Saturn (17 page)

They laughed together and then she was in his arms and he kissed her. Jeeps, Holly thought, what am I getting into?

"He brought the man here?" Eberly asked.

Eberly was standing at his kitchen sink, a bowl of breakfast cereal in his hands. Kananga had barged in without warning, simply one sharp rap on the apartment's door and he entered without being invited. Eberly was certain he had locked the door before retiring for the night. How did Kananga get it open? The man had been a police official back on Earth, Eberly remembered. He must be quite accustomed to getting past locked doors and entering someone's home without asking.

Kananga nodded somberly. "He's in the hospital. Apparently the wounds on his leg were not too serious. The laser cauterized as it penetrated the flesh, so there was very little bleeding. He suffered mostly from shock."

"How long must he remain in hospital?" Eberly asked, absently pouring flakes into a plastic bowl. "We ought to send him back to the Jupiter station as soon as possible."

"It's already too late for that," said Kananga, standing on the other side of the counter that served as a partition between the kitchen and sitting room. "We've moved too far from Jupiter for them to send a spacecraft to pick him up. It would take a special torch-ship flight, and the station staff are unwilling to send for one to fetch him."

"You mean we're stuck with this man?"

Kananga nodded again. "The medical people have him under quarantine until they can establish that he's not carrying anything harmful in his bloodstream."

"But he can't stay here! This habitat isn't a shelter for the homeless!"

"Do you want me to push him out an airlock?"

Eberly stared at the colonel. His question was obviously meant to be humorous, but there was no trace of a smile on his dark, utterly serious face.

"Don't be funny," Eberly said.

"Then he's here to stay. He doesn't know it yet, by the way. Someone will have to break the news to him. He probably won't like it."

Eberly put his cereal bowl down on the kitchen counter and came around to the sitting room.

"I'll get Holly to tell him. Or perhaps Morgenthau
—
she's the acting head of the Human Resources Department. They'll have to make room for him somewhere in the habitat's population."

"He won't like it," Kananga repeated. "He was due to return to Earth in a few weeks."

"He's here to stay, unless he can afford a torch ship to pick him up."

"He'll expect us to do that."

With a shake of his head, Eberly said, "There's no provision in our budget for that. Wilmot wouldn't spend the money. He couldn't. There isn't any money to spend."

"Perhaps one of the news services," Kananga suggested. "The rescue made quite a sensation on the nets this morning."

"Perhaps. I'll ask Vyborg to look into that possibility." Eberly hesi
t
ated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "On the other hand, perhaps we can use all this to our advantage."

"How?"

"I don't know ... yet. But there should be some way to turn this to our advantage. After all, we have a genuine hero in our midst, this stuntman Gaeta."

"He's an outsider. He'll be returning to Earth after he's performed his exploit."

"Returning to Earth? Someone will send a ship for him?"

Kananga looked surprised at the idea. "I hadn't thought about it. Perhaps he can take the refugee back with him."

"Perhaps. But in the meantime, we should work out a way to use him. Use them both, perhaps."

Kananga asked again, "How?"

"Heroes are always valuable," Eberly replied, "if they can be manipulated. I'll have to think of a way to bring Gaeta into our camp."

Kananga shrugged. "At least we have one consolation."

Eberly looked at him sharply. "What's that?"

"It won't happen again. We won't take any more refugees aboard. The Jupiter station was the last human outpost. There's no one out this far except us."

With that, he turned and left the apartment. Eberly realized he was right. The habitat was sailing now farther than any humans had ever gone before. Beyond the frontier, into the unknown.

Frowning, Eberly tried his front door. It was securely locked. Yet Kananga had entered and left as if it had been wide open.

Holly awoke slowly, remembering what seemed to be a dream. But it really happened, she knew. It really happened.

Manny was gone, of course. He had left her after they had made love, right here in her bed, left her drowsy and languid and warm with the touch of his hands, his lips, his body pressed against hers.

She smiled up at the ceiling. Then she giggled. I'll have to tell Don Diego what terrific chili he made. A love potion.

A glance at the digital clock on her night table told her that she ought to get up, shower and dress and get to the office. Yet she lay back on the rumpled, sweaty sheets, remembering.

But a sudden thought snapped her out of her reverie. Malcolm! What if he finds out? I just wanted to make him jealous, make him notice me. This'll make him hate me!

The phone buzzed.

"No video," Holly said sharply. "Answer."

Malcolm's face appeared floating above the foot of her bed. He knows! she screamed silently. He's found out! Holly jerked up to a sitting position, clutching the sheet to her despite knowing that Eberly could not see her, waves of guilt washing over her, drowning every other emotion.

"Holly, are you there?" Eberly asked, squinting slightly, as if that would make her image appear in his apartment.

"Yes, Malcolm," she said, straining to keep her voice level. "I
—
I'm running a little late this morning."

"About this man that Gaeta brought aboard the habitat last evening," Eberly said, ignoring the tremble in her voice. "He's going to stay aboard the habitat unless someone wants to send a ship out to fetch him."

He doesn't know! she thought, so relieved that she nearly sagged back on the pillows. To Eberly's image she managed to utter:

"Yes?"

"I want you to interview him as soon as the medics lift his quarantine. We need a complete dossier on him."

He doesn't know, she repeated to herself. It's all right. He doesn't know. "I see. Of course."

"Good. Get on it right away."

Holly's mind began working again. "Have you told Morgenthau about this?" Holly asked.

His brows knit slightly. "I'm telling you."

She nodded. "Kay. Right. I'll inform her. She wants to be kept informed, y'know."

"You take care of it," he said, almost crossly.

"Kay. I'll do it."

At last he seemed to catch the reluctance in her voice. "Holly, would you rather I speak to Morgenthau?"

Her heart fluttered. "Oh, Malcolm, I don't want to bother you with that." But silently she was rejoicing, He cares! He really cares about me!

"I'll call her right now," he said, smiling at her. "By the time you get to the office, she'll know all about this."

"Thank you, Malcolm!"

"It's nothing," he said. Then he cut the connection and his image vanished.

Leaving Holly sitting in her bed, suddenly wretched that she had made love with another man, and terrified that Malcolm might find out.

When Ruth Morgenthau arrived at her office that morning, she found Sammi Vyborg already sitting in front of her desk, waiting for her.

"I thought you'd be watching the Jupiter flyby," she said, sweeping around her desk and settling heavily in its padded chair.

Vyborg hunched forward in his chair. "That stuntman's heroics have made the flyby seem tame, by comparison. Every network is carrying the video."

"So?" Morgenthau asked. "Then why are you here? If it's about the refugee," she said airily, "I've already spoken with Eberly about it. He wants Holly to
—
"

"It's not about the refugee," Vyborg snapped.

She looked at him carefully. His narrow death's head of a face was even grimmer than usual, tense with repressed anger.

"What is it, then?"

"Eberly promised to make me head of the Communications Department. But he's done nothing to make that happen."

Morgenthau temporized, "That sort of thing takes time, Sammi. You know that. You must be patient."

"He hasn't lifted a finger," Vyborg insisted.

"Patience, Sammi. Patience."

Strangely, Vyborg smiled. To Morgenthau it looked like the smile of a rattlesnake gliding toward its victim.

"I once saw a cartoon," he said slowly, "that showed two vultures sitting in the branches of a dead tree. One of them was saying to the other, 'Patience, my ass! I'm going to
kill
somebody.' "

Morgenthau felt her cheeks flush at Vyborg's crude language. "And just who do you intend to kill?"

"The two people who stand between me and the top of the Communications Department, of course."

"I wouldn't advise
—
"

"Neither one of them is a Believer. The department head is a Jew, not that he observes his own religion. The other one is a superannuated old Mexican who spends more time gardening than he does at his desk. He should be easy to dispose of."

"You mustn't do anything without getting Eberly's approval first."

"Don't play games with me. We both know that Eberly is nothing more than a figurehead. You're the real authority here."

"Don't underestimate Eberly. He can win over people. He can mesmerize crowds. I don't want you to act precipitously."

"Yes, yes. But I believe the old adage that the Lord helps those who help themselves. I'm finished waiting. The time for action has come."

Morgenthau pursed her lips disapprovingly. But she said nothing.

Showered, combed and dressed, Holly phoned Morgenthau before leaving her apartment.

"Dr. Eberly wants me
to
interview the newcomer," she said to Morgenthau's fleshy image. "I've checked with the medical department and they're lifting his quarantine this morning, so I'm planning to go straight there instead of to the office."

Holly spoke the words as a declaration, not a question, not a request for permission. Eberly's name was all the permission she needed.

Morgenthau seemed to feel the same way. "Eberly called me earlier and told me about it. But thanks for informing me, Holly. I'll see you in the office when you return from the hospital."

Raoul Tavalera was sitting in the hospital's tiny solarium, a glassed-in bubble on the hospital's roof. Even though it was midmorning and sunlight streamed through the habitat's solar windows, to Holly it looked like a slightly overcast day; the sunlight seemed weak, as though filtered through a layer of thin clouds. We're more than five times farther from the Sun than the Earth is, she realized. Naturally the sunlight is weaker.

Tavalera was dressed in ill-fitting gray coveralls, his long, horsy face looking glum, almost sullen. He did not get up from his chair when Holly walked over to him and introduced herself. She wore a crisply tailored dusky rose blouse over dark gray slacks: office garb.

"I'm from the Human Resources Department," Holly explained, once she had pulled up a chair to sit next to Tavalera. He did not move a muscle to help her. She made a smile for him and went on, "I'm here to get your complete life story."

He did not smile back. "Is it true? I'm stuck here for a friggin' year or more?"

"Unless someone sends a ship to pick you up, yes, I'm afraid you're going to be with us all the way out to Saturn."

"Who the fuck would send a ship out for me?" he muttered. "I'm just a turd engineer, friggin' slave labor, that's all I am."

Holly took a breath. "Mr. Tavalera, I'm no saint, but I'd appreciate it if you notched up your language a little."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "A Believer?"

"Not really. I'm not a churchgoer."

"The frig
—
uh, I mean, it was the New Morality that sent me out here in the first place. I hadda do two years of public service. No choice."

"I see."

"Do ya? I only had a couple more weeks to go and they would've brought me back home. Now I'm goin' out to fri
—
to Saturn for chrissakes."

Gesturing toward the rooftop view of the village and the habitat's lovely green landscape, Holly said, "There are worse places, y'know. You might actually like it here."

"I got family on Earth. Friends. I was gonna get my life back together...." His voice trailed off. Holly could see that he was struggling to keep from flying off into a rage.

"You can send them messages. We can find useful work for you to do. You'll enjoy living here, betcha."

Tavalera glowered at her.

"I know it must seem like a bugging disaster to you," said Holly as reasonably as she could, "but you're here and you should try to make the best of it."

"Easy for you to say," Tavalera muttered.

"We'll do everything we can to help you while you're here."

"We?"

"The people here in the habitat. The Human Resources Department."

"Does that include you?"

Nodding, Holly replied, "I'm with the Human Resources Department, yes."

Tavelra seemed to brigthten a little. But only a little.

Eberly paced leisurely along the path that wound around the perimeter of the lake, Morgenthau at his side.

"It's good to be out in the open air," he was saying. "Away from prying eyes and snooping ears."

"They're spying on you?" Morgenthau asked. She knew how simple it was to spray molecule-thin microphones on a wall or ceiling. Cameras no bigger than a teardrop could be inserted almost anywhere.

"Probably not. Wilmot's too na
ï
ve even to understand what we're doing. But it's best to be prepared against all possibilities, don't you think?"

"We have a problem with Vyborg," she said, as if making an announcement.

"He's impatient, I know."

Morgenthau said, "He's more than impatient. He's going to do something violent."

"Violent?" Eberly felt a pang of alarm in his guts. "What do you mean?"

Morgenthau replied calmly, "He's not willing to wait for you to remove the two men above him in the Communications Department. He's ready to strike against them."

Fighting against the fear rising within him, Eberly snarled, "The little snake! He'll ruin everything." Inwardly he asked himself, How can I stop him? How can I prevent him without seeming weak, indecisive? I want their loyalty, but if I try to thwart them, prevent them from acting, they'll go ahead without me. And then where will I be? When we get to Saturn they'll send me back to Earth. Back to prison!

"He's going to resort to violence, I tell you," Morgenthau insisted.

It took an effort of will for Eberly to keep from wringing his hands. "What can I do? How can I stop him?"

Morgenthau smiled knowingly. "Don't stop him."

"What?"

"Let him take action. Just make certain that whatever he does can't be traced back to us."

Eberly stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying.

Still walking along as if on a casual stroll, Morgenthau explained, "We want Vyborg to take command of the Communications Department. If he's ready to take a step in that direction, why stop him?"

"What if he commits a crime? What if he's discovered, caught, arrested?"

"That's why we must have no connection with him, not until after he's succeeded."

"But if he fails..."

"If he succeeds, he's one step closer to our goal. If he fails, we can honestly say we had nothing to do with it."

"Suppose he fails," Eberly questioned, "and he's caught, and he blames me?"

"You can show clean hands and a pure heart," Morgenthau replied sweetly. "With your powers of persuasion, I'm sure you can make Wilmot and the whole population believe that you've been falsely accused. Because that will be the truth."

Eberly walked on in silence, with Morgenthau keeping pace beside him. She
wants
Vyborg to act. Even if he commits murder, she's in favor of his acting. Why? he asked himself. And the answer came immediately: Because that will give her a stronger hold on Vyborg. And a stronger hold on me. She's allowing me to be the public figurehead because I can organize people and sway them to our side. But she's the power behind the throne. She's the real power here.