly? She's very bright, you know."
Morgenthau agreed with an nod. "She asked why the votes should be erased. Once I told her that it was your decision, though, she put up no resistance."
Eberly nodded. "I'll probably have to take her to bed, sooner or later. That will ensure her loyalty."
Morgenthau gaped at him, shocked. "She's quite loyal enough now. There's no need—"
He cut her short. "The next steps we take will be more and more distasteful to her. I'll have to keep her bound to me personally. Otherwise she might balk, or even rebel against us."
"But bedding her—that's sinful!"
"It's in a good cause. We must all be prepared to make sacrifices."
She caught his sarcastic tone. "Well, at least she's rather attractive."
"A bit dark for my liking," Eberly said, almost as casually as if he were discussing his preferences in clothing or food. "I favor blondes, with fuller figures."
Morgenthau felt her cheeks reddening. And yet... Is he toying with me? she wondered. Testing me? She had no desire to pursue this line of discussion. She had no fantasies about her own attractions, or her own preferences.
"You didn't ask me out on this walk to discuss your plans for romance, did you?"
"No," he answered, quite seriously. "Hardly that."
"Then what?"
Without changing his leisurely pace, Eberly looked up at the light poles and the miniature cameras atop them, then out to the green and flowering parkland spread about them.
"Offices can be bugged too easily. There are always prying eyes and ears to worry about."
She understood. "Out here, it simply looks as if we're taking in some exercise together."
"Precisely." He nodded.
Morgenthau considered that the fact the two of them were walking together might start some tongues wagging, although hardly anyone would suspect her of having a romantic interest in Eberly, or of being of any physical attraction to him. Or any man, for that matter. They all see me as a short, dumpy, overweight loser, Morgenthau knew. I'm no threat to any of them. How little they know!
"Sooner or later we're going to have to confront Wilmot," Eberly said, his eyes still scanning for eavesdroppers. "Vyborg is constantly nagging me about removing Berkowitz and installing himself as the chief of communications. I've decided that the way to get to Berkowitz is through Wilmot."
"Through Wilmot?"
"Berkowitz is an innocuous former network executive. He doesn't appear to have any obvious vices. He runs the Communications Department so loosely that Vyborg is actually in charge of virtually the entire operation."
"But Sammi wants the title as well as the responsibility," Morgenthau said. "I know him. He wants the respect and the power."
"Yes. And he's impatient. If what he did to that old man Romero is ever discovered..."
"It won't reflect on you," she assured him. "It can't."
"Perhaps. But still, Berkowitz should be removed."
"And to do that, you want to go through Wilmot?" Morgenthau asked.
"That's not the only reason, of course," Eberly went on. "Wilmot believes he is in charge of the habitat. The day will come when I'll have to disabuse him of that notion."
"We can't have a godless secularist ruling these people!" Morgenthau said fervently.
"I'll need some ammunition, something to hold over Wilmot."
"A carrot or a stick?" Morgenthau asked.
"Either. Both, if possible."
"We'll need someone to review all his personal files and phone conversations."
Eberly nodded. "This must be kept totally secret. I don't want even Vyborg to know that we're going through Wilmot's files."
"Then who should do the work?"
"You," said Eberly, so clearly and precisely that there was no room to argue. Morgenthau's heart sank; she saw long dreary nights of snooping into the professor's phone conversations and entertainment vids.
She lapsed into silence, thinking hard as they walked slowly along the path.
"Well?" Eberly prodded.
"It might be very boring. He's nothing more than an elderly academic. I doubt that there's much there to use."
Eberly did not hesitate a microsecond. "Then we'll have to manufacture something. I prefer to find a weakness that he actually has, though. Drumming up false accusations can be tricky."
"Let me talk to Vyborg about it."
"No," Eberly snapped. "Keep this between the two of us. No one else. Not yet, at least."
"Yes," she agreed reluctantly. "I understand."
All the time during the long walk back to their offices in Athens, Morgenthau thought about Eberly's commitment to their cause. He's seeking nothing more than his own personal aggrandizement, she thought. But he has the charisma to be the leader of these ten thousand people. I'll have to put up with him. Wilmot, she told herself, is an out-and-out secularist: an atheist or an agnostic, at best. Find something that will hang him. I've got to find something that will hang him.
SATURN ARRIVAL MINUS 287 DAYS
"I haven't slept with him, if that's what's worrying you," said Kris Cardenas.
Holly looked into her cornflower-blue eyes and decided that Kris was telling the truth. She was spending an awful lot of time with Manny Gaeta, but it was strictly business, she insisted. On the other hand, Manny hadn't asked Holly out or dropped into her office or even phoned her since the night he had walked Kris home.
And Malcolm was as cool and distant as ever. All business, nothing but business. Some love life, Holly thought. It's all in tatters.
"I'm telling you the truth, Holly," Cardenas insisted, misinterpreting Holly's silence.
"I know, Kris," she said, feeling more confused than unhappy. "Point of fact, I wouldn't blame you if you did. He's a dynamo."
The two women were having a late lunch in the nearly empty cafeteria, well after almost everyone had cleared out of the place.
Cardenas leaned closer to Holly and confided, "He hasn't come on to me at all. If you weren't interested in him, I'd be kind of disappointed. I mean, I'm a lot older than he is in calendar years but I'm not repulsive, am I?"
Holly giggled. "Kris, if you're interested, go right ahead. I've got no claims on him."
"Yes you do."
"No, not really. In fact, I think I'm better off with him off my scanner screen."
Cardenas raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Really," Holly said, wondering inwardly if she were doing the right thing, "his only interest in me was purely physical."
"A lot of relationships have started that way."
"Well this one's over. It isn't really a relationship, anyway. It never was." Holly was surprised that it didn't hurt to admit it. Not much, anyway.
Cardenas shrugged. "It's a moot point. He's nothing but business with me."
"Prob'ly in awe of you."
Cardenas laughed. "I'll bet."
"Sure."
"Never mind," she said, waving one hand as if brushing away an annoying insect. "You said you've got a possible lab assistant for me?"
"Maybe," Holly said. "I haven't raised the idea with him, yet. But he's got some of the qualifications you're looking for. An engineering degree-"
"What kind of engineering?"
"Electromechanical."
"How recent?"
Holly pulled her handheld out of her tunic pocket. Raoul Tavalera's three-dimensional image appeared in the air above their table, together with the facts and figures of his dossier.
Cardenas scanned through the data. "Whose department is he working in?"
"Maintenance," Holly replied. "But he's just putting in time there; he doesn't officially belong to any department. He's the astronaut that Manny fished out."
; "Oh." She went through the dossier again, more slowly this time. "Then he'll only be with us until Manny packs up and leaves."
"I guess. But he's available now and you said you needed help right away."
"Beggars can't be choosy," Cardenas agreed. "I'll have to talk to him. Has he agreed to work with me?"
"He doesn't know anything about it yet. I can set up a meeting for you, though."
"Good enough."
"In my office, kay?"
Cardenas thought a moment. "That's probably better than inviting him to my lab. He might be scared of having nanobugs infect him."
Tavalera looked suspicious as he sat down in front of Holly's desk. He arrived promptly on time, though; that was a good sign, she thought.
She had asked him to come to her office fifteen minutes before Cardenas.
"What's this all about?" he asked, almost sullenly.
"Job op," said Holly brightly.
"I've got a job, with the maintenance crew."
"Like it?"
He scowled. "Are you kiddin'?"
Holly made a smile for him. "I'd be worried if you said you did."
"So what've you got for me?"
"It's in a science lab. You'll be able to use your engineering education, f'sure."
"I thought all the science slots were filled. That's what you told me when I first came aboard here."
"They are. This is with Dr. Cardenas, in her nanotech lab."
His eyes widened momentarily. Holly could sense the wheels churning inside his skull.
"Nanotech," he muttered.
Holly nodded. "Some people are clanked up about nanotechnology, I know."
"Yeah."
"Are you?"
Tavalera hesitated a moment, then replied, "Yeah, kinda. Guess I am."
"You'd be foolish not to be," Holly agreed. "But working with Dr. Cardenas, you'll be working with the best there is. It'll look cosmically good on your resume, y'know."
"The hell it will. I wouldn't want anybody back on Earth to know I'd been within a zillion light-years of any nanobugs."
