Jaansen nodded, his ice blue, pale-lashed eyes looking disappointed. “I understand.”

Nettled, irritated at the pang of guilt he felt, Urbain conceded, “A minute, you say?”

“Maybe two.”

“What is it?” Urbain asked. He leaned over to pull his tray from beneath the chair and began placing his dishes on it.

“I need your help. Your guidance.”

“About what?”

The engineer glanced around almost furtively before replying, “You know that the chief of Human Resources is forming a committee to draft a new constitution for us.”

“Yes, so I have heard.”

“And once the constitution is put into effect, we will vote on a government.”

Urbain nodded as he asked himself, What is he driving at?

“I presume that you will head that government,” Jaansen said.

“Ah, yes. I suppose I will.”

Looking quite earnest, Jaansen asked, “Are you prepared to make such a sacrifice? It will be a heavy responsibility.”

Urbain began to reply, hesitated, then formed the words in his mind before answering, “I have thought about this quite seriously. It is a serious responsibility, you are entirely correct there. But since this is a scientific endeavor, it must have a scientist at its head. As chief scientist, I really have no choice in the matter. I must accept the responsibility.”

“Assuming the people elect you,” said Jaansen.

“Of course they will elect me. Who else could they vote for?”

“And where will you be when we fly past Jupiter?” asked Don Diego.

Holly looked up from the raspberry bush she was planting along the embankment. “In my office,” she said with a smile. “I’ve got to get my work done sometime.”

The old man wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of a gloved hand. “You don’t consider what we are doing as work?”

“This is fun. I mean, it’s physical labor, y’know. But it’s fun. Besides, when I say ‘work’ I mean the job I was hired to do.”

“You seem to spend part of each day here with me,” Don Diego said as he tugged at a stubborn coil of steel cable, half-buried in the ground.

“I like being out here.” Holly realized that she enjoyed being outdoors, away from her office. She enjoyed working and talking with this older man, this serious yet lighthearted man who listened so well and had so much to teach her.

“Careful,” Holly warned as he strained to pull the stubborn cable out of the ground. “That might be connected to something important.”

He shook his head. “No, it is just some of the junk that the construction crews left behind. Instead of cleaning up the area as they were paid to do, they threw most of their leftovers down the embankment, figuring that no one would notice.”

Holly went over to help him. Together they pulled the coiled length of cable free. Sure enough, it was connected to nothing. Just leftover trash from the habitat’s construction.

“Maybe we ought to organize cleaning crews to go through all the culverts and embankments,” Holly thought aloud. “We could prob’ly scavenge some useful materials.”

“I worry more about the effects on our health. Steel rusts, and the rust seeps into our drinking water supplies.”

“Everything’s purified when the water’s recycled,” Holly said.

He nodded warily. “Still, I worry.”

Holly returned to the raspberry bush, tamped down the freshly turned earth around it, then straightened up slowly, hands on the small of her back.

“That’s enough for me,” she said, looking up at the long solar window. It was half in shade. “Dinnertime.”

“Will you allow me to make dinner for you at my hacienda?” Don Diego asked, pulling off his stained, soiled gloves.

Holly smiled. His hacienda was a one-bedroom apartment, she knew, just about the same size and layout as her own.

“Why don’t I cook tonight?” she suggested.

He looked embarrassed for a moment, then said, “You are a wonderful person in many ways, Holly, but I think I’m a better cook than you.”

“Will you teach me how to make chili?” she asked eagerly.

“Out of soymeat and pinto beans,” he replied. “Of course. I will even show you how to prepare the beans so they do not cause gas.”

“Ain’t I ever gonna get dinner?” Manny Gaeta complained. “The cafeteria’s probably closed by now.”

“Then it doesn’t matter, does it?” retorted Fritz von Helmholtz.

Inside the armored suit, Gaeta was standing a good half-meter off the deck plates. He looked down at von Helmholtz through the heavily tinted visor of the helmet.

“Cabrón,”Gaeta muttered. Fritz can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, he thought.

Von Helmholtz looked up from his handheld and frowned at him. “We have to do the vacuum test first.”

“It’s damned hot in here. I’m sweating.”

“Turn up the cooling,” von Helmholtz said, unfazed.

“I don’t wanna run down the batteries.”

“We can recharge them overnight.”

Gaeta knew he could stop the test by simply powering down the suit and popping the hatch. He’d been in the clunker for hours now, going through every procedure that they would need to record the Jupiter flyby. Gaeta felt tired and sweaty and uncomfortable.

But Fritz is right, he knew. Check everything now. Make certain everything is working. Don’t want any surprises when you’re outside.

“Vacuum test, right,” he muttered, scanning the Christmas tree of monitoring lights set into the collar of the helmet. Everything in the green, except for two amber lights: a low battery and an air fan that was running slower than design nominal. Maybe that’s why it’s so damn hot in here, he thought.

Fritz was over by the big monitoring console, studying the diagnostics screen. “That fan will have to be replaced,” he said into the pin mike at his lips.

One of the technicians nodded glumly. “There goes my dinner date,” he grumbled.

Straightening up and turning toward Gaeta, Fritz curled a beckoning finger. “Come, my little sylph. To airlock number fourteen.”

Gaeta began to walk. The suit felt stiff, despite the servomotors that were slaved to his arms and legs. “I feel like the Tin Woodsman in here,” he told Fritz. “Oil can! Oil can!”

Fritz did not smile one millimeter. “The bearings are self-lubricating. As you exercise the suit, the joints will smooth out.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Gaeta followed Fritz toward the wide double doors of the lab. One of the other techs opened them. Gaeta was surprised to see Holly Lane standing in the hallway outside. Her eyes went wide when she saw the suit clunking toward her.

He moved one arm slowly and flexed the fingers in a robotic wave. “Hi, Holly,” he called.

“Manny? Is that you in there?”

“It’s me.”

She hefted a small plastic bag. “I brought you some chili. Homemade.”

Von Helmholtz said, “We have no time for a meal at present. We are very busy.”

“Come on along, Holly,” Gaeta called. “We’re goin’ down to airlock fourteen.” He resumed his plodding walk out into the hallway.

“You’re going outside now?” Holly asked, scampering out of his way.

“Naw. The Safety guys nixed my EVA. They got a whole crew out there to take on the fuel tanks comin’ up from Jupiter. I’ll just stay in the ’lock while they open it to the outside, keep out of their way. We’ll vid the Jupiter pass tomorrow; that’s when we’ll be closest.”

“Can I watch?”

“Sure,” Gaeta said, enjoying the nervous tic in Fritz’s right cheek. “Come on along.”