Danchekker rose from the console and advanced toward the terminal, stopping halfway across the floor as if wary of too close a proximity, even to an image. Sandy withdrew discreetly out of the viewing angle. “Can’t Yamumatsu deal with it?” Danchekker asked irritably. “He understands convertible assets, depreciation ratios, and other such intricacies—I am only a scientist. I spoke to him this morning, and he said he’d be happy to substitute.”
“It is customary for the departmental director to chair the quarterly review,” Ms. Mulling replied in a tone as yielding as the hull armor of a battleship.
“How can it be customary?” Danchekker challenged. “The department is new. The division itself is barely six months old.”
“The precedent derives from UNSA Corporate standard procedures, which predate the new organizational structure and have not been changed.” Ms. Mulling’s eyes moved up and down to take in his full length. “What on earth are you doing in those?” she demanded before Danchekker could respond. Following her gaze, he looked down at his feet. To save time getting to a black-tie dinner that evening which he had been unable to evade, he was already wearing evening dress underneath his lab coat—except for his shoes, which were of white, rubber-soled canvas.
“What do they look like?” he riposted. “They are popularly referred to, I believe, as sneakers.”
“I know. But why are you wearing them with evening dress?”
“Because they are comfortable, of course.”
“You can hardly appear at the Republican Society dinner like that, Professor.”
The light glinted off Danchekker’s spectacles and teeth. “Madam, I have no intention of doing so. I shall be changing them before I depart. Do you wish me to produce my patent leather pair from the closet and show them to you as proof?”
“That won’t be necessary, thank you. But such a combination wouldn’t be appropriate for the review meeting, I’m afraid. After all, both the deputy financial comptroller and the executive vice-president of planning will be attending.”
Danchekker stood before the screen, seeming to crouch in the attitude of some scrawny bird of prey, his lab coat hanging from his hunched shoulders like a vulture’s wings and his fingers curling by his sides like talons, as if he were about to pounce on the terminal and tear it to pieces.
“Very well,” he granted, finally conceding. “Would you kindly arrange for the agenda, and whatever figures I might need, to be ready for me to collect?”
“I’ve already seen to it,” Ms. Mulling replied.
Ten minutes later, Danchekker exploded through the door into Caldwell’s office high up on the far side of the complex. “You’ve got to do something!” he insisted. “The creature isn’t human. Can’t you transfer her to one of the Martian bases or a deep—space mission probe? I cannot continue with my work under these conditions.”
“Well, maybe it doesn’t matter too much anymore,” Caldwell said over his interlaced fingers. “Something else has come up, and—”
“Doesn’t matter!” Danchekker stormed. “I’d sooner be married to one of the Gorgons. The possibility of retaining any modicum of sanity at all is utterly out of the question.”
“I talked to Vic yesterday afternoon. He’s probably been looking for you. There’s—”
“The situation is preposterous. Now I’m even being subjected to dress inspections, for God’s sake. I am adamant: She has to go.”
Caldwell sighed. “Look, transferring her wouldn’t be so simple. She was with Welland for thirteen years and came with his personal recommendation. He might be retired, but he still has a lot of pull through the old-buddy net. It could cause complications—especially at a time like this, when we’ve got all kinds of people looking for career opportunities and slices of the new action.”
“I have no interest in the adolescent attention-seeking antics and Machiaveffian inanities of other people. If this woman—”
The door opened and Solomon Cail from the public-relations office appeared. “Oh . . . excuse me, Gregg. I didn’t realize. Mitzi thought you were alone.”
“I was away for a couple of minutes,” Mitzi’s voice called from outside.
“It’s all right, Sol,” Caldwell said. “Chris just stopped by. Is it something urgent?”
“As a matter of fact, it was Chris that I wanted to talk about,” Cail said.