Eberly straightened up in his recliner and called his computer to take a memo. One of the smart walls brightened, and as he spoke his words appeared in print on the wall screen. Eberly dictated, corrected, rewrote his memorandum until he was completely satisfied with it:
In the interests of efficient government and fair play, I hereby relieve Holly Lane of her position as director of the human resources department. Her decision to run as a candidate for chief administrator will require her full energies for the duration of the election campaign, and it would be unfair of me to demand that she fulfill her duties in the human resources department while simultaneously running her political campaign. Therefore I appoint the deputy director of human resources to assume the title and responsibilities of acting director of that department. Some may comment about Ms. Lane’s sense of loyalty and duty, but I applaud her decision to offer a challenge for the office in which I have served the people of this habitat during its crucial initial months.
Eberly reviewed his wording one final time, then nodded, satisfied. I’ll send it to Berkowitz at midnight so he can use it on the morning news broadcast. I’m going to be making a major speech tomorrow evening; this will be the icing on that cake.
Pleased with his work, he rose and headed for the cafeteria. More people ate there than in the habitat’s two restaurants. More hands to shake, more voters to smile at. Let them see me as one of them, eating where they eat, sharing their lifestyle.
As he headed down the corridor, smiling and nodding to the people he met along the way, he made a mental note to send a copy of the memorandum to Holly. Tomorrow, he thought, after the morning broadcast breaks the news. I’ll send a copy to her home and another to her office. Together with an order to vacate the office at once.
Urbain sat tensely at the central console in the mission control center. Eleven engineers bent over eleven other consoles, each of them showing the false-color imagery from one satellite’s infrared camera view of Titan.
Only a few more days of storage remain in Alpha’s core memory, Urbain told himself for the thousandth time. We must find her before she goes into hibernation mode.
But even with eleven satellites crisscrossing Titan’s smog-shrouded terrain in low polar orbits, finding Alpha was proving harder than he had imagined. In theory, the satellites’ infrared cameras were capable of a five-meter resolution, which should have been more than good enough to find the errant vehicle. But so far, no sight of Alpha.
The special team he had assigned to building up a three-dimensional view of Titan’s surface was due to make its presentation to Urbain in the morning. Bah! he said to himself, pushing up from the console’s wheeled chair. I cannot wait. Time is flying by.
He strode to his office and called the surveillance team. The phone computer tracked them down in a small workshop halfway across the habitat from Urbain’s office.
“Dr. Urbain,” said Da’ud Habib, obviously surprised. In the phone screen his lean, dark-eyed face looked thinner than Urbain remembered it, almost gaunt. The slim beard that traced his jawline had grown thicker, as if he had not trimmed it in weeks.
“Dr. Habib,” Urbain replied, equally surprised. “What are you doing with the surveillance team?”
“I’m assisting them with their computer interfaces, sir. They need help with—”
“Never mind,” Urbain interrupted, impatient. “I need the team’s report at once.”
“Now?” Habib asked. Other faces appeared behind him, crowding into the screen, men and women, all of them looking tired, baggy-eyed, disheveled.
“We’re going balls-out to make our presentation tomorrow morning,” said one of the men.
“We’re pulling an all-nighter here,” said a woman, looking irritated as she pushed her hair away from her face.
“I understand and I appreciate how hard you are working,” Urbain said, trying to keep his own annoyance from showing on his face. “Still—”
“Why don’t you come down here?” the woman suggested.
Habib looked startled momentarily, then he nodded. “Yes. That might be the best thing, sir. If you could come over to our lab.”
Urbain thought it over for all of five seconds. Then, “Very well. I shall.” Then he asked, “Um … just where is your lab?
Pancho unhooked the safety harness and got up stiffly from the simulator chair. The three-dimensional displays on the walls of the tight little compartment flickered and went dark. She ducked through the hatch and stepped into the simulator control chamber, where Wanamaker was shutting down the computer system that ran the simulation.
Stretching to her full height and raising her long arms above her head, Pancho felt her vertebrae pop. “Whooie,” she groaned. “Been a long time since I sat in one place for so long.”
“Eight hours,” Wanamaker said, kneading her shoulders. “Full mission sim.”
“How’d I do?”
He nodded toward the silent bank of consoles. “The computer says you did pretty well.”
“Pretty well?”
“Reflexes were a little slow on the recapture sequence.”
“But I picked her up okay, di’n’t I?”
He nodded. “Could be smoother, Panch. When you’re actually out there in the rings you’ll be working with a neophyte. You can’t expect her to be much help.”
“It’s her life she’s layin’ on the line.”
“And it’s your responsibility to fish her out of the rings and bring her home safely,” said Wanamaker.
Pancho made a mock scowl. “You’re a lousy boss.”
Grinning, Wanamaker replied, “You don’t make admiral by being a sweetheart.”
Stretching again, Pancho changed her tone and said, “Okay, sailor. Wanna buy me a drink?”
“You’ve earned one. And dinner.”
Pancho took his arm and let him lead her toward the door of the simulations chamber.
But she stopped halfway there and turned back toward the consoles. “Better schedule another full-up for tomorrow morning,” she said. “This time with Nadia in the loop.”
Urbain felt slightly ridiculous pedaling an electrobike halfway across the habitat to the village of Delhi, but either the electric motor was defective or he didn’t know how to engage it properly. Every time he tried, the motor refused to turn on. So Urbain pedaled the entire distance along the winding path between Athens and Delhi. The village was sparsely occupied, most of its buildings dark and empty. As he was wondering if he’d be able to find the building Habib had directed him to, he saw a young woman up ahead waving a hand lamp.
He braked to a stop in front of her and, in the light of the lamp, recognized her as the one who had suggested he come to Habib’s lab. She was taller than he had expected, with long straight ash-blonde hair that fell well past her shoulders.
“Good evening,” Urbain said, puffing slightly from the unaccustomed exercise, “Ms … . eh …”
“Negroponte,” she said. “Yolanda Negroponte. I’ve been on your geosciences team since we left Earth.”
It was meant as a rebuke and Urbain knew it. “Yes, of course,” he muttered, trying to recover. “Of course.”