Gold was pleased to see that the da Vinci’s senior staff was already assembled when he and Gomez arrived together in the starship’s main briefing room at 0758. Present around the irregularly shaped table were Tev, Soloman, tactical systems specialist Fabian Stevens, and structural systems specialist P8 Blue. The former three individuals already were seated, while Blue sat in her specially modified chair at the end of the table. Also present were Corsi, cultural specialist Carol Abramowitz, cryptography expert Bart Faulwell, and Dr. Elizabeth Lense, the da Vinci’s chief medical officer.

A few hours earlier, Dr. Saadya had supplied Gold and Gomez with copious amounts of data regarding Project Ishtar, intended to bring the da Vinci’s staff up to speed as quickly as possible. From the intent manner with which most everyone was studying their padds, Gold intuited that his people were still doing as much last-minute homework as they could cram.

“Good morning, everybody,” he began as he sat at his usual spot at the head of the table. “As I’m sure you’ve all already noticed by now, the project we’re going to assist Dr. Saadya and his team with is pretty heady stuff.”

Corsi’s earlier expression of awe had been replaced by a furrowed brow, a change no doubt caused by prolonged exposure to cold, hard data. As usual, the security chief didn’t mince words. “It looks pretty damned dangerous, sir,” she said, setting her padd down on the table. “If everything doesn’t go perfectly to plan, it’s going to be a real challenge just keeping everybody on the team alive.”

Gold tried to muster a smile, but failed as recollections of Galvan VI sprang to mind unbidden. “That’s why I invited you to the party.” He took a seat, then faced Dr. Lense. “And you, too, Doctor. As Corsi has pointed out, this project is liable to suffer a catastrophe during its next phase—unless everybody involved is very careful. Lots of people could be injured.”

Lense did not look enthusiastic. “Anybody exposed to that witch’s cauldron of an atmosphere for more than a couple of seconds will be way past my ability to help.”

To break the pensive silence he sensed was about to engulf the room at that statement, Gold nodded to Gomez, signaling her to begin the technical briefing.

“The real dangers are hard to evaluate objectively,” Gomez said, still standing as she looked over the figures on her own padd. As she continued, Gold noticed that she, too, now seemed haunted by memories of the hellworld where her lover, second officer Kieran Duffy, had died. “Venus isn’t the most human-friendly environment in the solar system, so any approach to terraforming it is certain to involve some unavoidable hazards.”

Gold admired his first officer’s talent for under-statement. With a temperature of around four hundred and eighty degrees Celsius, Venus’s surface was the hottest in the solar system, except for the sun’s photosphere. Flesh would vaporize in moments, and its surface pressure of ninety bars would just as swiftly crush humanoid bones—or a Nasat exoskeleton—flat. “Venus” and “friendly” shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence.

Corsi seemed to be having similar thoughts. “Doing the work from orbit seems to me a surefire way of avoiding the worst of those hazards,” she said dryly.

Gold silently conceded that the security chief’s point was an excellent one. Why subject anyone to unnecessary risks on that pressure cooker of a planet?

“Unfortunately, the whole project depends on a large number of networked ground stations,” Gomez said. “The equipment and software are pretty complex, and only some of these facilities can be automated by slaving them to other stations. But somebody’s got to run and monitor at least the key surface stations.”

“What about using telepresence?” Faulwell said, a skeptical frown creasing his boyish features. “I’d think that techies in a nice, safe orbit could run the equipment remotely just as easily as people on the ground could.”

“Amen,” Corsi said.

“That’s because your respective specialties involve word puzzles and brute force,” Tev interjected testily, addressing both Corsi and Faulwell, “rather than the fluid dynamics of N-class planetary atmospheres.”

Gomez quickly interceded, prompting Gold to wonder what pungent reply Faulwell had been about to deliver to the second officer. “It’s a good question, Bart. But that superheated carbon dioxide ocean that separates us from the planet’s surface makes ship-to-ground communications pretty spotty. Also, the atmosphere is filled with literally millions of tiny, reinforced probes. They’re in constant subspace contact with each other, the ground stations, the satellite network, and Station Ishtar up in orbit. That web of transmissions can create interference problems with high-bandwidth communications as well. But without it, the force-field generators can’t stay ahead of the atmosphere’s chaotic motions.”

Stevens spoke up. “I think somebody had better point out that the superrotational zone—” at the blank looks from Corsi, Lense, Abramowitz, and Faulwell, he quickly added, “—that’s the turbulent atmospheric layer that circles the planet once every four days, can play hob with a transporter beam. Those people at Hesperus Ground Station were lucky they were able to beam out before the atmosphere flooded in and flattened the place.”

“That’s a potential problem, I’ll admit,” said Gomez. “But the project scientists have already provided a lot of good atmospheric data that will help us compensate for that, as well as information on beaming through the gaps in their force-field nodes. When you’re talking about moving an entire planetary atmosphere the way the Ishtar team plans to do it, you can’t afford either comm glitches or transporter foul-ups. So even though it’s dangerous, I’m afraid we’re stuck with the up-close-and-personal approach.”

Looking overwhelmed, Faulwell set his padd on the tabletop and pushed it away as though it were a plate filled with writhing Klingon gagh. “Can somebody please explain to me exactly what we’re getting involved with here? Preferably without all the columns of figures. Any language will do. Even Tellarite.” He glanced playfully at the second officer.

Tev snorted. “Linguists. Perhaps we should have arranged the data into rhyming stanzas for your benefit.”

“All right,” Gomez said, putting up a hand in an apparent effort to encourage Bart and Tev to bury the hatchet. “Remember, this mission is as much about data processing as it is about making brute-force changes to the planet.” She gestured toward Soloman.

“I will help coordinate the data-flow between the probe network and the ground stations on a full test of Ishtar’s hardware and software,” the slight Bynar said, his hands primly folded on the table beside his padd.

“What’s involved,” Gomez continued, “is a complex, planetwide network of surface-deployed devices designed to thin out and cool the Venusian atmosphere. Rather than using slower methods, like giant orbiting ‘parasols,’ Dr. Saadya is using a radically different approach: His plan is to use specially shielded, tandem-operated field generators to create a partially gas-permeable force field. The overall operation will follow a carefully orchestrated meteorological plan. But the field will constantly adjust itself to adapt in real time to observed changes in air pressure, temperature, and velocity as it envelops the entire planet and slowly expands outward toward the sunward side.”

If Stevens repeats that crack about “Venus enlargers” I overheard him make last night, Gold thought, I’m putting him on report.

Stevens merely sat listening attentively, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mischief, as Gomez continued. “The goal is to push the bulk of the atmosphere far enough away from the surface so that the sun will heat it even further, blowing most of it off into space in a matter of days.”

“Pas was never one for taking the slow road if he could avoid it,” Gold said.

Gomez continued. “The net result is a quick reduction of both the atmospheric pressure and the green-house effect, in the direction of something considerably more Earth-like than what’s there now. The process should knock hundreds of degrees off the planet’s surface temperature virtually overnight.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” Corsi said.

Tev waved his padd before him, and spoke in a throaty rumble. “The theoretical work appears sound. What remains to be proved is whether or not it will work in practice.” Gold wasn’t certain, but he thought he heard grudging admiration in the Tellarite’s tone.

“For all that effort and danger, I still don’t see how it’s going to turn Venus into another Earth,” said Lense. “The planet still takes, what, three months to turn on its axis.”

“One hundred and seventeen days,” said Pattie.

“Whatever. It’s still a problem. Along with the planet’s complete lack of free oxygen, or even a magnetic field. Think of all the radiation-related health hazards that alone will create for anybody trying to live on the surface.”

“TANSTAAFL,” Abramowitz said.

“Excuse me?” said Gold.

“A very ancient homily that every good scientist or engineer ought to remember. ‘There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Lunch.’”

“Exactly,” Gomez said, nodding with apparent enthusiasm. “Remember, folks, the initial ‘big blowoff’ we’re assisting with here will only be the first step in a many-years-long process. Adding in the appropriate amounts of nitrogen, oxygen, and surface water will come next, from comets barged down from the Kuiper Belt. Huge surface-mounted impulse engines will be set up to try to speed the planet’s slow, retrograde rotation up to an approximately twenty-four-hour cycle, like that of Earth or Mars.”

Pondering the planet’s bizarre backward spin, Gold wondered what it would be like to live on a world where the sun rose in the west and set in the east. Probably not the place where Rachel and I will want to retire, he thought wryly, warm weather notwithstanding.

Gold listened as Gomez continued: “Using similar techniques, the planet Mercury can be relocated into a lunarlike orbit around Venus, where its tidal effects on the planet’s core should create a radiation-repelling magnetic field. The Federation Council will probably provide increased resources for these later steps once Saadya and his team achieve a successful blowoff.”

“And no doubt Starfleet Command will be persuaded then to schedule a return engagement for the S.C.E.,” Gold said. “And the da Vinci.”

Gomez smiled enthusiastically. “One can only hope.”

A broad grin appeared on Stevens’s face as well. Turning toward Gomez, he said, “You sound like the president of Saadya’s fan club, Commander.”

“Well, it’s hard not to admire what he’s already accomplished all over the quadrant,” Gomez said. Gold wasn’t certain, but he thought she might be blushing. “What he’s about to achieve here—essentially rebuilding Venus into a duplicate of Earth—is nothing short of extraordinary.”

Gold looked around the room, gauging the reactions of his staff. Other than Corsi’s skeptical frown, he saw nothing but nods of agreement and murmurs of assent. Even Tev looked uncharacteristically upbeat.

“That’s it, people,” the captain said, rising to adjourn the meeting. “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I trust that all of you essentially know what you have to do to assist Team Ishtar. Commander Gomez will organize the teams who will report to Dr. Saadya and his staff. Let’s get to work.”

As the crew filed out, Gold thought, And I, as usual, will do what any other good cat-herder would do in my place: do my best to stay out of the way of the technical wizards.

Unless something goes seriously mish-mosh down there.