“Damn right!” came a voice from the audience.

Eberly asked, “Do you want an elite group of specialists to impose their will on you?”

“No!” several voices answered.

“Do you want a government that will work for everyone?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want a leader who can control the scientists and work for your benefit?”

“Yes! Yes!” they shouted. And Eberly saw that his own people were only a small part of those who rose and responded to him.

He let them cheer and whistle until Wilmot came to the podium to announce that his initial five minutes were up.

Eberly went placidly back to his seat, noting with pleasure that Urbain looked upset, almost angry, and Timoshenko’s scowl was even darker than usual.

Q A SESSION

Urbain sputtered through the rebuttal period, defending the importance of the habitat’s science mission, denying that he would put the scientists’ needs above those of all the others. The more he denied, Eberly thought, the more firmly he fixed in the audience’s mind the fact that he considered the scientists to be separate and apart from — above, really — everyone else.

Timoshenko hammered on his theme of being a simple, ordinary working man who understands the needs of the common people. Eberly noted with pleasure that neither candidate attacked him.

When it came to his time for a rebuttal statement, Eberly walked slowly to the podium and said:

“We have a choice that reminds me of the three bears in the tale of Goldilocks. One of our candidates has too little experience at management. He tells you that he is an ordinary guy. This is quite true, but for the leader of this great society we are struggling to create we need someone who is not ordinary; we need someone with experience, and courage, and skill.”

He hesitated a heartbeat, then said, “The other candidate has too much experience at management. He’s been managing scientists for so long that he’s completely out of touch with what the rest of us need. Charts and equations and fancy mechanical toys that will explore the surface of Titan have nothing to do with our needs and our future here in this habitat.”

That brought a round of applause. Eberly stood at the podium, his head bowed slightly, soaking up the adulation.

At last Wilmot got up and said, “Now we will open the meeting to questions from the floor, and from those who are watching these proceedings in their homes.”

Eberly snapped his attention to the professor. Wilmot hadn’t told him that people would be able to call in questions from their homes, and Vyborg hadn’t even warned him of the possibility. We don’t have anyone ready with prepared questions from home, he thought. The crowd is seeded, but not the home audience.

“He makes some sense,” Gaeta said to Holly as they sat down again. “I mean, Urbain is dead-set against letting me go to Titan, even though Kris has shown him she can clean my suit with nanobugs.”

Holly nodded and said, “Why don’t you ask about that?”

Gaeta nodded back at her. “Good idea!”

The questions were all for Eberly. The people Vyborg had planted in the crowd dominated the Q A period, and even those who weren’t plants addressed their questions to Eberly, not to Urbain or Timoshenko. Eberly stood at the podium, ignoring his opponents sitting a few meters away. Wilmot stood beside him, choosing the questioners from the hands raised in the audience and the incoming calls lighting up his handheld.

The questions were all so predictable, Eberly realized with some relief. Even those calling in from their homes asked the kind of routine, boring questions that he could have answered in his sleep.

Yes, I will review all applications for babies. I believe we can allow a modest growth in our population.

No, I will not permit any religious group to attain control of the government. He saw Morgenthau’s cheek twitch at that answer, but it was the answer they had agreed to give. “We have to get voted into power first,” he had told her, time and again, “before we can even hint at our true affiliations.”

Of course I will pay personal attention to the needs of the farmers, he said to a caller who refused to identify himself. Without the farms we will quickly starve.

He recognized Manuel Gaeta when the stuntman rose to his feet to ask, “Will you permit me to go to the surface of Titan?”

Everyone knew Gaeta and his beat-up handsome face. All attention in the outdoor theater turned to him.

Eberly couldn’t help smiling. “If you can satisfy the scientists that you won’t contaminate the life-forms on Titan, I don’t see any reason to prevent you from going.”

Wilmot turned and motioned Urbain to come up to the podium. “Dr. Urbain, what is your position on this?”

Slicking his hair back with one hand, Urbain said without hesitation, “The threat of contamination to the microbial organisms of Titan is much too serious to allow any human exploration of that world for the foreseeable future. Besides, we have no choice in the matter. The IAA forbids any human intervention on Titan’s surface.”

Gaeta called from the first row, “But Dr. Cardenas has shown you that she can clean my suit.”

Wilmot said to the audience, “Mr. Gaeta is referring to the work of Dr. Kristin Cardenas, who has developed nanomachines that may be capable of decontaminating Mr. Gaeta’s spacesuit.”

“The decontamination appears to be acceptable,” Urbain conceded, looking a little flustered, “but appearances can be deceiving. Besides, we should not take the risk of having nanomachines infect Titan’s ecology.”

Eberly nudged Urbain away from the podium and looked out at the sea of faces watching them. “This is a good example of why we can’t allow the scientists to have control of the government. Why shouldn’t this man be allowed to carry out his adventure, if it’s been proven that he won’t hurt the bugs down there?”

“It has not been proven!”

“Dr. Cardenas says that it has been,” Eberly countered.

“Not to my satisfaction,” snapped Urbain.

“Yoursatisfaction!” Eberly shouted. “In other words, you make the decision and everyone else has to obey you — even a Nobel Prize winner like Dr. Cardenas.”

“It is my decision to make,” Urbain insisted.

“I thought you said the International Astronautical Association made the decision.”

“Yes, of course, that’s true,” Urbain stammered, “but if necessary I could override their decision. After all, I am the director of all scientific efforts here.”

“You want to be a dictator!” Eberly exclaimed, pretending shock.

Wilmot jumped between them. “Wait a moment. There is another issue here. What about the dangers of nanotechnology?”

“Nanotechnology is a tool,” Urbain said. “A tool that must be used carefully — but nothing more than a tool, nonetheless.”

Eberly was surprised at that. All he could add was, “Yes, I agree.”

Timoshenko rose from his chair. “Wait. There are dangers with nanotechnology. The bugs can get out of control—”

“Bullshit!” came a screaming voice from the audience. Kris Cardenas shot to her feet, her face white with anger. “Show me one instance where nanomachines have gotten out of control. They’ve been using nanobugs at Selene and the other lunar communities for decades now, and there’s been no trouble at all. Not one incident.”

Timoshenko scowled at her. “Nanobugs killed several people, back when it was still called Moonbase.”

“That was deliberate murder. You might as well outlaw hammers because they’ve been used to smash people’s skulls.”

Wilmot spread his hands to calm things down. “No one is thinking of outlawing nanotechnology,” he said flatly. “We recognize Dr. Cardenas as the solar system’s acknowledged expert on the subject, and we have agreed to use nanomachines — but under the strictest safety procedures.”