“I’m really in fine health,” Jordan insisted.
“Yes, so the scans show,” Yamaguchi admitted. “But your little hitchhiker worries me.”
“It’s dormant,” Jordan repeated.
“For how long?” Yamaguchi asked again.
“It’s been several years—not counting our time in cryosleep.”
“Cryogenic temperature didn’t harm it,” the physician muttered. “According to your file, the medical team back on Earth was hoping that the virus wouldn’t survive freezing.”
With a sardonic little smile, Jordan replied, “They used me and my hitchhiker for an experiment—to see what long-term cryonic immersion would do to the virus.”
“Didn’t bother it a bit,” Yamaguchi murmured.
“Look, we have all sorts of bacteria and viruses in our bodies constantly, don’t we? Most of them don’t affect us at all. Some of them are even beneficial, aren’t they?”
“This one isn’t. It was designed to kill people.”
Like it killed Miriam, Jordan admitted silently. Aloud, he said, “Well, it hasn’t killed me.”
Yamaguchi didn’t reply, but the expression on her face said, Not yet.
“So what do you want to do, send me home?”
Yamaguchi almost laughed at the absurdity of that. “No,” she said. “As long as you’re asymptomatic there’s nothing we can do. Except…”
“Except?”
“Let me study the literature and see how much I can learn about these engineered viruses. Maybe there’s some way to destroy them.”
“Perhaps they have a built-in limit to their life spans,” Jordan suggested.
Yamaguchi shook her head hard enough to make her hair swish back and forth. “No, no, no. They’re not nanomachines, with off-switches built into them. They’re viruses, alive but dormant. Not even stem-cell therapy can deal with them.”
“Perhaps nanomachines?” Jordan suggested.
With a nod, Yamaguchi said, “Specifically designed to attack the virus and nothing else. That could work—if we had the nanotech facilities aboard ship.”
“Which we don’t,” Jordan said.
“We can’t. Safety regulations. We can’t run the risk of having nanomachines infecting the ship.”
“Yet they use nanotechnology on the Moon. Out in the Asteroid Belt.”
“But not on Earth,” Yamaguchi said. “And not on this ship.”
“I suppose not,” Jordan sighed. “I’ll just have to live with the virus, the way I have been.”
Yamaguchi said, “I want to check you on a weekly basis. Make certain your little bugs are remaining dormant. And in the meantime I’ll see if there’s anything in the ship’s medical library that might help us get rid of them.”
“I’d appreciate that,” said Jordan. And he remembered Miriam’s final days. The pain. The unbearable pain.
Brothers
When Jordan returned to the wardroom, most of the men and women were still there, sitting around the tables, deep in conversations.
“Who wants to be next?” Jordan asked.
They all looked up at him, standing just inside the hatch.
Geoffrey Hazzard, back from the command center, got to his feet. “Might’s well get it over with.”
As he brushed past Jordan and stepped out into the passageway, most of the others got to their feet, as well.
“I suppose we should get to our quarters and settle in a bit,” said Harmon Meek.
“I know it’s a bit daft,” said Thornberry as he headed for the hatch, “but I feel like I need a nap.”
Meek looked down his nose at the beefy engineer. “That’s ridiculous. You’ve been sleeping for eighty years, man.”
“Yes. A bit of strange, isn’t it?”
Brandon started to leave too, but Jordan touched his sleeve to hold him back. “Wait a moment, Bran, will you?”
With a glance at Elyse, who looked back over her shoulder at him, Brandon leaned his rump on the edge of the nearest table. Jordan waited until Elyse and the others left the wardroom, then turned to his younger brother.
“Bran, do you really feel so … so … alienated?”
“Alienated?”
“What you said earlier, about us being outcasts, expendables.”
Brandon didn’t reply. Jordan looked into his brother’s light bluish gray eyes and thought, It’s almost like looking into a mirror. A very flattering mirror.
“Well?” he prompted.
Brandon turned away slightly, but he answered, “It’s true, isn’t it? None of us are the best and brightest of their professions, are we? I’m certainly not. There are a dozen planetary astronomers who are better than I: better reputations, recognized leaders in the field. I’m just an also-ran.”
“But the IAA picked you for this mission! Of all the people in the field they picked you.”
“Because I’m expendable,” Brandon repeated stubbornly. “Because nobody’s going to miss me for a century or two.”
Shaking his head, Jordan countered, “But the honor of taking part in the first human mission to another star! Surely—”
“Bullshit,” Brandon snapped. “They picked us because we’re expendable. Look at us, Jordan. Aside from you, none of us are leaders in our fields. We’re all expendables. No family ties. Nobody’s going to miss us, whether we come back or not. That’s why they picked us. That’s why we’ve been given this honor.”
Before Jordan could reply, Brandon added, “And now they’ve hung us out to dry. No backup mission. The damned politicians got their glory by sending us out here, they don’t give a damn if we get back or not.”
“You really feel that way?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
Miriam’s death flashed in Jordan’s memory once more. I killed her, he thought all over again. If I hadn’t insisted on that doomed mission to Kashmir she’d still be alive.
“No,” he lied. “I really do feel it’s an honor to be picked for this mission. Especially for a non-scientist, a mere administrator.”
For the first time, Brandon smiled. “Mere administrator,” he said. “One of the world’s most distinguished diplomats. And now head of this mission. They should have given you a whip and a chair. You’re going to need them.”
Jordan smiled. “Riding herd on eleven scientists and engineers shouldn’t be that difficult, really.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I hope not.”
Gazing straight into Jordan’s eyes, Brandon asked, “Tell me the truth now, why did you agree to come on this mission?” Before Jordan could think of a reply, Brandon added, “And don’t tell me about the honor. You’ve already had honors enough for any man.”
“It will look very impressive on my résumé.”
“Your résumé’s already damned impressive,” Brandon said. “Come on now, the truth.”
To get away from the memories, Jordan knew. To get as far away from the Kashmir and Miriam’s death as humanly possible.
“Well?” Brandon persisted.
Jordan shrugged. “The truth? Why, I came along to be with my baby brother. Somebody’s got to keep you out of trouble.”
The sour expression on Brandon’s face told Jordan what his brother thought of that excuse.
“You’re a diplomat,” Brandon said, “a troubleshooter, an administrator—”
“You mean a bureaucrat,” said Jordan.
“What you accomplished in South America wasn’t bureaucracy. You stopped a bloody war.”
Jordan dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
“And China,” Brandon went on. “And the Sahel drought.”
Don’t mention Kashmir, Jordan begged silently. Not India and the Kashmir.
“I just don’t see what made you agree to come on this operation.”