Titan

7 January 2096: Evening

Urbain received two messages just as he was rising from his desk chair after another exhausting day of frustration and delay.

His chief of engineering appeared at the door of the office, the expression on his face morose and apprehensive at the same time. Urbain could see it was bad news before the man said a word.

Dropping back down into his padded desk chair, Urbain uttered a weary, “What now?”

Without stepping into the office, the engineer said from the doorway, “All twelve satellites are ready for launch, Dr. Urbain.”

Then why the long face? Urbain wondered. Before he could ask, the engineer added, “But the chief administrator has refused to permit their launch.”

Urbain could feel his blood pressure zoom. “Refused? He can’t refuse! He hasn’t the authority to prevent the launchings!”

“I’m afraid he does, sir. Our hands are tied without permission from the habitat’s maintenance and safety departments.”

Visibly trembling with rage, Urbain glowered at the engineer, who immediately ducked back through the doorway. Urbain could hear his footsteps practically racing away down the corridor outside.

Before he could think of what to do, his phone chimed and Malcolm Eberly’s handsome face smiled from its screen.

“We need to talk,” Eberly said, as if he were speaking to some underling. “Please meet me at the entrance to the administration building in ten minutes.” And, click, Eberly’s image winked off before Urbain could reply or even growl.

Ten minutes later Urbain stood fidgeting impatiently at the entrance to the administration building, some two hundred meters down the main street of Athens from his own science headquarters.

Eberly appeared at the double-doored entrance, flanked by two other men. One of them Urbain recognized from his meeting in Eberly’s conference room a few days earlier; the other was a stranger to him.

While Urbain seethed on the sidewalk, Eberly chatted with his two flunkies up at the top of the entrance’s stairs, all smiles and nods and pleasantries. At last the two underlings took their leave and pattered down the four steps of the entranceway, passing Urbain with barely a nod. He’s orchestrated this, Urbain thought, to humiliate me. To put me in my place. To rub my nose in the fact that he has power and I do not.

Finally Eberly descended the stairs, all smiles, and extended a hand to Urbain. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Pressing business.”

Urbain did not deign to take the man’s hand. “You have refused permission to launch my satellites,” he said with cold fury.

“It’s only a temporary hold,” Eberly said easily, starting to walk down the street. Urbain had no choice but to follow after him.

“I know it’s upsetting to you,” Eberly said, as they headed down the gently sloping street. “But I’m sure you’ll be able to launch your satellites tomorrow, right on schedule, more or less.”

Urbain said nothing. It seemed obvious to him that Eberly was after something and he had no intention of saying anything that might give the man an opening. So they walked in leisurely silence as the habitat slowly turned to its night mode, the wide solar windows shuttering, street lamps and windows lighting up. Other people passed them on the street, couples and individuals who smiled and nodded their greetings. Eberly beamed at each and every one of them; Urbain kept a tight-lipped silence.

At last he couldn’t stand it anymore. As they neared the shore of Athens’s pretty little lake, Urbain said between clenched teeth, “My wife is expecting me for dinner.”

“Ah,” said Eberly. “Yes, of course. Your wife. Mrs. Urbain is quite a lovely woman. Very lovely.”

“Why have you refused permission to launch my satellites?” Urbain demanded.

“Not refused,” Eberly said, looking out across the lake instead of at Urbain. “Delayed permission. And only for a few hours, actually. Only until we’ve had a chance to talk together.”

“Talk together? Talk about what?”

Eberly turned back toward the scientist, then seemed to look past his shoulder. Urbain got the impression that the man was searching the area to make certain that no one was close enough to overhear them.

“My people tell me that it’s a violation of the safety rules to launch all the satellites we have in store and leave nothing in reserve, in case of an emergency.”

“That is why I asked for the personnel and materials to build an additional dozen satellites!” Urbain snapped.

“Yes, I know.”

“And your people have been dragging their feet on my request.”

“Regrettable,” murmured Eberly.

Urbain stopped walking and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is this all about?” he demanded. “Why are you opposing me?”

Eberly turned to face him, his usual smile gone, his face cold and hard. “You want to launch your satellites into orbit around Titan and—”

“And build another dozen to serve as backups,” Urbain interjected.

“Yes,” said Eberly. “And I want to mine Saturn’s rings.”

Urbain blinked with surprise. “Mine the rings?”

“For ice. Water ice. It’s the most precious commodity in the solar system.”

“I know,” muttered Urbain, remembering that Eberly had used the idea of mining Saturn’s rings as a ploy during the election campaign. He held out to the habitat’s citizens the glittering promise of becoming wealthy by selling water ice to the other human communities in space.

“You and the other scientists opposed the idea,” Eberly said. “Especially that Wunderly person.”

“She discovered indigenous life forms in the rings,” Urbain said, more to himself than to Eberly.

“I’m told that most of the scientists back on Earth don’t believe her claim.”

“Nonetheless, the mere possibility that living organisms may exist in the rings means that all commercial activities are forbidden.”

“The ICU hasn’t issued any prohibition,” said Eberly. “Neither has the IAA.”

“The International Consortium of Universities has asked for my estimation of the matter before they make a recommendation to the International Astronautical Authority.”

“I thought as much.”

“Now I understand,” Urbain said. “You want me to recommend to the ICU that you should be allowed to mine the rings.”

“We wouldn’t make a dent in them. There’s gadzillions of tons of ice in those rings. We would only take a minuscule fraction of it.”

Urbain glowered at Eberly with undisguised revulsion. “You want to blackmail me. You will withhold permission to launch my satellites unless I allow you to mine the rings.”

Eberly smiled thinly. “That isn’t blackmail. The correct word is extortion.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Nevertheless, if you want to get those satellites down to Titan where they can search for your wandering probe, you’ll have to tell the ICU that it’s perfectly all right for us to mine the rings.”

Urbain could see from the hard set of Eberly’s jaw that he had no third option.