Wilson raised his finger. "Wex, you're not being objective."
The press secretary slapped the table. "I deal with the media for this Administration, and I know what I'm talking about here."
"You're been a friend of Kevin McGee since you were boys." Wilson smiled genially. "You got him his slot on the mission. We all understand how you feel, but you can't let your personal emotions enter into a decision like this."
So Wexler has a personal stake in the matter, the President thought. Gotta watch out for that.
Dr. Amber Wong cleared her throat and waited until she had the room's attention. Then she intoned in her upper-class Hong Kong British accent, "And I, for one, will insist that the crew be ordered to stay put until I have proof positive that there is no danger to the health of the public."
Wilson nodded in vigorous agreement. "That's the only logical position."
Certainly.
"Don't give us your logic crap," the press secretary replied heatedly, "you're just capitulating to the pressure from our gutless friends on the Hill."
Wex's emotions are getting the better of his judgment.
"This is strictly a matter of public health," the Surgeon General pronounced with calm authority. "Pending certain proof that the Martian biota is completely harmless to all terrestrial life forms, Colonel Townsend and his crew must be ordered to remain on Mars."
The President felt both annoyed and relieved. Amber Wong could be a pain in the ass, but if he could pass the buck to her on this one... "Makes sense to me," he said.
General Winters looked upset. "I could give such an order, but I'm not sure that Townsend would follow it."
The President felt the beginning of alarm rise up inside. He turned to the blue-uniformed four-star officer. "What are you talking about, General?"
"Well, Mr. President, Andrew Townsend is a very individualistic officer." The usually confident Chairman of the Joint Chiefs now seemed timid. "I know this for certain. He served as a member of my squadron in the Gulf War of '91. He was a great pilot, but he used to like to write his own rules. Once, while we were returning from a raid, the Iraqis hit one of our planes. The pilot managed to bail. Instead of continuing home, Townsend turned back and flew through all kinds of flak for half an hour, engaging enemy ground forces long enough for our Kurdish friends to rescue the man. It was a complete violation of Pentagon policy. He risked himself and a fifty-million-dollar aircraft to save one guy."
Now both alarm and anger surged within the President. He looked the general squarely in the eye. "And yet you selected him to command our mission to Mars."
Winters tried to maintain eye contact, but failed, directing his gaze to the table instead. "Yes, sir. The situation being so novel, the Joint Chiefs felt that we needed an officer who possessed the maximum amount of creativity and initiative."
The President slapped his forehead. "This is great, just great. My military has decided to entrust the fate of this Administration to an anarchist."
Silence. Now everyone was looking at the table. Then a cheerful voice spoke up. "Now, let's not get overexcited. I'm sure this situation has a very simple solution."
The President turned to the First Lady with a trace of hope. Margaret, you've saved my skin before, but what can you do now? As far as he could see, the situation was no-win and out of control.
"General," she asked, "if the astronauts refuse direct orders and come back without our permission, can't the Air Force shoot them down before they can land?"
"Certainly, but..." Winters appeared shocked.
"There you have it." She smiled brightly. "No problem at all. We'll leave it at that."
Wexler shot out of his chair like a rocket. "If we shoot down our own crew coming home from Mars, there'll be hell to pay with the press. Not to mention our own consciences."
"I'm sure you can handle it, Wex." Bill Wilson seemed confident.
"It certainly would be preferable to letting the astronauts spread an alien epidemic through our cities," added Science and Security Advisor Kowalski.
"Wait just one second!" NASA Administrator Ryan was more than a bit irritated. "Aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves? There's absolutely no proof that the Martian organisms are dangerous."
Dr. Wong's response was firm. "But as Surgeon General, I require proof that they are not dangerous."
"But if we give you that proof?" Ryan asked desperately.
"If you can provide me with convincing scientific evidence that there is no epidemiological threat from the newly discovered microbes, then I'd certainly have no objection to the retrieval of the crew."
Ryan turned to the Science and Security Advisor. "And you, Dr. Kowalski?"
"I would also need proof that there is no threat to other terrestrial plants and animals. But, of course, if you could give me that," Kowalski smiled, "then I would be the first to insist that everything possible be done to assure the safe return of our astronaut team."
Ryan looked around the room like a tiger at bay. "All right, then, if that's how it is, we'll give you proof. Dr. Sherman has been conducting a comprehensive set of tests using cultures of a wide variety of terrestrial life forms to see if any of them are vulnerable to infection from the Martian microbes. She says she'll have a complete data dump on her research ready to be downlinked to Earth in about eight days."
Doctor Wong seemed pleased. "Excellent. I will convene an examining board of the nation's foremost medical experts to review her work."
"We'll need nonmedical biologists as well," the Science and Security Advisor interjected. "Geneticists, ecologists, environmental scientists. I'll supply the names."
Ryan looked ready to raise another argument, but then apparently thought better of it. With Kowalski choosing the experts, he doesn't have a prayer, the President thought. But in the end all the NASA chief said was, "Fine."
Kowalski looked triumphant. "And it shall be we, and no one else—certainly not Dr. Sherman or any other NASA scientist—who will pass judgment on whether her tests have been sufficiently rigorous to demonstrate safety."
"Now hold on!" The press secretary was on fire. "I may not have a Ph.D., but I know a swindle when I see one. This setup isn't fair. There should be some NASA representation on the board of examiners, and in particular, Dr. Sherman needs to be given a chance to defend her own research, personally and face to face, against any criticism."
"You're trying to turn this into a circus, Wex," Kowalski said with professorial condescension. "This is a scientific review, not a campaign debate. We don't do things that way."
Dr. Wong arched her eyebrows. "I see no objection to a personal defense, Dr. Kowalski. In fact, under the circumstances, I think we owe it to Dr. Sherman to provide her with such an opportunity."
"See! It's the American way!" exclaimed Wexler, obviously delighted by Wong's unexpected support.
"It's not the sci—"
Kowalski's rebuttal was cut short by Dr. Wong. "I insist," she said decisively.
The Science and Security Advisor waved his hands to make light of his setback. "Oh, very well. Because of the signal time lag, we'll conduct our own debate here and uplink the video. She can review it and downlink a rebuttal the next day."
Ryan suddenly appeared upbeat. "I'll have the DSN make preparations."
Wilson turned to his boss. "Mr. President, are you really going to leave a decision of this importance up to a bunch of scientists?"
Ordinarily no, the President thought, but under these conditions—"Well actually, Bill, I kind of like the idea."