The earthy brown clay tea set had been brought all the way from the shores of the Inland Sea. Its rough surfaces reflected the mute colors of the late afternoon light in a way that could not be described, only admired. The shaping marks on the cup in front of Saul seemed to have been formed on the same wheel as that which turned Creation. It was contemporary with the planets, with the sun.

Entranced, Saul glanced up when Akio Matsudo spoke.

“The wait will be worth it, Saul. Be patient.”

Waiting? Saul thought. Was that what I was doing?

Highlights in the Japanese physician’s glossy black hair shone like Mount Asahi’s glaciers as he fussed over the tea, commenting on the difficulty of boiling water properly in low gravity, what with weakened convection and all. To Saul, the man’s voice was one with the rustling pines.

“I will now pour,” Akio intoned, and lifted the cups delicately.

Saul was not in a hurry to get to business. When the ceremony was finished, and the tea poured, they gossiped over inconsequential matters—the latest fashion in mathematical philosophy on Earth, and the strange propositions being put forward by the Marxist theologians of Kiev. The journals had been full of it, and they both wondered aloud what Nicholas Malenkov would have made of it all.

Akio seemed in much better health now. He had been one of Saul’s first volunteers to take an early version of the retailored cyanutes. It was that or lose him permanently to the infection tearing away at his liver. Now the sickly yellow pallor was gone. He had regained weight. Soon he would even quit using the mechanical endocrine rebalancer that had been keeping him alive.

Saul was very pleased to see his friend healthy and spry again.

I was able to help Virginia, and Marguerite, and Akio. Maybe, later, we can do something for Lani and Betty Oakes, and so many others.

Memory of Miguel Cruz was still a sharp pain. More than anyone else, their commander was needed. But there were limits to what Saul ever expected to be able to do, no matter how lucky he was.

Akio Matsudo put down his cup and carefully removed his glasses to polish them. “Saul, my friend, forgive my bluntness. But I think that perhaps I should explain why I asked you here today. I believe that now it is time for you to go into the slots.”

Saul put down his cup. Akio raised his hands.

“Before you protest, please allow me to explain. There are many, many reasons.”

He raised one finger. “First Watch was supposed to last only a little over a year. The colony’s anniversary is this month. And you were one of the few civilians awake for the entire trip out, on the Edmund. You are losing lifespan. It is unfair to you, who have less of it to spare than the youngsters outside.”

Saul snorted. “What is this, Akio? We may have passed through the worst part, but the staffing nightmare isn’t over yet. With all the people we’ve had to pull, term slot, and even vac-store out on the surface, it’s clear the shifts will have to be longer than planned. You know that argument’s a load of crap.”

Matsudo winced at Saul’s bluntness.

“Yesss.” His agreement sounded more like a suppressed hiss of disapproval. “Perhaps. But I must tell you that Bethany Oakes made me promise, before she herself was slotted, that you would be put away if your symptoms grew worse.”

“They aren’t any worse,” Saul grumbled. “It’s just another bad cold. I think it’s still a leftover from one of your damn challenge viruses. I can tell by the way it tickles before I sneeze.”

He knew better, of course. There was comet stuff inside him, from viroids to latent bacteroids. Some of the variants did not use the Halley sugar complex, and so were doubtless invulnerable to his new silver bullets.

And I’m older than mast. Could be that makes me more vulnerable.

For a moment the contemplative daze threatened to return. The conversation had reminded him of a weird sensation he had had, a few days ago, on examining a sample of his own blood… a feeling that something…

He shook his head. No. This is… He searched for a Yiddish expression and failed. Bullshit. Good old Anglo-Saxon bullshit. That’s the only word for it.

“There is a second major reason.” Matsudo squeezed and covered another cup of sharp, yellow-brown tea for each of them. “Because of the mutiny, this year’s desperate effort will be to build greenhouses on the surface, and farms down in chamber Tau. The hydroponics pod from the Edmundmust be kept alive until new food-production facilities are set up. That is why Evans is being thawed now—he is the best of all the expedition ecologists, and Svatuto is coming out of the slots as his backup.”

Saul noted Matsudo’s pained expression flickering when he had to mention the Edmund. Even more to be avoided was any mention of the Newburn. In all the time since the mutineers had departed, not once had Saul heard anybody utter the name of the lost slot tug, now apparently completely out of reach and growing more distant with every passing day. It was an utterly taboo subject.

“Yes? So it’ll be good to consult with Evans. There are some matters concerning the origin of Halley lifeforms that an ecologist can help with. I’m not certain I can accept the old explanation any longer.”

Akio looked out over the scene of sunset on the Western Sea. The clouds had turned orange and black, breathlessly beautiful.

“You misunderstand me, Saul. This means we will have more medical people awake than is proper in the long run, over forty shifts. Svatuto is a better clinician than you are, anyway. You know that, Saul.”

Saul shrugged. “That’s why I went into research,” he said, reaching for his handkerchief. “Can’t… can’t stand sick people.” The room wavered. Saul shook his head vigorously. Then he turned aside and sneezed.

Matsudo jumped slightly, and finally smiled. “Nobody does that so dramatically. It is that Semitic profundity of a nose, I suppose. Seriously, Saul, that is another reason. Forgive me, but you disrupt everything. People fear your noisy, drippy symptoms, even as they respect your genius. Lieutenant Colonel Ould-Harrad and others think that it would be best for everybody if you should rest for a while.”

Saul shook his head. “I just now realized, you’re actually serious about this, Akio. Right when my work is…” He stopped, unable to find words for how well things were going in the lab.

Then there was also Virginia. Her love is the best thing that’s happened to me in ten years.

The tentative, simulated telempathy they shared through her daring, unconventional biocybernetics was as exciting in its own fashion as his work in bioengineering. They were both accomplishing things that would shake up half-a-dozen disciplines! Why, over, just the last week he had received messages from crusty old Wallin, at Oxford, and even aloof, above-it-all Tang in Peking …

“This is in no way to detract from your accomplishments,” Matsudo said quickly, trying to soothe Said. “You have, in fact, achieved wonders, wonders! I find your methods unnerving, as well you know, but I cannot argue with success. If any of us survive, it will be in no small measure thanks to you.”

Saul shook his head. “There’s more to be done! We have to see if the procedures.”

“And I insist that you underrate your success!” the tall Japanese hissed.

Akio must have been severely agitated. This was the first time in Saul’s experience that he had ever interrupted anybody. The man looked quickly aside. “Excuse me, please. But I have done simulations, and Earth Control concurs. The larger Halleyform organisms—the purples especially—can be kept in check using ultraviolet and your new microwave beamers. The fungoids are now under control using more precise versions of both techniques.”