Farside

by Ben Bova

  Uhlrich saw a glimmer of opportunity. “If Dr. Yost can detect oxygen in Sirius C’s atmosphere. Or water vapor … perhaps chlorophyll…”

  “Whatever,” said McClintock. “We can feed her results to the media. The first close-up imagery from New Earth! They’ll lap it up and ignore whatever else is going on here.”

  “Including a death,” Simpson said.

  “Accidents happen,” McClintock said. Uhlrich could picture him shrugging. “It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  McClintock didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed his chair back from the table and started to get to his feet.

  Before either of the men could leave his office, Uhlrich said firmly, “There will be no word of a possible nanotechnology problem. Absolutely none. Not to anyone outside this room. Do you understand that? Neither of you is to say a word about this.”

  “How will you explain Dr. Cardenas coming here?” Simpson asked.

  McClintock replied, “Simple. We’re using her nanomachines to build the mirrors. She’s dropped in to see how they’re working.”

  “Excellent,” said Uhlrich. “No mention of a possible problem. Not a word!”

  He could feel resentment radiating from Simpson. But the engineer said grudgingly, “Probably a good idea. Don’t want to start a panic.”

  “Exactly,” Uhlrich said.

  They left the office. Uhlrich sat behind his desk, thinking that McClintock had hit on the perfect strategy. Distract the media with the first spectra from Sirius C. It would even gain credit for Farside in the public’s eyes. And from the committee in Stockholm. This could all end up as a positive step for me.

  Now to get results from Dr. Yost, he said to himself. And quickly.

  ARGUMENT

  Trudy sat dutifully in Professor Uhlrich’s office, with handsome Carter McClintock sitting across the table, smiling pleasantly at her.

  He hasn’t called me since the night we spent together, Trudy thought. Maybe I disappointed him? Wasn’t hot enough in bed for him?

  Professor Uhlrich’s voice broke into her self-recrimination. “How soon can you produce spectra of Sirius C’s atmosphere?”

  Trudy snapped her attention to the professor. She heard the anxiety in his voice, saw the tension etching his lean, austere face. Those sightless eyes of his unnerved her; they seemed to be peering straight at her, penetrating her like X-rays.

  “The spectrometer’s ready to be packed up and delivered to Mendeleev,” she replied. “I’ll have to go out there with a technician to install it on the telescope. Maybe two technicians.”

  “Why do you have to go?” McClintock asked. “Can’t the technicians do the installation work, under your supervision? Remotely, from here at Farside?”

  Trudy caught a note of apprehension in Carter’s voice.

  “It’ll be a lot easier if I’m there,” she replied.

  “What about the robots?” McClintock pressed. “Why can’t they—”

  “Nonsense!” Professor Uhlrich snapped. “We cannot trust such valuable equipment to robots.”

  “I don’t mind going to Mendeleev,” Trudy told them. It was a stretch of the truth, and she knew it. “It’d only be for a day or so. I can spend a night in the shelter. It’ll be okay.”

  Carter looked decidedly uneasy, she thought. He’s worried about me! How sweet.

  But the professor said, “How soon can you do the installation?”

  “I could leave tomorrow.”

  “Very well,” said Uhlrich. Turning to McClintock, he ordered, “Make the necessary arrangements for a hopper and tell Simpson to assign two of his best technicians.”

  McClintock nodded unhappily.

  “Is there anything else?” Trudy asked. “If not, I’ll get started on packing the spectrometer.”

  “By all means,” said the professor.

  She got up from her chair, flashed a warm smile at Carter, and left the professor’s office.

  * * *

  McClintock watched her go, then turned back to Uhlrich.

  “Do you think it’s safe to let her go to Mendeleev?”

  The professor frowned at him. “How can we get spectra from Sirius C unless she installs the spectrometer?”

  “But if…” McClintock hesitated, sorting out his thoughts. “If Mendeleev is dangerous, if there’s a problem with the nanomachines…”

  “Nonsense,” Uhlrich snapped.

  “Simpson doesn’t think it’s nonsense.”

  “Simpson is an engineer,” the professor replied. “They’re all overly cautious.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Dr. Cardenas is due to arrive here this afternoon. Have you prepared quarters for her?”

  McClintock resented being treated like a servant, but he thought, It’s just his way. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just a wannabe aristocrat. Then he corrected himself: No, he’s a wannabe Nobel laureate.

  And he wondered how insufferable Professor Uhlrich would become if he actually did get a Nobel.

  * * *

  That afternoon, when the lobber from Selene settled on Farside’s lone landing pad, McClintock waited at the airlock hatch to greet Dr. Cardenas.

  The heavy steel hatch sighed open; a pair of technicians in sky-blue coveralls stepped through and walked right past him. For a moment McClintock worried that Cardenas wasn’t aboard the rocket, but then she strode into the tiny reception area, tall and graceful, blond curls and china blue eyes, looking radiant and youthful and altogether delightful.

  She was not smiling, though. She looked quite serious, almost grim, in fact.

  “It’s good of you to come,” McClintock said as he shook her hand. It felt warm and strong and he realized that she was a very desirable woman.

  “You think you might have a problem,” she said. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”

  “I’ll take you to Professor Uhlrich’s office,” McClintock said. “Your bag will be sent to your quarters.”

  Cardenas nodded curtly, but said, “Let’s go to the lab where they examined the space suit that failed. Professor Uhlrich can meet us there.”

  McClintock said, “Good idea,” grinning inwardly at the thought of rousting Uhlrich from his office and making him go to Cardenas, rather than the other way around.

  Two Nobel candidates, he said to himself. There ought to be sparks flying.

  * * *

  Trudy was surprised when Grant Simpson popped into the storage area where she was packing up the spectrometer and its associated gear.

  “You’re going to Mendeleev?” Grant asked, without preamble.

  “Yes,” Trudy said. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “Can’t you let the techs do the installation? You could monitor their work from here.”

  Trudy felt her brows knit. First Carter and now Grant, she thought. All of a sudden everybody’s worried about me going to Mendeleev.

  Tell the truth now, she said to herself. You don’t like the idea yourself: flying out there in the open, it’s kinda scary, admit it.

  But to Grant she said, “What’s the big deal about me going to Mendeleev?”

  Grant looked determined, almost grim. “It’s foolish to go out there if you don’t have to.”

  Pointing to the crate that held the spectroscope, Trudy said, “I’m the only one who can put that rig on the telescope properly. That’s why I have to go.”

  “You’re not indispensable,” Grant said.

  “Indispensable? When did I say I was indispensable?”

  “Just now. You’re not the only person here who could put that dingus on the ’scope.”

  “Oh no?” Trudy felt her blood beginning to seethe. “Who else around here could do it?”

  “I could.”

  “You?”

  “Me,” Grant said. “You’re staying here. You can direct me remotely. I’ll go out to the telescope and attach the equipment to it.”

  She planted her fists on her hips and glared at
him. “You don’t have the authority to keep me here.”

  “Then I’ll get the Ulcer to give you a direct order. Is that what you want?”

  Trudy stared into Grant’s dark, brooding eyes. He doesn’t look angry, she thought. He looks … worried, fearful.

  More gently she asked, “What’s going on, Grant? Why don’t you want me to go out to Mendeleev?”

  “There’s no need for you to go,” he said, lowering his voice a notch. “I’ll go. You direct me from here.”

  “And if you louse up the installation, the professor will blame me.”

  “No he won’t. I’ll take the responsibility. I’m used to working outside. I’ve got plenty of experience. You don’t.”

  “Well, I’m not going to get any experience sitting in here while you go out and do my work for me,” she said.

  “That’s the way it’s going to be, Trudy.”

  “No it’s not! This is my responsibility and I’m going to do it, whether you like it or not!”

  “Look, you went out there once and a man got killed. I don’t—”

  “You’re blaming me for Winston?” Trudy screeched, her temper boiling now.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “The hell it wasn’t!”

  “It’s dangerous out there, Trudy.”

  “I’m going and you can’t stop me,” she said hotly.

  “I’ll get Uhlrich to stop you.”

  “The hell you will!”

  “I don’t want you going out to Mendeleev,” Grant repeated stubbornly.

  “Why not?”

  Grant started to reply, but hesitated. “You’re not going,” he said, his voice low, hard, final. “That’s all there is to it. You’re not going.”

  MCCLINTOCK’S QUARTERS

  “Make yourself comfortable, Dr. Cardenas,” said McClintock as he ushered her into his room. “Can I offer you some wine?”

  Cardenas stood by the door and surveyed the room in a single swift glance.

  “No thanks,” she said. “I’m here to work. I thought we were going to the lab where the damaged space suit was examined.”

  Smoothly, McClintock replied, “Professor Uhlrich thought it would be best if you weren’t seen examining the space suit by anyone else. We have some very bright people here; if they see the nanotech expert examining the suit they might realize that we have a potential problem on our hands.”

  “Nanofear,” Cardenas said.

  “No sense starting rumors,” said McClintock. “This is a very small, tightly knit little community, you know.”

  “I understand.”

  Gesturing to the sofa, he said, “I can show you all the test results on the wall screen. Any information that you need.”

  “And Professor Uhlrich?”

  “He’ll meet us here shortly.”

  Cardenas seemed to think it over for a moment, then she said, “All right, let’s look at the data.”

  Half an hour later she was peering at a photomicrograph of the pinhole in the metal collar of Winston’s space suit.

  “What do you think?” McClintock asked.

  Her face set in a tight frown, Cardenas said, “Can you pull up an image of the pinhole in the superconductor’s dewar?”

  McClintock ordered the computer to find the image.

  Cardenas nodded, then said, “Put them side by side on the screen, please.”

  She stared at the two images for a long, hard minute. McClintock noticed that the data bar running along the bottom of the screen showed both holes were exactly the same diameter.

  “Identical,” Cardenas murmured at last.

  “Which means?”

  She turned to McClintock, her expression bleak. “Which means that both holes were drilled by nanomachines. The same batch of nanomachines.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Characteristic microgrooves. Like the rifling of a bullet.” She sat in tense silence for a moment, then added, “You’re infected.”

  “I am?” McClintock yelped.

  Shaking her head impatiently, Cardenas said, “Not you personally. Your base is. This facility is. Or at least that spot out there where the telescope is sitting.”

  “Mendeleev crater.”

  “You’d better isolate the site and send a team of robots in to sweep the facility with high-intensity ultraviolet light.”

  “That will kill the nanomachines?” he asked.

  “It should.”

  Feeling somewhat relieved, McClintock said, “I’ll tell Uhlrich. We’ll get started on this right away.”

  “Where is Professor Uhlrich?” Cardenas asked. “I thought he was going to meet us here.”

  * * *

  Professor Uhlrich was still in his office, caught squarely between Trudy Yost and Grant Simpson, who sat on opposite sides of his conference table, obviously glaring at each other.

  “I still don’t see why I can’t go out to Mendeleev,” she was insisting. “It doesn’t make any sense to try to do the installation remotely.”

  Before the professor could reply, Simpson said, “There’s no need for you to go. I’ll do it, with you directing me from here.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” she snapped.

  “No it’s not!”

  Uhlrich felt torn. On the one hand, he agreed with Simpson that allowing Dr. Yost to go to Mendeleev might be dangerous. One man’s already been killed there; why risk the life of the only astronomer on my staff? On the other hand, it is perfectly true that Dr. Yost is the only one really capable of installing the spectrometer, and I need to get spectra from Sirius C as quickly as possible.

  His phone buzzed and announced that Carter McClintock was calling. He’s with Dr. Cardenas, Uhlrich knew.

  Instead of putting the call on one of the wall screens, Uhlrich picked up the handset. Yost and Simpson fell silent, but Uhlrich could feel the heat of their anger toward each other.

  “Yes,” he said quietly into the phone.

  “Professor, I’m in my quarters with Dr. Cardenas. We were expecting you to join us.”

  “In a few minutes,” said Uhlrich. “I’m tied up with something at the moment.”

  “Oh.”

  Lowering his voice to a whisper, Uhlrich asked, “What has she found?”

  A heartbeat’s hesitation. Then McClintock said, “It’s nanomachines. The Mendeleev site is infested with them, somehow.”

  The professor squeezed his sightless eyes shut. “Mendeleev, you say? Not Farside?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Letting out his breath in a long, weary sigh, Uhlrich said, “Very well. I will join you in a few minutes.”

  He hung up the phone and sat there in silence, wondering what he should do, how he should proceed.

  Simpson said impatiently, “Well, Professor? Do you agree that Dr. Yost can direct the job from here? There’s no need for her—”

  “Yes, yes, I agree.”

  Trudy Yost immediately began to complain. “Now wait a minute, this is my responsibility and I—”

  “Dr. Yost,” said Uhlrich, with a firmness he did not really feel, “you will remain here at Farside and direct Mr. Simpson, who will install the spectrometer—under your guidance.”

  “That … that’s … it’s wrong!” Yost sputtered. “It’s stupid!”

  “That is my decision and you will abide by it.”

  From the other side of the table, Simpson said, “Trudy, it’s for your own good. Believe me. I’ll do the job right. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

  Uhlrich could sense the young woman sitting there, awash in anger and even shame. She thinks I don’t trust her to install the spectrometer. She thinks I’m belittling her. So be it. I can’t tell her that we have a nanomachine problem. That would start a panic here that could destroy everything I’m trying to accomplish.

  Simpson can handle the job. He’s quite capable. With a pang of alarm, Uhlrich asked himself, What if the nanomachines attack him? What if he’s killed out there?
It will mean the Mendeleev site is useless, I’ll be unable to get spectral data on Sirius C.

  Then a new thought struck him: What if the nanomachines destroy the spectrometer? That would be a disaster! An utter disaster!

  CONFESSIONS

  As they left the Ulcer’s office and started down the corridor, Grant could see how depressed Trudy felt. What can I say that’ll make her feel better? he wondered.

  “Look,” he said to her, “nobody doubts your ability. You’ll still be directing the installation, it’ll just be that you’re directing it remotely instead of being out there.”

  “Where I should be,” she said, her voice heavy with resentment.

  “Come on, cheer up. I’ll buy you dinner, okay?”

  She stopped in the middle of the corridor, eyeing him suspiciously. “Grant, what’s going on? Why’s everybody so set on keeping me away from Mendeleev?”

  He wanted to tell her. He wanted to put his arm around her shoulders and explain to her that Mendeleev was too dangerous for her, too risky.

  Instead, he merely shrugged and said, “You’re going to have to run the ’scope from here, remotely, aren’t you? So why’re you getting spooled up over directing the installation remotely? It’s no big deal.”

  Trudy looked totally unconvinced.

  “Besides, you don’t have the experience to work outside. I do. It’s that simple.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Trudy said, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Grant heard himself say, “All right, I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t want you taking any risks that you don’t absolutely have to take. You’re the only astronomer here, outside of the Ulcer, and…” Suddenly he ran out of words.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “And you’re too important to be sent on jobs that a technician can do.”

  “Or an engineer?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Engineers are expendable. Astronomers aren’t.”

  Trudy’s expression softened. Her voice gentler, she said, “So what about dinner, Grant?”

  * * *

  “You’re sending someone out there before the site’s decontaminated?” Kris Cardenas couldn’t believe what Professor Uhlrich had just told her.