carries a briefcase.”
She didn’t laugh. “Why’d the Ulcer hire him?”
“Somebody else to blame when we hit a problem,” Grant snapped. Then he relented a bit. “The Ulcer’s hell-bent on getting the first imagery from New Earth. He wants to beat the IAA and get a Nobel Prize.”
“You think?”
“What else?”
“Well, I hope the guy knows what he’s doing.”
“He talked the Ulcer into considering nanotechnology,” Grant admitted. “McClintock talked to him for five minutes and now we’re working with Cardenas and the nanotech lab.”
He heard Josie chuckle. “The Ulcer’s willing to take any shortcuts he can find, isn’t he?”
“Could be,” Grant agreed. “Could damned well be.”
The excursion controller’s voice sounded in his helmet speakers. “Grant, we have an urgent call for you. I’m patching it through. On freak two.”
Grant raised his left arm and tapped the keyboard on his wrist for frequency number two. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Josie doing the same. She wants to hear what’s going on, he realized.
McClintock’s voice snapped, “Grant, what are you doing out there?”
Cripes! Grant thought. Has he been listening to our chatter?
“We’re checking out the damaged mirror. Have to build a shield over it until we can get it back inside the lab.” He suppressed an impulse to add, “Sir.”
“Well, I need you to get over to Selene and confer with Dr. Cardenas. A resupply lobber’s on its way here and I want you on it when it heads back to Selene.”
“Okay. As soon as we’re finished here—”
“ Now, Simpson. Now. That lobber will be landing in half an hour and it’s not going to wait for you.”
“But—”
“Get somebody else to finish your little excursion. You get yourself ready for a shot back to Selene.”
“Right,” said Grant.
SPACEPORT
Grant called Hurry-Up Harvey and told him to suit up and join Josie at the mirror. Then he ducked back inside and began to peel out of his space suit. Josie’ll be okay out there on her own for a half hour or so, he told himself. By the time he’d showered and changed into a fresh set of coveralls Henderson was suited up and entering the airlock.
The lobber was still offloading its cargo when Grant got to Farside’s one-pad spaceport, toting his soft-sided overnight bag. Through the glassteel viewing port, Grant saw the squat, conical spacecraft, its dark diamond structure glittering in the lights that surrounded the blast-blackened concrete landing pad.
To his surprise, the newbie was at the spaceport’s pocket-sized waiting area, standing at the viewing port, her nose practically pressed against the glassteel. What’s her name? Grant asked himself. Yost, he recalled. Trudy Yost.
“Hello,” he said.
She jumped as if somebody had swung an ax at her. Turning, she relaxed and replied, “Oh! Hello … Mr. Simpson.”
Grant thought he heard a slight stress on the Mister. He tried to smile at her. “I guess I was kind of abrupt when we met. I’m sorry.”
She immediately brightened. “That’s okay. You must have a lot of responsibilities.”
“Sort of,” he said.
A moment of awkward silence, and then they both said, “What are you doing here?”
Trudy broke into a giggle and Grant laughed with her. Before she could ask again, he hefted his bag and said, “I’m heading back to Selene, once the lobber finishes off-loading.”
“You’re leaving Farside?”
“Only for a day or so. I’ll be back.”
“Good,” said Trudy.
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Why’re you here?”
“Oh!” She seemed genuinely surprised at his question. “The lobber’s bringing a new batch of antennas for the Cyclops array. Professor Uhlrich asked me to make sure they get transported to the site okay.”
“Asked?” Grant questioned. “The Ulcer asked you to?”
Trudy admitted, “Well, it was really more like a command.”
“That sounds more like the Ulcer.”
“You really
She didn’t laugh. “Why’d the Ulcer hire him?”
“Somebody else to blame when we hit a problem,” Grant snapped. Then he relented a bit. “The Ulcer’s hell-bent on getting the first imagery from New Earth. He wants to beat the IAA and get a Nobel Prize.”
“You think?”
“What else?”
“Well, I hope the guy knows what he’s doing.”
“He talked the Ulcer into considering nanotechnology,” Grant admitted. “McClintock talked to him for five minutes and now we’re working with Cardenas and the nanotech lab.”
He heard Josie chuckle. “The Ulcer’s willing to take any shortcuts he can find, isn’t he?”
“Could be,” Grant agreed. “Could damned well be.”
The excursion controller’s voice sounded in his helmet speakers. “Grant, we have an urgent call for you. I’m patching it through. On freak two.”
Grant raised his left arm and tapped the keyboard on his wrist for frequency number two. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Josie doing the same. She wants to hear what’s going on, he realized.
McClintock’s voice snapped, “Grant, what are you doing out there?”
Cripes! Grant thought. Has he been listening to our chatter?
“We’re checking out the damaged mirror. Have to build a shield over it until we can get it back inside the lab.” He suppressed an impulse to add, “Sir.”
“Well, I need you to get over to Selene and confer with Dr. Cardenas. A resupply lobber’s on its way here and I want you on it when it heads back to Selene.”
“Okay. As soon as we’re finished here—”
“ Now, Simpson. Now. That lobber will be landing in half an hour and it’s not going to wait for you.”
“But—”
“Get somebody else to finish your little excursion. You get yourself ready for a shot back to Selene.”
“Right,” said Grant.
SPACEPORT
Grant called Hurry-Up Harvey and told him to suit up and join Josie at the mirror. Then he ducked back inside and began to peel out of his space suit. Josie’ll be okay out there on her own for a half hour or so, he told himself. By the time he’d showered and changed into a fresh set of coveralls Henderson was suited up and entering the airlock.
The lobber was still offloading its cargo when Grant got to Farside’s one-pad spaceport, toting his soft-sided overnight bag. Through the glassteel viewing port, Grant saw the squat, conical spacecraft, its dark diamond structure glittering in the lights that surrounded the blast-blackened concrete landing pad.
To his surprise, the newbie was at the spaceport’s pocket-sized waiting area, standing at the viewing port, her nose practically pressed against the glassteel. What’s her name? Grant asked himself. Yost, he recalled. Trudy Yost.
“Hello,” he said.
She jumped as if somebody had swung an ax at her. Turning, she relaxed and replied, “Oh! Hello … Mr. Simpson.”
Grant thought he heard a slight stress on the Mister. He tried to smile at her. “I guess I was kind of abrupt when we met. I’m sorry.”
She immediately brightened. “That’s okay. You must have a lot of responsibilities.”
“Sort of,” he said.
A moment of awkward silence, and then they both said, “What are you doing here?”
Trudy broke into a giggle and Grant laughed with her. Before she could ask again, he hefted his bag and said, “I’m heading back to Selene, once the lobber finishes off-loading.”
“You’re leaving Farside?”
“Only for a day or so. I’ll be back.”
“Good,” said Trudy.
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Why’re you here?”
“Oh!” She seemed genuinely surprised at his question. “The lobber’s bringing a new batch of antennas for the Cyclops array. Professor Uhlrich asked me to make sure they get transported to the site okay.”
“Asked?” Grant questioned. “The Ulcer asked you to?”
Trudy admitted, “Well, it was really more like a command.”
“That sounds more like the Ulcer.”
“You really
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