Bruno Colombo stood at the other side of the room, as far from the desk and the other people as possible. He gestured to John to come across to him.

“Hyslop,” he said as soon as John was close. “There are going to be major changes in the shield program. You will once again occupy the position of chief engineer for shield development. I have summoned other members of your old staff, and they are on the way here.” He waved a hand at the man and woman. She was now making dry-heaving sounds. “These people have come up from Earth and will be working with you. They have” — his voice turned to acid — “been given total authority to direct changes in shield construction.”

“But we’re already behind schedule!” John could hardly believe what he had just heard. Restoring him to his original position would have been good news, but not if he had to take orders from a pair of newcomers. No matter how talented they might be, they didn’t know the job. “Why are you letting them make changes?”

“I am not.” Colombo grimaced, as though swallowing something unpleasant. “That decision came from Earth. Needless to say, I do not approve of the situation. I, in fact, wash my hands of this. I’m leaving. It’s all yours.”

He was out of the room before John could ask what was all his. The bald man stared gloomily at the seated woman and said, “Listen to her. I never would have thought it. Star’s got a digestion like an emu, and I’ve never known her to be sick.”

“Her first time up from Earth?”

“That’s right.”

“Then it’s the gravity changes.” When the man stared at John blankly, he went on, “Some people take to low gravity easily, others have real problems. It doesn’t seem to depend on whether a person is in good or bad physical shape, or how old you are, or how strong your stomach is. You can still get sick. But being young and strong helps. With any luck she’ll feel better in a few minutes.”

“I told her that. She’s looking better already.”

“Better? I feel like shit.” The woman spoke with her head over the bowl.

John said to the man, “How about you? How do you feel?”

“Me?” He seemed surprised at the question. “Why, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been in space before?”

“Oh, yes. But as I say, this is Star’s first time. I told her to take a pill, and would she?” The man rubbed the top of his head. “Would she hell. She’s pretending she’s not feeling well enough to introduce herself, so I’ll do it for her. The pigheaded lump of obstinacy throwing up in the bowl there is my friend Star — Astarte Vjansander, the brains behind the shield changes.”

Again, references to shield changes. John couldn’t understand it. Didn’t people realize that the project was in deep trouble already? And you couldn’t drop new players into the middle of the job, no matter how good they were, without screwing things up.

“She’s an engineer, is she?” John asked. It seemed a harmless question, but the woman glared up at him, said, “Engineer! Bloody hell, no,” and bent forward to spit into the bowl. John began to feel a rare sympathy for Bruno Colombo.

The man said calmly, “Star’s not an engineer. Experimental equipment breaks when she walks into a room. She’s a physicist. She can tell you what needs to be done with the shield, but don’t for God’s sake let her try and do it herself. Me neither; I’m no good when it comes to the practical stuff.”

“And who are you?”

“Me?” The man reacted as though that was an odd question. “I’m Wilmer Oldfield.”

John had his hand extended when the man’s name and the Australian accent meshed. It had been many years, but everything fitted. He even had a vague memory of seeing pictures, a younger version of that heavy-browed face.

He froze with his hand still outstretched. “I’m sorry. You’re Wilmer Oldfield? Dr. Wilmer Oldfield?”

“Yeah, that’s me. But I don’t see what I’ve done to make you sorry.”

“I mean I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you when I first came in. You were on the Mars expedition, with Celine Tanaka. And I asked you if you had ever been in space!”

“Well, I have.” Oldfield took John’s hand and shook it. “That’s all right, it was ages ago. I’ve not been off Earth for years and years.”

“When I was growing up, you were one of my idols.” The words were absolutely honest, but as soon as John said them he wished he hadn’t.

There was an awkward silence, broken when the woman on the floor said, “And he’s still idle. Bone idle.”

She laughed.

“Told you she was feeling better. And look who’s talking.” Wilmer Oldfield reached down and took hold of her arm. “Come on, you lazy mass of convent reject. On your feet. We’ve got visitors, and it’s time for work.”

Four more people were entering the room. John knew each of them well: Will Davis, Amanda Corrigan, Rico Ruggiero, and Torrance Harbish — all his old senior team members, with the exception of Lauren Stansfield. From the expressions on their faces, they were as puzzled by recent events as he was. And Bruno Colombo, in spite of his words, had not left completely. He was peering around the edge of the door.

John made a decision. He didn’t know what was going on, but if he was ever to find out, he had to impose his own kind of order on things. He turned to the newcomers. “Do you know why you were asked to come here?”

They shook their heads. “Something about changes to the shield?” Will Davis said. “I’ve been hoping I misunderstood the message. We can’t afford to make changes.”

“I know. Where’s Lauren?”

“On the axis, with the power generation maintenance team.”

“Then we’ll start without her. She can catch up later.” John waved his hand at Wilmer. “This is Dr. Oldfield. He was on the original Mars expedition. And this young lady—”

“Young lady be buggered.” Astarte finally stood up. She rocked for a moment, then planted her feet. “I’m Star Vjansander, and I’m not a lady. An’ if yer don’t like me now, wait ’til yer hear what me and Wilmer have ter say. ’Cause yer going ter have ter work yer buns off.”

“That’s enough, Star.” Wilmer Oldfield turned to John. “I’d not have brought her at all, except that we absolutely can’t do without her.”

“Do what without her?”

“We’ll get to that, but it may take a while.” Wilmer sighed, subsided into a chair, and rubbed the red patch on the top of his head. “Let me start at the beginning. When we first had the Alpha C blowup . . .”

Later, John decided that Wilmer Oldfield had a gift for understatement. It may take a while translated into the longest technical briefing ever. Six and a half hours passed before the last question was asked and the last answer given.

Lauren Stansfield arrived at the end of the first hour, at the point where Wilmer paused for his first break and Star Vjansander began an explanation of the anomalous data from the Sniffers.

Lauren stared hard at Star but said not a word. She gave John one questioning glance and took her place quietly at Amanda Corrigan’s side. Bruno Colombo slipped into the room a few minutes later. He had been hovering uncertainly at the door while Wilmer was speaking. He took a seat next to Lauren. Amazingly, the director also said nothing.

Finally Wilmer shrugged and said, “That’s it, then. Unless you have more questions?”

John couldn’t speak for the others, but he personally felt stunned. Assuming that Wilmer Oldfield and Star Vjansander were right in their analyses, the whole shield project — twenty years of frantic labor — had to be turned on its head. And changes had to be made fast. Instead of years, they had at most months. The only good news was that the proposed changes would make the whole engineering problem easier.

“Let me make sure I have this right,” he said. “Almost all the charged particles won’t arrive independently of each other. They will be grouped in stable structures, the things you call bundles, each containing a few trillion nuclei. Instead of building a continuous shield structure, we have to detect each separate group and divert it away from Earth with an electromagnetic pulse generated for just that bundle.”