SATURN ARRIVAL MINUS 328 DAYS

All the department heads were seated around the oval conference table. Wilmot sat on one side, in the middle, flanked by Urbain and round-faced, dark-haired Andrea Maronella, head of the agro group. Eberly, sitting exactly across the table from Wilmot, still thought of the woman as a glorified farmer.

One by one, the department heads gave summaries of their weekly reports. Eberly felt utterly bored. Why doesn’t Wilmot record one of these meetings and simply play it back each week? he wondered. It would save us all an hour or two and the results would be just about the same.

“Well, that seems to be it,” Wilmot said, once the last speaker had finished. “Any new business?”

Eberly said, “Raoul Tavalera has accepted a position in the Maintenance Department. He’s now working on repair and refurbishment assignments, so I’m told.”

Tamiko O’Malley, the stubby Japanese head of maintenance, nodded vigorously. “He’s not a half bad technician, actually. Although he really wants to get back to Earth as soon as possible.”

Wilmot turned his gaze back to Eberly. “What about that, Dr. Eberly?”

“We’re making arrangements for him to leave with the video team, once they’ve finished their excursion to Titan.”

Urbain slapped his palm on the table top. “They will not be allowed to land on Titan! Never!”

Eberly said mildly, “Their team leader is under the impression that he will be allowed—”

“Never!” Urbain repeated, louder.

Wilmot placed a soothing hand on the scientist’s arm. “I thought Dr. Cardenas was helping him solve the contamination problem.”

“With nanomachines?” Urbain snapped. “I will believe that when I see it demonstrated, not before.”

Eberly said, “It’s going to be difficult to refuse him permission. I mean, this man Gaeta is a media hero. He rescued that injured astronaut. Everyone in the habitat respects him for that.”

Before Urbain could reply, Wilmot said, “We must set up a demonstration of Dr. Cardenas’s nanomachines. A demonstration that is done in complete safety. I don’t want to take the slightest chance that nanobugs might run rampant in this habitat.”

Urbain nodded and smiled thinly. “Zero risk,” he murmured, and his smile told Eberly that he knew zero risk was an impossibility.

“Very well,” said Wilmot. “Are we finished, then?”

Several department heads started to push their chairs away from the table. But Eberly cleared his throat loudly and announced, “There is one more item, if you please.”

Wilmot, halfway out of his chair, thumped down in it again, looking anything but pleased. “What is it?” he asked peevishly.

“My committee has drawn up a draft constitution. I’ve reviewed it and now I think it’s time for the people at large to see it and vote on adopting it.”

A flash of something like suspicion flickered in Wilmot’s eyes.

One of the department heads complained, “You’ve already got everyone arguing about naming things. Now you’re going to start another debate?”

But Wilmot brushed his moustache with one finger and said, “Let me see your draft document first. Then we’ll have all the department heads review it. After that, we can show it to the people at large.”

“Fine,” said Eberly, with a gracious smile. It was exactly what he had expected Wilmot to do.

Several days later, Holly got up from her desk and walked to Morgenthau’s door. She no longer thought of the office as Eberly’s; she hadn’t seen Eberly for many weeks, except for brief encounters and then always with other people present. He doesn’t care about me, she told herself, desperately hoping it wasn’t true, wondering how she could make him care for her as much as she cared for him.

She tapped at the door, and Morgenthau called, “Enter.”

Holly slid the door back halfway and said, “I’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day. I’m going out to—”

Morgenthau looked apprehensive, almost startled. “Holly, I was going to tell you earlier but it slipped my mind until this very moment. I need you to bring Dr. Cardenas’s dossier up to date.”

“Up to date? I thought we had a complete file on her.”

Morgenthau tapped at the handheld resting on her desk. Cardenas’s file and photo appeared above it. Morgenthau scrolled down rapidly, the words blurring before Holly’s eyes. It made no difference; Holly remembered the complete file, word for word, from her first reading of it.

“There. There is a break in her record. She ran the nanolab at Selene for several years, and then abruptly quit. A few months later she went to Ceres, but she did not engage in nanotechnology research there, as far as the record shows. I want you to clear this up with her.”

Holly said, “It doesn’t seem that cosmic, does it?”

With a hardening expression, Morgenthau said, “My dear Holly, everything about nanotechnology is important. Something happened to abruptly change Cardenas’s career. She quit nanotech work for several years, and now she wants to resume her research here, among us. Why? What is she up to?”

“Kay,” Holly said. “I’ll call her.”

“Invite her out to lunch. If she refuses, go to her lab and don’t leave until she’s explained herself to you.”

“You make it sound like a police investigation.”

“Perhaps it should be.”

Wondering why Morgenthau was so worked up, Holly said, “Kay, I’ll give her a call before I go out.”

Raising a chubby finger, Morgenthau said sternly, “Now, Holly. I want this done now. Have lunch with her now, today. I want your report about this in Cardenas’s dossier first thing tomorrow morning.”

Holly’s first inclination was to tell Morgenthau to jump out an airlock without a suit. But then she realized that the woman had never been so flaming insistent on anything before. She’s really notched up about this, Holly realized. Maybe this nanotech stuff is scarier than I thought.

Don Diego straightened up slowly, painfully. The back is a weak spot, he told himself, trying to rub the stiffness away. If we ever get to the point where we can truly redesign the human body, much attention will have to be paid to improving the back.

He walked slowly, carefully, along the sloping embankment of the canal. The ache was in the small of his back, where his hands could not easily reach. He sighed. At least this stretch of the canal is nearly finished, he said to himself. He stopped and admired the haphazard growth of flowering bushes. Perhaps some cactus along the next stretch of the canal, he thought. I wonder if there is any cactus available in the habitat?

He had expected Holly to join him; she had said she’d be out this afternoon. He wanted her to see how well this little bit of wilderness was shaping up.

Someone stepped out from behind a tree, up at the edge of the culvert, and walked slowly down the dirt slope toward him. A tall, gangling black man with a shaved scalp and a thin beard tracing his jaw-line. His polished boots will be tarnished by the soil, Don Diego thought.

“Good afternoon to you,” he called to the stranger in English. “What brings you to this quiet place?”

The stranger smiled brightly. “You are Diego Romero, of the Communications Department?”

“I am he,” said Don Diego, thinking that this man must be from the office. Someone must be complaining about his long absences. Or…

“Might you be from the Maintenance Department?” he asked, almost timidly.

The black man stepped closer, still smiling. “No. You have nothing to fear on that score.”

As ordered, Holly was having lunch with Kris Cardenas in the Bistro. But it wasn’t going well.

“I know it’s sort of prying,” she said apologetically. “But my boss is clanked up about nanotech and there’s this kind of gap in your dossier…”