Faint bluish light strips ran along the ceiling: ultraviolet lamps whose light could deactivate any nanodevices that somehow escaped the confinement of the reactors and incubators. Safety was a paramount concern in the nanolab, even after many years of secure operation. No one wanted an accident that unleashed all-consuming nanomachines into the underground community of Selene. No one dreaded the “gray goo problem” more than the scientists and technicians of the nanolab staff.
“This is my cubbyhole, here,” Doreen said as she led Stavenger to a small desk at the end of a workbench.
He nodded, looked around, and pulled up a small wheeled chair as she sat in the padded desk chair.
She looks nervous, Stavenger thought: big gray-green eyes staring out like a frightened kid’s.
“There’s nothing to be frightened of,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Dex Trumball isn’t an ogre.”
She tried to smile. “I know. It’s just that… well, I know enough about Dr. Waterman. He’s not going to like my proposal. Not at all.”
Stavenger made a nonchalant shrug. “That’s his decision. Right now I think you owe it to the people working on Mars to let Trumball know what you can do.”
“Dr. Waterman’s going to hate it,” Doreen said in a small, almost whispering, voice.
“Be that as it may, your idea may save the entire Mars operation.”
The desk phone chimed. Doreen flinched visibly at the sound. Stavenger glanced at his wristwatch. “He’s right on time.”
Dex Trumball’s face took form on the phone screen. Stavenger introduced himself, then gestured toward Doreen. After the usual pleasantries, Stavenger got down to the point.
“Ms. McManus made a very interesting presentation to our governing board about the possibilities of using nanotechnology to enlarge the area on Mars where people can live and work. I thought that you and your Mars Foundation people ought to hear about it.”
Trumball’s sharp, hard eyes flicked from Stavenger to Doreen and back again. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Doreen began to speak, hesitantly at first but then with growing confidence and enthusiasm.
After half an hour, Dex interrupted, “Wait a minute. You’re saying that you can create a completely earthlike environment that’s kilometers wide?”
“As large as you want it,” Doreen said, nodding vigorously. “You can make it an ongoing operation, constantly enlarging the earthlike area.”
“Under a dome,” said Dex.
“Yes. It would have to be enclosed, of course.”
Stavenger interjected, “It wouldn’t be totally earthlike. The gravity would still be at the Martian level.”
“That’s not a problem,” Dex said. “As long as people could live under the dome in a shirtsleeve environment.”
“They could wear bikinis!” Doreen said.
Dex smiled. “Most of the tourists we’d bring to Mars would look awful in bikinis. But on the other hand…”
Boston: Trumball Trust Headquarters
More in sorrow than in anger, Dex said to himself. Remember that: more in sorrow than in anger. Jamie’s a stubborn sonofabitch but that’s who he is and there’s no sense getting sore about it. You just have to do what you have to do.
Despite the brilliant sunshine and crystal blue sky, it was chilly up on the windswept roof of the Trumball Tower. Roland Kinnear was trying to smile bravely, but it was clear that the gusts whipping in from the harbor cut through his light summer-weight suit jacket and turned his perpetual smile into something of a grimace.
“Not like Hawaii,” he said to Dex, raising his voice over the rush of the wind.
“You want to go back downstairs?” Dex asked. Kinnear shrugged. “In a minute or two. I figure you brought me up here for a reason.”
Dex studied his old schoolmate’s round, normally cheerful face. “I wanted this conversation to be strictly private, Rollie. Just between you and me.”
Kinnear’s light blond brows furrowed. “You don’t trust your staff?”
“Sure I do,” Dex said. “But I don’t want to run the risk of somebody accidentally overhearing us.”
Kinnear thought that over for a moment, then asked, “Can we get out of this wind, at least?”
Dex laughed, then took Kinnear by the elbow and led him to the other side of the roof where they were sheltered by the bulk of the structure that housed the building’s cooling tower. From this angle he could see the city’s busy streets, and across the Charles River the gray, utilitarian buildings of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Harvard’s redbrick Colonial-style campus was off to their left, half hidden among the flaming trees in their autumnal colors. Farther on toward the horizon, past more colorful trees and stately slim white church steeples, was Lexington and the common where a handful of Minutemen had tried to make a stand against the British army.
“It’s pretty,” Kinnear said, “with all the trees in color.”
“They say we might even get some snow this winter,” Dex said, wistfully. “It looks beautiful all in white.”
Out of the wind, Kinnear relaxed enough to put his pleasant smile back on. “So what do you want to talk about, Dex?”
“Mars. What else?”
“You’re in bad shape, from what I hear.”
“We’re bleeding to death,” Dex admitted. “That damned priest’s just about killed us.”
“He didn’t do himself any good, either.” Kinnear grinned.
“Yeah, yeah, but now we’ve got people blaming us for his death. We’re getting really nasty mail, calling us priest killers, making threats.”
“Anything serious?”
“I’ve doubled our security. There’s a lot of nuts out there.” Dex shook his head. “Priest killers,” he muttered.
“So your money flow…?”
“Down to a trickle. Less.”
“I still think the tourism idea could fly,” Kinnear said, obviously trying to brighten Dex’s mood.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“My people tell me Waterman turned you down flat.”
“You’ve got a line into my private office,” Dex said. “I figured as much.”
Widening his smile, Kinnear said, “We’re talking a ton of money here, Dex. I have to protect my investment.”
“You haven’t spent a dime, Rollie.”
“Well, I might have. But the Navaho chief nixed it, did he?”
Nodding, “I expected he would.”
“So, do you go over his head?”
“Can’t. The Navaho council has the final word on what we can or can’t do on Mars.”
“But they voted in favor of the tourist plan, didn’t they?”
“Yes, but they won’t go against Jamie. If he says no they’ll go along with him.”
“Shit. They’d turn down all that money?”
“They would and they will.”
Kinnear pursed his lips. “Well, that’s that, I guess.”
A jet airliner from Logan Aerospaceport, across the Inner Harbor, roared over them, making conversation impossible for a few moments. Dex used the time to frame the words he had to speak.
“Rollie, there’s a way we can get this done,” he said, as the airliner’s thunder diminished in the distance.
Kinnear looked askance at him.
“It works like this,” Dex said, wondering if he could really go through with it. “Without your tourist money, the Mars Foundation goes bust.”
“But you’ve got other sources of funding, don’t you?”
“It’s not enough. We’ve got enough in the bank to finance one more resupply flight to Mars. After that, if we don’t get an injection of new funding we’re going to have to shut down the operation on Mars and bring everybody home.”