“My lady,” Janos interrupted before Wakefield could answer, “never, never mistake a passion for a hobby. Our esteemed Japanese scientist does not play chess as a hobby, And this young man from The Bard’s home town of Stratford-on-Avon does not create these robots as a hobby.”
Nicole glanced at Richard. She was trying to imagine the amount of energy and work that was necessary for the creation of sophisticated robots like the ones she had just seen. Not to mention talent and, of course, passion. “Very impressive,” she said to Wakefield.
His smile acknowledged her compliment. Nicole excused herself and started to leave the room. Puck zoomed around her and stood in the doorway.
“If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here, While these visions did appear.”
Nicole was laughing as she stepped over the sprite and waved good night to her friends.
Nicole stayed in the exercise room longer than she expected, Ordinarily thirty minutes of hard bicycling or running in place was enough to release her tensions and relax her body for sleep. On this evening, however, with the goal of their mission now so close at hand, it was necessary for her to work out for a longer time to calm her hyperactive system. Part of her difficulty was her residual concern about the report she had filed recommending that Wilson and Brown be separated on all important mission activities.
Was I too hasty? she asked herself. Did I let General Borzov sway my opinion? Nicole was very proud of her professional reputation and often constructively second-guessed her major decisions. Toward the end of her exercise she convinced herself again that she had filed the proper report. Her tired body told her that it was ready to sleep.
When she returned to the living area in the spacecraft, it was dark everywhere except in the hallway. As she started to turn left into the corridor that led to her room, she happened to glance beyond the lobby, in the direction of the small room where she kept all the medical supplies. That’s strange, she thought, straining her eyes in the dim light. It looks as if f left the supply room door open.
Nicole walked across the lobby. The supply door was indeed ajar. She had already activated the automatic lock and had started to close the door when she heard a noise inside the dark room. Nicole reached in and turned on the light. She surprised Francesca Sabatini, who was sitting in the comer at a computer terminal. There was information displayed on the monitor in front of her and Francesca was holding a thin bottle in one of her hands.
“Oh, hello Nicole,” Francesca said nonchalantly, as if it were normal for her to be sitting in the dark at the computer in the medical supply room.
Nicole walked slowly over to the computer. “What’s going on?” she said casually, her eyes scanning the information on the screen. From the coded headings, Nicole could tell that Francesca had requested the inventory subroutine to list the birth control devices available onboard the spacecraft.
“What is this?” Nicole now asked, pointing at the monitor. There was a trace of irritation in her voice. All the cosmonauts knew that the medical supply room was off limits to everyone but the life science officer.
When Francesca still did not reply, Nicole became angry. “How did you get in here?” she demanded. The two women were only a few centimeters apart in the small alcove next to the desk. Nicole suddenly reached over and grabbed the bottle out of Francesca’s hand. While Nicole was reading the label, Francesca pushed her way through the narrow space and headed for the door. Nicole discovered that the liquid in her hand was for inducing abortions and quickly followed Francesca into the lobby.
“Are you going to explain this?” Nicole asked.
“Just give me the bottle, please,” Francesca said finally.
“I can’t do that,” answered Nicole, shaking her head. “This is a very strong medicine with serious side effects. What did you think you were going to do? Steal it and have it pass unnoticed? As soon as I completed an inventory comparison I would have known that it was gone.”
The two women stared at each other for several seconds. “Look, Nicole,” Francesca said at length” managing a smile, “this is really a very simple matter. I have discovered recently, much to my chagrin, that I am in the very early stages of pregnancy. I wish to abort the embryo. It’s a private matter and I did not want to involve you or any of the rest of the crew.”
“You can’t be pregnant,” Nicole replied quickly. “I would have seen it in your biometry data.”
“I’m only four or 6ve days. But I’m certain. I can already feel the changes in my body. And it’s the right time of the month.”
“You know the proper procedures for medical problems,” Nicole said after some hesitation. “This might have been very simple, to use your phrase, if you had first come to me. Most likely I would have respected your request for confidentiality. But now you’ve given me a dilemma—”
“Will you stop with the bureaucratic lecture,” Francesca interrupted sharply. “I’m really not interested in the goddamn rules. A man has made me pregnant and I intend to remove the fetus. Now, are you going to give me the bottle, or must I find another way?”
Nicole was outraged. “You are amazing,” she responded to Francesca. “Do you really expect me to hand you this bottle and walk away? Without asking any questions? You may be that cavalier about your life and health, but I certainly am not. I have to examine you first, check your medical history, determine the age of the embryo — only then would I even consider prescribing this medicine for you. Besides, I would feel compelled as well to point out to you that there are moral and psychological ramifications—”
Francesca laughed out loud. “Spare me your ramifications, Nicole. I don’t need your upper class Beauvois morality passing judgment on my life. Congratulations to you for raising a child as a single parent. My situation is much different. The father of this baby purposely stopped taking his pills, thinking my being pregnant would rekindle my love for him. He was wrong. This baby is unwanted. Now, should I be more graphic—”
“That’s enough,” Nicole interrupted, pursing her lips in disgust. “The details of your personal life are really none of my business. I must decide what is best for you and for the mission.” She paused. “In any event, I must insist on a proper examination, including the normal pelvic internal image set. If you refuse, then I won’t authorize the abortion. And of course I’d be forced to make a complete report—”
Francesca laughed. “You don’t need to threaten me. I am not that stupid. If it will make you feel better to stick your fancy equipment between my legs, then be my guest. But let’s do it. I want this baby out of me before the sortie.”
Nicole and Francesca hardly exchanged a dozen words during the next hour. They went together to the small infirmary, where Nicole used her sensitive instruments to verify the existence and size of the embryo. She also tested Francesca for her acceptability to receive the abortion liquid. The fetus had been growing inside Francesca for five days. Who might you be? Nicole thought as she looked on the monitor at the microscopic image of the tiny sac embedded in the walls of the uterus. Even in the microscope on the probe there was no way to tell that the collection of cells was a living thing. But you are already alive. And much of your future is already programmed by your genes.
Nicole had the printer list for Francesca what she could expect physically once she had ingested the medicine. The fetus would be swept away, rejected by her body, within twenty-four hours. There could possibly be some slight cramping with the normal menstruation that would follow immediately.