“We all signed patent agreements. Any techniques discovered, we all get a cut, after recouping basic expenses.”

Jeffers’s face contorted into a sour, sardonic mask. “The Orthos’ll find a way around that.”

Carl felt his own conviction wavering. What if he’s right? But then he blotted out the thought. “Look, get off that line. We can’t continue those stupid Earthside fights out here.”

“We’re not—it’s them.”

Exasperated, Carl stuffed the remains of his lunch into his carry pouch. “Let’s go—I’d rather work than argue.”

Still, that evening he entered the rec-lounge bar troubled, looking for Virginia. She was a reasonable Percell and might understand what he only slowly admitted to himself this afternoon—that he halfway agreed with some of Jeffers’s accusations. It was the man’s tone, his black-and-white way of putting everything, that got Carl’s back up.

He collected a drink, turned to go, and saw the sign DUCK OR GROUSE just in time to remind him. He stooped and entered the lounge. The first week aboard, he and other Percells had slammed their foreheads into the doorjamb a dozen times; the Edmund’s designers had apparently believed only Orthos socialized.

Lani Nguyen intercepted him near the smiling tungsten bust of Edmond Halley himself. “Ah, at last you appear.”

She gave an immediate impression of slim, efficient design, every inch a spacer. Lean muscles bunched in her bare almond-colored arms, but otherwise she was covered in a draping, cool blue dress that moved in light pseudo-gravity with a graceful, modest independence. Carl liked the effect of shimmering cloth lagging behind her precise, delicate movements.

“Uh, yeah, we had some trouble with the tunnel articulation.” He smiled cordially but tried to scan the lounge without seeming to do so.

Dr. Akio Matsudo was talking earnestly to Lieutenant Colonel Ould-Harrad, the head of Manual Ops. Through the viewport Halley Core glimmered and swam as the G-wheel turned. Captain Cruz stood ramrod-straight against the starry background, easily dominating the room, surrounded by the usual mesmerized pack of ladies.

Where was Virginia ?

“Oh?” Lani asked with a distant smile, similar to the Buddha-grin of the sculpture over her shoulder. “That should be automatic.”

Carl blinked. “Uh… we ran into a patch of boulders.”

“I usually send a forward mech ahead to slice those off with a cutter. Then—”

Jeffers appeared out of nowhere and Carl snagged him. “Better tell this guy, he’s the point man in our team. I’ll just run a little errand…” And he was away, free, before Lani’s pert surprise could turn to protest. Let Jeffers have an opening, Carl thought. He deserves it. A bit unfair to Lani, maybe, but first things first. Let’s see, her shift should be up by stow…

He passed the group surrounding Captain Cruz and on impulse slowed. He insinuated himself into the cluster. Cruz always spoke to the whole group, never leaving anyone out, and he smiled at Carl. “How’s it going down there, Osborn?”

Carl was startled at being addressed personally. He had in tended simply to listen in. “Uh, pretty tough, sir, but we can handle it.”

“I saw that neat trick at Shaft Three.” Cruz raised his eyebrows slightly and his gaze swept over the circle. Although an Ortho—a natural human being—he was as tall as most Percells.

Carl felt his face getting hot. He had to say something, but what? “Well, I guess I kinda—”

“Marvelous! A bull’s-eye! I felt like applauding.” The commander chuckled.

Carl was dumbfounded. “Well… I…”

“It’s good to see a little audacity,” Cruz said warmly.

Carl grinned self-consciously. Does he know it was a mistake? “Well, we got a schedule to keep.”

“So we do. I only wish other sub-sections were moving as crisply as yours.”

Carl wondered if that was a veiled joke. But Cruz raised his bulb of bourbon in salute and, to Carl’s surprise, the crowd did, too. Carl covered his confusion by taking a sip, watching the crowd for signs of mirth. No, they meant it. He felt a sudden delight. He had bobbled the maneuver, sure, but recovered well. That was what mattered to the captain.

Cruz caught Carl’s eye and there passed between them the barest moment of understanding. He knows I screwed up. But he’s rewarding initiative over timidity. Why? Carl had tried to perform well all during the Edmund’s flight out, but until this moment Cruz had never paid him more than polite, distant attention.

That’s It—-Kato and Umolanda. He doesn’t want people getting spooked. He knows it was faulty equipment and plain bad luck that killed them, much more than carelessness.

“We’ll make our deadlines, sir,” Carl said firmly.

Cruz nodded. “Good.” With practiced smoothness, the captain turned his attention to a woman communications officer standing nearby. “The new microwave antennas are up on schedule, aren’t they? Having trouble getting signals through the plasma tail?” Cruz asked.

“A little, yes.”

“How soon can we deploy a microwave radar to search for the Newburn?”

“I’ll have an estimate for you by tomorrow, sir.”

Carl listened to the friendly, open way Cruz drew information out of the woman, commented on it, made a little joke that set the crowd to laughing. Now that’s how to lead, Carl thought. He’s in touch with everything, and never looks worried. I wonder if I’ll ever earn the knack.

He would have liked to stay longer, but he wanted to find Virginia He discovered her in a laughing group of varicolored Hawaiians, her dress a blue shimmer that suggested without revealing The semiautonomous state of Hawaii had financed twenty percent of the expedition’s cost. As the true capital of the pan-Pacific economic community, they invested heavily in space. Their representatives lent a cheery air to most ship functions.

He waited for a lull in conversation, caught Virginia ’s eye, and drew her away to an alcove. He quickly described Jeffers’s complaints. “Do you think he might be right?” he asked.

“You mean, will the Orthos try to rake off whatever they can?” She smiled speculatively. “Sure. This isn’t a charity operation.”

“I didn’t come just to make money.” Carl drew back, folding his arms. He knew it would probably be smarter to appear urbane, even a shade cynical-at least that’s what he thought attracted Earthside women. But somehow his real self always came out.

“Offended?” Virginia smiled, her full lips drawing back to reveal startlingly brilliant teeth. “Don’t be so straitlaced. Even idealists have to eat.”

“Did you sign any quiet little agreements Earthside?”

Virginia frowned. “Of course not. Look, there’re always going to be rumors that so-and-so has a sweet extra deal to leak expertise. Who knows, maybe somebody’ll tightbeam stuff back before we return, have a bundle waiting for him in a Swedish account.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. With four hundred people taking turns standing watch over seventy years, there’ll be plenty of chances to cheat.”

Virginia moodily stirred her bulb goblet of pina colada with a pink straw. To Carl the festive colors of the lounge seemed out of place when cold steel and vacuum lay only meters away. The psychologists probably thought tropical splashes of amber, green, and gold would take people away from raw reality, but for him it didn’t work.

Virginia said slowly, “There’s an old saying: Ordinary men choose their friends, but a genius chooses his enemies.”

Carl grimaced. “Meaning?”

“The Orthos run this expedition, granted. If we create friction, they can do a whole lot more to make it hot for us.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay. Conceded. That doesn’t change my aims, though.”