“The first gaggle of astronomers will be arriving here in a week,” Gomez said. “Will we be able to accommodate them on Haven II?”
Zworkyn nodded guardedly. “Waxman says they’ll have a section of the station prepared for twenty arrivals. The incoming ship is carrying eighteen people: seven astronomers, five geologists, and six mining engineers. Plus their equipment.”
“And they won’t be allowed here, in Haven?”
“Strictly off-limits, as far as Reverend Umber is concerned.”
Gomez looked troubled. “Umber expects them to stay on Haven II all the time?”
“That’s what he wants. No contact with them for the inhabitants here in Haven.”
“That’s going to be sticky.”
“I’ve seen worse,” said Zworkyn. “Boring through the ice on Europa, that was a hassle and a half, let me tell you. The locals were mining the ice and they didn’t want a bunch of snotty scientists and engineers from Earth bothering them.”
Nodding, Gomez said, “Well, at least we don’t have locals to interfere with our work.”
“Not yet,” said Zworkyn.
The first team of scientists arrived and Professor Abbott supervised their transfer from their ship to Haven II, together with the massive loads of equipment they had brought with them.
Gomez goggled at the excavators and retrievers that were loaded into three separate cargo bays of Haven II. The geologists and engineers were all strangers to him, of course, but Gomez was disappointed to find that he didn’t know any of the astronomers, either. And they were all so young! I’m only a few years out of grad school, but these guys are just children!
Very bright children, he quickly learned. Professor Abbott had personally picked this advanced guard of investigators. Gomez felt outclassed.
Still, he stood in the reception area aboard Haven II as the newcomers arrived. Abbott was already there, hands clasped behind his back as the newcomers trooped into the reception area.
Abbott strode to the first of the newbies and swept up her hand in his. For an instant Gomez thought he was going to bend over and kiss it. But the instant passed as the rest of the new arrivals crowded into the reception area.
There was one additional member of the incoming crew. It turned out that he wasn’t a scientist, but a newsman: Noel Dacco.
Dacco went straight to Gomez as the scientists made their way through the identity-checking computer systems of the ship’s reception area.
“You’re Tómas Gomez, aren’t you?” Dacco said, as he put out a meaty hand. “You’re going to be a very famous man, you know.”
He was the blackest man Gomez had ever seen. His shaved scalp gleamed almost purple beneath the overhead lights. He was big, heavy-shouldered, with a wide, bright, toothy smile.
Gomez accepted his offered hand as he asked, “And you are?”
“Noel Dacco, with the CAJO news outfit. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thomas.”
“Tómas,” Gomez corrected, his hand still in Dacco’s iron grip.
“Tómas,” Dacco repeated, with a slight dip of his chin.
“You’re a newsman?”
“Yes. I’m going to make your name a household word, my man.”
Gomez finally pulled his hand away from Dacco’s as he smiled weakly. “I’m an astronomer, not a dishwasher soap.”
Dacco laughed, a deep, bubbling sound. “Good one! I can use that.”
Suppressing a frown, Gomez asked, “Would you like me to show you to your quarters? It’s not far—”
“That would be fine,” said Dacco. With a grand gesture, he boomed, “Lead the way.”
As they started toward the hatch that led to the habitat’s main passageway, Dacco asked, “Whatever made you come all the way out here?”
Gomez smiled a little and repeated the answer he had given so many times that he knew it by rote.
From his office in Haven, Evan Waxman watched Dacco and Gomez walking side by side through the passageway in Haven II. The walls were unfinished in places, open spaces that showed wiring and sensors behind them. Still a lot of work to finish up, Waxman said to himself.
Neither man paid any attention to the gaps in the walls as they passed. Gomez was chattering away and Dacco was nodding, grinning, giving every appearance of enjoying the astronomer’s discourse.
“There’s something wrong about him,” Waxman muttered to himself. “I wouldn’t trust that toothy smile of his for a nanosecond.”
DINNER
Waxman fumed and fidgeted in his desk chair as he watched Dacco and the astronomer Gomez walk along the passageway that led to the quarters prepared for the new arrivals. Gomez was doing most of the talking, with Dacco nodding and asking a question here and there. It was difficult to make out their words, since they were amidst the other newbies, and the new arrivals’ chatter nearly drowned out the conversation Waxman wanted to hear.
“Doesn’t really matter,” Waxman muttered to himself. “It’s astronomical talk. Gomez never talks about anything else.”
Still, Waxman watched intently as Gomez and Dacco stopped at a door that bore a handwritten N. Dacco sign. Dacco tapped out the entry code and the two men stepped into the apartment.
There were no listening devices inside the private quarters, of course. One of Reverend Umber’s restrictions: no snooping on private behavior. Stupid rule, Waxman thought, making a mental note to bug Dacco’s quarters as soon as he could.
But within a few minutes Gomez re-emerged from Dacco’s quarters and started back along the passageway, alone.
And Waxman’s phone buzzed.
“Phone answer.”
Sure enough, Dacco’s gleaming dark face appeared on Waxman’s desktop screen. The newsman smiled broadly. “Well, I’m here,” he said.
Waxman forced a smile back at him. “We’re neighbors.”
“Yes we are.”
“Why don’t you come over here, Noel. We have a lot to talk about, I think.”
Dacco’s smile didn’t alter a millimeter. But he said, “I’m afraid I’ve already committed myself to dinner with Dr. Gomez. He said he’d bring two charming young ladies.”
Waxman’s smile winked off. “We have a lot to talk about,” he repeated.
“Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I’d like to meet the ladies. After all, I am supposed to be on vacation.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
“But it is, Evan! All work and no play makes Noel a dull boy.”
He’s toying with me, Waxman realized. He’s having fun at my expense.
“Let me check my schedule for tomorrow,” he said, calling out, “Tomorrow’s schedule, please.”
His desktop screen split in half, one side showing Waxman’s schedule.
“Lunch tomorrow,” he said flatly. “One P.M. Come to my office.”
Still grinning, Dacco said, “Hearkening and obedience.”
The desktop screen went dark. Waxman stared at it for several wordless moments, then muttered, “He’s full of confidence. Hasn’t a care in the world. Well, I’ll have to teach him otherwise.”
“He’s a newsman,” Gomez was explaining as he walked with Raven and Alicia toward Haven’s main restaurant. “Something of a character, I think.”
“And he’s come all the way out here?” Alicia asked.
“Yes. I think—” Gomez recognized the burly form striding along the passageway toward them. “There he is.”