Titan

30 May 2096: Infirmary

Gaeta opened his eyes slowly and saw that he was lying in a hospital bed. The sheets were crisp and smelled of disinfectant. Monitors beeped softly on the wall to his side.

His left arm was enclosed in a dark gray plastic sheath from shoulder to fingertips. And Kris Cardenas sat asleep in a chair at the foot of his bed, her head half-sunk in a thick pillow that was propped on her shoulder, her feet tucked under her. Even with her bright blue eyes closed and her golden hair tousled from sleep she looked beautiful.

I made it, Kris, he said silently to her. I came back to you. He smiled at her.

He yawned sleepily. Looking around, he saw that he was in a private room, bright pastel walls and even a window with sunshine streaming through. Nice, he thought. First-class treatment. Then he looked at Cardenas again. She looks like a kid, sleeping all curled up like that. A golden-haired angel. He sank back into sleep watching her.

Holly was sitting on the sofa in her living room beside Tavalera, running through the video images she intended to show at the final debate, scheduled for this election eve.

“I checked all the numbers with three different sets of astronomers on Earth and Selene,” Tavalera was saying. “Over the past hundred years an average of sixteen comets have come out of the Kuiper Belt each year. That’s comets bigger than five kilometers across.”

Studying the chart displayed on her smart wall, Holly said, “And they all enter the inner solar system?”

“Most do. Some get pulled in to Jupiter space, some to Saturn. Most swing through the inner system once and never come back—or at least their orbits are so long that they haven’t come back yet.”

“That’s a lot of water, though.”

“Billions of tons each year,” said Tavalera, almost smiling.

Holly closed her eyes briefly, then said, “So here’s my main points for tonight’s debate: One, the creatures in the rings are really nanomachines, built by aliens who-knows-when.”

“So we don’t dare start messing with them.”

Nodding, “Two, the power outages we’ve suffered were caused by electromagnetic surges from the nanocritters.”

“Maybe those surges are signals,” Tavalera coached. “Don’t forget that point.”

“F’sure. But who’re they signaling?”

“The aliens who planted ’em in the rings.”

“Or maybe they’re trying to get our attention?” Holly suggested.

Tavalera shrugged. “Either way, we can’t mine the rings. No way.”

“’Kay. Third point: We can still get rich by capturing comets and selling their water.”

“As long as they don’t have anything living in ’em,” Tavalera said, almost in a grumble.

“Astrobiologists have been studying comets for a century, almost,” Holly countered. “Lots of prebiotic chemicals, amino acids and stuff, but no living organisms.”

“So far.”

Holly tapped his chin with a forefinger. “We’ll examine each comet before we start chopping up its ice. If we find anything we’ll leave that one to the scientists. There’s plenty of others.”

He grasped her hand and looked into her eyes. “Holly, you’re gonna win this election, you know.”

“Maybe.”

“What happens to us when you do?”

She felt a lump in her throat. Swallowing hard, she replied, “I don’t know, Raoul. I guess what happens is up to you.”

When Gaeta opened his eyes again, he saw that Cardenas was standing at the foot of his bed smiling at him. A chubby, round-faced man in a white medical smock stood beside her; he was smiling, too.

“Good morning,” said the doctor. “I am Oswaldo Yañez, your attending physician.”

“Good morning,” Gaeta echoed. The gray plastic sheath still covered his arm, but he felt clear-headed, bright. No pain.

Cardenas stepped swiftly to the side of the bed, leaned over, and kissed him hard. Gaeta grasped her with his good arm and held her tightly.

“You’re going to be all right,” she said, half-whispering as she leaned against him. “I’ve got nanomachines repairing your arm. You’ll be fine in a few days.”

She pulled away from him at last as Yañez took a palm-sized remote from the pocket of his smock. An x-ray picture of Gaeta’s arm appeared on the wall to his right.

“The bone break is already healed,” the doctor said cheerfully, “with the help of Dr. Cardenas’s little devices. Repairing the damage caused by the freezing will take a while longer, however.”

“You saved my arm,” Gaeta said to her.

“I want you all in one piece, with all your parts working right.”

He grinned. “Me too.”

Yañez coughed politely. “Do you feel strong enough for visitors? There are several people outside.”

“Sure,” said Gaeta. “Send ’em in.”

Pancho and Jake Wanamaker trooped in, together with a darker-skinned guy with a trim little beard fringing his jawline.

“This is Da’ud Habib,” Pancho said, without any preliminaries. “He’s the one you were talkin’ with when you were down on Titan.”

“I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for bringing Alpha back to life for us,” Habib said. Gaeta saw that the man’s eyes were glistening; he was on the verge of tears.

“I guess Urbain is pretty damned happy, huh?”

Habib stiffened slightly. “Dr. Urbain is dead.”

“Dead?”

“He suffered a massive coronary attack while you were working on the surface. By the time we found him in his office it was too late to do anything to help him.”

“Holy shit,” Gaeta said fervently.

“But you brought Alpha back to life,” Habib said. “The probe is under our control and sending streams of data. For that we owe you our eternal thanks.”

Impulsively Habib grabbed Gaeta’s right hand and pumped it. Then, as if embarrassed by his burst of emotion, he dropped Gaeta’s hand and stepped back from the bed.

Before anyone could think of something to say, Fritz von Helmholtz stepped into the little room, impeccably attired in a navy blue blazer over a golden yellow turtleneck.

“Hi, Fritz,” Gaeta said. “Join the party.”

Fritz smiled tightly and offered, “Apparently you are well on the road to recovery.”

“That’s what they tell me,” said Gaeta.

“Your mission to Titan was a great success financially. We will clear slightly more than fourteen million, even factoring in medical expenses.”

Gaeta laughed. “You frozen Popsicle. You were worried about me, admit it.”

“I knew you would survive,” Fritz said, unruffled. “And Dr. Cardenas’s nanomachines will repair your arm, no?”

Cardenas said, “Damned right.”

“So,” Fritz said. “The mission was a great success.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Pancho.

Still focusing on Gaeta, Fritz went on, “Requests are pouring in. We are doing preliminary studies of a trek across Mercury at perihelion.”

“Not me,” Gaeta said. “I’m retired.”

“I’ve heard that before,” said Fritz, a tiny smile twitching his lips.

“For keeps,” said Gaeta, reaching for Cardenas with his good arm. “When you and the crew head back to Earth, take the suit with you. I’m finished with it.”

Cardenas squeezed his hand so hard Gaeta was surprised at the strength in her.