Farside

“TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE”





Glad to be free of Halleck, McClintock walked Trudy back to her quarters. She seemed shaken by the accident, subdued.

“He’ll be all right,” McClintock assured her. “With stem cell therapy they can rebuild his foot even if it’s crushed flat.”

“I guess,” Trudy said.

They arrived at her quarters. McClintock saw that someone had inserted a plastic tag in the slot on her door: YOST, T.

“Well, it’s been an eventful evening,” he said.

She nodded. McClintock knew that this was the moment when he should make his move if he wanted the evening to go on.

Before he could make up his mind to say anything, Trudy spoke. “Thanks for taking me to dinner. And introducing me to Mrs. Halleck.”

“You’re entirely welcome, Trudy,” he said.

She looked up at him with the almost-bewildered expression of a lost waif.

“Good night, Trudy,” he heard himself say.

“Good night, Carter.” Then, impulsively, she stood on tiptoes and pecked at his cheek. Before he could respond she turned, slid her door open, and slipped inside.

Standing suddenly alone in the corridor, McClintock felt slightly ridiculous. Almost angry. But then he laughed at himself. What the hell, he thought. We just met yesterday. I shouldn’t rush her.

As he started down the corridor, he told himself, Besides, I haven’t had a chance to really look over the available crop here. I might be able to do better.

His pocketphone buzzed.

Yanking it out, he saw Professor Uhlrich’s name spelled out on the tiny screen.

McClintock thumbed the REPLY button and lifted the phone to his ear. “Yes, Professor?”

“Did you see the accident?” Uhlrich’s voice sounded calm—relaxed, almost.

“I saw them bring in the technician, and the medical team’s emergency treatment of him.”

“I observed the surveillance camera record of it. Could you come to my quarters, please? We need to discuss this.”

Thinking to himself that working with Uhlrich was going to be a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, McClintock said, “Now, Professor? Or in the mor—”

“Now,” said Uhlrich. And he clicked off the connection.

With a grim smile, McClintock muttered, “No wonder they call him the Ulcer.”

* * *

Uhlrich’s quarters were exactly the same size as McClintock’s own, but his furnishings were much more comfortable. There was a new-looking couch beneath the wide wall screen, with a low metal coffee table in front of it, flanked by two plushly upholstered chairs. Actual paintings in gilt frames hung on the walls: McClintock thought they might have been done by Old Masters. They looked like portraits from centuries ago, stiff white-bearded men in colorfully ornate military uniforms, complete with sashes and swords at their sides.

The professor was sitting at the foldout table in the kitchen area, a stemmed wineglass in his hand, when McClintock stepped in. He got to his feet, a little stiffly, McClintock thought.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted your dinner,” Uhlrich said, like reciting a school lesson.

“The accident did that,” McClintock said.

Gesturing to the couch, Uhlrich said, “Please, sit down. Would you like a drink? Schnapps, perhaps?”

Surprised at the offer, McClintock answered, “A little whisky, please, if you have it.”

“Yes,” said Uhlrich. “I think so.” He turned back into the minuscule kitchen and delved into one of its cabinets. “Ah! A single-malt scotch,” he announced, his fingers fondling the bottle. “Would that be satisfactory?”

“Perfectly. On the rocks, please.”

Uhlrich popped a couple of ice cubes into a tumbler and poured a meager splash of whisky over them.

He came over and handed the glass to McClintock, then sat himself on the armchair to his left, holding his wineglass in one hand and smiling mechanically.

McClintock sat on the couch and sipped at the scotch, thinking that although Uhlrich obviously disapproved of allowing liquor at Farside for his staff, he kept a stash for himself. He’s not a prig, he’s a despot.

After taking a sip, he said to the professor, “Your medical team handled the emergency quite well, I thought.”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” said the professor. “Carelessness, pure and simple.”

“All accidents can be prevented,” said McClintock, “in hindsight.”

Uhlrich nodded unhappily. He took a gulp of his wine, then stared at McClintock for several long, silent moments. McClintock stared back, saying nothing. This is your party, he thought. You make the opening move.

Abruptly, Uhlrich said, “The accident would not have happened if Simpson had been there, where he should have been.”

So that’s what this is all about, McClintock said to himself. A test of wills. “I’m afraid I’m responsible for sending Simpson off to Selene. I want him to work closely with Dr. Cardenas on this nanotechnology effort.”

“I see,” said Uhlrich.

“The man can’t be two places at the same time,” McClintock said.

The professor nodded, then lapsed back into silence. At last he offered, “The past two days have been very—eventful.”

“Yes. Very.”

“Trying.”

“Yes.”

“Two accidents,” said the professor. “Perhaps you are a Jonah?”

Feeling suddenly nettled, McClintock shot back, “Me? You’ve never had any accidents here before I arrived?”

Uhlrich replied, “Of course. Of course. I was merely joking with you.”

McClintock made himself smile.

“How long will Anita Halleck stay here?” the professor asked.

Aha, thought McClintock. So that’s what this is about. “She’s leaving tomorrow, I believe,” he said.

With a slight shake of his head, Uhlrich replied, “There is no lobber scheduled to arrive tomorrow.”

“She can requisition a vehicle whenever she wants one,” said McClintock. “Rank hath its privileges.”

“She saw the accident.”

“Only if the surveillance camera views are shown in the cafeteria.”

“She didn’t go to the airlock?”

“She started to, but actually I don’t think she was the slightest bit interested.”

Uhlrich rubbed his trim little beard absently. Then, “She came here to spy on us.”

“I think her real reason for coming here is to meet with Dr. Cardenas in Selene and recruit her help in using nanotech to build her telescope mirrors.”

“But why is this set of telescopes so important to her?” Uhlrich wondered. “Why is she so interested in Sirius C? She’s not an astronomer.”

McClintock knew his father’s explanation: Halleck was using the New Earth program to throw lucrative contracts to Dan Randolph’s Astro Manufacturing Corporation. But he said nothing. No sense telling the professor that she cuckolded my father with Randolph.

To McClintock’s surprise, Uhlrich answered his own question, “She wishes to defeat me.”

“Defeat you?”

“To prevent me from getting the Nobel. That’s her motivation.”

McClintock started to tell him that he was being silly, but hesitated. Be careful here, he told himself. If you say that he’s not important enough for her to be bothered with, he’ll hate you for it.

“Perhaps that’s it,” he said. But he still thought his father was closer to the truth.

Uhlrich straightened in his chair and asked, “What will be your recommendation to the board of the McClintock Trust? Will you support my work here?”

Slightly surprised at his direct thrust, McClintock temporized, “Professor, I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks. I can’t make up my mind so quickly.” Inwardly he reasoned that his father expected him to stay exiled at Farside for at least a month before making a recommendation.

“Time is of the essence.”

“Still … give me a chance to get a firm impression of the work you’re doing here.”

“Selene’s funding only allows us to proceed at a snail’s pace. I need your help.”

“I understand,” said McClintock.

“Time is of the essence,” Professor Uhlrich repeated.





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