He turned back toward Kananga, who was staring at him with wide, round eyes.

“Trying to kill Holly,” Gaeta boomed. “Beating her to death.”

“Wait!” Kananga shouted, retreating, holding both hands in front of him. “I didn’t—”

Gaeta picked the Rwandan up by the throat, lifted him completely off his feet, and carried him back through the open hatch of the airlock. With his other arm he banged the airlock controls. The hatch slid shut. Kananga writhed in the merciless grasp of the pincers, choking, pulling uselessly at the cermet claws with both his hands.

“We’re gonna play a little game,” Gaeta snarled at him. “Let’s see how long you can breathe vacuum.”

The airlock pumped down. Gaeta kept his the pincers of his left hand firmly pressed against the controls, so that no one outside could open the hatch. He held Kananga high enough to watch his face as the Rwandan’s terrified eyes eventually rolled up and then exploded in a shower of blood.

EPILOGUE: SATURN ARRIVAL PLUS 9 DAYS

Professor Wilmot sat sternly behind his desk, wishing desperately he had a glass of whisky in his hand. A stiff drink was certainly what he needed. But he had to play the role of an authority figure, and that required absolute sobriety.

Sitting before his desk were Eberly, Morgenthau, Vyborg, Gaeta, and Dr. Cardenas.

“They made me do it,” Eberly was whining. “Kananga murdered the old man and they made me stay quiet about it.”

Morgenthau gave him a haughty, disgusted look. Vyborg seemed stunned into passivity, almost catatonic.

Pointing to Morgenthau, Eberly went on, “She threatened to send me back to prison if I didn’t do as she wanted.”

“Prison would be too good for you,” Morgenthau sneered.

For more than an hour Wilmot had been trying to piece together what had happened at the airlock. Part of the background he already knew. Gaeta had freely admitted to killing Kananga; Cardenas called it an execution. Wilmot had gone to the hospital and was thoroughly shocked when he’d seen Holly Lane, her face battered almost beyond recognition, her shoulder horribly dislocated, her fingers methodically broken. Tavalera was in even worse shape, broken ribs puncturing both his lungs. Dr. Cardenas hadn’t waited for permission; as soon as she learned what had happened to them she had rushed to the hospital and began pumping both of them full of therapeutic nanomachines: assemblers, she called them. Drawn from her own body, they were programmed to repair damaged tissue, rebuild bones and blood vessels.

Wilmot agreed with Cardenas. Killing the Rwandan was an execution, nothing less.

“Colonel Kananga deliberately murdered Diego Romero?” Wilmot asked.

Eberly nodded eagerly. “He put Kananga up to it,” he said, jabbing a thumb toward Vyborg. “He wanted to be in charge of the Communications Department.”

Vyborg said nothing; his eyes barely flickered at Eberly’s accusation. Wilmot remembered Eberly’s insistence that Berkowitz be removed from the department.

“And all this was part of your plan to take control of the habitat’s government?” he asked, still hardly able to believe it.

“My plan,” Morgenthau insisted. “This worm was nothing more than a means to that end.”

With an incredulous shake of his head, Wilmot said, “But he was elected to the office of chief administrator. You won the power in a free election. Why all the violence?”

Before Eberly could frame a reply, Morgenthau answered, “We didn’t want to have a democratically run government. That was just a tactic, a first step toward acquiring total power.”

“Total power.” Wilmot sank back in his chair. “Don’t you understand how unstable such a government would be? You self-destructed within hours of being installed in office.”

“Because of his weakness,” Morgenthau said, again indicating Eberly.

“And this disgusting torture of Miss Lane? What good did that do you?”

“We had to get rid of all traces of nanotechnology in the habitat,” Morgenthau said, with some heat. “Nanomachines are the devil’s work. We can’t have them here!”

Bristling, Cardenas said, “That’s idiotic. If you really believe that, then you must be an idiot.”

“Nanotech is evil,” Morgenthau insisted. “You are evil!”

Cardenas glared at the woman. “How can anybody be so stupid? So self-righteously stupid that they’re willing to commit mayhem and murder?”

Morgenthau glared back. “Nanotechnology is evil,” she repeated. “You’ll pay for your sins, sooner or later.”

Wilmot had his own reservations about nanotechnology, but this Morgenthau woman is a fanatic, he realized.

He turned to Eberly. “And you just stood there and let them torture the poor girl.”

“I tried to stop them,” Eberly bleated. “What could I do?”

Wishing more than ever for a whisky, Wilmot took in a deep breath. Tricky waters here. They still have those foolish entertainment vids hanging over my head.

“Very well,” he said. “My course seems clear enough. Ms. Morgenthau and Dr. Vyborg will return to Earth on the ship that brings the scientists here.”

“We don’t want to go back to Earth,” Morgenthau said.

“Nevertheless, that’s where you’re going. The two of you are banished from the habitat. Permanently.”

“Exiled?” For the first time Morgenthau looked alarmed. “You can’t do that. You haven’t the authority to do that.”

“I do,” said Eberly, breaking into a smile. “I think exile is a perfect solution. Go back to your friends in the Holy Disciples. See how they reward failure.”

Morgenthau’s eyes flared. “You can’t do that to me!”

“I’m the duly elected chief administrator of this community,” Eberly said, obviously enjoying the moment. “It’s well within my power to exile the two of you.”

Vyborg finally stirred from his stupor; suddenly he looked startled, frightened. Wilmot was focused on Eberly, however. Can I strike up an alliance with this man? the professor asked himself. Can I trust him to run the government properly?

“Yes, you are officially the chief of government,” Wilmot agreed reluctantly. “But we’re going to have to find some way to get the entire population involved in the running of your government.”

“Universal draft,” Cardenas said. “It’s been done in Selene and some countries on Earth; seems to work pretty well.”

Wilmot knew the concept. “Require every citizen to spend at least a year in public service?” he asked, full of skepticism. “Do you actually think for one instant that such a scheme could be made to work here?”

“It’s worth a try,” Cardenas replied.

“The people here will never go for it,” Wilmot said. “They’ll laugh in your face.”

“I’ll go for it,” said Gaeta. “It makes good sense to me, getting everybody involved.”

Wilmot raised an eyebrow. “What does it matter to you? You’ll be leaving on the same ship that brings the scientists in.”

“No I won’t,” Gaeta said. He turned toward Cardenas, suddenly shy, almost tongue-tied. “I mean, I — uh, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. Become a citizen.”

“And quit being a stuntman?” Cardenas asked, obviously surprised.

He nodded solemnly. “Time for me to retire. Besides, I can help Wunderly explore the rings. Maybe even get down to Titan’s surface one of these days, help Urbain and the other science jocks.”

Cardenas threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. Wilmot wanted to frown, but found himself smiling at them instead.

Sitting in the chief scientist’s office, Urbain and Wunderly watched once again a replay of the new moonlet’s arrival in the main ring. They saw the ring’s bright icy particles swarm around the newcomer, covering its darker irregular form in glittering ice.

“Remarkable,” Urbain murmured. He used the same term each time they had watched the vid. “They behave like living creatures.”