Unconsciously, Brumado smiled as he began, “Dr. Waterman, this is rather awkward for me, for several reasons. First, I don’t see you on the screen yet since it takes so much time to send messages back and forth. Second, I have to ask you for a favor. I recall that we met once during your training, and I regret that we did not have the chance to spend more time together and get to know each other better.” Brumado hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I suppose you realize that you have caused something of an uproar here in the United States.”
Jamie watched Brumado’s neatly bearded face: kindly, a bit sad, his gray hair slightly rumpled. Just three lousy words, Jamie thought as Brumado talked to him. Three little words and there’s an uproar back home.
“… So what I have done is to sit down with the major networks and smooth things over as much as possible for you. They will not be satisfied, however, unless they have the chance to interview you. They have agreed to have one reporter ask the questions, and I have reviewed the questions they have put on tape. We have no objections to your answering any of them. They have your complete biographical file from the agency, of course, and there have already been several interviews with your parents and other people you have known in school and socially. So far, the coverage has been very sympathetic, very favorable to you. But now they want to speak to you.”
Brumado pulled in a deep breath, then went on. “I know it must sound almost ridiculous to you, where you are now and with what you are trying to accomplish, but you must understand that you have touched on a very sensitive nerve back here. Indian activists are proclaiming you a hero. The Vice-President is quite angry with the space agency for allowing you to become part of the Mars mission. She thinks you are a troublemaker, although she used much stronger language than that. I pointed out to her that I myself pushed to get you assigned to the mission, but that only made her angrier, I think. So-what to do?”
Jamie almost started to answer the question, then realized that Brumado was not waiting for an answer. “We will transmit the media’s questions to you immediately after I finish talking to you. We want you to answer the questions as honestly and openly as you can. The tape of your answers will be screened here in Washington by the Space Council before being released to the media. The Vice-President herself will make the decision to release your tape to the media or not. I suggest you review the entire tape, listen carefully to every question, and then go back and answer each one in turn.”
Brumado seemed to hunch closer to the screen. His face took on a more intense, more sorrowful look. “I must warn you that the quality of your answers will determine whether or not you are allowed to remain with the surface team. I have spoken at length with Li Chengdu and he is vehemently against your being replaced for political reasons. But if the Vice-President insists upon it, we will have no choice but to send you up to the orbiter and send the Australian, Dr. O’Hara, to the surface in your place.”
Brumado leaned back again, then said, “Well, that’s it. I regret that this is happening, but we must try to deal with it as quickly and honestly as we can. The interviewer’s questions will follow immediately. Good-bye for now. And good luck.”
The screen flickered momentarily, then the smooth smiling face of a network anchorman appeared. Jamie recognized the face, but could not recall the name. From somewhere in the dome Jamie could hear music floating softly through the air: a Rachmaninoff piano concerto, no loss. Dark and melancholy. Must be one of the Russians’ tapes, he thought. Strange that Brumado didn’t ask to speak with his daughter. Maybe he already did. Maybe Paul told him Joanna’s busy in her lab.
The anchorman did not bother to introduce himself; perhaps he felt that he was so famous that no introduction was necessary.