She fell silent, while Gaeta thought, Jezoo, I can’t be thinking about her and her fears while I’m out there. I’ve gotta concentrate on getting the job done, not worry about what she’s thinking. Surest way to get yourself killed is to let your attention drift away from the job at hand.

They walked up the gently rising street in silence toward the apartment building where both their quarters were. Through the spaces between the buildings on their left, Gaeta could see a crowd already starting to gather by the lakeside, where the big election-eve rally was scheduled to take place. Eberly expects me there, he remembered.

“Maybe we oughtta get a quick bite in the cafeteria,” he said to Cardenas, “before we go to the rally.”

“I’ve got some snacks in the freezer. You can nuke them while I change.”

Gaeta nodded and smiled. Women have to change their clothes for every occasion. Then he thought about his own pullover shirt and form-fitting denims. I’m gonna be on the platform with Eberly, he realized. What the hell, this is good enough. I’m a stunt guy, not a vid star.

Raoul Tavalera was sitting on the doorstep of their apartment building, head hanging low, looking more morose than usual. He rose slowly to his feet as he saw Cardenas and Gaeta coming up the walk toward him. Gaeta thought he saw the younger man wince with pain.

“Raoul,” Cardenas said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“They closed down the lab,” he said.

“What?”

“About an hour ago. Four big goons from Security came in with their damned batons and told me to shut down everything. Then they locked everything up. Two of ’em are still there, guarding the door.”

Cardenas felt a flush of rage race through her. “Closed the lab! Why? Under whose authority?”

Rubbing his side, Tavalera answered, “I asked but they didn’t answer. Just whacked me in the ribs and muscled me out into the hall. Big guys. Four of ’em.”

Pushing through the building’s front door, Cardenas whipped out her handheld as she started up the stairs. “Professor Wilmot,” she snapped at the phone.

Gaeta and Tavalera followed her up the stairs and into the sitting room of her apartment. Tavalera looked gloomy. Gaeta thought idly that he could change his clothes in Kris’s bedroom; he had almost as much of his wardrobe in her closet as he had in his own.

Cardenas projected Wilmot’s gray-haired face against the far wall of the sitting room.

“Professor,” she said, without a greeting, “someone from Security has shut down my laboratory.”

Wilmot looked startled. “They have?”

“I want to know why, and why this was done without consulting me first.”

Brushing his moustache with one finger, Wilmot looked pained, embarrassed. “Um, I suggest you ask the deputy director about that.”

“The deputy director?”

“Dr. Eberly.”

“Since when does he have the authority to shut down my laboratory?”

“You’ll have to ask him, I’m afraid. Actually, I know nothing about it. Nothing at all.”

“But you can tell him to let me reopen my lab!” Cardenas fairly shouted. “You can tell him to call off his dogs.”

His face slowly turning red, Wilmot said, “I really think you should talk to him directly.”

“But—”

“It’s his show. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Wilmot’s image abruptly winked out. Cardenas stared at the empty air, openmouthed. “He hung up on me!”

Gaeta said, “I guess you’ll have to call Eberly.”

Fuming, Cardenas told the phone to contact Eberly. Ruth Morgenthau’s image appeared, instead.

“Dr. Eberly is busy preparing his statement for this evening’s rally,” she said smoothly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“You can call off the security officers posted at my laboratory and let me get back to my work,” Cardenas barked. “Right now. This minute.”

“I’m afraid that can’t be done,” Morgenthau said, completely unflustered. “We have a dangerous situation on our hands. There’s a fugitive loose, and we have reason to believe she might try to break into your laboratory and release nanobugs that could be very dangerous to everyone in the habitat.”

“A fugitive? You mean Holly?”

“She’s psychotic. We have reason to believe she murdered a man. We know she attacked Colonel Kananga.”

“Holly? She attacked somebody?”

Gaeta said, “Holly’s never been violent before. What the hell’s going on?”

Morgenthau’s face took on a sad expression. “Apparently Miss Lane has stopped taking her medication, for some reason. She is decidedly unbalanced. I can send you her dossier, if you want proof of her condition.”

“Do that,” Cardenas snapped.

“I will.”

“But I don’t see what this has to do with my lab,” Cardenas said.

Morgenthau sighed like a teacher trying to enlighten a backward child. “We know that she’s been friendly with you, Dr. Cardenas. We can’t take the chance that she might get into your lab and release dangerous nanobugs. That would be—”

“There aren’t any dangerous nanobugs in my lab!” Cardenas exploded. “And even if there were, all you have to do is expose them to ultraviolet light and they’d be deactivated.”

“I know that’s how it seems to you,” said Morgenthau patiently. “But to the rest of us nanomaehines are a dangerous threat that could wipe out everyone in this habitat. Naturally, we must be extremely careful in dealing with them.”

Seething, Cardenas started to say, “But don’t you understand that—”

“I’m sorry,” Morgenthau said sternly. “The issue is decided. Your laboratory will remain closed until Holly Lane is taken into custody.”

SATURN ARRIVAL MINUS 3 DAYS, 6 HOURS, 17 MINUTES

Gaeta could see that Cardenas was livid, furious. Even Tavalera, who usually seemed passively glum, was glaring at the empty space where Morgenthau’s image had been.

“Holly’s not a nutcase,” Tavalera muttered.

“I don’t think so either,” said Cardenas.

“But Morgenthau does,” Gaeta pointed out. “And so does Eberly and the rest of the top brass, I guess.”

Cardenas shook her head angrily. “And Wilmot won’t do a damned thing about it.”

Gaeta said, “This is serious, Kris. They’re saying Holly might’ve killed somebody.”

“Who?” asked Tavalera.

Striding toward the kitchen, Cardenas said, “The only person who’s died recently was Diego Romero. Drowned.”

“And they’re sayin’ Holly did it?” Tavalera said.

Cardenas didn’t answer. She went behind the kitchen counter and started yanking packages from the freezer.

Gaeta noticed the message light blinking on her desktop unit. “You got incoming, Kris.”

“Take it for me, will you?”

It was Holly’s dossier. The three of them studied it, displayed against the sitting room wall.

“She’s bipolar; manic-depressive,” Gaeta said.

“But that doesn’t mean she’d become violent,” said Cardenas.

Tavalera made a sour face. “I don’t believe it. She’s not like that.”

Cardenas looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Neither do I.”

“Could somebody have faked her dossier?” Gaeta asked. “Framed her?”

“There’s one way to find out,” said Cardenas. She commanded the phone to locate Holly’s dossier in the files of the New Morality headquarters in Atlanta.

“This is gonna take an hour or more,” said Gaeta.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat while we wait,” Cardenas suggested.

“Are we going to the rally?” Gaeta asked.

“After we have Holly’s Earthside dossier in our hands,” Cardenas replied.

Holly was waiting for the evening news report while eating a dinner composed of fresh fruits taken from the orchard and a package of cookies from the underground warehouse that cached the specialty foods brought from Earth.

She sat cross-legged on the floor of the utility tunnel that ran beneath the orchard. She planned to go later out to the endcap and sleep in the open, beneath the trees, safely hidden by the flowering bushes that grew in profusion there. Don Diego would’ve loved the area, she thought, its unorganized roughness, a little bit of wilderness in all this planned-out ecology.