But others could. He saw himself at the board meeting of the Astro Corporation, everyone seated at the long table staring at him.
Sitting at the head of the table in the chairman’s seat to which she’d just been elected, Pancho Lane was pointing her accusing finger at him.
“How long are we going to allow the head of our biggest rival to sit on our board of directors?” she demanded. “How long are we going to let Judas sit among us? All he wants is to take control of Astro Corporation, and he’ll keep on screwing us every chance he gets, if we don’t get rid of him here and now.”
The vote was close, but not close enough.
“That’s it, then,” said Pancho, barely able to conceal the satisfied smirk that played at the corners of her lips. “Martin, you’ve been kicked off this board. And high time, too.”
He saw how white his face was, how his hands trembled no matter how hard he struggled to control them. The others tried to hide their emotions, but he could see they were secretly laughing at him. All of them, even the ones he had thought were on his side.
Feeling cold sweat beading his forehead, his upper lip, he rose shakily to his feet, the blood thundering in his ears, his mind pulsing with ringing, defiant declarations.
But all he could manage to choke out was, “You haven’t seen the last of me.”
As he stumbled out of the richly carpeted boardroom he could hear muffled laughter behind his back. I’ll get them, he swore to himself. Each and every one of them. Especially Pancho, that guttersnipe. I’ll get her if it takes every penny, every ounce of sweat, every drop of blood that I’ve got. I’ll get her. I’ll see her dead. I’ll dance on her grave.
HABITAT CHRYSALIS
Big George was at the airlock to greet her when Pancho left her private torch ship Starpower III and stepped aboard the rock rats’ habitat in orbit about Ceres.
“Welcome to our humble home,” George said, with an exaggerated flourish.
Pancho grinned at him. “Good to be here, Georgie. Gonna give me the ten-dollar tour?”
“Sure will.”
George led her almost halfway through the rotating complex of connected spacecraft bodies. Pancho enjoyed teasing George about how the habitat looked like a floating junkyard, but once inside the linked vessels she had to admit that the habitat was clean, comfortable, and even attractive. Each interconnected craft was painted in a distinctive color scheme, mostly restful pastels, although there were some bolder, brighter hues here and there, and striking designs decorating some of the bulkheads. The place smelled new, fresh, a far cry from the dust-choked caves and tunnels of Ceres.
As they stepped through the hatches from one spacecraft to another, George proudly showed Pancho the living quarters, common rooms, laboratories, workshops, warehouses and business offices that made up the growing complex.
“Got nearly a thousand people livin’ here now,” he declared, “with more comin’ every week.”
“I’m impressed,” Pancho said. “I really am. You guys’ve done a terrific job.”
George smiled boyishly behind his thick red beard. The tour ended at a closed metal door marked NANOTECH LAB. Pancho felt a pang of hopeful surprise.
“Don’t tell me Kris is back!”
“Nah,” George replied, tapping out the combination on the door’s security keypad. “Dr. Cardenas is still off on the Saturn expedition.”
As he pushed the door open he added, “But she’s not the only nanotech genius in the world, y’know. We’ve got a few of our own, right here.”
The nanotechnology lab was eerily quiet. Pancho saw gleaming cabinets of white and stainless steel lining the walls, and a double row of workbenches that held more metal boxes and instruments. She recognized the gray metal tubing of a scanning field microscope off in one corner, but the rest of the equipment was unfamiliar to her.
“Is anybody working here?” she asked. The lab seemed empty of people, except for the two of them.
“Should be,” George said, frowning slightly. “I told ‘im we’d be here.”
“Excuse me,” said a soft voice behind them.
Pancho turned to see an overweight young man with dark hair tied back in a ponytail, a neatly trimmed beard, and a slightly bemused expression on his roundish face. His thick dark brows were raised, as if he were puzzled. His lips were curled slightly into a half smile that seemed apologetic, defensive. He was wearing plain gray coveralls, but had a bright plaid vest over them. No tattoos or jewelry, except for a heavy square gold ring on his right hand.