TARAWA
PETE CONNORS WAS OFF DUTY, ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE beach in front of the two-story condo where he was living, when the phone call came.
Since he was the chief of mission control for the Mars expedition, Connors carried a cellular phone wherever he went—not that you could get very far from the control center on the narrow islets of the atoll.
He was lying comfortably on an old blanket, his heels wedged into the soft white sand, listening to the rhythmic beat of the surf against the reef, when the little phone beeped. Even from inside the plastic beach bag it managed to sound urgent.
With a sigh of exasperation, Connors pulled himself up to a sitting position and groped in the bag for the phone. He had brought the video attachment, too, but decided not to bother with it unless he had to look at some data.
“Connors,” he said crisply, as a gull swooped low across the beach, looking for leftovers.
“Dr. Li Chengdu here,” came the Chinese academician’s voice, as clear as if he were on the islet with him.
“Dr. Li! How are you? Connors sat up straighter.
“My health is excellent. And you?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Connors said, ritually. The truth was he hadn’t gotten enough sleep since the explorers had landed on Mars and it made him feel cranky much of the time.
“I want to apprise you of a possible problem,” Li’s voice said, flat and steady, no emotion in it.
“A problem?”
“Perhaps I am being overly pessimistic, but you were more friendly with Waterman than I was, and—”
“A problem with Jamie?” Connors felt startled.
“Not with him. About him,”
“What do you mean?”
Li hesitated only a heartbeat. “As you know, I am on the advisory board of the International Consortium of Universities’ committee for the Mars expedition.”
“The ICU, yeah.”
“I just received a call from the committee chairwoman, Professor Quentin, of Cambridge.”
“I know who she is,” Connors said, wondering when Li was going to get to the point.
“She, in turn, was called earlier by Mr. Trumball.”
Oh, oh, thought Connors. The money man is sore about something.
“Mr. Trumball,” Li went on, “is suggesting that Waterman be replaced as mission director.”
“Replaced?” Connors snapped. “That’s bullshi—er, hogwash.”
“Trumball is very insistent, I fear.”
“How the hell can they replace Jamie while the team’s out there on Mars?”
This time Li’s hesitation was more noticeable. “This could affect funding for the next expedition, of course.”
“What the hell’s Trumball pissed off about?” Connors demanded, forgetting his usual respect for the man who had been the mission director of the first expedition.
“That is not completely clear to me.
“Then what can we do about it?”
“I do not know yet. However, I thought that since you are Waterman’s friend, you might want to apprise him of this situation. Prepare him, so to speak.”
“Give him the bad news, you mean.”
“No, no! His removal is not certain. In fact, I believe that most of the ICU committee favors keeping him in charge. I simply thought he should know what is happening here.”
Connors nodded. “Right. I understand.”
“Thank you,” said Li. Then the connection went dead. Connors sat there on the sand for a long while, thinking. The committee might want to keep Jamie, but if old Trumball makes enough of a rumpus, they’ll dump Jamie just to keep the old bastard happy. If it comes down to a choice between Jamie and the money for the next expedition, they’ll go for the money. They’ll have to.