NANOFEAR
This teleconference is a farce, Cardenas thought. Instead of discussing the design of the space-based telescope mirrors, Halleck’s engineers wanted to talk about nothing except the accident.
She was sitting in the recliner in her quarters, facing the wall screen, which showed the three engineers side by side at a table in one of Selene’s conference rooms. Two of them were good-looking young men, the third an older woman, portly, matronly, wearing a scarlet red scoop-necked blouse that showed plenty of fatty cleavage. The men had the sense to wear ordinary business attire: dark cardigan jackets over turtleneck shirts.
“There are all sorts of rumors flying around Selene,” said one of the young men. He was blond, with pale blue eyes.
“I’m sure there are,” Cardenas said, eager to get back to the subject for their meeting.
The other guy, his dark hair shaved down to a fuzz, added, “Selene’s sending an accident investigation team to Farside.”
Before Cardenas could reply, the woman asked, “Do you think nanomachines could have had anything to do with the accident?”
“That’s what everybody’s wondering about,” said the blond.
Cardenas bit back the sharp denial that was her first instinctive reply. Measuredly, she answered, “That’s a possibility that must be investigated, of course. I think it’s a remote possibility, but still, the investigators will have to look into it.”
The blond went on, “I mean, Farside’s using nanos to build their mirrors, after all.”
“That,” said Cardenas, “is like saying that since Farside is using plasma torches in the construction of the underground facilities here, plasma torches might have caused the rocket’s explosion.”
“Not really the same, though, is it?” the woman engineer said, with a knowing smile that was almost a sneer.
Cardenas admitted, “Not quite the same, I suppose.”
The data bar across the bottom of the wall screen started blinking red, then displayed: ADDITIONAL CALLER, MRS. ANITA HALLECK.
The screen split to show Halleck, looking elegant in a crisply tailored pale chartreuse blouse and with a long fall of chestnut hair draped artfully down one shoulder.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, a slight smile curving her full lips. “I just arrived here at Selene, only to find that you’re at Farside, Dr. Cardenas.”
Somewhat flustered, Cardenas replied, “I didn’t realize you intended to join this conference in person, Mrs. Halleck.”
“Oh, yes,” Halleck said coolly. “My staff must have failed to make that clear to you.”
The three engineers on the other half of the screen looked just as surprised as Cardenas felt.
“Well,” Cardenas temporized, “I should be back at Selene in a few days, at most.”
Halleck seemed to consider that information for a moment. Then, “I doubt that I can wait that long. But I do want to personally inform you that despite this unfortunate accident at Farside, I intend to press ahead with our construction of the mirrors using nanomachines. I want to make that perfectly clear.”
Cardenas sat up straighter. “I’m delighted to hear that, Mrs. Halleck.”
“Just because there’s been an accident at Farside, there’s no reason to delay our own work.”
The woman engineer’s head bobbed up and down. “Yes, of course.” The two male engineers glanced at each other, then they began to nod, too.
Cardenas suppressed a grin. At least Halleck has her head screwed on right, she thought. Now maybe we can get back to work.
* * *
Grant was just getting into bed when Trudy called. He started to tell the phone to answer, but hesitated as he realized that he was naked. Hell, she’s seen me naked, he thought. Still, he ordered the phone, “Reply audio only.”
Trudy’s face filled the wall screen. She looked tired, concerned, almost frightened.
“Grant? I’m sorry to call so late.…”
“It’s all right,” he said, sitting on his bed and pulling the sheet up to his waist.
“I’m worried about Professor Uhlrich,” she said.
“The Ulcer?”
“Grant, he’s terribly concerned,” she said earnestly. “He tries not to show it in front of you, but he’s worried that this team of investigators coming in from Selene is going to shut us down completely.”
“He’s worried he won’t get the Nobel Prize,” Grant replied sourly. “That’s the only thing he gives a damn about.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Isn’t it?”
Trudy bit her lip for a moment, then asked, “Can I come over to your place? We need to talk—”
“No!” he snapped.
She looked surprised, hurt.
Agonized, Grant explained, “Look, Trudy, my body’s filled with nanomachines. All this trouble might be my fault. I’m not going to risk hurting you. I can’t.”
“But you said Dr. Cardenas told you it couldn’t be your fault.”
“Who else? I get injected with nanos at Selene. I come back here and the tractor engine dies, then Win gets killed, and now the lobber blows up—everything I touch!”
“It’s not you, Grant. I know it’s not.”
He knew he should feel touched at her reaction. Instead he felt almost angry. “And how do you know it’s not?” he challenged.
Her face dimpling into a grin, Trudy said, “You’ve touched me, haven’t you? I haven’t fallen apart.”
Grant shook his head wearily. “Trudy, this isn’t a joke.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“You’re not made of metal,” Grant said.
“So there’s no problem then, is there?” She looked absolutely impish now.
“You can’t—”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Trudy said. Then the screen went blank.