Earthside when we refuel at Jupiter, I guess," Holly mused. "But what do we do with him till then? Put him to work in the farms or something?"
"Or something," Eberly temporized.
"Kay. I'll query the — "
"No," he said sharply. "I will contact these professors. Each one of them. Myself."
"But you've got so much to do."
"It's my responsibility, Holly. Besides, they're much more likely to respond quickly to a query from the chief of human resources than from one of the chief's assistants."
Her face fell briefly, but she quickly brightened. "Yeah, guess so."
"Besides, you're going to be very busy arranging the contests."
She grinned at that.
"I'll take care of it myself," Eberly repeated.
"Doesn't seem fair," she murmured. "I'm sorry I brought it to you. I should have done it without bothering you."
"No, Holly. This is something that should have been brought to my attention. You did the right thing."
"Kay," she said, getting slowly to her feet. "If you say so. Still..."
"Thank you for bringing this to me," Eberly said. "You've done a fine job."
She beamed. "Thanks!"
"I'm sure it's just a mistake or a misunderstanding somewhere along the line. I know Vyborg personally. He's a good man."
"Oh! I didn't know — "
"All the more reason to check this out thoroughly," Eberly said sternly. "There can be no personal favoritism here."
"No, of course not."
"Thank you, Holly," he said again.
She went to the door, slowly, as if reluctant to leave his presence. He smiled at her and she finally left his office, sliding the door shut quietly.
Eberly stared at the dossier still on his wallscreen, the false references still highlighted.
Idiot! he fumed. There was no need for Vyborg to pad his dossier. He's let his ego override his judgment.
Still, Eberly said to himself, a mistake like this gives me a little leverage over him. Something to make him more dependent on me. All to the good.
Now to correct his folder. And he began dictating to his computer the glowing references from each of the university professors that would be placed in Vyborg's dossier.
DEPARTURE Plus 28 Days
"Come on," groused Manuel Gaeta, "there's gotta be a way. There's always a way, Fritz."
Friederich Johann von Helmholtz got up from his knees and drew himself to his full height. Despite his imposing name, he was a short, slim, almost delicately-built man — and the best technician in the solar system, as far as Gaeta was concerned. At the moment, however, there was precious little good will flowing between them.
Fritz's burr-cut head barely rose to Gaeta's shoulders. Standing beside the muscular stuntman, the technician looked almost like a skinny child. Both of them were dwarfed by the massive cermet-clad suit standing empty in the middle of the equipment bay.
"Of course there is a way," Fritz said, in precisely clipped English. "You get into the suit. We seal it up. Then we go through the sterilization procedure that Professor Wilmot and Dr. Urbain insist upon, including the gamma-ray bath. And then you die."
Gaeta huffed mightily.
Fritz stood beside the empty suit, his arms folded implacably across his slim chest.
"Jesoo, Fritz," Gaeta muttered, "those Astro Corp suits paid half a bill for me to be the first man to set foot on Titan. You know what they'll do to me if I don't do it? If I don't even try 'cause some tightass scientists are worried about the bugs down there?"
"I would imagine they will want their half billion returned," Fritz said calmly.
"And we've already spent a big chunk of it." Fritz shrugged.
"They'll take it outta my hide," Gaeta said, frowning with worry. "Plus, nobody'll ever back me for another stunt. I'll be finished."
"Or perhaps dead." Fritz said it without the faintest flicker of a smile.
"You're a big help, amigo."
"I am a technician. I am not your financial advisor or your bodyguard."
"You're un fregado, a cold-blooded machine, that's what you are."
"Insulting me will not solve your problem."
"So
"Or something," Eberly temporized.
"Kay. I'll query the — "
"No," he said sharply. "I will contact these professors. Each one of them. Myself."
"But you've got so much to do."
"It's my responsibility, Holly. Besides, they're much more likely to respond quickly to a query from the chief of human resources than from one of the chief's assistants."
Her face fell briefly, but she quickly brightened. "Yeah, guess so."
"Besides, you're going to be very busy arranging the contests."
She grinned at that.
"I'll take care of it myself," Eberly repeated.
"Doesn't seem fair," she murmured. "I'm sorry I brought it to you. I should have done it without bothering you."
"No, Holly. This is something that should have been brought to my attention. You did the right thing."
"Kay," she said, getting slowly to her feet. "If you say so. Still..."
"Thank you for bringing this to me," Eberly said. "You've done a fine job."
She beamed. "Thanks!"
"I'm sure it's just a mistake or a misunderstanding somewhere along the line. I know Vyborg personally. He's a good man."
"Oh! I didn't know — "
"All the more reason to check this out thoroughly," Eberly said sternly. "There can be no personal favoritism here."
"No, of course not."
"Thank you, Holly," he said again.
She went to the door, slowly, as if reluctant to leave his presence. He smiled at her and she finally left his office, sliding the door shut quietly.
Eberly stared at the dossier still on his wallscreen, the false references still highlighted.
Idiot! he fumed. There was no need for Vyborg to pad his dossier. He's let his ego override his judgment.
Still, Eberly said to himself, a mistake like this gives me a little leverage over him. Something to make him more dependent on me. All to the good.
Now to correct his folder. And he began dictating to his computer the glowing references from each of the university professors that would be placed in Vyborg's dossier.
DEPARTURE Plus 28 Days
"Come on," groused Manuel Gaeta, "there's gotta be a way. There's always a way, Fritz."
Friederich Johann von Helmholtz got up from his knees and drew himself to his full height. Despite his imposing name, he was a short, slim, almost delicately-built man — and the best technician in the solar system, as far as Gaeta was concerned. At the moment, however, there was precious little good will flowing between them.
Fritz's burr-cut head barely rose to Gaeta's shoulders. Standing beside the muscular stuntman, the technician looked almost like a skinny child. Both of them were dwarfed by the massive cermet-clad suit standing empty in the middle of the equipment bay.
"Of course there is a way," Fritz said, in precisely clipped English. "You get into the suit. We seal it up. Then we go through the sterilization procedure that Professor Wilmot and Dr. Urbain insist upon, including the gamma-ray bath. And then you die."
Gaeta huffed mightily.
Fritz stood beside the empty suit, his arms folded implacably across his slim chest.
"Jesoo, Fritz," Gaeta muttered, "those Astro Corp suits paid half a bill for me to be the first man to set foot on Titan. You know what they'll do to me if I don't do it? If I don't even try 'cause some tightass scientists are worried about the bugs down there?"
"I would imagine they will want their half billion returned," Fritz said calmly.
"And we've already spent a big chunk of it." Fritz shrugged.
"They'll take it outta my hide," Gaeta said, frowning with worry. "Plus, nobody'll ever back me for another stunt. I'll be finished."
"Or perhaps dead." Fritz said it without the faintest flicker of a smile.
"You're a big help, amigo."
"I am a technician. I am not your financial advisor or your bodyguard."
"You're un fregado, a cold-blooded machine, that's what you are."
"Insulting me will not solve your problem."
"So
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