“But in this regard, he is entirely correct.”
Weiss tried to drum his fingers on the tabletop. They barely brushed the surface.
“Jesus H. Christ, you mean everything I’ve been saying is true?”
“Worse than that, Mr. Weiss. Phytoplankton not only manufacture oxygen. They also absorb carbon dioxide. For years, optimists in the great debate over global warming effects have looked to the plankton as our savior. The oceans might warm, yes, but then plankton would flourish and absorb more carbon dioxide, thereby preventing further warming. If the plankton die, the great leveling factor will be gone.”
“What does this mean to the man on the street?” asked Weiss.
“To the man on the street, I would say that without plankton Planet Earth is well on its way to becoming another Planet Venus. The man on the street will choke to death. All the men, women, and children of Earth will die.”
The Japanese tech watched impassively as Freddy Aviles traced a network of cables from Jasmine’s main computer terminal to the relay box in the center of the module’s ceiling. Freddy popped the cover with a screwdriver and inspected the innards of the box with a penlight.
“So then what happened?”
Lance Muncie, drifting beneath Freddy’s abbreviated rump with a toolbox in one hand and pages of computer-generated diagrams springing out of the other, glanced back at the tech.
“Does he have to stare like that?” Lance whispered.
“Jus’ doin’ his job, man,” said Freddy. “Like you an’ me. Oyamo told Commander Tighe that we couldn’t work in here alone,”
“Nobody trusts anybody here.”
“Nobody trusts anybody on Earth. Why should they be different here?” said Freddy. “So then what happened?”
Lance had hoped that the conversation would hop its tracks, but no such luck with Freddy. The man really was a computer whiz. He could talk, joke, sing, probably even dance if he had legs while working the reconfiguration project. He certainly didn’t need any help other than someone to prevent the specs from snaking away. And he certainly would not forget the topic of this conversation.
“We went to the observation blister,” said Lance. He waved away Freddy’s long, suggestive whistle. “It wasn’t what you think. We watched India pass beneath us and we talked about exercises and what the Mars Project was like.”
“Yeah.”
“We did, Freddy, and I told her about being part of the crew.”
“You din’ make a move on her?”
“Freddy.”
“You were alone in the observation blister with Carla Sue Gamble, the way she was diggin’ on you in the wardroom, and you din’ make a move on her?”
“I’m not like that, Freddy. I’m saving—”
Freddy turned away from the relay box. Lance’s cheeks were red; the muscles around his lips twitched. This time, Freddy’s whistle did not drip with innuendo. It was full of sudden understanding.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Oh my God, I Shoulda figured it out long ago. You a virgin.”
“Freddy, shh.” Lance tilted his head toward the Japanese tech.
“He don’ understand what we sayin’, Lance. I can’t believe this. I mean, I can believe it because I know you, but I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it.”
“Well, well, well,” said Freddy. “This puts a differen’ light on the subject.”
“I wanted to, Freddy. I was really really tempted. She had her hands on me. She wanted to put her mouth on me.”
“Not bad,” Freddy said in a stage whisper. “Then what?”
“I left.”
Freddy winced in embarrassment for his friend. “You get her pissed, no?”
“I guess so. I haven’t had the courage to look for her.”
“What you gonna do when you find her? Apologize?”
“Maybe,” said Lance. “Maybe explain to her what I think about these things.”
“And what do you think?”
Lance stuttered.
“You know, you full of shit, Lance. You talk about how you not like your folks. How you are space age and they are Stone Age. But here you are on a space station with a nice young lady hot for your bod, and you ain’t taking advantage.”
“Premarital sex is wrong no matter what the age,” said Lance.
“Tha’s a crock of shit,” said Freddy, “You ever read Thomas More? He said people should see each other naked before they got married. An’ he’s a saint!”