29
Sluiced. Until Jan heard that word, she had not been sure of her own plans. Now she knew. The idea that Sebastian’s body would be invaded and taken over by self-replicating tiny machines, producing changes that no one could predict, filled her with horror. Even if no one else worried about the experiment — it was no better than an experiment, no matter what Valnia Bloom might say — she had to stick close to Sebastian and keep an eye on him.
He seemed more stolid and indifferent than ever. He didn’t seem to know or care what was done to him. It was Jan or Valnia Bloom who, day by day, checked progress in the nano development. The chief technician, Hal Launius, insisted that the job was a simple one, with no chance of going wrong. He was confident and almost as casual in manner as Sebastian. It was left to Jan to do the worrying. She knew that never in human history had anyone developed a system incapable of failure.
She made sure that she was present when the completed product was delivered. She sat and watched as Hal Launius displayed the spray syringe. It was tiny, more like a toy than a medical instrument. The tube held a few drops of misty gray-blue liquid, innocuous in appearance; but Jan could not repress a shiver when Launius applied the syringe’s tip to Sebastian’s bared upper arm. The liquid vanished instantly, absorbed through the skin.
“Feeling all right?” Valnia Bloom, to judge from her voice, was more concerned than she would admit.
“Yeah.” Sebastian sat dull-eyed. “Fine.”
Jan wasn’t. “What happens next?”
“For a few hours, nothing at all.” Hal Launius examined the empty syringe and nodded in satisfaction. “After that, the nanos will have multiplied enough to make themselves felt. Sebastian, you will run a fever — no more than a degree or two, I expect — and then you’ll need to pee a lot. That’s how the nodules will be excreted. Make sure that you drink plenty of fluids to help your kidneys.”
“When will it end?” Valnia Bloom asked. “Before we began, you suggested four or five days would be enough.”
“I was being conservative. Safer to play it that way.” Launius packed away the syringe in its little carrying case. “But if this isn’t all over and done with in three days or less, I owe you dinner.”
He left. Valnia Bloom followed him a few minutes later, after advising Sebastian that his temperature and pulse would be monitored remotely and reminding him that water would help to flush out his system. Jan watched him closely. For all the notice he took of Valnia Bloom’s words, she might as well have saved her breath.
Then Jan and Sebastian were alone. It was no novelty, they had been alone together most of their lives. But since leaving Earth, things had changed. Perhaps it was Sebastian, perhaps it was Jan, but what had once been easy companionship was now awkward. Sebastian never started a conversation. His replies were only a few words. He seemed preoccupied, far off in some private world.
Jan stuck it out for three hours. At last she told Sebastian that she needed to go outside for “a breath of air” — a notion utterly alien to a Ganymede native. He simply nodded. She left the research quarantine facility and headed upward. The surface itself lay only four habitat layers above their heads.
Jan had made no conscious plan as to what she would do next. It seemed like random impulse when she looked for and located a surface access point, donned one of the protective suits with its superconducting fine mesh, and proceeded upward one more layer and out through multiple locks onto the naked surface of Ganymede.
Close to the lock, the ground, worn down by the passage of many people and vehicles, had taken on the texture of fine sand. Flecks of ice and mica at Jan’s feet glittered in the light of the distant Sun. Farther off, to her left, she saw sunglint on jagged ridges and icy pinnacles. She knew their name — those were the Sabine Hills — but she felt no desire to explore them. A brief pang of homesickness for the soft and rounded contours of Earth came and went. She told herself that the Outer System was home now. She had better get used to the idea. This world and this scenery possessed its own stark splendor.
It was not until she found herself walking steadily west, toward an array of gantries and scaffolds rising into the black sky like the glittering spires of an alien city, that she finally realized what she was doing. Ahead of her lay one of Ganymede’s main spaceports, the home for hundreds or thousands of vessels ranging in size from single person space-hoppers to full-sized interplanetary liners. In the latter class — she could not see it yet, but already she was looking — was the OSL Achilles, being prepared for its next flight from Ganymede to the Inner System. Paul Marr had told Jan that although he was on leave, he stopped by the ship every day to see how preparations were coming along.
Jan halted, stared up to the steady stars, and wondered if she should go no farther. Spending his off-duty hours with Paul was one thing, behaving like a fool and interfering with his work was another. But as she looked again to the spidery derricks and gantries, she recognized the solid outline of the Achilles. Her steps, taking orders from somewhere other than her conscious mind, led Jan in that direction.
Security at the ship — indeed, everywhere on the surface — seemed casual to nonexistent. Jan was able to approach the Achilles, operate the elevator on the scaffold surrounding the ship, and enter an airlock unimpeded and apparently unobserved. It was a shock to emerge from the inner lock and find herself face to face with Captain Kondo.
He inclined his head to her politely. “It is nice to see you again, Ms. Jannex. How may I help you?”
Did he have one of those phenomenal memories, which could store away the name of every passenger who ever traveled on the Achilles?
Kondo’s next words eliminated that idea. “If you are seeking my first officer, you are fortunate in your timing. He is in the engine room, far aft, but he is preparing to leave momentarily. Although you know the way there, I would much prefer you to remain in this location. I will make him aware of your presence.”
His tone was formal, but as he turned away the captain added, “I feel I am much indebted to you, Ms. Jannex. Many times I have urged Paul to enjoy himself and to take more relaxation between trips, but always to no avail. It seems that you have succeeded where I failed. Have fun with my first officer — but please bring back enough of him to fly the Achilles.”
After that parting dig he left Jan to wait alone. She stood by the airlock exit, glad that Captain Kondo would not be present to observe her interaction with Paul — whatever it might be.
Paul appeared a few minutes later. He said, “Jan!”
It was impossible to tell from the one word of greeting if he was actually pleased to see her. Her suit ruled out a hug or other gesture of affection.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I wasn’t planning to come up here at all, but then they started the sluicing operation on Sebastian, and it made me feel really uneasy, and I know it’s supposed to be harmless and painless, but he’s going to run a fever, and somehow…” Her voice trailed away.
“I understand. How long will the operation take?”
“No one seems sure. Three days, maybe four.”
“Then the worst possible thing that you could do is hang around all the time with nothing to do but worry. Do you have to be anywhere special for the next few hours?”
“No.”
“Then come with me. I guarantee something to take your mind off Sebastian for awhile.”
“Where are you going?”
Paul pointed a finger upward, and grinned when he saw Jan’s expression. “No, I don’t mean the forward observation chamber of the Achilles. We’ve been there, done that — or tried to. I knew I would be in the spaceport today, so I booked myself for a space-spin. I asked for a single-seater, but I’ll call and change it to a side-by-side with dual controls.”