Gaeta’s eyes popped open shortly before seven A.M. He tried to slip out of bed without awakening Cardenas, but she stretched out a bare arm toward him.
“It’s too early to get up,” she murmured drowsily.
He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You go back to sleep. I’ve got a lot to do in the sim lab.”
“The honeymoon’s over,” she sighed, turning slightly so that the sheet slid down to reveal a bare shoulder.
Gaeta stared at her for a moment, then muttered, “Business before pleasure.”
She pulled the sheet up demurely, then asked, “So how’s it going?” Her cornflower blue eyes were wide open now.
“Okay.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Only okay?”
Turning back toward her, Gaeta waggled a hand. “Pancho’s fine. She’s a natural. Reflexes like a cat. Jake, though … It’s been a long time since that viejo’s actually flown a spacecraft.”
“He’s not cutting it?”
“He can fly the bird out to the ring okay. It’s picking up Pancho on the other side that worries me. Not much room for error there. No slack.”
Still lying back on her pillow, Cardenas mused, almost to herself “Raoul could fly the transfer ship.”
“He doesn’t want to.”
“But he could. He’s had more recent experience than Jake.”
“He doesn’t want to,” Gaeta repeated.
“I could talk to him.”
“Wouldn’t do much good.”
“I can be very persuasive,” Cardenas insisted.
“Really?”
She sat up in the bed, and the sheet fell to her waist. Reaching both arms out to him, she said, “Don’t you think so?”
He let her twine her fingers in his thick, curly hair. “I really ought to get to the lab. Pancho and Jake’ll be there at nine and—”
“It’s not even eight yet.” Cardenas wound her arms around his neck and pulled her toward him.
Gaeta slid back into bed. “I guess you can be pretty persuasive when you want to be.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Just don’t try this kind of persuasion on Raoul.”
“Would that upset you?”
He grinned fiercely down at her. “Holly would slit your throat.”
“Oh.”
“Now what’s this crap about the honeymoon being over?”
Delicacy and tact, Eberly said to himself, as he walked out toward the lake. Use pressure only when you have to.
Morning was his favorite time of day. Sunshine streamed through the solar windows. The habitat looked fresh and clean. Hardly anyone else was up and around; the other residents were either at their breakfasts or already at their jobs, leaving the lakeside paths almost exclusively to Eberly and his morning constitutional.
Off to his right he saw the little copse of trees where he had that silly tryst with Jeanmarie Urbain. A romantic spot, he thought, even in broad daylight. I wonder how she felt about our clumsy little rendezvous? Was she nervous? Frightened? Excited? Eberly himself had felt none of those emotions. Women were not important to him. Sex was not important. Sometimes he wondered if the prison doctors had done something to his sex drive back in Austria. He shook his head. Power is what’s important, he told himself. Power keeps you safe. Power is what makes people admire you.
Yet, as he strolled down to the lakeside, he felt that Madame Urbain must have at least respected him. She had said she admired him. She really was lonely. I could have had her, Eberly told himself. She was ready for an affair with me.
Still, he was glad that it hadn’t happened. Too many complications, too many dangers. No emotional commitments, he told himself. A man in my position has to be above all that. Power is more important than sex, he repeated to himself. I don’t need a woman hanging onto me, not when I have the admiration of everyone in the habitat. They all love me. They respect and appreciate me, even the dolts who voted against me in the last election. But this time around it’ll be different. This time I might even win unanimously. Once I’ve sprung my little trap on the snippy Ms. Lane, she won’t have a leg left to stand on.
Eberly was grinning happily as he sat on the bench where he was to meet Jeanmarie Urbain. She wasn’t there yet, of course. He had decided to come a good quarter hour earlier than the time they had agreed upon for this meeting. Madame Urbain had been surprised that Eberly had called her well past midnight, but she’d been alone in her apartment, as Eberly had guessed she would be. Her husband was spending long nights with the other scientists; everyone in the habitat knew that Urbain even slept in his office most nights.
And there she was! Walking slowly, almost uncertainly, along the path from the village. She looked fresh and lovely in a sleeveless little flowered frock. She truly is an attractive woman, Eberly realized. I could have her if I wanted to.
He got up from the bench and, once she was close enough, made a slight bow.
“Madame Urbain, how pleasant to see you again,” he said, smiling his best smile.
She seemed nervous. “You said it was important that we talk together.”
“Yes, it is.” Gesturing to the bench, “Please sit down.”
She looked around as if afraid she’d been followed.
“There’s nothing wrong with the wife of the habitat’s chief scientist sitting on a park bench with the chief administrator in broad daylight,” Eberly said, gesturing to the bench again. “Please make yourself comfortable.”
She perched like a frightened little bird, ready to flutter away at the slightest provocation.
Sitting almost an arm’s length from her, Eberly said, “What I wanted to talk to you about is politics.”
Jeanmarie visibly relaxed.
“And science,” Eberly added.
“Yes?”
“Let me get straight to the point,” he said. “This petition to overthrow our zero-growth protocol is a direct danger to your husband’s work.”
“A danger?” Her eyes widened. “How so?”
Eberly spent the next half hour explaining how unlimited population growth would eat up the habitat’s resources, forcing the government to devote more and constantly more of its precious allocations of food, funds and personnel to provide for a relentlessly growing population.
“We won’t be able to support the scientific staff,” he told her. “We might even have to put them to work in the hospital or the food processing plants.”
“But the ICU would provide funding for the research,” Jeanmarie objected.
“Only up to a point,” said Eberly. “The ICU only provides a small share of the scientific staff’s needs. The citizens of this habitat are expected to shoulder most of the burden.” It was almost true: an exaggeration, but not much of one.
Jeanmarie sat on the bench, head bowed, pondering what Eberly was telling her. At last she said slowly, “You are saying that if the petition succeeds in overthrowing the ZPG protocol, it will endanger the work my husband and the other scientists are engaged in?”
“Most definitely. It could put an end to all the scientific research being conducted here.”
“But what can we do about it?”
Eberly smiled inwardly at her use of we. I’ve got her, he told himself. She’ll do what I tell her to.
“Someone must take a stand against this petition,” he told her, radiating sincerity. “Someone must show the women of this habitat that the petition could put an end to our very reason for existence.”
Jeanmarie nodded, but she still looked slightly uncertain.
Eberly grasped her hands and looked straight into her light brown eyes. “Jeanmarie—may I call you Jeanmarie?”
“Yes,” she murmured. “Of course.”