“Now, some of these scientists may see you as possible allies in their games. Others may see you as enforcers. Others might not take any notice of you at all. You’ll get a sense of it pretty damn fast. I want you to remember that you are not a policeman, a judge, or a jury. If you see anything that strikes you as odd, don’t take any action. Report it to me.”
“Odd like what, sir?” asked Lance Muncie.
“Odd like a Japanese scientist roaming through the American lab module late at night. Or vice versa. Or any permutation of scientists or their technicians in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Oh.”
“You’ll get the idea pretty quickly, men. After a few days, you’ll see who’s staring daggers at who.” Tighe paused long enough to look each crewman in the eye. “I’m sure you noticed that there are several women on board. Some are Trikon scientists or technicians, others are part of the Mars Project, and a few are members of the crew. There are no rules against fraternization, but I hope you’ll use your common sense. This is a closed system. Emotions can run high even on the best of days, and there are damn few outlets for blowing off steam. I don’t care how you conduct yourselves in your spare time. But if I see your performance suffering or the safety of this station compromised, remember one thing. I’m your commanding officer, not your father. I don’t get paid for wisdom and understanding.”
The two crewmen muttered in assent, although Muncie looked plainly disturbed.
“Aviles, I understand you are a computer whiz.”
“I have a master’s in computer science from Columbia. The Navy paid my way after the accident. Wanted me to be a useful citizen.”
“The station has an emergency configuration for its computer system that makes sense only to people on the ground,” said Tighe. “We can’t shut off the mainframe without going to auxiliary power. If I get you the specs, can you reconfigure it?”
“I’m not on the ground, sir.”
“Fine. Any questions?”
Muncie’s brows knit slightly. “Sir—half the people up here are doctors, aren’t they? Are we supposed to call them that? Or what?”
Smiling, Tighe answered, “It’s all pretty informal. We call the medical officer ‘Doctor.’ Everybody else is ‘mister’ or ‘ms.’ Except the head of the Martians. He likes to be called Professor Jaeckle.”
Muncie nodded, still frowning uncertainly.
“All right. That will be all,” said Tighe.
Freddy flicked his wrists against the wall and bored like a torpedo toward the entrance to the connecting tunnel. Lance groped his way from handhold to handhold. The two new crewmen: a dour farm boy and a jive-ass Puerto Rican who had no ass.
“Muncie,” called Tighe.
Muncie stopped himself and covered the pad behind his right ear with his hand.
“Sir, if it’s about—”
“Forget it, son. I know about the pad and I know Trikon’s policy. Dr. Renoir is a good doctor. You do what she says, okay?”
Lance dragged his lip beneath his teeth and nodded.
“You graduated from the University of Kansas, right? Ever run into someone named Bill Tighe?”
Lance knit his brow as if rummaging through his memory for a face to connect with the name.
“He would have been a freshman when you were a senior,” prodded Tighe.
“No. Can’t say I did. UK’s a big place, sir.”
“Yeah. I guess it is.”
After mastering the use of the personal hygiene facilities, O’Donnell closed himself in his compartment and began to unpack. He was traveling light, even by space flight standards: socks, toothbrush, comb, and razor. No picture of a girl back home to attach to his compartment wall. No gold crucifix to drift out of his collar and dangle at the end of a thick chain. No blank minicassettes for video letters to home. Everything he needed was in his head—work, memories, dreams, and an invisible line he could not cross.
O’Donnell finished stowing his belongings and checked the time. It was early afternoon. His scientific gear was in the new logistics module and would not be accessible until the next day. He adjusted the sleep restraint, played with the reading lamp, and flipped through the selection of scenes on the viewscreen. He looked at his watch again. Four minutes had passed. The Cape began to look like paradise.