RACING AGAINST TIME
Leading Cardenas out of the lobber and down the access tube, Grant was relieved to see that McClintock had left the reception area. Derek got rid of him, he thought gratefully as he hurried with Cardenas along the narrow tunnel toward Farside’s minuscule infirmary.
Grant phoned the maintenance center as they entered the infirmary and told Toshio Aichi to be ready to test a sample in the laser probe, then he explained what he wanted to a surprised Dr. Kapstein while he rolled up his coverall sleeve. As he sat down for the blood drawing, Cardenas asked:
“If I miss today’s flight, when’s the next one out?”
Grant swallowed hard, then admitted, “Um … three days from now.”
“Three days?” she yelped.
“I’m afraid so.”
Glaring at him, Cardenas said, “Well, we’d damned well better get this done quickly. I can’t miss today’s flight. Anita Halleck’s people expect me to be in my lab for a design conference about their mirrors.”
Wielding a needle, Dr. Kapstein said, “This will only take a moment.”
“Three days,” Cardenas muttered while Grant flinched at the needle’s prick. “We’d better make today’s flight. I can’t hang around here for another three days.”
“I appreciate this very much,” Grant said, by way of an apology.
Clutching the vial of his dark red blood, Grant hustled Cardenas down to the maintenance center and introduced her to Aichi and Zacharias.
He explained what they needed and the two techs walked them down to the far corner of the center, where the laser probe was already humming. Grant saw from the digital clock on the probe’s readout screen that they had forty-seven minutes before the lobber was set to lift off.
As Aichi and Zacharias adjusted the laser, Toshio asked, “We are looking for nanomachines?” His face was impassive but his tone clearly uneasy.
“That’s right,” said Grant, his eyes on the bead of bright red blood that Cardenas had smeared onto the probe’s specimen stage.
Zacharias’s butterball face suddenly went somber. “Grant, you’ve got nanomachines inside you?”
He nodded tightly.
“Cheez,” said Zach, with awe in his voice. “I didn’t know.” He edged slightly away from Grant.
“It’s only been a month or so,” Grant said.
Toshio said, “Am I correct in believing that you also carry nanomachines within you, Dr. Cardenas?”
“That’s no secret,” Cardenas replied.
“Cheez,” Zacharias repeated.
The wall screen to the right of the workbench lit up and Grant stared at the sight of dozens of little blobs racing back and forth.
“Not the sharpest resolution,” Cardenas murmured.
“It’s the best we can do,” said Aichi.
“Those are nanos?” Zacharias asked.
“Yes,” said Cardenas. “They are programmed to disassemble molecules that don’t carry Grant’s specific genetic markers.”
“Any molecules?” Grant asked.
“Only organics,” answered Cardenas. “And only within the specific environment of your body. If any of those nanos get outside your body they will automatically deactivate themselves. They’re tailored to your body, Grant. They’ll switch themselves off in any other environment.”
Grant glanced at his wristwatch. Twenty-four minutes to liftoff.
“How can you tell if there are any other types of nanomachines in my blood?” Grant asked.
Frowning at the display screen, Cardenas replied, “I can’t. Not at this resolution. But…”
Standing beside her, Grant peered at the screen. He could feel Toshio and Zach behind him, literally breathing down his neck.
“What am I supposed to be seeing?” he asked.
Cardenas murmured, “Wait … just a minute or so more.…”
The frantic little specks on the screen were slowing down. As Grant watched, the blobs that were nanomachines moved more and more sluggishly. Finally they stopped altogether.
Nodding as if satisfied, Cardenas said, “That’s it. They’re deactivated.”
“They’re dead?” Zach asked.
“Deactivated,” Cardenas corrected. Turning to Grant she said, “You see? Once the nanos are outside your body, no longer powered by your body heat, they shut down.”
Grant was still staring at the screen. The specks that were nanomachines were totally inert now, unmoving.
“Are you satisfied, Grant?” Cardenas asked. “Do you feel better now?”
He broke into a guarded smile. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
“All right, then,” Cardenas said. “Let’s get to that rocket!”
Grabbing her by the wrist, Grant raced out of the maintenance center, leaving Aichi and Zacharias staring at them, dumbfounded.
As they sprinted along the corridor, Grant flicked his pocketphone open and called the flight control monitor.
“They’re on schedule,” Josie Rivera said.
“Find a reason to delay their liftoff for a few minutes, will you, Jo?”
“A reason? You mean, like make up some excuse for delaying them? I can’t do that, Grant. You know I can’t do that. The Ulcer would fry my butt if he found out. Flight control at Selene would go ballistic!”
“Just a couple of minutes,” Grant pleaded, puffing as he ran. “Dr. Cardenas doesn’t want to miss the flight.”
Josie’s dark-eyed face looked stubborn in the phone’s tiny screen. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, in a tone that Grant knew meant that she would do nothing.
They skidded into the reception area, startling Nate Oberman so badly he dropped the mug of juice he’d been sipping. It spilled across the desk.
“… eight … seven…” The automated countdown sounded in the speakers set into the stone ceiling.
Grant stood by Oberman’s desk, chest heaving, Cardenas panting beside him. Ten seconds too late, he thought. Ten frigging seconds.
“Dammit,” Cardenas muttered.
“… two … one … liftoff.”
The wall screen showed the lobber hurtling off the launchpad in a silent blast of dust and pebbles. The pilot’s voice confirmed, “Liftoff on schedule. Bye-bye, Farside.”
“Confirm liftoff,” Josie Rivera said. “Have a good flight, Derek.”
“See you in three days, kiddo.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
The automated camera out by the landing pad was tracking the lobber as it climbed higher and higher into the star-filled black sky.
“Pressure drop!” the copilot’s voice yelled.
In the wall screen’s display the lobber suddenly blossomed into a glaring ball of white-hot flame. Grant could see pieces of the rocket hurtling across the sky, falling slowly, gently, spinning lazily like children’s toys.
One of the pieces was the body of a man, Derek or his copilot. Frozen in horror, Grant watched the guy’s arms and legs flailing as he screamed in the utter silence of the lunar vacuum all the way down to the hard, barren ground.