The Precipice

STAVENGER THEATER

Kris Cardenas marveled at the crowd’s willingness to leave their comfortable homes and jam themselves cheek-by-jowl into the cramped rows of narrow seats of the outdoor theater. A considerable throng of people was flowing into the theater. It was built in the Grand Plaza, “outdoors.” Exactly one thousand seats were set in a shallow arc around the graceful fluted shell that backed the stage. Even with three-dimensional interactive video and virtual reality programs that were nearly indistinguishable from actuality, people still went to live performances. Maybe it’s because we’re mammals, Cardenas thought. We crave the warmth of other mammals. We’re born to it and we’re stuck with it. Lizards have a better deal.

There was one particular mammal Cardenas wanted to see: George Ambrose. That morning she had phoned the Astro corporate office trying to find him, only to reach his video mail. Late in the afternoon he returned her call. When she said she had to talk to him in person as soon as possible, and preferably in a public place, George had scratched at his thick red beard for a moment and then suggested the theater.

“I’ve got a date comin’ with me,” he said cheerfully, “but we can get together in the intermission and chat for a bit. Okay?”

Cardenas had quickly agreed. Only as an afterthought did she ask what the theater was playing.

George sighed heavily, “some fookin’ Greek tragedy. This date of mine, she’s a nut for th’ classics.”

Usually the theater was sold out, no matter what the production might be. In the days before the greenhouse cliff, when tourism was building up nicely, Selene’s management invited world-class symphony orchestras, dance troupes, drama companies to come to the Moon. Now, most of the performances were done by local amateur talent.

Medea, performed by Selene’s very own Alphonsus Players. Cardenas would have shuddered if it had mattered to her at all. Still, the theater was fully booked. Only Cardenas’s status as one of Selene’s leading citizens wheedled a ticket out of the system, and she had to go all the way up to Doug Stavenger for that. He smilingly admitted that he wasn’t going to use his.

She barely looked at the stage during the first half of the performance. Sitting on the aisle in the fourth row, Cardenas spent most of her time scanning the crowd for a glimpse of George Ambrose’s shaggy red hair.

When the first half ended, she trudged with the slow-moving throng along the central aisle as they chatted about the play and the performances. Cardenas felt surprised to see so many gray and white heads among the theater-goers. Selene is aging, she thought. And very few of our people are taking nanobugs or other therapies to stop it. Finally she saw Big George, like a fiery beacon bobbing head and shoulders above the others.

Once past the last row of seats, most of the crowd scattered to the concession stands spread among the plaza’s flowering shrubbery. A maintenance robot trundled slowly along the periphery of the crowd, patrolling for litter. George was at the jam-packed bar. Cardenas hung back, waiting for him to get his drink and work his way out of the crowd. When he did, he had a plastic stein of beer decorated with Selene’s logo in one hand and a skinny, hollow-eyed redhead on his other arm. She was pretty, in a gaunt, needy way, Cardenas thought. Nice legs. The drink in her hand was much smaller than Ambrose’s. Big George spotted Cardenas and, leaving his date standing by a flowering hibiscus bush, walked toward her.

“Dr. Cardenas,” he said, with a polite dip of his head. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got to get a message to Dan Randolph,” she said. “As quickly as possible.”

“No worries. Pop over t’ the office tomorrow morning. Or tonight, after th’ show, if you like.”

“Is there some way I could talk to Dan without coming to your offices? I think I’m being watched.”

George looked more puzzled than alarmed. “You could phone me, I suppose, and I’ll patch you through to the radio link.” He took a pull from his stein. “Can we do it tonight?”

“Sure. Right now, if you like. I wouldn’t mind an excuse to leave this show. Pretty fookin’ dull, don’tcha think?”

“Not now,” she answered. “That would attract attention. After the show. I’ll drop in at friend’s place and call your office from there.”

For the first time, George showed concern. “You’re really scared, are you?”

“I think Dan’s life is in danger.”

“You mean someone’s out to kill ’im?”

“Humphries.”

George’s face hardened. “You certain of that?”

“I’m… pretty sure.”

“Sure enough to want to warn Dan. From a safe place, where the phone won’t be bugged.”

“Exactly.”

George took a big breath. “All right. Instead of all this pussyfootin’ around, you come with me after the show’s finished and I’ll put you in an Astro guest suite. That way I can protect you.”

Cardenas shook her head. “That’s kind of you, but I don’t think I’m in danger.”

“Then why th’ cloak and dagger stuff?”

“I don’t want Humphries to know that I’m warning Dan. If he knew, then maybe I would be in trouble.”

George thought that over for a few moments, a huge red-maned mountain of a man towering over her, scratching his head perplexedly. “All right,” he said at last. “Back to Plan A, then. I’ll go to the office after this fookin’ show and you call me there. Okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Thank you.”

“Sure you don’t want some protection?”

She considered his offer for several heartbeats, then said, “Thanks, but I won’t need it. And I’ve got my work to consider. I can’t run the lab from an Astro guest suite.”

“Okay,” said George. “But if you change your mind, just holler.” Martin Humphries was reclining in his favorite chair, watching a home video of his own performance, when the phone buzzed. Irked, he glanced at the console and saw that it was his emergency line. He snapped his fingers, and the wallscreen lit up to show the woman he’d sent to follow Cardenas. She was a nondescript clerk from Astro Corporation’s communications department who needed extra money to bring her younger sister up from the ravaged ruins of Moldavia. “Well?” Humphries demanded.

“She talked with George Ambrose and then went back to the show.”

“You have video?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well let me see it,” he snapped.

The woman’s face was replaced by a slightly jittery video of Cardenas talking earnestly with Randolph’s body-guard, that big Australian. “They went back to the show together?”

The woman’s face reappeared on the screen. “No, separately. He had another woman with him.”

Glancing at the digital clock on his desk, Humphries asked, “When does the show end?”

“I don’t know.”

Stupid cow, he fumed silently. Aloud, he commanded, “Stay with her. I’m going to send a couple of men to pick her up. Keep your phone on and they’ll home in on the signal. That way, even if they don’t get there before the show’s over they can find you — and her.”

“It is not allowed to keep the phone on during the performance,” the woman replied.

“I don’t care what’s allowed and what isn’t! Keep your phone on and stay with Dr.

Cardenas or I’ll have you shipped back to Moldavia!”

Her eyes widened with sudden fear. “Yes, sir,” she said. Sullenly.

“How’s the leak?” Dan asked.

He’d been fidgeting around in the wardroom for hours, trying not to pop into the bridge and bother the pilots. But a leak in the superconductor’s coolant scared Dan. Without the superconductor they could be fried by the next solar storm.

So when Amanda left the bridge, Dan asked about the leak.

She looked surprised at his question. “Leak?”

“In the coolant line.”

“Oh, that. It’s nothing much. Pancho will go EVA after turnaround and patch it.”

“Just Pancho?” Dan asked. “By herself?”

“It’s only a tiny leak,” Amanda said lightly. “Pancho decided it won’t need both of us out there.”

Dan nodded and got up from his chair. “Think I’ll go aft and see what Fuchs is doing.” If I just sit here I’ll turn myself into a nervous wreck, he added silently. Fuchs was back in the sensor bay, humming tunelessly to himself as he bent over a worktable strewn with parts from an infrared scanner. “Did it break down?” Dan asked.

Fuchs looked up at him, a pleased smile on his broad face. “No, no,” he said. “I decided to upgrade its sensitivity so we could get better data at long range.”

“We’re going to turn around soon. You’ll have to get all these loose parts stowed away safely or they’ll slide off the table.”

“Oh, I should be finished by then.”

“Really?”

With a glance that was part surprise at having his word questioned, and part pride in his abilities, Fuchs said, “Of course.”

He bent over his work again, stubby thick fingers handling the delicate parts with the precision of a well-trained mechanic. Dan watched him for a while, then quietly left the man to himself. As he started back to his privacy cubicle, he saw Amanda heading along the narrow passage toward him.

“Going to help Pancho suit up?” he asked. “I can—”

“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that,” Amanda said brightly. “I thought I’d pop in on Lars for a few minutes and help him get prepared for turnaround.” Dan felt his brows inch upward. “Something going on between you two?” he asked.

She looked genuinely surprised. “Lars is a complete gentleman,” Amanda said with great dignity. “And even though you may not believe it, I know how to behave like a lady.”

She brushed past Dan, chin high, radiating disdain.

Dan grinned at her retreating back. Something’s going on, all right, even if Fuchs doesn’t know it yet.