HEART OF THE COMET
"A ULYSSEAN PIECE OF SCIENCE FICTION, WHICH INCLUDES
TRADITIONAL SCIENCE FICTION THEMES AND
SYMBOLS, PLAUSIBLE SPECULATION ABOUT THE FUTURE, AUTHORITATIVE BIO- AND ASTRO-SCIENCE, AND
A SUBTLETY OF STYLE AND CHARACTERIZATION THAT
THREATENS TO CROSS OVER INTO THE PROVINCE OF
REALISTIC FICTION . . . THIS BOOK IS WHAT SCIENCE
FICTION IS."
--Chicago Tribune

"A SWEEPING SAGA OF ADVENTURE IN THE BEST TRADITION
OF SPECULATIVE FICTION."
--Winnipeg (Canada) Free Press

"BENFORD AND BRIN DID A MARVELOUS JOB OF PORTRAYING
THE POSSIBILITIES OF COMETARY LIFE, THE
REASONS WHY IT MIGHT MESH ENOUGH WITH OUR
CHEMISTRY TO BE DANGEROUS, AND THE POSSIBLE
MECHANISMS OF COEXISTENCE . . . ALL THE EXCITEMENTS,
ON TECHNICAL, PERSONAL, AND POLITICAL
LEVELS, WORK TOGETHER VERY WELL TO MAKE HEART OF THE COMET A CRACKERJACK YARN."
--Analog

"SF BUFFS HAVE SEEN NOTHING THIS INVENTIVE SINCE
ROBERT FORWARD'S FLIGHT OF THE DRAGONFLY...
WONDERFULLY INGENIOUS SCIENTIFIC EXTRAPOLATIONS.''

--New York Daily News
"DRAMATIC . . . SWEEPING . . . EACH NEW SOLUTION
INVOLVES PROVOCATIVE IDEAS THAT PLACE THE
NOVEL FIRMLY IN THE NEWER TRADITION OF 'LITERATE'
HARD SF THAT BRIN AND BEDFORD HAVE HELPED
DEFINE?
	--Fantasy Review

	MORE ....

HEART

OF THE

COMET

"THIS IS 'HARD' SCIENCE FICTION AT ITS BEST. IT
BRINGS US TO THE CUTTING EDGE OF CURRENT SCIENTIFIC
RESEARCH, BUT ALWAYS KEEPS THE HUMAN ISSUES
RAISED BY THE PLOT DEVELOPMENTS IN THE
FOREFRONT OF THE STORY. WE SEE THE BEST AND
WORST OF HUMAN NATURE IN HOW THE DIFFERENT
COLONISTS REACT TO THE HOSTILE WORLD OF THE
COMET. AT THE SAME TIME, THE NOVEL PROVOKES
THAT 'SENSE OF WONDER' THAT HAS BEEN THE HALLMARK
OF 'HARD' SE"

--Atlanta Constitution

"A BLEAKLY BEAUTIFUL SAGA THAT TINGLES THE
SPINE AND MOVES THE SPIRIT."

--The Providence Sunday Journal

"HEART OF THE COMET IS A THOUGHTFUL BOOK. IT IS
FOR THE READER WHO IS CURIOUS ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY,
WHO WONDERS HOW FAR WE'LL GO AND WHERE
WE'LL GO."

--Montreal Gazette

"DAVID BRIN AND GREGORY BENFORD ARE TWO'OF
SCIENCE FICTION'S MOST IMPRESSIVE LITERARY TALENTS.
THE BEST OF THEIR INDIVIDUAL WORKS PERSONIFIES
THE SF ATTITUDE AT ITS FINEST. [HEART OF THE
COMET] IS FAR AND AWAY THE BEST COMET-RELATED
PIECE OF FICTION IN RECENT MEMORY AND A STRONG
CANDIDATE FOR BEST OF THE YEAR HONORS."

--Austin American-Statesman

"ENGROSSING AND IMAGINED WITH GREAT COMPLETENESS...
A FINE PIECE OF SPECULATION."

--The Washington Times

Bantam Spectra Books by David Brin

Ask your bookseller for the titles you have missed


HEART OF THE COMET (with Gregory Benford)
THE POSTMAN

THE PRACTICE EFFECT

THE RIVER OF TIME

STARTIDE RISING

SUNDIVER

HEART

OF THE

COMET

Gregory Benford

and

David Brin


BANTAM BOOKS

TORONTO  NEW YORK  LONDON  SYDNEY  ADCKLAND

HEART OF THE COMET

A Bantam Spectra Book
-Bantam hardcover edition / March 1986
2nd printing... 'March 1986
A Selection of the Science Fiction Book Club, July 1986
Bantam paperback edition / March 1987

Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint lines from the
poem "Epilogue" by Edgar Lee Masters from the Spoon River Anthology. Copyright 1915, 1916, 1942, 1944 by Edgar Lee Masters. Used by
permission of the Macmillan Publishing Company. Alt Rights Reserved.

Inside illustrations by April Abrams and David Perry

All rights reserved.
Copyright  1986 by David Brin and Abbenford Associates.
Cover illustration copyright  1985 by John Hamagami.
This 'book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by
mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address: Bantam Books, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Benford, Gregory, 1941Heart
of the comet.

(A Bantam Spectra book)
I. Brin, David. II. Title.
PS3552.E542H4 1986 813'.54 8523042
ISBN 0553258397

Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc. Its trademark,
consisting of the words "Bantam Books"and the portrayal
of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark
Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam
Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10103.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

O 09876543

To

Poul and Robert

Greg and Carolyn

Larry and Jerry

Charles and Harry and John

and all the rest who do it the hard way.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This novel was written on the basis of the best information available
at the time concerning comets in general, and Halley's Comet in
particular. It was created in the awareness (and hope) that the successful
1986 Halley probes and International Halley Watch would
vastly multiply our knowledge of these fascinating leftovers of creation.
If some of this new information turns out to invalidate a few
premises of our story, we hope at least that the reader will credit us
with daring. We felt we had to tell this story'now, to honor an interplanetary
envoy whose visits are so well timed to once in a human
span.
The authors would like to thank those experts who were of
assistance, including Professors Mike Gaffey, John .Lewis, John
Cramer, Bert King, and Karl Johannson, as well as Dr. Ray New-burn
of JPL and Dr. Eric Jones of Los Alamos Labs. Dr. Donald
Yeomans of JPL and Dr. Neal Hulkower of TRW Inc. helped with
orbital mechanics.
We would also like to thank Anita Everson, Joan bbe, Richard
Curtis, Sue Roberts, Clan Spadoni, Nancy Grace, William
Lomax, Bonnie Graham, April Abrams and Diane Brizolara. Ka-ten
and Poul Anderson and Astrid and Greg Bear, were most gracious,
also.
Dr. Louis D'Amario and Dr. Dennis Brynes of the Jet Propulsion
Laboratory helped drive the plot with their wonderful calculations
of planetary encounters. Each of them gets a dinner and a
bottle.
And, as always, Lou Aronica of Bantam Books was understanding
of the needs of authors laboring under "astronomical"
deadlines.

We will be many things, in the future. But there will never
cease to be a need for courage.
--David Brin and Gregory Benford
September 1985

HEART


OF THE


COMET


PATTI


BANNERS OF THE

ANGELS


October 2061


He that leaveth nothing to chance
will do few things ill,
but he will do very few things.

--Halifax


Poilion of Im:r Plancts and ConHalley

Oct(F 2061


EARTH


COMET
HALLEY


(tom Ecliptic North)


(from Vernal East)

CARL-

Kato died first.
He had been tending the construction mechs--robots that were
deploying girders on the thick black dust that overlay the comet.
ice.
From Carol's viewpoint, on a rise a kilometer away, Kato's suit
was a blob of orange amid the hulking gray worker drones. There
was no sound, in spite of the Clouds of dust and gas that puffed
outward near man and machines. Only a little static interfered with
a Vivaldi that helped Carl concentrate on his work.
Carl happened to be looking up, just before it haplSened. Not
far from Karo, anchored near the north pole of the comet's solid
core, eight spindly spires came together to form a pyramidal tower.
At its peak nestled the microwave borer antenna, an upside-down
cup. Karo worked a hundred meters away, oblivious to the furious
power lancing into the ice nearby.
Carl had often thought the borer looked like a grotesque,
squatting spider. From the hole beneath it came regular gushes of
superheated steam.
As if patiently digging after prey, the spider spat invisible microwaves
down the shaft in five-second bursts. Moments after each
blast, an answering yellow-blue jet of heated gas shot up from the
hole below, rushing out of the newly carved tunnel. The billowing
steam jet struck deflector plates and parted into six plumes, fanning
outward, safely mis.sing the microwave pod.
The borer had been doing that for days, patiently hammering
tunnels into the comet core, using bolts of centimeter-wavelength
electromagnetic waves, tuned to a frequency that would strip apart
carbon dioxide molecules.
Carl felt a faint tremor in his feet each time a bolt blazed forth.
The horizon of ancient dark ice curved away in all directions. Out3


4
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


croppings of pure clathrate snow here and there jutted out through
thick layers of spongy dust. It was a scene of faded white against
mottled browns and deep, light-absorbing black.

Kato and his mechs worked near the microwave borer, drifting
on tethers just above the surface. The core's feeble gravity was not
enough to hold them down when they moved. Overhead, thin
streamers of ionized, fluorescing gas swayed against hard black
night, seeming to caress the Japanese spacer.

Kato supervised as his steel-and-ceramic robot mechanicals
did the dangerous work. He had his back to the spider.

Carl was about to turn back to his own task. The borer
chugged away methodically, turning ice to steam. Then one of the
giant spider legs popped free in a silent puff of snow.

Carl blinked. The microwave generator kept blasting away as
the leg flew loose of its anchor, angling up, tilting the body. He did
not have time to be horrified.

The beam swept across Kato for only a second. That was
enough. Carl saw Kato make a jerky turn as if to flee. Later, he
realized that the movement must have been a final, agonized seizure.

The beam blasted the ice below the man, sending luminous
sheets of orange and yellow gas pouring into the blackness above,
driving billows of dust. Vivaldi vanished under a roar of static.

The invisible beam traced a lashing, searing path. It jittered,
waved, then tilted further. Away from the horizon. Toward Carl.

He fumbled for his control console, popped the safety cover,
and repeatedly stabbed the countermand switch. His ears popped
as the static storm cut off. Every mech and high-power device on
this side of Halley Core shut down. The microwave finger ceased to
write on the ice only a few score meters short of Carl.

The spider began to collapse. Halley's ten-thousandth of a G
was too weak to hold down a firing microwave generator, but without
the upward kick of expanding gas and radiation pressure, the
iceworld's own weak attraction asserted itself. The frame lurched
and began its achingly slow fall.

--What the hell you doin'? My power's out.-

That would be Jeffers. Other voices babbled ove{ the
commline.

"Mayday! Kato's hurt." Carl shot across dirty-gray ice. His
impulse jets fired with a quick, deft certainty as he flew, unconsciously
moving with the least wasted energy, the result of years of
training. Crossing the rumpled face of Halley was like sailing
adroitly over a frozen, dusty sea beneath a black sky.

HEART OF THE COMET

Against all hope, he tried calling to the figure in the orange
spacesuit, splayed, face downward, on the gouged snowfield.
"Karo... ?"
When he approached, Carl found something that did not resemble
a man nearly so much as a blackened, distorted, badly
roasted chicken.

Umolanda was next.
The timetable didn't leave much room to mourn Kato. A med
team came down from the flagship, the Edmund Halley, to retrieve
Kato's body, but then it was back to work.
Carl had learned years before to work through unsettling
news, accidents, foul-ups. Shrugging off a crewmate's death wasn't
easy. He had liked Kato's energy, his quick humor and brassy confidence.
Carl promised his friend's memory a least one good, thoroughly
drunken memorial party.
He and Jeffers fixed the spider, reanchoring the foot and reflexing
the leg. Carl cut away the damaged portion. Jeffers held the
oxygen feed while he slapped a spindly girder segment into the
opening. At Carol's signal, the other spacer played the gas jet over
the seams and the metal leaped to life, self~welding in a brilliant
orange arc. They had the repair Cone before Kato's body was back
on the Edmund.
Umolanda came over the rim of Halley Core, pale blue jets
driving her along the pole-to-pole cable. The easiest way to move
around the irregular iceball was to clip onto the cable and fire suit
jets, skimming a few meters above the surface. Magnetic anchors
released automatically as you shot by, to minimize friction.
Umolanda was in charge of interior work, shaping irregular
gouges into orderly tunnels and rooms. She met Carl near the entrance
to Shaft 3, a kilometer from the accident site. The piledriving
spider labored away again on the horizon.
--Pretty bad about Karo,r- she sent.
"Yeah." Carl grimaced at the grisly memory. "Nice guy, even
if he did play those old junk movies on the 3D all the time."
--At least it was quick.-
He didn't have anything to say to that, didn't like talking a
whole lot out here anyway. It just interfered with the job.
Umolanda's liquid eyes studied him through a bubble helmet
spattered With grime. The neck ring hid her .cleft chin. He was
surprised to see that this omission revealed her as an otherwise
striking woman, her ebony skin stretched by high cheekbones into
an artful, ironic cast. Funny, how he'd never noticed that.

6
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
--Did you investigate the cause?--
"I checked the area where the spider leg got loose," Carl answered.
"Looked like a fault under it gave way."
She nodded. --Not surprising. I've been finding hollows below,
formed when radioactive decay warmed the ice long ago, as
Halley formed. If some hot gas from the spider's digging worked
its way back to the surface through one of those hollows, it could
undermine the spider's anchor.--Carl squinted at the horizon,
imagining the whole cometary head riddled with snaking tunnels.
"Sounds about right."
--Shouldn't the spider have cut off as soon as it lost focus?--"Right."
--The switch?--"Damn
safety cutoff was defective. Just didn't kick in," Carl
said sourly.
Her eyebrows knitted angrily. --More defective equipment!--
"Yeah. Some bastard Earthside made a little extra on the overhead."
--You've reported it?--"Sure.
It's a long walk back for replacement parts, though."
He smiled sardonically. There was a brief silence before Umolanda
spoke again.
--There will always be accidents. We lost people at Encke, tOO.--
"That doesn't make it any easier."
--No... I guess not.--"Anyway,
Encke was a pussycat of a comet. Old. Sucked dry.
Lots of nice safe rock." He scuffed the surface softly with a boot
tip. Snow and black dust puffed at the slightest touch.
She forced a grin. --Maybe all this ice is supposed to keep us
alive over the long haul, but it's killing us in the short run.-
Carl gestured toward three mechs which stood nearby, waiting
for orders. Already the machines were pitted and grimy from Halley's
primordial slush. "That's your team. Kato was shaping them
up. But you might want to give 'em a once-over, anyway."
--They look okay.-- Umolanda whistled up the color-coded
readout on the back of the nearest one and. nodded. --Some luck
here. The microwave beam didn't hit them. I'll take them down,
put them to hollowing out Shaft Three.-
She tethered the. boxy, multiarmed robots and gracefully
towed them to the tunnel entrance. Carl watched her get them
safely aligned and disappear down the shaft, leading the mechs like

	HEART OF THE COMET
	7
a shepherd, though in fact the mechs were as smart as a ten-year-old
at some things, and a lot more coordinated.
He went on to check out more of the equipment that other
crewmen were ferrying down from the Edmund. Itwas dull labor,
but he had been working in the shafts for days and needed a break
from the endless walls of rubble-seamed ice.
Overhead, gauzy streamers wove a slow, stately dance. Halley's
twin shimmering tails were like blue-green silks. They were
fading now, months past the brief summer crisping that came for
the comet every seventy-six years. But still the banners of dust and long unfurled, gossamer traceries waving as if before a lazy breeze,
the flags of vast angels.
The expedition had elected to rendezvous with Halley's comet
after its 2061 perihelion passage, when the streaking planetoid was
well on its way outward again. Here, beyond the orbit of Mars, the
sun's violent heating no longer boiled off the huge jets of water
molecules, dust, and carbon dioxide that made Halley so spectacular
during its short summer.
But heat lingers. For months, as Halley swooped by the fierce,
eroding sun, temperature waves had been diffusing down through
the ice, and rock, concentrating in volatile vaults and scattered
clumps of rock. Now, even as the comet lofted back into the cool
darkness of the outer solar system, there were still reservoirs of
warmth inside.
The gritty, dark potato shape was a frozen milkshake of water,
carbon dioxide, hydrocarbons, and hydrogen cyanide, each snow
subliming into vapor at a different temperature. Inevitably, in some .
spots, the seeping warmth melted or vaporized ices. These pockets
lay waiting.
Carl was partway through assembling a chemical filter system
when he heard a sharp high cry on suitcomm.
Then sudden, ominous silence.
His wrist display winked yellow-blue, yellow-blue: Umolan-da's
code.
Damn. Twice in one shift7
"Umolanda!"
No answer. He caught the polar cable and went hand over hand
toward the mouth of Shaft 3.
Mechs milled at a cave-in, digging at the slowly settling ice
amid swirls of sparkling fog. No signal from Umolanda. He let the-mechs
work but popped pellet memories out of their backpacks to
scan while he waited. It was soon apparent what had happened.

8
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Deep in the ice, the mechs had dutifully chipped away at the
walls of the first vault. Umolanda controlled them with a remote,
staying in the main tunnel for safety. The TV relay told her when to
sequence the robots over to a new routine, when to touch up details,
when to bore and blast. She hung tethered, and monitored the portable
readout board, occasionally switching over to full servoed
control of a mech, to do a particularly adroit bit of polishing.
She had been working at the far end of what would soon be a
storage bay when a mech strucl a full-fledged boulder of dark native
iron two meters across. Captain Cruz had asked them to watch
out for usable resources. Umolanda put all three mechs to retrieving
it. Under her guidance they slipped levers around the boulder
and tried to pry it free. The sullen black chunk refused to budge.
Umolanda had to come in close to inspect. Carl could envision
the trouble; mechs were good, but often it was hard to see whether
they were getting the best angle.
Carl had a dark premonition. The boulder had been absorbing
heat for weeks, letting it spread into a slush that lay immediately
behind it, a pocket of confined carbon dioxide and methane. This
frothy soup would be perched at its critical point, needing only a bit
more temperature or a fraction less pressure to burst forth into the
vapor phase.
Oh for chrissakes; Umolanda don 'I . . :
A mech slipped its levering rod around the boulder, penetrating
into the reservoir of slush. Umolanda saw the robot lurch, recover.
She told it to try again, and moved a little closer to observe.
The mech was slow,, gingerly. Its aluminum jacket was spattered
and discolored from several days in the ice, but its readouts
showed it was in perfect running order. Using as its pivot its own
tether in the wall, it levered around the boulder, lunged--and the
iron gobbet popped free.
No!
Release of pressure liberated the vaporization energy. The explosion
drove the pry bar out of the mech's grip like a ramrod fired
through the barrel of a cannon.
Umolanda was two meters away. The lever buried itself in her
belly.
The pellet-memory readout terminated. Carl blinked away
tears.
He waited while the mechs cleared the way. There was really
no need to hurry.

	HEART OF THE C'OMET
	9

Mission Commander Miguel Cruz called off operations for
two full shifts. The setup crew had been working to the hilt for a
week. Two deaths in one day implied that they were making errors
from plain fatigue.
Umolanda's accident had spewed forth a pearly fog for an
hour as the inner lake of slush boiled out. Had anyone Earthside
been watching through a strong telescope, they could have detected
a slight brightening at the cometary head. It was a fleeting memorial.
The blinding storm had driven her mechs out into the shaft,
dislodged enough ice to bury her. Carl and the others were kept
outside until it was too late to recover her and freeze her down
slowly for possible medical work. Umolanda was lost.
Carl came up on the last ferry. The mottled surface seemed to
darken with distance: the cometary nucleus dwindled to a blackish
dot swimming in a luminous orange-yellow cloud. Though the
fuzzy haze of the coma was still visible with a small telescope from
Earth, from near the head itself the shimmering curtains of long
were lacy, scarcely noticeable. Gas and grains of dust still steadily
popped free of Halley's surface, making cargo piloting tricky. Most
of the outgassing now came not from the sun's ebbing sting, but
from the waste heat of humans.
As the ferry pulled outward the twin tails--one of dust and the
other of fluorescing ions--stretched away, foreshortened pale remnants
of the glories that had enthralled Earth only two months ago.
Ragged streamers forked out toward Jupiter's glowing pinpoint.
Oblivious, Carl stretched back and dozed while the ferry rose to
meet the Edmund. '
When they clanged into the lock, he peeled off his suit and
coasted toward the murmuring gravity wheel at the bow. He
climbed down one of the spoke lders and stumbled out into the
unfamiliar tug of one-eighth G, feeling bone-deep weariness descend
with the coming of weight.
Sleep, yes, he thought. It it knit up whatever raveled sleeve
he had left.
Virginia came first, though. He hadn't seen her in ages.
She was in her working module, of course, halfway around the
wheel. She seldom left the thing nowadays. The door hissed aside.
When he slipped into the spherical world of encasing memory
shells there was an almost cathedral-like hush, a sense of presence
and humming activity just beyond hearing He sat down quietly next
to her cantilevered chair, waiting until she could extract from interactive
mode. Tapped into channels through a direct neural link and

10
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
wrist servos, she scarcely moved. She had to know he was there,
but she gave no sign.
Her slim body occasionally fidgeted and jerked. Like a dog
dreaming, he thought, and trying to run after imaginary rabbits.
Her long, half-Polynesian features were pointed toward the
banks of holographic displays suspended above her, and her eyes
never even flicked to the side to see him. She gazed raptly at multiple
scenes of movement, sliding masses of ever-flickering data, geometric
diagrams that shifted and evolved, telling new tales.
He waited as she worked through some indecipherable problem.
Her long face momentarily tightened, then released as she
leaped some hurdle. She had delicate, high cheekbones, too, like
Umolanda. Like a third of the expedition's crew, the Percells, products
of Simon Percell's program in genetic correcting of inherited
diseases. Carl wondered idly if fineboned, aristocratic features
were traits the DNA wizard had slipped in. It was possible; the man
had been a genius. Carol's own face was broad and ordinary,
though, and he had been "developed," as the antiseptic jargon had
it, within a year of Virginia. So maybe Simon Percell had taken
such care only with the women. Given the gaudy stories told about
the man, he couldn't rule out the possibility.
By anyone's definition, Virginia Kaninamanu Herbert was
clearly a successful experiment. A Hawaiian mixture of Pacific
breeds, she had a swift, quirky intelligence, deliciously u. npredict-able.
There was restless energy to her eyes as they moved in quick,
darting glances at the myriad welter before her. Below, her mouth
was a study in quiet immersion, slightly pursed, thoughtful and
pensive: She was not, he supposed, particularly attractive in the
usual sense of the term; her long face gave her a rangy look. The
serene almond smoothness of her skin offset this, but her forehead
was broad, the mouth too ample, her chin was stubbed and not
fulsomely rounded as fashion these days demanded.
Carl didn't give a damn. There was a compressed verve in her,
a hidden woman he longed to reach. Yet all the time he'd known her
she had stayed inside her polite cocoon. She was friendly but little
more. He was determined to change that.
 On the main screen, obliquely turned girders fitted together in
precise sockets. The frame froze. Done.
Abruptly Virginia came alive, as though some fluid intelligence
had returned from the labyrinths of her machine counterpart
She stripped the wrist inputs. The white socket for her neural connector
flashed briefly as the tap came off and she fluffed her hair
into shape.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	11
"Carl! I hoped you'd wait for me to finish."
"Looks important."
"Oh, this?" She waved away the frames of data. "Just some
cleanup work. Checking the simulations of docking and transfer,
when we take everybody down. There'll be irregularities from random
outgassing jets, and the slot boats will have to compensate. I
was programming the smarter mechs for the job. We're ready
now.' '
"It'll be a while."
"Well; a few more days... Oh, yes." She suddenly became
subdued. "I heard."
"Damn bad luck." His mouth twisted sourly.
"Fatigue, I heard."
"That too."
She reached out and touched his arm tentatively. "There was
nothing you could do."
"Probably. Maybe I shouldn't have let her go down that hole
right after Kato bought it. Thing like that, shakes you up, screws up
your judgment. Makes accidents more likely."
"You weren't senior to her."
"Yeah, but--"
"It's not your fault. If anything, it's the constraints we work
under. This timetable--"
"Yeah, I know."
"Come on. I'll buy you some coffee."
"Sleep's what I need."
"No, you need talk. Some people contact."
"Trading arcane jokes with that computer crowd of yours?"
He grimaced. "I always come out sounding like a nerd."
She flexed smoothly out of lr console couch, taking advanta,ge
of the low gravity to curl and unwind in midair. "Not at all!"
S6mething in her sudden, bouncy gaiety lifted his heart. "Blithe
spirit, nerd thou never wert."
"Mutilated Shelley! God, that's awful."
"True, though. Come on. First round is on me."

12
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


SAUL


To most people the creature would seem hideous. Vaguely globular,
specked with yellow and ocher spots and spiky protusions all
around, it had the sort of looks only a particularly indulgent mother
could love.

Or a stepfather, Saul Lintz thought.

Millions of the tiny, ugly things darted about in the crowded
confines of a single, glinting drop of saline water, beaded by surface
tension into a high, arching meniscus on the glass microscope
slide.

Saul played the fiber optic controls until his magnifier zoomed
in on a single cyanute. "There we are," he muttered softly. "You'll
do as a test subject, my lad."

He pressed a trigger and the cytology instrument took over
following the tiny microbe, automatically tracking it wherever it.
swam within its little universe.

The creature was a pulsing mass of tiny, rainbowed cilia that
rippled faster than the eye could follow. But Saul knew the thing
anyway, to its smallest part. He could imagine every mottled, microscopic
component, down .past where the instrument could not
go--to the level of acids and bases, of sugars and finely balanced
lipid barriers.

It darted to and fro amid the thousands of other rough, rippling
cells, seeking what it needed to survive.

Not unlike us, Saul thought. Only our search has brought us
humans half a billion miles from home.

He rubbed his eyes and bent forward in a habit from long-ago
dayg, when one still occasionally peered through cold glass lenses
instead of letting the machines do all the hard work. Relax, Saul
told himself. There's no need to crane over the screen.

Even here, in Edmund's slowly spinning gravity wheel, there
wasn't enough of a pull to fight against. One had to keep loose, or
expend enormous energy just to stay still.

Only half of the screens and holo displays in the biology unit
brimmed with light. In a dozen other dark faces Saul's own pale

	HEART OF THE COMET
	13
image was reflected.., thick eyebrows above a generous nose, and
lines that most people, on meeting him, guessed came of a lifetime
spent smiling.
Only those who knew Saul well--and they were few these
days--understood the true source of those craggy indentations: a
stoicism that warded off the pain of many, many losses.
The creases stood out now as Saul's blue eyes narrowed in
concentration. Delicately touching a hand controller, he brought a
hollow sliver of metal down into the little ball of salty water on the
microscope slide. On the main holo screen the image of the tiny
needle seemed to loom like a javelin as computers guided it toward
the chosen test subject.
"Come on, meshugga," Saul muttered as the microbe tried to
dart away. "Hold still for Papa."
The cyanute was less than fifty microns across, so small and
innOCuous that its ancestors had lived peacefully in human bodies
for millions of years of quiet symbiosis, until they were discovered
only a generation or so ago. For Saul the little creature contained as
many wonders as the huge comet commanding such attention outside.
The main vision wall of the lab had been left tuned to a view of
Halley, not as the comet looked now--a slowly ebbing cloud of
banked fluorescence surrounding a six-mile chunk of dingy snow--but
as it had been only months before, in all its brief glory, streaking
past the sun at half the Earth's orbital distance, its ion tail
flapping in the protonic breeze.
They were well matched in beauty--the titanic, cosmic messenger
that was to be their home for most of a century and the
microscopic wonder that had made the sojourn possible. Still, it
was no surprise that, of the two, Saul concentrated on the tiny liv-
.lng thing drifting in the little glob of water.
After all, he had made it.
Sh'ma Yisrael . . . he reminded himself. There is but one
God--even though he should place his tools in our hands--tools to
shape life and forge worms. He is only stepping back to see what we
will do with them.
In Saul's line of work he found it wise to remember that, from
time to time.
When the needle had approached to within a cell's width of the
subject, Saul spoke a word and triggered the test sequence. A
small, indistinct puff disturbed the water near the needle's tip,
where tiny traces of hydrogen cyanide solution spurted forth.

14
	- GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


No more than a scattering of molecules was involved, yet the
tiny organism reacted nearly instantly. Its cilia erupted in a sudden
spasm of activity and the creature sprang forward ....

Forward, toward the needle. It engulfed the tip, throbbing
with seeming eagerness.

So far, so good. Saul would have been surprised if it had behaved
differently. The cyanutes had been thoroughly tested on
Earth before the mission to Halley's Comet was approved. No factor
was more important to the success and health of 410 brave men
and wo[nen than these little creatures.

Confident he was. But life--even specially gene-tailored
life--had a way of changing when you least expected it. The survival
of all those people depended on the tiny "nutes" working as
planned. He had led the team that designed them, and he did not
intend to allow any failures. There were more than enough ghosts
already in his life. Miriam, the children, the land and people of his
youth.., and, of course, Simon Percell.

Poor Simon. All too well he recalled how one mistake had
ruined his friend's life and nearly everything he had .worked to accomplish.
Keep reminding me, Simon. Keep reminding me of the
dangers of playing God.

All the HCN was gone now, according to the displays, sucked
up by the eager organism. Saul nodded in satisfaction. Every human
being on this mission had millions of cyanutes living in his or
her bloodstream and in the little alveoli air sacs that made up their
lungs. This sample, taken at random from one of the crew, had just
demonstrated that it would do its main job--sop up any trace of
deadly, dissolved cyanide gas before the stuff could get near its
host's red corpuscles. Another puffof dissolved gas proved its ability
to gobble carbon monoxide before that chemical could bind to
human hemoglobin.

Saul touched off the next stage in the test. Minute traces of a
new compound swirled into the saline bubble. This time the little
microbe on the screen quickly withdrew from the needle, curling
almost as if it had been stung. Cyanide and CO were fresh grazing
to this creature, but human tissue factors appeared to be a definite
no-no.

Again, good news. The second test showed that the cyanute
was totally disinclined to look on human cells as meat.'

So much for the basics. There were countless other things to
check. Saul mentally ran down a list as he triggered the sequencer
to begin the automatic phase of the test program.

 . . Self-limiting reproduction, benign acceptance by the hu-

	HEART OF THE COMET
	15


man immune system, pH sensitivity, a voracious appetite for other
potential cometary toxins..-.

It wasn't so much a catalog of attributes as a litany of challenges
met and conquered. Saul couldn't help feeling proud of his
small team back on Earth, which had had to overcome prejudice,
bureaucracy, and undisguised superstition to do this work. In the
end, though, they had created a wonder--a new human symbiont.

Cyanutes would be a permanent, benign part of every man and
woman on the crew for the rest of their lives.., and perhaps, he
dared imagine, a part of the human animal from now on, like the
intestinal flora that had always helped him digest his food and the
mitochondria within his cells that burned sugars for him, converting
them into usable energy.

"Who can compare with thee, oh Lord . . ." he whispered
wryly, teasing himself for his ineradicable corner of hubris. Saul
had long ago concluded that he and God would have to be patient
with each other. Perhaps the universe was not conveniently set up
for either of them.

He watched the test results unfold on 'the screen--all nominal,
nearly perfect--until a soft squeak announced the opening of the
bio-lab portal behind him.


"So! We are poking away at our pets again, Saul? You just
cannot leave them alone?"

He didn't have to look up to know the voice of Akio Matsudo.
"Hello 'Kio." He waved without turning around. "Just double-checking.
And everything looks fine, thanks. Aren't they lovely
critters?"

He smiled .as the spry, tall Japanese physician came alongside
and made a sour look. The chief of Mission Life Sciences had never
disguised his opinion of Saul's "critters." They were necessary--utterly
vital to the success of their seventy-eight-year voyage. But
poor Akio had never come to see their more aesthetic side.

"Ugh," Matsudo commented. "Please do not remind me of
the infestation even now swarming in my bodily fluids. Next time

you wish to inject me with.alien parasites--"

"Symbionts," Saul corrected quickly.

"--against which my body has no immune capability
whatsoever--next time I will make the incision myself--from
crotch to sternum!"

Saul could only grin as Matsudo's serious mug broke and the
man actually giggled. It was a "kee-kee-kee" sound that spacers
had already mimicked into a sort of clarion call below decks. Akio

16
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
frequently made such light jests about the traditions of ancient Japan.

Perhaps it was similar to the way Saul dropped Yiddishisms
into his speech now and then, although he had learned the language
only a decade ago. It a proper dialect for exiles, he thought.
"What have you got there, 'Kio?" He pointed at a flimsy sheet
in the other's hand.
"Ah. Yess." Matsudo tended to slur his sibilants. "Even as we
are speaking of immune systems, I have come to ask you to go
through the stimulants inventory with me, Saul. I believe that it is
time to release an attenuated disease into the life-support system."
Saul winced. He never looked forward to this.
"So soon? Are you sure? Four-fifths of the expedition is still
frozen aboard the $ekanina and the other freighter tugs. All we
have awake now are the Edmund crew and support staff."
"All the more reason." Matsudo nodded. "Thirty spacers
have been living together on. this cramped ship for more than a yea.
Another forty have been out of the slots for two or more months, as
we got closer to the comet. All of the colds and minor viruses they
brought with them when they departed Earth have run their course
by now.
"I've done a parasite inventory, and have found that more than
three-quarters of the ambient pathogenic organisms have already
gone extinct! It is time to release a new challenge."
Saul sighed. "You're the boss." Actually, the entire bio committee
was supposed to pass on immune challenges. But reminding
Akio would only offend him. The procedure was routine, anyway.
Still, Saul's nose already itched in unhappy anticipation.
He reached over to the bio-library console and punched out a
rapid code. A page of data appeared in space before a black backdrop.
Sall nodded at the glowing green lettering. "There is a lovely
array of nasty bugs at your disposal, Doctor. With what plague do
you wish to infect your patients? We have chicken pox, fox pox,
attenuated measles .... "
"Nothing so drastic." Matsudo waved. "At least not so soon."
"No? Well, then there's impetigo, athlete's foot .... " "Amaterasu! Heaven forfend, Saul! In this dampness? Before
the comet-tunnel habitats have been set up and the big dehumidifiers
are working? You know how the navy feels about fungus aboard
a spaceship. Cruz would have our--"
He stopped abruptly and grinned lopsidedly. "Ha ha. Very
funny, Saul. You are pulling my leg, of course."

HEART OF THE COMET '17

Saul had known Matsudo casually, from scientific conferences
and by reputation, for many years. But the man was still somewhat
of an enigma to him. For instance, why had he volunteered to come
on this mission? Of all the types who would sign up to leave Earth,
spend seventy-three years of a seventy-eight-year mission in slot
sleep, and return to a world grown alien and strange, which category
applied to Akio? Was he an idealist, following Captain Miguel
Cruz's dream of what the mission might mean to mankind? Or was

he an exile, like so many on this expedition?

Perhaps, like me, he a little of both.

Matsudo ran a hand through his lustrous black hair, as thick as
any youth's. "Just pick me out a head-cold virus, will you be so
kind, Saul? Something that will challenge the crew enough to keep
up their antibody production and T cell counts. They needn't even
notice it, for all I care."

Saul spoke a chain of letters aloud, and a new page appeared.
"The customer's always right," he ruminated aloud. "And you're
in luck! We seem to have eighty varieties of head cold on sale."

"Surprise me," Matsudo said. But then he frowned and held
up both hands. "No! On second thought, let me choose! I don't
want any of your experimental monsters loose right now, no matter
what you say about the wonders of symbiosis!"

Saul pushed off to one side as Akio bent forward to peer at the
list of available diseases, muttering softly to himself. Obviously,
Matsudo had left his contact lenses out again.

He about three decimeters taller than his grandfather, Saul
thought./lnd yet he suspicious of change. A scientist, and yet he
too conservative to get a corneal implant that would let him see
without aid.

What ever happened to the in. novatve, futuFe-hungry Japanese
of so long ago ?

For that matter, what had happened to Israel, his own homeland?
How could the descendants of the Negev pioneers, the most
potent warriors in two centuries, slowly decline into superstition
and cultism? What had turned clear-eyed Sabras into cowed sheep
who let the Levite and Salawite fanatics just walk in and take over?

The mysteries were part of a greater one that still amazed
Saul, how courage seemed to be leaking away from humanity, even
as the Hell Century was ending and better times appeared near at
last.

It wasn't a calming train of thought. Biological science was in
just as bad shape. The bright hopes offered by Simon Percell and
the genetic .engineers of the early part of the century had nearly

18
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

collapsed in a series of scandals more than a decad ago, leaving
only a stolid pharmaceutical industry and a few mavericks such as
Saul to carry on.
Earth was rapidly becoming unpleasant for mavericks--one of
the reasons he was on this mission. Exile through space and time
certainly beat some of the alternatives he had seen coming.
"We will use rhinovirus TR-3-APZX-471," Matsudo announced,
apparently satisfied with his selection. "Do you concur,
Saul?"
Saul already felt a sneeze coming on. "A naYve little varietal,
but I'm sure you'll be amused by its presumption."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind," he grumped. "As official keeper of small animals,
I'll have an incubated vial of the nasty buggers in your inbox
by tomorrow morning." He touched a key and the glowing inventory
disappeared.
Matsudo lifted himself easily in the one-eighth G of the Edmund's
laboratory wheel, and sat on the counter. He sighed, and
Saul could tell that his friend was about to go philosophical on him.
Over the long journey from Earth they had exchanged countless
chess games and views of the worM, and never budged each other
on any issue at all.
"It's not much like back when we were in medical school, is
it, Saul? You in Haifa and me in Tokyo? We were brought up to hate
pathogens--the infectious viruses and bacteria and prions--to want
only to wipe them from the face of the Earth. Now, we culture and
use them. They are our tools."
Saul nodded. Today half a physician's job involved careful application
of those very horrors, serving them up judiciously to create challenges.
"Exercise the patient's immune system, and let him do the
rest," Saul said, nodding. "It's a better way, Akio. I only wish
you'd see that my cyanutes are part of the same progression."
Matsudo rolled his eyes. He and Saul had been over this many
times.
"Again, I regret that I cannot agree. In one case we teach the
body to be strong and reject that which is foreign. But you coax it to accept an interloper, forever!"
"Perhaps half of the cells in a human body are guest life
forms, Akio... gut bacteria, follicle cleaners. They help us; we
help them."
Matsudo waved his hand. "Yes, yes. Most of what you call

	HEART OF THE COMET .
	19


you, is not.t'I have heard it before. I know you see us not as individuals,
Saul, but as great, synergistic hives of cooperating species."
There was a biting edge to Matsudo's voice that Saul did not remember
having heard before. Exaggeration was not Matsudo's
usual style.

"Akio..."

Matsudo hurried on, though. "And what if you're right, Saul?
All of those organisms that share our bodies with us grew into symbiosis
over millions of years. That is entirely different from throwing
gene-tailored monsters into such a delicate balance on
purpose!"

Matsudo flushed slightly. Saul considered trying to explain
one more time--that the cyanutes were descended from creatures
that had lived peacefully in man for aeons. But of course, he knew
how Akio would answer. After all the changes that had been made,
the 'nutes were a new species, as different from their natural cousins
as men were from apes.

"Saul, the Movement to Restore and Reflect teaches us that we
must think carefully before we interfere with nature. The Hell Century
has shown how dangerous it can be to meddle where we don't
understand."

Glancing up at the microscope screen, where his tiny test subject
was still being run through its'paces, Saul saw that the animal
was still throbbing near the needle--harried but well.

"I..." He shook his head and went silent. Saul had an idea
what was bothering his friend.

"There's still no sign of the Newburn yet, is there?"
Matsudo shook his head, his gaze on the floor. "Captain Cruz
and his officers are still looking. Perhaps when the comet has
calmed down some more, wherthe coma and ion tail are less
noisy... Fortunately, there were only forty people aboard that
one. If it had been one of the other slot tugs, the Sekanina, or the
Whipple, or the Delsemme--" He shrugged.

Saul nodded. No wonder Matsudo was irritable. More than
three hundred men and women had been shipped from Earth five
Years ahead of Edmund--along with most of the expedition's massive
equipment--chilled down to near freezing aboard four slender
robot freighters, riding sunlight behind gossamer sails a thousand
kilometers across.

Only the "founder" team took the fast, energetically expensive
track aboard the old Edmund Halley. They exhausted almost
the last of their propellant to match the comet's furious retrograde

20
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVIE BRIN
	orbit.
Whey they arrived the first task awaiting the torch ship's
crew was to recover the huge cylinders containing the deep-sleeping
majority of the mission crew.
There were disadvantages to each style of travel--torch ship or
slot tug. Much of the Edmund staff had to take long turns enduring
the boredom and cramped living of more than a year in space. As
well, they shared the recently evident dangers of setting up the
base.
On the other hand, they had some control over their fate. It
was not their lot to coast for years in near-fozen sleep, relying on
someone else to catch up, capture their slim barge, and finally
awaken them.
Would the men and women aboard Newburn drift forever? If
Cruz and his team never found the tug, might they be picked up by
someone else, in some faraway age? What might they awaken to,
after such a long trip down the river of time?
"It is going to be a long eighty years, Saul." Matsudo shook
his head pensively, looking at the picture wall, vivid with Halley's
Comet in its full glory against a backdrop of stars. The plasma and
dust tails glittered like flapping banners, like plankton in a phosphorescent
sea. "It is a long time until we see home again."
Saul smiled, hiding his own misgivings for his friend's sake.
"We'll sleep through most of it, 'Kio. And when we do get home,
we'll be rich and famous."
Matsudo snorted at the thought, but he acknowledged Saul's
intent with a smile. Irony was the common trait that made them
friends, in spite of all their differences.
A bell chimed and Saul looked up as the probe's needle withdrew
from the watery, saline bead. The subject cyanute floated
gray and limp now. The last test had been to prove that the creatures
could still easily be killed, if ever the need arose.
A creator's prerogative? he wondered. Or are my shoulders
stooped impercdptibly under one more tiny guilt ?
Scavengers were already nosing up to the microscopic corpse.
Saul reached over and turned the microscope off.

HEART OF THE COMET 2'1


VIRGINIA


The place smelled of rank, unwashed man.

Virginia's nose wrinkled when she entered the wrkout gym
for her mandatory exercise period.

We're strange creatures. Mammals evolve odors that make
males aggressive, and all of us nervous around one another, and
then we pack a whole crowd of people together into a tin crate for a
3,ear or more, and ask them to make nice.

Actually, Virginia did not mind the smell all that much. She
did not even mind men.

They just aren't the reason I accepted exile into the twenty-second
century, riding a speck of stardust and ice out into the Big
Night.

Virginia had her own motives For her, volunteering for
Project Halley had little to do with herding comets for harvest:

She stripped down to her shorts and mounted a bicycle ergometer,
attaching the bio-monitor straps. Virginia pushed the pedals,
accelerating until the readout show(d she was fulfilling Dr. van
Zoon's orders.

The workout gym was located in the Edmund Halley's gravity
wheel, where most of the crew snoozed through their sleep periods
under weight. Virginia understood the need to let blood and bones
feel the Old Pull now and then to keep them in shape. But these
thrice-weekly sessions with straps, pulleys, and ergometers struck
her as truly burnt logic.

She had considered monkeying with the med center's data
flow, inserting simulated feedback from all these exercise machines.
She could do it, too. virginia wasn't modest about her competence
in Data Intelligence. Lefty d'Amaria might be head of the
department, but she was the best.

Oh, well, I guess I need this, she thought as she pushed down
on the pedals. Sweat began popping out, glistening on her olive
skin.

Normally, she took pride in keeping a taut physique. B/ck
home in Hawaii, she had surfed nearly every other day. But now it

GREGORY BENF)RD AND DAVID BRIN

seemed she had to shake off a lassitude that still hung over her after
a year's chilled sleep. Until three weeks ago she had been suspended,
life functions barely ticking over at just above freezing.
Perhaps it was a lingering laziness from the slot drugs that had

made her so reluctant to come down to the gym.

Well, as long as I'm here, let's do it ight.

She bore down hard and pretended she was pedaling across the
Lanai-Maui bridge. The omnipresent rumble of the gravity wheel
faded into an imagined background of roaring wind and water. Virginia
pictured that the door in front of her might let her out, blinking,
into yellow sunshine and the rich scent of pineapple.

Her muscles felt warm and stretched after the workout. And it
was good to spend some time after showering just brushing her long
black hair. Stepping back into her drab pullover was reminder
enough, though. Maui lay a hundred million miles from here.

You made your choice, girl. There are things to accomplish
out here.., things more important to you even than remaining in
the Land of the Golden People.

She decided to take a brisk walk around the gravity wheel before
returning to the freefall portion of the ship. Virginia strode
long-legged in the direction opposite to the wheel's spin.

It seemed nobody was about. Dr. Marguerite van Zoon wasn't
chivying the spacers to visit the gym these days. Those poor folk
were sweating quite enough right now, and were exempt from the
Walloon physician's obsession with exercise.

Virginia's journey around the rim hallway took her past one of
the spoke ladders and beyond, to the part of the wheel dedicated to
laboratories. The doors were all closed, so she couldn't tell if the
Biological Sciences section was being used right now. She paused
by the door, her hand hesitating, half-raised toward the buzzer.

Oh come on, Ginnie. It's not as if Saul Lintz will bite you. Why
all these little-girl heart palpitations ?

All she knew was that the man held a fascination for her, more
than she had felt toward anyone in years. Was it his worldly experience?
Or the expression in his eyes--perseverance and quiet
strength?

Since she had been unslotted, she had hoped he would say
something, make some first move. It was frustrating to realize,
at last, that he simply assumed she saw him as a father figure.
That left Virginia wondering if she should attempt an overture herself.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	23

Her hesitation over the buzzer lasted until she felt ridiculous.

It would seem so contrived to barge in on him now. What
would I say?

Later there 'Il be opportunity to arrange something more casual.
After all, what we have plenty of is time.

At least that would do for an excuse. Oh, if only she un. der-stood
people half as well as she did machines! She swiveled and left
without disturbing the buzzer.

As she walked down the rim corridor, she noticed all the ways
in which the Edmund Halley had aged over the past year. The corridors
no longer shone. Buff, color-coordinated wall panels had
warped and even buckled in places. The old girl had not started this
mission exactly in the blush of youth, and no space vessel of her
size had ever been required to accelerate so far, for so long. The
strain showed.

Virginia thought she was past surprise, but as she' approached

another of the spoke ladders, she stopped and stared.

Oh, it can't be this bad.t

An air vent dripped onto the gently curved hallway. Patchy,
dark green growth discolored the floor where Coriolis effects had
pushed a small puddle against the wall.

Virginia's generous lips pursed in disgust as she stepped gingerly
past the moldy infestation and climbed a damp ladder toward
the hub, making a mental note to report this to maintenance. It was
hard to believe she was the first to discover it.

The rungs pressed against her body as she surrendered angular
momentum to the rotating wheel. The spoke passageway was
dim and dank and all too smelly. Only half the phosphor panels in
this tunnel were working, making the ascent seem a bit like a trip
through a city sewer.

It a good thing the Halley habitats will be read), soon, she
thought. This creaky barge needs a long overhaul.

There would be little enough for the four hundred members of
the expedition to do during three-quarters of a century.., investigating
the mysteries of a major cometary nucleus.., testing the
sublimation control panels and the big Nudge Flingers... another
busy time in thirty years or so as Halley neared its farthest reach
from the sun, when Virginia would help calculate parameters for
the all important Grand Maneuver... then the long fall toward
Jupiter and finally, home.

For most of the intervening time, nearly everybody would be
asleep, accumulating Earthside pay in nearly dreamless slot state.

24
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

That was when the small, rotating watch shifts would slowly refurbish
poor Edmund.
Seven decades ought to be time enough. It had better be. Come
Halley next fiery plunge into the i'nner solar system, this old
bucket has to be in good enough shape to take us home again.
Climbing hand over hand, Virginia felt her weight seep away
into the ladder as she approached the grumbling bearings, where
the null gravity of space resumed. The four spoke tunnels came
together in a small, rotating, octagonal room.
Just before reaching the hub, however, she blinked in stunned
surprise at a small lubricant leak, spraying fine, greasy vapor into
the passage.
I know most of Edmund's spacers have been called away to
work on Halley Core. Still, there's no excuse for this.t We're going
to need the wheel for a long time to come.t
"Disgusting," she muttered aloud. "Simply disgusting."


	That was when a voice spoke from beyond the faint, oily jet.
"I agree, Virginia."

She glanced up quickly. A slightly paunchy man in a gray
shipsuit floated by one of the two exits, his broad, Slavic mouth
pouting in a sour expression. A wool cap was pulled down over
sparse brown hair flecked with gray. His arms were long and
powerful-looking, all the more so since he had no legs.
Spacer Second Class Otis Sergeov had never appeared particularly
disabled by his handicap. In fact, it seemed to make him
quicker in microgravity. She had heard that Sergeov was now, assigned
to helping Joao Quiverian and the other astronomers gtudy-lng
Comet Halley.
He was the oldest Percell Virginia had ever met.
Being one of the first had its drawbacks. Simon Percell's famous
early work in genetic surgery had made it possible for Sergeov's
parents to have children at all. But a mosaic flaw had left
him with only small nubs below his shorts.
"Oh, hello, Otis," she greeted him, "Something has to be
done about this. Has anyone reported it yet?"
The Russian spacer shrugged. "Is doing what the hell good,
reporting thing like this? Nobody does nothing about it, for sure,"
he groused bitterly in mixed Russian and English. "The Stchakai cretins!"
Virginia blinked at the apparent nonsequitur. Of course Captain
Cruz would order repairs at once, when someone told him ....
Then she noticed that Sergeov wasn't even looking at the lu

HEART OF THE COMET 25

bricant leak. Virginia rode the slowly rotating hub until she was
even with the man, then edged past the intermittent spray and
pushed off hard.
The octagonal room seemed to spin around her. She had to
grab twice in order to grip a rubberized handhold, and still her
body collided with the padded wall. I'll never get this right/she thought as she fought to orient herself.
Sergeov pointed. "You think Ortho bureaucrats will do anything
about this thing, do you?" he snapped. "This?"
Virginia blinked. He was glaring at a graffito scrawled on the
bulkhead nearest the gr .umbling axis bearings.

"Arc of the Sun," he identified the symbol, bitingly. "The Kakashkiia bastards have followed us, even out here."
"I've seen it hefore," Virginia said softly. She felt a little short
of breath over this unexpected sight. "Even in Hawaii..."
"So?" Sergeov interrupted snidely. "Even in Land of the
Golden People?,Even in your techno-humanistic paradise?"
Virginia's brow knotted. Back in mission training she had
taken a dislike to Sergeov, fellow Percell or no. He had spent nearly
all his life in space--turning his physical drawbacks into assets in
freefall--and yet every time she encountered him she felt uncomfortable,
as if the man radiated long-suppr .eseed bitterness.
She promised herself she would use her own computer to
worm her way into the personnel files. She would see to it that they
never shared a shift out of the slots during the seven decades ahead.
"Goodbye, Otis. I have work to do." But he stopped her, seizing
her arm.
"You know this is not first incident;" he said. "Only most
blatant. Some of Arcists," he sneered, "refuse to even talk to Per-cells
aboard. They avoid us like we are xherobiy.., unclean!"
Virginia shrugged, "Everybody's been under a lot of stress
lately. That'll change when the habitats are completed, and once
people have room to move around again. When we've unfrozen

26
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

some folk from the slot tugs and get to look at some fresh faces for a
change..."

Sergeov's grip was iron-strong from years of hauling space
gear around. "Might help symptoms;' he insisted. "But the disease
goes on. You saw what Earth was like when we left. One after
another of shlyoocha Hot Belt countries pass laws restricting our
rights.., rights of all genetically enhanced people!"

Virginia only wanted the man to let go.of her arm. She tried
reason.

"The nations of equatorial Africa and Americahave had a
hellish century, Otis. I don't like the specious turn their ideology
has taken in recent years either, but at least they're environmentalists,
nowadays. If they've become a bit fanatical in that direction,
well, anyone will admit it's an improvement over the way their
grandfathers behaved. The pendulum will swing back again."

Virginia did not like the expression on Sergeov's face. He
looked at her as if she were pitiably, even criminally naYve.

"You think so? But no, my dear young Percell. Is only the
beginning! They are already at war with us!"

His unshaven face drew closer. "And who can blame them?
When Homo sapiens awakens to what is happening, more and more
repression will come against us--the Successor Race. Nothing less
than future generations are at stake here!"

"Oh, come on, Otis." Virginia laughed dryly, trying to
lighten the tone. "It's not like we few Percells are the next step in
evol--"

"No, you listen, girl!" Sergeov's eyes narrowed. "This is the
main reason for all such paranoia, such persecution! Is hard to
blame Neanderthals for trying to protect their obsolete form, after
all. Species protect selves."

He grinned severely. "But that does not mean we must let bastards
squash us, either. Is up to us to act first, or perish!"

Even though they were dearly alone Virginia quickly looked
about. She did not want to be around if this seditious talk was overheard.
With no wasted motion she used a judo grip-break to ybnk
her arm away hard, sending the man spinning back. Sergeov
bumped his head on the unpadded wall.

"Ow!" he protested in hurt surprise. "Yayatamiy! Govenka!
What you do/hat for?"

"You Uber extremists don't have the answer," she breathed.
"You only give Percells a bad name by talking like that. We aren't
Nietzsche's supermen. We're misunderstood human beings. That's
all!"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	27

Sergeov grimaced, rubbing his head. "Ask the regular human
beings, the Orthos, if they think us brothers," he grumped.
Pushing the ;alls with her hands, Virginia backed away like a
fish from a shark, even though Sergeov showed no inclination to
follow her. Once down the hall a few feet, she spun about and
kicked off down the dimly lit corridor toward her sanctuary.

Everything in Virginia's private work capsule was neat, crisp,
efficient. The screens and opalescent holo displays that surrounded
her web-couch all operated perfectly. Far from home and everything
she had known--even hurtling out of the solar system at thirty
kilometers per second--this was the center of her universe. She
made certain everything was in good working order.
Officially, her role was to provide special support to Computations
Section. But she had actually inveigled her way aboard this
mission in hopes of.getting some of her own research done. In the
kind of scientific environment that was developing on Earth, the
sorts of things she was interested in were frowned on.
Bio-organic computers . . . machines that might really
think... These were areas that had been diagnosed as improbable,
even dangerous, by increasingly conservative twenty-first-century
science. Even in her native Hawaii, her superiors had grown more
and more uncomfortable with the 'attention her work was drawing
from the outside world.
But I know bio-organics can eventually outperform silicon
and gallium,t And machines can do better than moron mechanical
water drawing and wood hewing. Stochastic processors can be
made to think.
Over to the right, Iucked under a desktop, was the squat box
containing her own, special simulation unit; the Kelmar organo
computer had used up nearly all of her small personal-effects allowance,
but it was worth it.
Panel lights rippled as the hatch hissed shut behind her and she
slipped onto the web-couch. Virginia belted herself in and spoke
softly.
"Hello, JonVon."
The main holo screen glittered.

HELLO, VIRGINIA.
WILL IT BE WORK OR PLAY TODAY?

She smiled. No doubt in the eighty years ahead much progress
would be made. It had to happen--even in a growing tide of scientific
conservatism.

28
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

But right now her charge was the best there was--unconventional,
using technology all but banned back home, but
supreme in her own estimation.

She had named the unit after John Von Neumann, inventor of
the theory of games. The program/mainframe could mimic a human's
response patterns well enough to pass a third-stage Turing
test.., fooling an unsuspecting person in a five-minute casual vid-phone
conversation into thinking the face and voice on the other
end of the line were those of a real person, not a computer.

JonVon could even tell a dirty joke, leering just enough and
chuckling at the right time.

Unprecedented, yes. But stunts like that weren't true "machine
intelligence"--not the way Virginia felt should be possible.

The molecular hardware in that five-liter box should be good
enough to model the complex standing wave in a human brain. She
was sure of it. They didn't agree back home, of course, and so it
had never really been given a chance.

For the next few weeks she would have little time to engage in
her private experiments. She had to use all her equipment, including
JonVon, to supplement the ship's mainframe. Nearly all her
energy was devoted to preparing those mathematical models Captain
Cruz's spacers kept demanding.

Later, though, during her years on watch, there would be
time. Time for work and undiluted thought.

Back in the twentieth century, they knew how to have daring
dreams, she thought. They did not believe in limits. It was one reason
she liked old-time flat-screen movies.., and enjoyed simulating
old-time film stars and long-ago poets.

Those people nearly wrecked the world with their greed, but
they did believe in' ambition. They wouldn't have rested until they
had machines that could think.

She glanced at the timepiece etched indelibly under her left
thumbnail. "How about twenty minutes of diversion, Johnny?"
Virginia lifted a cable from the console and bared a whitish bump at
the back of her head. When the connection clicked home, the symbols
on the screen were accompanied by a rich voice inside her
head.

POETRY, VIRGINIA?

She answered quickly with an impulsive thread of verse:

Ka Honua

--Earth, my home,

	HEART OF THE COMET
	29

E hoomanao no au ia oe
--I shall remember you.

I wonder what he likes
tO do,
And if he can spare me
the time of day?

The line to her acoustic nerve hummed.

MIXED STYLES, VIRGINIA?
DOES THE SECOND PART APPLY TO LOVE?

She blushed. "Oh hush, silly. Come on now. Let's take a look
at your conversation subroutines."

CARL

The dusty ice sheets were speckled and splashed, rainbow-mottled,
pocked and scoured.
Carl Osborn spun his workpod and vectored down toward
Halley Core. He flew away from the razor-sharp dawnline, aiming
for the north pole where their base was finally taking shape.
The grainy gray and brown surface was changing rapidly now.
Like tiny, fat ants, mechs moved over it, preparing docking areas
and mooring towers. Spiders hammered holes into the ice, their
endless microwave zzzzzttts leaking faintly into some of the data
channels. Carl 'muttered a quick correcting command to his suit's
comm filter control and the interference stopped.
Shaft 3 was nearly finished, a yawning pit like a dead eye
socket. The first group of sleep slots would be going down that way
soon. A kilometer of sheltering ice would shield the sleepers from
the fatal sting of cosmic rays and the sleeting solar storms.
Random gouges surrounded the shaft. Discharging mech fuel
cells had pitted the crusty ice. Broken gear lay where teams had
dropped it. Chem spills had condensed into powdery green and
yellow splotches. Discarded girders and sonic cartridges and
shockjackets lay everywhere. What mankind would study, Carl
thought wryly, he first messes up.
Just barely visible over the curved'horizon, now slowly eom
30
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

ing into view along the dawnline, were the black gas-suppression

panels. They were an ongoing experiment, armored against the

high-velocity dust streams and designed to generate electricity

from sunlight. Their shadows reduced the outgassing from one-

eighth of Halley Core's surface, introducing an asymmetry in the

boiloff. The panels could be turned so that they trapped heat, too,

increasing the outgassing on the night side of the core. The net

effect was a faint, persistent push that could alter the comet's orbit,

given time.
Or so the story went. To Carl the big black panels had been
one solid week of grunt labor. They were too delicate to let the
mechs do more than hold them in place, while he and Lani Nguyen
and Jeffers had mounted them to the robo-arms that would turn
them. The astroengineers were still tinkering with the gimmicks
piling up data to analyze during the long outbound voyage.
It was hard to tell what was an intentional experiment and
what was yesterday's garbage. He wondered how messy Halley
Core could get. In nearly eighty years they might thoroughly trash
even this much ice.
Carl could see a thin black stripe coming out of shadow at the
dawnline--the polar cable. It wrapped around Halley Core, pole to
pole, and joined the equatorial cable at a perfect right angle, but
separated by several meters for safety. The mils provided swift
ways to zip around the surface. Still, Carl seldom used them. He
liked to get free of the bleak ice, swim in serene blackness above it
all.
Between him and the slowly spinning, potato-shaped iceworld
were the swarming mechs he supervised. He thumbed instructions
into his lap console, muttering code phrases automatically, making
the distant dots turn their burden--a huge orange cylinder. Its
smooth sheen reflected glinting sunlight.
--Channel D to Osborn. Real pretty, uh?-- Jeffers sent from
below.
"Well..."
Awful color, he thought. And it's the inner-corridor lining.
We'll have to look at it for seventy years.
The mechs dropped lower, angling the cylinder for Shaft 3,
following his instructions. The potato-like shape of Halley Core
revolved every fifty-two hours, just fast enough to make readjustment
necessary as they approached. Subliming gas still rose from
some of the active patches the scientists called "SekaninaLarson"
regions, making visibility haZy and creating a haZard of high-velocity
dust. The thin fog blurred images at this distance--8.3 ki-

HEART OF THE COMET

lometers, his board said--and made it hard to use his automatic
aligning program.

He had backup on the Edmund, in case of a malf. Fine, in
theory. But by the time he got somebody online, the mechs might
dutifully try to stuff the cylinder into a hill of ice. Despite Virginia's
earnest faith, computers could do only so much. From there on
you had to eyeball it.

"Bringing it in slow," he sent.

--Looks vectored up just a hair. Two clicks too high along the
local y-axis,-- Jeffers replied.

Carl looked down, recalibrated, saw that Jeffers was right.
"Damn."

--You okay?--

"Yeah. Just keep those beacons going."

The four laser aligners bracketed Shaft 3 clearly, and Carl
turned the mechs into configuration using the bright markers. A
touch of delta V, a compensating torque. His board approved the
shift. Good. But now the irregular ice was looming fast, and--

Gravity. He'd forgotten the 'damn gravity. Halley Core had
only a ten-thousandth of Earth's pull.., but in his half-hour descent
from the solar-sail freighter the momentum had built . . .
slow but steady... He punched in a correction, watching the equations
ripple across his board.

Lights flashed red. "I'm braking," he sent, and fired the
mechs' retros.

Damn the gravity anyway. Carl had been at Encke, worked
around the rocky comet nucleus for weeks. It had been just like any
deepspace work--sometimes almost an elaborate waltz, smooth
and sure, and a lot of grunt and sweat at crucial moments. Still, it
was basically easy if you watched that your vectors matched, didn't
push anything except at its center'f mass, worked steadily, kept
your head.

But Encke was a runt. An old prune of a comet, broiled by its
long stay in the inner solar system. Halley had a lot more mass,
mostly ice. On the surface you never noticed the slight tug, but
coming in like this, taking your time to aim carefully, that ten-thousandih
of a G could add up.

The mechs' blue jets fanned against the backdrop of ice, slowing
the cargo. Carl saw suddenly that it wasn't enough. The ponderous,
hundred-meter-long cylinder was coming in too fast.

He ordered the lower portwise mech to turn and thrust at full
bore. The unit spun, fired its reserve.

--What the hell you-- Jeffers began.

32
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"Clear the shaft!"
--What--"Clear
it!"

Standard procedure was to bring cargo to rest about fifty meters
out, than nudge it in. His board said that was impossible. Instinct
told him to try for something else.

He jetted forward, nearly caught up with the cylinder. A touch
from the lower starboard mech, two quick torques here, a jolt sidewise
to line her up-- .

An arrow from on high, aimed at a puckered black circle.

The orange cylinder struck the lip of Shaft 3, slowed--broke
off an edge of ice--and drove on in, scattering flakes off into space.

Bull -eye, he rejoiced as the cylinder disappeared within the

hole.

Jeffers cried out, --Hey! What's the idea?--

"She got away from me." 

--Hell she did! You're showin' off, is all.-Carl
pulsed his own jets and landed easily, feet down. "Don't
I wish! Nope, I just corrected at the last minute. Figur6d it was
better to try for a clean hit than to burn fuel decelerating. Especially
since I couldn't stop it anyway."

Jeffers shook his head, exasperated. --Show-off,-- he insisted,
and went to check for rips in the material.

There weren't any. Slick and snagproof, fiberthread could
wriggle around sharp edges, which made it good for lining the
snaking tunnels inside Halley Core.

The fifteen members of the Life Support Installation Group
had ten days to honeycomb a fraction of the north polar region, line
the shafts and tunnels with pressure-tight insulation, then flush it
with air. Not long enough. And all that time the newly awakened
scientists aboard the Edmund would be chafing.

Even with 112 mechs it was going to be a tight schedule.
There were only so many hands to guide them. The entire expedition
had only 67 "live" members at present. Nearly 300 more lay
in the sleep slots, their body temperatures hovering within a degree
above freezing.

Overhead, the spindly tugs waited with their human cargo.
Their immense, gossamer solar sails were furled now, not needed

for seventy years. Beside the whalelike Edmund, the silvery Se-
kanina, Delsemme, and Whipple looked like patient barracuda.

Still no word on the Newburn, Carl thought. How could it
have gotten lost ?

	HEART OF THE COMET
	33

--You guys all right.'?-- Lani Nguyen's light, tinkling voice
came from somewhere.

Carl looked around and found the speck rapidly growing as
she sped along the polar cable. She had one arm clamped on the
stay-carry while she waved with the other, looking remarkably like

a bird skimming the ground with only one wing flapping.

--Jess fine,-- Jeffers sent.

--I thought I heard some trouble .... --She
cut free of the cable and vectored their way, adroitly turning
to shift her center of mass and avoid picking up any spin from
the jet thrust. She's good, Carl thought. Damn good. Lani's light
delicacy belied a firmly muscled physique. But why come to check
on a minor malf?

"Nothing much to it," he answered.

--Well, I was finished, just on my way inside.-- She landed
with catlike agility ten meters away, kicking up only a small cloud
of dust. --Want to take a break?--

--Can't,-- Jeffers said. --We got to check out the tube, see it
gets unsprung right.--

Lani looked at Carl. --That's routine. It shouldn't take two.-Carl
said, "Cruz is riding our ass on safety."

She studied him through their dust-marred helmets. --Sure?
You're due to go off shift.--

--Hey, I'm not working alone, li'l lady,-- Jeffers said good-naturedly
but firmly.

She shrugged. --Okay. Just wanted a little R and R. I'm running
a fraction ahead of schedule.--

--See you tonight, then.-- Jeffers eyed her appreciatively but
she seemed not to notice.

--Right,-- she said to Carl. 7Tonight.-She
lifted off gracefully and headed for the main shaft.

--Wouldn't mind that at all,-- Jeffers said dreamily on a
closed comm channel. Carl ignored him.

--We'll have to be thinkin about pairin' off pretty soon
now. --

"You'll be an icicle in a month."

--Man has to plan ahead.--"Think
you can get her to share a shift with you?" Carl answered.

--Might. Gonna be cold and lonely, later on.-Carl
laughed. "Your idea of foreplay is six beers and a game
of pool. She's not your type."

34
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
--Necessity makes funny bedfellows, isn't that what Shakespeare
said?--
"Stick to grunt work, it's your strong suit." He gave Jeffers a
friendly shove toward the shaft entrance.
--Can't blame a man for tryin'.--"Come
on, your tongue is hanging out."
' They flew their mechs ahead of them, down through the hollow
center of the orange cylinder, popping free restrainer clips as
they went. The fiberthread tube unflexed, articulating in sheets
along the original axis. Every two minutes it extruded from itself a
hundred-meter segment, automatically pressure-sealed the ends,
and began pushing out another--each barely narrower than the one
before. To Carl, it resembled a gaudy tube-worm that continuously
regenerated itself, burrowing into an apple.
Side tunnels took more care. The mechs cut holes for the intersections,
fuse-sealed them, and deployed the smaller tube extruders.
Carl and Jeffers had to maneuver them into place, yoke and
unyoke, check joints and seals, and be sure nothing snagged on an.
outcropping of rock or jagged ice. In the tunnels chunks of icy cometary
agglomerate rubbed off--the mechs were sometimes
clumsy--and floated freely' through the dark spaces, striking multicolored
halos around the spot torches the men carried. It was
steady, meticulous, tiring work, even in near-zero gravity.
Their meal break was in a tunnel segment recently filled with
air. They cracked their helmets and moored on a wall, enjoying the
freedom even though the cold, tangy-flavored air cut sharply in
their nostrils.
"Think you'll ever get used to it?" Jeffers asked, munching
methodically on a self-warming ration bar. "Living in here?"
Carl shrugged. "Sure. The exercise wheel and electrical stimulation
will take care of the low G, the docs say."
"Trust 'em for eighty years?" Jeffers's lean face seemed fitted
for a skeptical expression; his mouth drooped down toward a
pointed chin, eyes narrowed and quizzical. "Anyway, what I meant
was the ice all around you. Feel how cold it is? And that's with all
this insulation and our suit heaters going' full bore."
"It'll warm up. That's a meter's insulation we just laid around
this, remember."
"Gonna be a looong winter." Jeffers grinned. He would soon
be swimming blissfully in the slots, and clearly relished the
thought. Jeffers had been awake on the flight out. It had been boring,
and now the work was hard and dangerous. He was ready for
others to take over. The first watch.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	35

Still, Carl couldn't understand the man's attitude.

"There's some risk in the slots, y'know. System malf, or--"
"I know, I know. My biochem might screw up in some way the
experts missed out on. Or maybe you guys on watch throw a wrong
switch, cut off my power, and the safeguards fail. Or an asteroid
hits us all." He grinned again. "Still, it's a one-way trip across

more'n a couple decades."

Carl frowned. "So?"

"I'd just as soon sleep through the dull part, accumulatin'
Earthside pay." Jeffers's thin face twisted into a sardonic grin.
"Comet farmin' in the outer system--that'll be fun. But I can skip
the kiss-ass politics."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, you're a Percell too. You know how this whole expedition's
been set up."

"Uh... how?"

"The Orthos! They're run.ning everything." leffers ticked off
the names on his fingers. "Cruz, then Oakes, Matsudo, d'Amaria,

Ould-Harrad, Quiverian. Every section head is an Ortho."
"So?"

"They think .we're freaks!"

"Oh, come on."

"They do! Look at the way the Orthos are treating our people
Earthside. Think these here are any different?"

"They aren't like that mob that burned down the center in
Chile last week, if that's what you mean. Sure, I read about that
stuff, and the other places. That's one reason I work in space, same
as you."

"Space's no different."

"Sure it is. These Orth--these people know they're really the
salTle as us."

Jeffers said triumphantly, "But they aren't."

Carl smiled humorlessly. "Now who's being prejudiced?"
"Hell, you know we're not the same as them." Jeffers leaned
forward, speaking earnestly. "Our bodies .are better, that's for sure.

And we're smarter, too. The tests show that."

"Hell they do."

"Can't argue with statistics!"

Carl grunted with irritation. "Look, we were boy wonders
back when we were growing up--before people started turning
against us. All Percells were. Remember the scholarships? The
special attention?"

"We earned tha. We were smart."

36
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Carl shook his head. "We turned out smart--because of the
VIP treatment."
"Naw. I've always been quicker than your typical Ortho, even
if I don't bother to talk real well."
"And you are. But you're no better than People like Captain
Cruz or Dr. Oakes." Carl got to his feet too rapidly and his velcro
grips tore free of the fiberthread. He shot across the tunnel and
banged his head against the ceiling.
"Damn!"
Jeffers snickered but said nothing. Carl rubbed his head as he
drifted back, but refused to let his irritation show any further. Jeffers
was like too many Percells--wrapped up in their own sense of
Persecution, picking at every imagined slight like a festering sore.
Arguing with them just encouraged it.
"Open your eyes," his friend Persisted. "Who've they got in
the dangerous jobs like ours? Percells!" '
"Because a lot of us are trained for zero G. We had the scholarships
to get into it."
"Then why not put a Percell in charge o all Manual Operations?''
"Well... we're not old enough yet. No Percell is as experienced
as Cruz or Ould-Harrad or--"
"Come on! Look at who's doing the outgassing experiments.
And developing longterm sleep slotting. All Orthos."
"So?"
"That's where the real money'll be! Learn how to steer comets
with their own boiloff, show you can sleep and work in decade
shifts--and you can sell your talent anywhere in the system."
Carl couldn't help laughing. Jeffers sure did take the long
view. "Come on, that's--"
"And What about Chem Section? If we turn up anything half
as valuable as Enkon here, you know who'll make out. And they're all Orthos, too, except Peters."
"We all signed patent agreements. Any techniques discov,
ered, we all get a cut, after recouping basic exPenses."
Jeffers's face contorted into a sour, sardonic mask. "The
Orthos'll find a way around that."
Carl felt his own conviction wavering. What if he right? But
then he blotted out the thought. "Look, get off that line. We can't
continue those stupid Earthside fights out here."
"We're not--it's them."
ExasPerated, Carl stuffed the remains of his lunch into his
carry pouch. "Let's go--I'd rather work than argue."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	37

Still, that evening he entered the rec-lounge bar troubled,
looking for Virginia. She was a reasonable Percell and might understand
what he only slowly admitted to himself this afternoon--that
he halfway agreed with some of Jeffers's accusations. It was the
man's tone, his black-and-white way of putting everything, that got Carol's back up.
He collected a drink, turned to go, and saw the sign, DUCK OR
GROUSE just in time to remind him. He stooped and entered the
lounge. The first week aboard, he and other Percells had slammed
their foreheads into the doorjamb a dozen times; the Edmund's designers
had apparently believed only Orthos socialized.
Lani Ngtyen intercepted him near the smiling tungsten bust of
Edmond Halley himself. "Ah, at last you appear."
She gave an immediate impression of slim, efficient design,
every inch a spacer. Lean muscles bunched in her bare almond-colored
arms, but otherwise she was covered in a draping, cool blue
dress that moved in light pseudo-gravity with a graceful, modest
independence. Carl liked the effect of shimmering cloth lagging
behind her precise, delicate movements.
"Uh, yeah, we had some trouble with the tunnel articulation."
He smiled cordially but tried to scan the lounge without seeming to
do so.
Dr. Akio Matsudo was talking earnestly to Lieutenant Colonel
Ould-Harrad, the head of Manual Ops. Through the viewport Halley
Core glimmered and swam as the G-wheel turned. Captain
Cruz stood ramrod-straight against the starry background, easily
dominating the room, surrounded by the usual mesmerized pack of
ladies.
Where was Virginia?
"Oh?" Lani asked with a distant smile, similar to the Buddha-grin
of the sculpture over .her shoulder. "That should be automatic.''
Carl blinked. "Uh... we ran into a patch of boulders."
"I usually send a forward mech ahead to slice those off with a
cutter. Then--"
Jeffers appeared out of nowhere and Carl nagged him. "Better
tell this guy, he's the point man in our t.eam. I'll just run a little
errand .... "And he was away, free, before Lani's pert surprise
could turn to protest. Let Jeffers have an opening, Carl thought. He
deserves it. A bit unfair to Lani, maybe, but first things first. Let S see, her shift should be up by now .....

38
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
He passed the group surrounding Captain Cruz and on impulse
slowed. He insinuated himself into the cluster. Cruz always
spoke to the whole group, never leaving anyone out, and he smiled
at Carl. "How's it going down there, Osborn?"
Carl was startled at being addressed personally. He had intended
simply to listen in. "Uh, pretty tough, sir, but we can handle
it."
"I saw that neat trick at Shaft Three." Cruz raised his eyebrows
slightly and his gaze swept over the circle. Although an
Ortho--a natural human being--he was as tall as most Percells.
Carl felt his face getting hot. He had to say something, but
what? "Well, I guess I kinda--"
"Marvelous! A bull's-eye! I felt like applauding." The commander
chuckled.
Carl was dumbfounded. "Well... I..."
"It's good to see a little audacity," Cruz said warmly.
Carl grinned self-consciously. Does he know it was a mistake ? "Well, we got a schedule to keep."
"So we do. I only wish other sub-sections were moving as
crisply as yours:"
Carl wondered if that was a veiled joke. But Cruz raised his
bulb of bourbon in salute and, to Carol's surprise, the crowd did,
too. Carl covered his confusion by taking a sip, watching the crowd
for signs of mirth. No, they meant it. He felt a sudden delight. He
had bobbled the maneuver, sure, but recovered well. That was what
mattered to the captain.
Cruz caught Carol's eye and there passed between them the
barest moment of understanding. He knows I screwed up. But he
rewarding initiative over timidity. Why ? Carl had tried to perform
well all during the Edmund's flight out, but until this moment Cruz
had never paid him more than polite, distant attention.
That's it--Kato and Umolanda. He doesn't want people getting
spooked. He knows it was faulty equipment and plain bad luck
that killed them, much more than carelessness.
"We'll make our deadlines, sir," Carl said firmly.
Cruz nodded. "Good." With practiced smoothness, the captain
turned his attentiorr to a woman communications officer standing
nearby. "The new microwave antennas are up on schedule,
aren't they? Having trouble getting signals through the plasma
tail?" Cruz asked.
"A little, yes."
"How soon can we deploy a microwave radar to search for the Newburn?"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	39
I'll have an estimate, for you by tomorrow, sir."
Carl listened to the friendly, open way Cruz drew information
out of the woman, commented on it, made a little joke that set the
crowd to laughing. Now that's how to lead, Cad thought. He's in
touch with everything, and never looks worried. I wonder if I'll ever
learn -the knack.
He would have liked to stay longer, but he wanted to find Virginia.
He discovered her in a laughing group of varicolored Hawaiians,
her dress a blue shimmer that suggested without revealing.
The semiautonomous state of Hawaii had financed twenty percent
of the expedition's cost. As the true capital of the pan-Pacific economic
community, they invested heavily in space. Their representatives
lent a cheery air to most ship functions.
He waited for a lull in conversation, caught Virginia's eye,
and drew her away to an alcove. He quickly described Jeffers's
complaints. "Do you think he might be right?" he asked.
"You mean, will the Orthos try to rake off whatever they
can?" She. smiled speculatively. "Sure. This isn't a charity operation.''
"I didn't come just to make money." Carl drew back, folding
his arms. He knew it would probably be smarter to appear urbane,
even a shade cynical--or at least that's what he thought attracted
most Earthside women. But somehow his real self always came out.
"Offended?" Virginia smiled, her full lips drawing back to
reveal startlingly brilliant teeth. "Don't be so straitlaced. Even idealists
have to eat."
"Did you sign any quiet little agreements Earthside?"
Virginia frowned. "Of course not. Look, there're always going
to be rumors that so-and-so has a sweet extra deal to leak expertise.
Who knows, maybe somebody'Il tightbeam stuff back before
we return, have a bundle waiting for him in a Swedish account."
"It wouldn't surprise me. With four hundred people taking
turns standing watch over seventy years, there'll be plenty of
chances to cheat."
Virginia moodily stirred her bulb goblet of pifia colada with a
pink straw. To Carl the festive colors of the lounge seemed out of
place when cold steel and vacuum lay only meters away. The psychologists
probably thought tropical splashes of amber,-green, and
gold would take people away from raw reality, but for him it didn't
w6rk.
Virginia said slowly, "There's an old saying: Ordinary men
choose their friends, but a genius chooses his enemies."

40
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Carl grimaced. "Meaning?"

"The Orthos run this expedition, granted. If we create friction,
they can do a whole lot more to make it hot for us."

He thought for a moment. "Okay. Conceded. That doesn't
change my aims, though."

Virginia nodded. "Ah yes. Plateau Three."

Carl knew she thought his opinions were too simplistic, too
much a rubber stamp of the NearEarth colonies' doctrine. Still, he
honestly didn't see how she could disagree..

A century of struggle had finally given mankind the technology
to exploit the solar system--efficient transport, mech'd mining

and assembly, integrated artificial biospheres of any size needed.
Now was the moment, the colonists argued, to move.out.
Unmanned satellites had been the first level of space
exploitation--Plateau One. As far back as the 1980s people had
made billions with communications satellites. Saved lives with
weather sats.

Automated space factories using lunar materials had been the
next rung up--Plateau Two.

Each Plateau had been climbed by a few who saw the benefits
well in advance and took huge risks for that vision. Plateau Two had
nearly failed, then became a roaring economic miracle--helping to
pull the world out of the Hell Century.

Each ascent seemed to provoke an Earth-centered
apprehension--first, that the investment might go bust, then that
the birthplace of mankind was being relegated to a mere backwater.
This was aggravated by Earth's never-ending social problems--malaises
that the space colonies, by design, did not share. The
Birth and Childhood Rules, which commanded that each space-born
child must spend at least its first five years on the ground,
were a legal expression of an underlying fear.

Plateau Three was a dream, a political issue, an economic
sore point, a faith--all rolled into one. But big rotating colonies
were possible now. The colonists now looked on the Birth and
Childhood Rules as symbols of apronstrings they had long outgrown.
They wanted to exploit the rocky asteroids and moons, but
needed volatiles as well, for propellants and for biospheres. They'd
.even funded a small Ganymede ice mine, but that hadn,t worked
out well.

Some saw comets as the key, and fervently believed that humans
could scatter through the solar system like dandelion seed if
they could only learn to herd the ancient snowballs to orbits where
they were usable.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	41
Virginia leaned back languidly in her web-chair. "You can't
expect Mother Earth-to let go so easily."
"They have everything to gain! We'll bring them asteroids galore,
raw materials, provide new markets--"
She held up her palm. "Please, I know the litany." An amused
expression of feigned, longsuffering patience flitted across her
face, instantly disarming him. Perhaps it wasn't intended that way,
but with a single gesture she could make him see himself as gawky,
thick-witted, too obvious. Well, maybe I am. I've lived in space
over half rny adult life.
"Just 'cause it's familiar doesn't mean it's wrong."
"Carl, do you really think mining comets for volatiles is going
to ring in the millennium?"
"Where else can we get cheap fluids?" To him this was the
trump card, a cold economic fact. At the very beginning of the
solar system, the hot young sun had blown most of the light elements
outward, away from the inner solar system. Only Earth had
retained enough.volatile elements to clothe its rocky mantle with a
thin skin of air and water. When humans ventured into space to
exploit the resources there,--asteroids, the moon, Mars--they had
to haul their liquids up from Earth.
"Sure," Virginia-said. "Get ice from comets! In eighty years
we'll be back, Hail the conquering heroes! But by then somebody
may'ye discovered frozen lakes deep in our own 'moon. Or even
found a cheap way to chip iceteroids out of the Jovian moons--who
knows?"
Carl was startled. "That's crazy! No way you can pay the expense
of dipping into Jupiter's grav well, just for water and ice.
Jupiter Project is proving that."
She smiled impishly. "So? Chasing comets is easier?"
Her dark eyes teased, and Carl knew it, but he couldn't let go.
"It's worth a try, Virginia. Nobody'Il find a way to steer comets
unless we make the outgassing method work. Nobody'Il find
volatiles hiding on the moon or Venus because they've been baked
out. You can't prospect and mine the asteroids with mechs alone--because
finding metals is still a craft, not a science. Dried-up comets
like Encke can't be herded precisely because there's no way to
use their outgassing to steer them. So--"
"I surrender, I surrender!" She held both hands high.
Carl blinked. Oh hell, he thought. Why do I always get carried
away?
A deep male voice said from over Carol's shoulder, "Do not
rush into defeat, Virginia. Ask for reinforcements first."

42
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Carl turned as Saul Lintz settled into a soft green web-chair
nearby and put his drink into a hold notch on their table. He was
lean and weathered, his movements in low gravity deliberate.
"You're too late," Carl said, searching for something witty to
say to redeem himself. "She's already conceded that I'm a bore."
"Then my help is unneeded." Saul chuckled as he said this,
but Carl felt a quick jolt of irritation.
"I was arguing that we're all going to et rich out of this expedition,
if we're patient," Carl said evenly. "And we should leave
politics behind us."
Saul nodded, took a long pull at his drink. "Admirable sentiments.''
"We've got to. Halley Core is too small for the kind of petty--

"Inser[ coin for Lecture Twelve," Virginia said lightly..
"Well, it's true." Carl did not know how to take her, didn't
like the way her attention had swerved to Saul Lintz the moment he
joined them. She had turned halfway in her chair, nearly facing
Saul, and barely glanced back as Carl finished. "And any hints that
some people are going to profit more than the rest of us--well, it'll
cause trouble."
Saul lifted an inquiring eyebrow. He seemed to know how to
comment on what you'd said with a minimal gesture or shrug, an
economy of expression Carl envied.
"He refers to scuttlebutt below decks," Virginia explained.
"The fact that, ah, non-Percells hold all the important slots."
"Non-Percells such as myself?."
"Now that you mention it," Carl said.
"Seniority. After all, none of you genetically preselected people
are over forty."
"You sure that's all?" Carl'leaned forward, hands knitted together,
elbows on knees.
The older man frowned, sensing something in Carol's voice.
"What else do you think it could be?"
"How about Earthside not wanting any of us where we could
make trouble?"
Saul carefully put his drink down and sat back. "Exiles re ill
powered to cause Pharaoh grief," he said as if to himself.
The remark seemed irritatingly opaque to carl. "Why don't
	my question.
	you just answer
	 9"
"Was that a question? It sounded like an accusation."
Carol's voice had been more harsh than he had planned, but
he'd be damned if he'd back down now. "Ix)ok at Life Support

	HEART OF THE COMET
	43
Installation, my group. Our section head is Suleiman OuldHarrad,
an..." ',
"Ortho?" Saul supplied quietly.
"Well, that's the slang, yeah."
"So he is. Genetically orthodox." Saul leaned back, making a
steeple of his fingers. "Meaning an untampered zygotic mix from
the sea of hi, man genes--no more. Genes do not carry opinions."
Carl shook his head. He disliked the pedantic manner the scientists
always adopted, as if all that jargon made them better,
smarter, wiser. "Look--the outgassing work, the slot studies--all
in the hands of... you people."
"So you surmise that they will clutch these fruits to themselves?
To sell their skills upon our return?"
Virginia said mildly, "It's not an impossible scenario, Saul."
Saul looked surprised to hear this coming from her. "I'm
afraid for me it is. The direct implication that there is some conspiracy
of the normal contingent--"
"See?" Carl pounced. "He calls his peop!e 'normal'--so
we're not."
Saul said stiffly, "'I did not mean it that way."
"That's the way it came out."
Virginia said, "Carl, you can't jump on every--"
"I'm not. I'm just looking to see if where there's smoke,
there's fire." He felt warm, gulped his drink.
Saul paused, running his tongue meditatively over his lower
lip. "Let me begin afresh. Carl, if you knew anything about me,
you would understand that I am not hostile to you people. Precisely
the opposite, in fact." He looked steadily at Carl. "I suppose you
would fred out sooner or later anyway... I worked for years with
Simon Percell."
Carl was stunned. Virginia gasped and said, "You did?. I'd
heard rumors, but... I didn't believe them."
"Merely as a postdoc." Saul shrugged. "Our last project together
studied deviations in the activation level of lupus erythematosus.
You may remember that was one of the principal diseases
Percell freed you people from. That awful, untreatable thing that
attacked skin, connective tissue, spleen, kidneys."
Virginia nodded. "My mother died from it."
"Yes," 'Saul said. "And your grandmother as well."
Virginia's lips pursed in surprise. Saul shrugged. "I remember yourcase. Simon carried out the necessary alterations of your
mother's DNA while I was first learning the techniques."
Virginia leaned forward. "Did you..."

44
	' GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"Do the actual work? I cannot remember, honestly. I performed
as assistant for many gene-tailoring methods, some experimental,
some fairly straightforward."
"Then you.., could be..."
Saul blinked, sitting back in his chair, avoiding her rapt gaze.
"It was a purely mechanical task by that time. Very little research
to it, other than my part. I did studies of how the resulting.., cells
 . . responded to chemical incursions which, for normal lupus,
would cause a spontaneous rise in the disease."
Virginia said slowly, "And mine.., did not?"
"Obviously, you were one of our successes. You have no trace
of lupus, I trust?"
She shook her head. "Because of you." ,
"No; Simon Percell. I merely went to him to learn his techniques.
It was during those few years when he enjoyed full support,
when all things were possible. Or so we thought."
Carl said, "Still... I didn't know you'd worked with Per-cell."
He felt chagrined. Saul had probably been present when Carol's mother's genes were delicately trimmed, freed of the microscopic
molecular constellation that carried heritable leukemia.
Then the gene wizards had added expert snippets of DNA to give
him the suite of physical improvements that now marked every Per-cell.
To Carl, that small, brave band of genetic engineers was legendary.
He had never met one before.
Saul crossed his legs, smoothed his pants leg, visibly uncomfortable.
Carl realized that the man must have been through
similar meetings often, and was wary of the pent-up 9motion that
might burst forth from any Percell.
"I... I'm sorry about what I said;' Carl murmured.
Saul nodded silently. He, too, was holding feelings behind a
tight-lipped dam.
Virginia's eyes brimmed. "You... could be..."
Carl saw that she wanted to say You are my father, too but
could find no way to state the complex blend of emotions she felt.
Saul had helped give life to thousands who would have been
blighted, killed, maimed. Those years could not be forgotten--except
by the braying, suspicious, hate-filled majority Earthside.
That kind had killed Percell, as surely as if they had pressed
the muzzle of the .32 revolver to his temple. Simon Percell himself
had pulled the trigger, driven into a depression over what was now
obviously an unavoidable mistake.
One gene-editing error in a treatment to eliminate an inheritable
kidney disease had killed an entire year's program of children.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	45


Worse, they had not died until the age of three. Then it struck suddenly.

The sight of so many writhing in agony, yellow-skinned and
gnarled, their kidney and liver functions stopped abruptly--it had
been torture. Media bigots flashed the images around the globe.
Coupled with the growing public chorus against him, the threats of
prosecution, and the sudden cuts in his research support, it had
been too much for a man who held himself to the very highest
standards.

Carl shook himself. It was still so easy to touch off the memories.
His own mother dying miserably. The years of waiting to see if
he, too, would begin to show the signs. The final liberation when
he knew it was all right, that he could go into space with a clean
genetic record. Those .memories cut deeply in him still.

"I... Look, let me buy you another drink," Carl said lamely.
"Why, sure," Saul said with a wobbly smile.
"Maybe a chess game later?"

"Certainly!" Saul said heartily. "This time, no quarter. I'm
defending the honor of normal people." Then Saul paused, quickly
turned aside, and sneezed. Both Carl and Virginia jumped slightly.
Then they all laughed, the tension relieved.

"Well now," Saul said expansively as he put away his handkerchief,
"that's one Percell modification I will take credit for. Tailoring
in a suppression of the histamic response. Doesn't do me any
good, but you people don't suffer as I do from pesky colds. I'll be
envying you every time Akio Matsudo releases one of his damn
challenge viruses!"

But years afterward, Carl would well remember that convulsive,
startling eruption, the first--but certainly not the last--time
he had heard Saul's explosive sneez.


SAUL


Newsflash--WorldNet4--The International Olympic
Committee, meeting today in Tokyo, bowed to pressure
from the League of the Arc of the Sun and voted
to bar genetically altered persons--so-called
"Perce!!s"--from participating in the 2064 Games in
Lagos.

46
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Members of the Progressive Bloc were the only
nations to vote in opposition to the proposal. Bloc
leaders Denmark, Hawaii, Indonesia, Texas, and the
NearEarth Cluster emphasized their objections by
withdrawing from the competition, which now promises
to be the most controversial since the fractious
Olympics of 2036.
Said IOC chairman Asoka Barawayandre, "The
decision of these particular territories is no great surprise.
They have received great numbers of Perce!!s as
immigrants from lands that no longer welcome that
kind. Their national sports teams were already compromised
by this questionable element."
Members abstaining included Greater Russia,
the United States of America, Royal Wales, Soviet
Georgia, and the Diasporic Federation.
Observers expect the decision will be appealed to
the Vbrld Court.

Saul finished reading the printout and looked up at the man
who had thrust it upon him.
"For this you waste paper in a printout, Joao? You could have
fast-faxed it to my console just as easily."
Joao Quiverian was a slender, sallow-faced man with an untamable
shock of black hair and a Roman, almost hawklike brnament
of a nose. The man was not distracted by Saul's banter. He
insisted on an answer.
"You'd just ignore.a fast-fax. I want to know right away what
you think of this vote, Saul."
"Where does my opinion matter?" Saul shrugged. "I'm dis,
appointed the Diaspora only abstained. A worldwide federation of
refugee peoples ought to take a stand on something like this. But
they're trying so hard to win acceptance that it's really no surprise.''
He handed back the sheet. "Other than that, I'd say the :
world is acting true to form."
The answer obviously did not satisfy Joao, who had made chief planetologist only three weeks ago when a freak acci- :i
dent killed Professor Lehman. Saul knew this had to be a frustrating
time for the Brazilian, anyway. Here he was, only a few
kilometers from a truly great comet, and orders were that science
would have to give way to engineering for weeks to come.
Quiverian had to rely on part-time help from Saul and a
other "amateur cometologists" who had been

	HEART OF THE COMET
	47
a second specialty. No doubt he looked forward to the awakening of
some of the sleepers from the slot tugs and discussing cometary
arcana with fully accredited peers.
Saul generally got along with the man, as long as they were
discusSingthe primordial matter of the ancient solar system. This
time, however, Quiverian was in a political mood.
"Come now, Saul. This news from Earth is important, a milestone!
I had expected more out of you. An indignant protest. Perhaps
a declaration that Percells are actually human beings."
Saul was here in theplanetology lab to help analyze the delicate
ice cores the spacers were bringing back from Halley--the
"second hat" he had been assigned because of his laboratory
skills. He had not come to be goaded by Quiverian. He looped his
left foot under the chair stanchion. "Come on, Joao, you wanted
me to examine some organic inclusions for you. Let's look at the
sample."
He held out his hand for the slender, sealed, eight-foot tube
the Brazil.ian had laid on the table behind him.
But Quiverian was insistent. "Nobody's saying that these poor
mutants are unhuman. Only that they were a horrible mistake. You
cannot blame the people of Earth--with the nations of the Arc of
the Sun in the vanguard--for calling for controls."
"I see." Saul nodded. "Controls like banning Percells from
the Olympics. What's next, Joao? Segregated restrooms? Special
drinking fountains? Ghettoes?"
Quiverian smiled. "Oh, Saul. It wasn't just those athletic
records a few Percells had broken--freakish performances that
raised the are of millions. Those were only the last straw. Your
creations--"
"Not my creations." Saul shooJ his head insistently.
Quiverian held up a hand. "Very well, Simon Percell's creatures--his monsters--these people are living reminders of the
arrogance of twentieth-century northern science, which nearly de.
stroyed the world!"
Saul sighed. "Come on, Joao. You .can't blame science and
the Old North for everything. True, they used up more than their
share of resources, but you talk as if the nations of the Arc were
completely guiltless for the Hell Century. After all, who cut down
the tropical forests in spite of all the warnings? Who raised the
carbon dioxide levels--"
Quiverian interrupted him, red-faced: "You think I am unaware
of that, Saul? Look at my homeland, Brazil. Only now, after
massive struggle, are we beginning to recover from an environmen-

gREGORY BENORD AND DAVID BRIM


mi holocaust which wiped out a third of the Earth's species.., all
sacrificed at the altar of thoughtless greed."

"Very well, then the guilt is distributed--"

"Yes, certainly. But technology itself was partly at fault! We
simply barged ahead with the best of intentions"--Quiverian
arched his eyebrows sardonically--"doing good to the detriment of
Nature herself!"

Obviously, the man believed this, passionately. Saul found it
ironic. Back before the turn of the century, the nations of the Old
North had preached environmentalism to an unheeding Third
World--after already reaping most of the planet's accessible
wealth. Now, the pendulum had swung. The equatorial peoples in
the Arc of the Sun seemed obsessed with a mystic passion for nature
that would have astonished their land-hungry grandparents.

Why must conversions always come so late ? Why do people
apologize to corpses ?

He was spared having to reply as a thickly accented voice rose
from beyond a table stacked high with core samples.

"Hey! Did I miss something? Eh? Exactly what crimes was
do-gooder science responsible for? I'll tell you which! Maybe our
Brazilian friend refers to foreign doctors who came in to reduce
infant mortality in countries such as his. Boom! Overpopulation.
To your modern Arcist, that must have been the worst horror of
them all!"

Quiverian's face colored. "Malenkov, you fat Russian hypocrite!
Come out here and argue face to face like a man. You don't
have to hide; I am no Ukrainian sniper!"

"Thank the saints for that much, at least." Nicholas Malenkov
rounded the table holding a clipboard, smiling, a hulking giant of a
man who moved with the grace of a wrestler, even in the awkward
Coriolis tides of the gravity wheel.

Rescued, Saul thought gratefully and seized the chance to
change the subject. "Nicholas, I hear Cruz and the engineers have
preliminary results from the gas-panel experiments. Were you
there?"

The stocky Slav grinned. "They wanted at least one of us ice-ball
lovers around when they tried it out. You, Joao, and Otis were
busy. So I sat in."

Along with Saul and the legless spacer, Otis Sergeov, Dr. Ma-lenkov
wore a second hat as a cometologist . . . much to Joao
Quiverian's frequent protests of dismay. The big Russian spread his
hands. "My friends, the results are encouraging. With only a few
of the panels in place we have already altered the orbit of Comet

	HEART OF THE COMET
	49
Halley! The effect is small, but we've proved that controlling the
comet's outgassing can let us make orbital changes!"
Saul nodded. "Of course, the method only works near perihelion,
close to the sun."
"True. This run of tests showed only a small, diminishing ef~
fect Soon surface sublimation will cease altogether. The panel
project will shut down for seventy years. But next time," Malenkov
grinned, "when we are diving once more inward, toward the
Hot..."
The Hot. It was the first time Saul had heard the sun referred
to that way.
"... then this work will prove its usefulness. With the big
Nudge rockets having their maximum effect at aphelion, and the
evaporation-control panels working at perihelion, we will have the
means to herd this ancient iceball into almost any orbit we want!"
Quiverian frowned darkly and shook his bead. "Suppose all of
this meddling works. Exactly what, Doctor, would you want to do
with.., with a herded comet?"
Oh, no. Saul saw where the conversation was heading.
"Who cares!" Malenkov said enthusiastically. "Ideas have
bounced around for more than a century, about what people might
dq with comets."
"Crackpot ideas, you mean."
Malenkov shrugged. "Our present plan is to arrange a loop
past Jupiter in seventy years, and use big planet's gravity to snare
Halley into much more accessible orbit. Eventually, this iceball can
supply cheap volatiles and help the NearEarth people create their
Third Plateau in space."
Quiverian shook his head. "Propaganda. I have heard it a
thousand times."
Malenkov went on unpertUrbed. "The possibilities are endless.
When we have proven long-duration sleep slots, comets may
make great space liners--to cruise the solar system in safety."
Saul saw that a small audience had begun to gather at the open
door to the lab, attracted from nearby offices. Malenkov noticed
them and waxed even more enthusiastic.
"We might find more useful chemicals, maybe, like those
Joao and Captain Cruz found on Encke. Why, there may even be
some merit in that wild idea to use comets to terraform Venus or
Mars! EventUally they might be made suitable for colonization."
"Hah!" Quiverian snorted.
"Gentlemen," Saul cut in. "I suggest we--"
But Quiverian ignored him, shaking a slender, plastic-coated

50
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

sample tube at Malenkov. "This is the attitude I cannot bear The
original idea was to study comets, the most pristine of all God's
handiworks But now knowledge for its own sake doesn't seem to
matter anymore. Now you not only want to harvest this comet, but
recklessly alter entire worlds before we even understand them!"
Malenkov blinked in surprise at Quiverian's anger. Saul knew
that Nicholas had few political opinions He was one of the most
brilliant people Saul had ever met, but the man never seemed to
learn that to some people a disagreement was not a chess game, not
a sport for gentlemen. In this respect, he was a most unRussian Russian.
Saul tried once more to stop this. "Joao! Nick was only talking
about possibilities. In thirty years Earth will have had time to decide
	"
But
the angry Brazilian wasn't listening anymore Quiverian's
left hand clenched the core tube and his right formed a fist "We
have just emerged from the most terrible century in human history
 . . the worst for our world since the holocaust of the Pleistocene  . . and now idiots want to send giant iceballs hurtling down onto
planets?"
	"I never said--"
Quiverian stepped menacingly toward Malenkov. "Tell me,
Doctor. How long before the target is not Mars, or Venus, but
Earth?"
His arms chopped for emphasis, unwise in the weak pseudo-gravity.
Quiverian flailed for balance and the long tube smashed
onto the tabletop, splitting with'a loud report. Dark brown ice,
laced with black and white veins, spilled out onto the lab bench.
"Idiot! Goyishe kopf. I" Saul caught the Brazilian before his
head struck the big core microscope. He swiveled quickly and
pointed at the people standing by the door
"All of you, out! Shut that hatch and trigger the air sealqick,
Joao, go get masks!"
Saul pushed Quiverian off toward the emergency cupboard.
Moving quickly he grabbed up a plastic recycling container and
dumped its wad of crumpled printouts onto the floor. By the time
Malenkov returned, fastening a small mask over his face and holding
out another, Saul was sweeping slivers of swiftly melting ice
into the tub.
	The Russian's voice was muffled. "Your mask, Saul! Put it
on ' '
	Saul shook his head and kept working. He had complete faith
in his little bloodstream symbionts--in their ability to keep him

	HEART OF THE COMET
	51

safe from cyanide and other cometary poisons. They had better, or
the colony wouldn't last long inside Halley. Right now he was more
concerned about preventing contamination of the other samples
than danger to himself
The spilled slivers seemed I give off a faintly pleasant aroma  . . reminding him of the almond groves of Lake Kinneret, in the
Galilee at springtime.
"My core!" Quiverian cried out as he returned, fumbling with
his face mask. "What are you doing, you meddlesome Jew? That
was the deepest core we had taken!"
Saul swept up the last slivers, threw the sponge into the tub,
and sealed its lid. There were more than a trillion long of ice out
there under Halley, ready to be studied. This loss was no scientific
tragedy.
"Oh, but that's not true, Joao," Malenkov said reassuringly.
The stocky Russian sifted through the self-cooling tubes on the
counter "Why, only an hour ago my countryman, Otis Sergeov,
returned with a new core, taken from a kilometer within Halley!
Let me see if I can find it here"
"Sergeov!" Quiverian cursed "That fanatical Percell mutant?
Oh, fates! There were so many fine planetologists who might
have come along! Why, oh why have I been saddled with such
assistants--a huge Russian fool, a legless Percell, and a genetic witch doctor!"
Malenkov shrugged and answered amiably, as if it were the
most reasonable question in the world, "I guess you're stuck with
us because those other guys didn't come along, Joao."
Saul closed his eyes, and put his hands over them.
"Yaah!" Quiverian threw himself at the door, ignoring the yellow
air-alert light, and burst out through the crowd outside
"What is eating him?" Malenkov asked Saul after the door
hissed shut again He frowned. "Saul? What's the matter? Are you
in pain?"
Saul uncovered his eyes at last. They were filled with tears
"Saul? My friend, I..."
Saul slapped the console next to him and laughed out loud,
unable to contain it any longer.
"Joao is right," he said, wiping his eyes. ".Comet Halley. definitely
deserves better than this. But it's stuck with us."

Saul wasn't surprised, a while later, .when an officer came
around to investigate the spillage incident But he did blink when
Lieutenant Colonel Suleiman Ould-Harrad entered, a clipboard in

5'2
	gREgORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


one hand and a trace-gas detector in the other. The dark-skinned
Mauritanian was the last man Saul expected.

Ould-Harrad's specialty was large, massive life-support systems,
the kind they were installing on Halley right now. But he must
have been the only one available at the moment to investigate the
accident.

Everyone knew why Ould-Harrad was on this mission, The
young officer had had friends in the Temple Mount Conspiracy, and
only ties with the Mid-African royal family had won him exile instead
of imprisonment for the crime of unwise associations.

The Mauritanian had spoken no more than ten word to Saul
over the last three years. The regard had been returned.

Earth is far behind you, Saul reminded himself. And nothing
can change the past. He stepped aside. "Come in, Colonel. I've
already dictated an accident report. Go ahead and look around
while I fast-fax a copy for you."

Ould-Harrad seemed ill at ease as he followed Saul into the
lab, his broad nostrils flaring at the faint aroma of escaped cometary
gases. His eyes kept flicking to the gauges of the instrument.
His dour expression seemed little cheered by Saul's obvious good
health.

"Dr. Lintz, you should not have remained here after the leakage
alert was thrown."

Saul tapped the face of a sense-screen display. "Yes, yes, I
know. But somebody had to stay and clean up the mess. Anyway, I
might as well be the first guinea pig. It's appropriate, that I should
give the blood cyanutes their first field test, no?"

The console spat out a small data pellet. Saul marked it with
his name-chop. He smiled up at Ould-Harrad. "If I drop dead, we
all might as well climb into sleep slots and wait a few centuries to
be picked up, 'cause this expedition is over."

The spacer officer nodded curtly, accepting the logic. "There
are rules, nevertheless. Procedures designed for collective safety
and order."

Saul tossed the data pellet to the other man and laughed somewhat
bitterly.

"Safety and order, yes. How well I remember those words.
Didn't General Lynchon use that very phrase when his U.N. troops
moved into the Judean hills?"

Ould-Harrad shook his head. "It was a consensus operation,
Dr. Lintz. The coalition government of Israel-Inshallah invited
them in."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	53

Saul nodded. "After the Levites and Salawites assassinated
enough opposing legislators to get a majority."
The African's voice was low, as if he dreaded this topic but
was drawn to it like a moth toward a flame. "The world was tired of
centuries of strife in a region that had never known peace."
"And is it better now? The High Priest in Jerusalem reigns
over a balkanized realm, with sect sniping at sect as never before.
"And did it help the planet? From the Nile to the Euphrates,
Israel-Inshallah had planted more trees than existed before in all of
Africa north of the equator. Last I heard, a third of the forests were
gone--chopped down to make barricades."
Ould-Harrad's skin deepened darker than its already rich
shade. Saul thought about pulling back. He has already been punished.
Yes, but enough ?

"Yes?"
Ould-Harrad shook his head. "I had nothing to do with the'
attempt to blow up the Great Temple. It's true, I had friends in the
Conspiracy--and in penance for that association I am on this ill-starred
cruise--but I never wanted to bring harm to the holiest
shrine of three faiths. I assure, you, I Would rather have torn out

"Oh, you poor bastard," Saul interrupted, half-pitying the fellow
and laughing to crush his own painful memories. "For ten'
years you've heard but not listened, been punished but never understood.
When, oh when will people like you ever come to undbr-stand
that real Jews never wanted that blasted temple built in the
first place?"
Ould-Harrad's gas sensor huog from one hand, forgotten. He
stared. "A few kibbutzim, some secular humaiists fought it, I
know. But--"
"But nothing!" Saul leaned forward. "The vast majority of
Jews, in Israel and abroad, voted against it, argued against it,
fought it every step of the way. It was compelled on us, by murderous
fanatics and by an ignorant world all too eager for peace."
Saul almost spat the word. "Peace.t It wasn't enough to destroy
my nation and my family, Colonel Ould-Harrad. They installed
priests that actually had the effrontery to tell me how to be a
Jew! Even Hitler did not try to do that!"
In the faint, centrifugal tug of the gravity wheel, OuldHarrad
seemed to lose the .strength to stand. He sagged into a web-chair.

54
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"But the leader of the New Sfinhedrin is of your Cohen priestly
clan! And the Lead Temple Attendant is a Levite .... The Pope's
Legate, the other Christians and Muslims, must take second place
to the oldest faith's precedence!"
Ould-Harrad shook his head. "My comrades objected to that
humiliation--and to the removal of the beautiful mosque that stood
where the temple was to go--but I don't understand what the Jews
had to complain of. Was not two millennia of prophecy being fulfilled
at last?"
Saul did not answer immediately. He looked across the room,
where the picture wall depicted the onion domes of old Kiev. Sunset
flared brilliant tints across the steppes beyond the city walls. New
gilt crosses once again topped the tower peaks, signifying Great
Russia's return to its mystical past.
Ten years, he thought. And still it seems impossible to make
anyone understand.
Perhaps he owed it to the man, out of charity, to try. But how
 could one explain that Judaism had changed over two thousand
years of exile, since the Romans burned the Temple of the Maccabees
to the ground, slew the priests, and scattered the people to the
winds?
The remnants had wandered to strange climes, adopted alien
ideas. Gradually, Hebrew farmers who pioneered the Polish and
Russian plains were crowded by later peoples into cramped cities to
become an urban folk. The priestly family lines--the Cohens and
Levites--lost their influence. For how could they perform their rituals
with no central site from which to make sacrifices to appease a
terrible godhead?
Spiritual leadership fell upon the rabbi--the teacher--a role
one did not inherit, but earned through learning and wisdom.
A role described in detail by Jesus, if the truth be torn. Only
he, too, had those who prophesied in his name. He, too, was followed
by priests.
After a hundred years of strife and accomplishment, the alliance
led by Israel had finally begun fraying during $aul's youth.
The Hell Century took its toll even in the belt that folk called "The
Green Land." Prophets appeared on streetcorners, and cults proliferated.
Islam, too, had suffered a hundred schisms, and Christianity
was battered, divided.
Then someone had a bright idea.., an obvious solution. And,
like so many obvious solutions, it was disastrously wrong. The Diaspora changed us, Saul thought. In exile, we became

	HEART OF THE COMET
	55


individualists, a people of books, and not of sacrifices on golden
altars. We mourned the Temple. But wasn't its burning a sign that it
was time to know God in other ways ?

How would Ould-Harrad ever understand that no modern Jew
wanted anybody to intercede for him? Everyone had to come to his
or her own understanding with God.

Ould-Harrad looked down at his hands. "When the conspirators
blew up the A1 Aqsa Mosque in protest, it was intended that the
Levites take the blame, not the kibbutzim. The plan.., they never
wanted a bloodbath .... "

He seemed unable to continue. Saul realized that the man was
haunted--by guilt and also, perhaps, by a dread that he might not
ever even understand the role he had played.

Saul blinked away a memory of smoke over the Judean hills.
He shook his head, knowing that there was no way he could help
this man.

"I'm sorry," he began softly. Then he cleared his throat. "Is
that all, Colonel? If you're finished, I have some important experiments
under way."

The black spacer looked up and nodded curtly. "I will report
the situation under control."

Saul had already turned back to his microscope when he heard
the door hiss behind him. He tried to return to the business that had
been interrupted, first by Joao Quiverian's persistent questioning,
and then by the dolorous Ould-Harrad, but his hands seemed
locked over the controls.

"Room environment, dim lights by half," he commanded
aloud, and the laboratory darkened in response.

Work, he knew, was a way to take himself away from the
memories. "Sample AR 7lB dash 78 S, on screen twelve," he said
to the ever-listening, semisendent tab computer. "Let's see if those
inclusions look as suspicious now as I thought they did before Joao
stank up the place."

The last part was not for the computer. And although he
hunched over the holistank to immerse himself in mysteries, Saul
found that he did not really mind at all the faint scent of ice and
almonds in the air.

56
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

VIRGINIA

She tapped tentatively. Then, when no muffled answer came, a
harder rap. This brought forth a faint, querulous grunt. When the
panel finally hissed open, Virginia stepped through and stood
barely inside, feeling the door suck shut behind her.
She said diffidently, "You had sample breakage?"
It seemed a good opening. The danger--if any--was well past
before she had .heard. Saul had already left the planetology department,
where the sample broke, and come down here to his own bio
lab. But the ripple of concern among the crew had made her at last
muster the courage to seize a pretext.
"Ummm?" Saul was studying his screens, making tiny notes
in a small ledgdr with an old-fashioned pencil. She wondered at this
eccentricity; the expedition used standard electronic markers and
memory pads. He must have brought a packet of notebooks in his
own small, personal weight allotment. She had heard of bringing
vintage cabernet and caviar, but not pencils, for heaven's sake.
And look at me, she thought ruefully. I used up most of my
mass-carry lugging along computer hardware everybody Earthside
has given .up as hopeless, a dead end.
She said nothing. Better to let him work a few moments, float
up from the deeps. She walked among the tangle: twisted translucencies,
shining chem lines, retorts, knots of cabling, a gurgle and
rush of micr0bio diagnostics. I'm glad I'm not a chemist. Chilled
electrons are simpler to move around.
"A few more minutes, Virginia. I'll be right with you."
Saul did not even look up as he jotted, thumbed his scanner,
frowned. She strolled down one long lane, trying to read the indices
on counters and follow the compact, involuted logic of the lab. Here
Saul could dismantle genes like Tinkertoys, shuffle molecules like
floppy cards. It always struck her as bizarre, how such innocent-looking
tubes and solutions could reach out, pluck human lives into
new paths, seal off others. As if this sleeping machinery hid a monstrous,
weighty force.
We keep doing that. Humans imbued their own devices with a
separate presence and power, ceaselessly projecting their emotions

	HEART OF THE COMET
	57
onto inanimate templates. Illogical--and the worst sinners in this
were the supposedly objective, dispassionate scientists.
Look how I shape my software to resemble my thought processes, she mused. Imprinting myself in JonVon 'S chilled organic
lattices.
Making her way here' this afternoon, she had been struck by
how the expedition was like this--separate rooms, immensely powerful
ideas sealed off from each other, all contributing yet each
isolated. Men and women pocketed into cylinders and cubes and
spheres. They moved through the silent, cramped geometry of the Edmund, eager to go down and burrow their own niches in another
hollowed world.
She wondered if the crew would communicate any better once
they were down in Halley Core. Many of them had been working
during the entire year-long cruise out, but she had been sleep slotted
for ten months. Before launch, funding problems had cut the
staging schedule for the expedition down to the bone; there hadn't
been time to know or even meet most of the crew.
She had studied the siting plans for Halley Core. It looked fine
as a schematic, a diagram, an Earthside blueprint--but soon now
they would each live in a Euclidean maze, encased. The faint
grumbling of the G-wheel only underlined their impacted artificiality.
She felt deeply these insides and outsides, sections and barriers.
So to counter that, she had come here. Plucked up her courage,
finally. Reached out.
She fidgeted down one lab lane, up another. Each moment was
a partition, dividing a troubled past from a gaping, empty future--both
huge stretches of time pressing in on the thin wedge of a nervous,
rickety now.
Stop this aimless inspection. Face what you came here for.
But it was hard to jump the hurdle, and brave the sheer blind
drop beyond.
"Saul."
He swam up from fuzzy depths. "Uh, what, yes.9'' He
blinked, lines etching around his withdrawn eyes. "Sorry..."
"What... what are you finding?"
Even as she said it she winced. That's right--dodge away. Ask
him about his work, for chrissakes.
"Something damned odd." Saul shook his head, as if he half-suspected
an error. His pencil rolled along the grainy, stained calluses
of his hand.
"What?"
"Contaminants, I think. Earth junk in the samples. That

58
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


damned Quiverian..." He stopped, his gaze caught by something
on the screen. "Just a sec, maybe this..."

Virginia watched on the magnifier as he guided microprobes
to divide and extract tiny samples from several oblong, mottled
masses. How he could tell one brown blur from another was a mystery.
At his level, experiment became an,art, unfathomable. Micro-manipulators
translated his minute movements into surgical grace,
his touch tracing out the mad jumble of ancient crystals, the snakelike
clench and coil of slippery, gaudy hydrocarbons. Deft fingers
and a probing mind. Mozart and Picasso had been equally incomprehensible.

He worked steadily in silence, sucked back into his murky
mysteries. Okay, take it easy, she thought. Don't press. Not that
you've been all that brave, eh ? Anyway, males are slow when they
have to switch hemispheres.

She relaxed and watched his "weather wall." Each crewman's
contract gave him the right to choreograph his environment. Saul
had chosen well. A metallic-blue river wandered down to an emerald
marsh beneath a swarm of flapping white birds that skimmed
the shimmering surface. The images were firm, precise; a glistening
spray leaped up where a bird dipped a wing into the water and
slewed to a landing. Beyond, scattered stubs of islands dotted a pale
sea. To the left, white stretches of beach punctuated the dazzling
summer day. New England, probably Massachusetts.

?es, she had read that he had been at Harvard once. And summer,
of course. Choose a time that brought a comfortable warmth,
something to ward off the chill of ancient ice soon to surround
them. It was late afternoon on the walls of the lab and the slow slant
of sunlight proceeded. A storm front nuzzled at the horizon, winds
whipped the velvet shadows that pooled beneath gnarled trees. She
felt a reassuring heat from the scene, even though she knew it was
her own wools that did the work. Saul wore a cotton two-patter,
blue with white stripes, an ample Renaissance collar its only indulgence.
She could see he was a man who cared little for clothes,
would go naked if temperature and society permitted.

As she watched pensively, he shook his head irritably, gave an

umpf, and snapped off the screen.

"Done?"

"Yes, with nothing to show for it.'' He drummed fingers on the
desktop.

"What were you looking for?"

"Some contaminant I thought I saw. It was.., no, oothing.
Forget it."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	59

	"You're worried about something."

He leaned back, let his face relax. "No... well, no more than
usual."

"We're going to be on First Watch together," she ventured
"Plenty of time to work on our own research then."

He nodded. "I'm looking forward to it. Sixteen months of
peace and quiet, carving ice and tending corpsicles."

	"Another few weeks, we'll start slotting people."

He nodded, distracted. Then he said abruptly,. "I'm a poor
host. Something from the bar?"

	"You have alcohol ration left?"

"In this lab? I can make anything I want. I have my own beer,
if you'd care to risk it."

"Of course." She felt a need to break through, to reach him.
His face was complex, a slate time had written all over, the mouth
and eyes at battle with each other. His eyes seemed to peer at something
far away--a problem coming slowly into focus, perhaps--unrelenting
intellect. His lips betrayed this concentration, though.
They twisted into an ironic curve, yet were full and sensuous, with
a hint of passion and power. The cool mind that ruled the eyes did
not know of this lower, submerged force. The contradiction warred
across his face, complex with stubble, pale here and mottled there,
a shiny brow with a curve that caught a reflected yellow beam from
the New England sunset. He popped caps from two long-necked
brown bottles with relish, suddenly seeming like a balding and wiry
tradesman.

Virginia bit her lip as they both sat. Now that she had braved
the first moments and taken the step she had considered a hundred
times, she found she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"You're here because of our conversation the other day, aren't
you?" he said. Suddenly his expr64sion was gentler, opening outward
from his self-immersion. His eyes met hers.

"Ah, well, yes." She might as well attribute it to that.

.
	"What was it your mother had?"

"I... Lupus."

"Ah yes." A brief pain flickered in his eyes. He leaned back in
his web-chair, put hands behind his neck, stretched in the light

'gravity of the wheel. "I remember those years. That one, we got a
clean solution. No side effects--as you so clearly demonstrate.

Urn.
	You ever see a really bad case?"

"No. I read--"

"Not the same thing. Under the 'scope the cells aren't tight
little cylinders, y'know--they're misshapen, meshugenuh, tortured

60
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


things. The patient's connective tissue clogs. Swollen joints. Repeated
infections. Liver damage, early death. There'd been good
detectors to warn parents if a baby had it, sure, but nobody cracked
the real problem--the genetic fix-up--until we did. Sorry--until
Simon Percell did."

"You can take a lot of credit."

He laughed. "My career in the last couple of decades, my

dear, has depe/ded on my not taking credit."

"With us Percells... it's different."

He smiled wearily. And warily? she wondered. "You are, Vir-

ginia, an expression of how different a map is from the territory."
She frowned.

"Sorry, I'm being opaque. Habit of mine. We charted all the
DNA nucleotides long ago. Knew where everything was--a great
map. Only we didn't know what it meant."

"My genes don't carry the lupus--you knew how to do that.

And the usual Percell enhancements are effective."
"Obviously." A grin.

She felt herself blushing at the compliment, rummaged for
something to say. "We have all kinds of advantages....."

"True..." He was still pensive, reflecting on times she could
not know. Yet, those days would not die, as long as there were Per'
cells. And that legacy lived in every corridor of this expedition.

He sighed. "But not true enough. Sure, we got the hemoglobin
disorders, Huntington's disease, all the easy targets. Just lop off
a few molecules. Trimming. Pruning. Change the cryptogram
and--presto."

"I read that there are over two million people who owe you
that."

"Been dipping into the forbidden Percell underground newspapers?"
he said with mock seriousness. "Yes, that's right--you're
from Hawaii. Plenty of pro-Percell sentiment there still, eh? Who
passed on your security clearance?"

"I'm so good, they had to let me come," she said with a proud
smirk.

"Bravo!" He applauded. "Bravo, indeed. And you are good--I
looked in your file, back when Captain Cruz had me on the recruiting
committee."

'Really?" She was suddenly serious. "What . . . what's in
there? Did they-"

He waved a hand. "Nothing about your subversive ideas. Not
a jot."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	61

Her eyes widened, her mouth formed a shocked O--and then
she saw he was kidding: "Ah... oh."
"They don't care if you think Percells are just as good as--what's
the slang? yes--as good as Orthos are, you know." His voice
dropped. "Since they're all so damned surd you're not."
She saw suddenly that she had been right--his pose before
others was a mask. "They... do think that, don't they?"
"I'm afraid so. Many of them, anyway."
"Even though they let some of us go on this expedition."
"Let..." he began, then shook his head. "They had their
reasons."
"But..."
"Virginia, has it never occurred to you that getting bright,
hardworking, potentially troublemaking Percells out of their hair
might be a very attractive idea?"
"Of course." She frowned.
"And isn't some side of you glad to be rid of all that krenk... that Earthside bullshit?"
She had to admit he was right. When the Edmund had lifted
free of Earth orbit, she had felt.., released. "Well... in some
ways."
"Such as.'?" He sat forward, apparently genuinely interested.
The slanting burnt orange of the Massachusetts sunset struck his
bald patch, yet he did not seem old, only wise and kind and quietly
powerful.
"Well... my father, he thought I was special. That our family
was unique, a kind of historic experiment."
"Ah. A common mode."
"I... I hated it."
"Feeling special?"
"Being... different."
"You're not, really."
"Tell them."
"Your parents should've shielded you from that."
"They... Listen. When I was eleven, I was the only girl in
my class without nylons. So I went to the local Woolworth's and
bought a pair. I had no idea how to hold them up--I got the old
kind, by mistake."
"Your mother.."
"She died when I was ten."
"Lupus."
She nodded.

62
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
	"So you were a tomboy. Surfing, basking in Hawaiian splen
dor.' '
	"Yes. It was beautiful, but... Well, my father raised me. I
remember one day when I was playing catch in a T-shirt with the
boys, I heard some giggles over my bouncing breasts. This was on
Maui, where nobody's especially reluctant to talk about such
things. So I went back to Woolworth's. The saleslady had to explain
about bras--I didn't even know what the sizes meant! Then, in seventh
grade, I started wearing skirts instead of jeans, because the
other girls were. A boy looked at my hairy legs and said, 'I'm
gonna get you a razor for Christmas.' I could have died! The next
day, I borrowed my father's razor and cut my left shin so badly I
still have the scar."
"I see."
She felt suddenly embarrassed. Somehow, all that had come
out without her having planned it. "I wagn't very good at those
things. I used to tell myself it was because my mother died and
there was no one to tell me. So I concentrated on math, on computers.''
"And if you hadn't, you could be a perfectly happy housewife
somewhere, children yanking on your apronstrings."
She smiled impishly, crushing a sudden inner pain by old reflex.
"To hell with that."
"Precisely."
Besides, I dMn 'I have that option, she thought. "There's a
quid for every quo." That's it--cryptic and ironic. Show him I'm
not just a simple schoolgirl who became a computer whiz because
of adolescent angst.
But Saul's face had become pensive, his eyes reflecting some
inward turning. "I love you all, you know."
"You . ."
His voice was very low. "All the Percells. You . . . you're
paying for our..."
"Your what?"
"Our sins."
"But you're not! I mean, we're not! I-- You did no wrong! It's
others who--"
He waved a hand, silencing her. "I'm sorry. I... sometimes I
remember how it used to be. What we hoped for, worked for.
That's all gone now. That's a major reason I signed on. To run away
from a whole host of failures."
"But you're not--"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	63

"No, let's-stop. It's... those days are impossible to forget,
but pointless to remember. Better to let them go."
"Saul, I--I respect you so--"
But he waved his hands energetically in front of his face, banishing
all talk. "Tell you what, I'll'get you a refill and.., and..."
Abruptly, he turned aside and sneezed.
"Damn! Can't get rid of this thing."
"Take an anti."
"I have."
Another cross he 71 have to bear, she thought. Living in a
snowball, sniffling all the time.
Percells didn't have to put up with runny noses. The gene tai
lors, while they were splicing away anemia and lupus and th other
target diseases, had trimmed the complex of coding molecules that
had given 'viruses their free ride, and humanity a million years of
colds and flu.
"Well then.., let me make some tea."
He smiled wanly, his steel-blue eyes still distant, thinking of
something far back in a past she could not fathom. "Yes, fine. My
mother.., she did that. Then came the chicken soup." He laughed,
but not his eyes.

CARL

He suppressed a guffaw. The crucial step, the insertion of the sleep-slot
modules into the head of the comet, didn't seem at all like the
climax of a dangerous, five-year voyage by sailship, a prodigious
engineering feat, a modern marvel. Instead, it looked to him like
the coupling of monstrous genitalia.
The slender slot tug Whipple glided forward, nose down.
Stripped of its solar sails and antennae, it was the uniform ruddy
color chosen to maximize its thermal balance during the years in
flight from Earth orbit. The sleep-slot payload rode forward, its
extra shielding against cosmic rays filling a bulging, rounded knob,
slightly thicker than the main body.
Below, Shaft 4 gaped. The surrounding ice was freshly exposed
from the scratchings and abrasions of mechs--creamy, virgin

64
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
ice which had not seen the harsh glare of sunlight since the time the
planets and comets first formed.
Carl started to chuckle and coughed tO cover it. Over the hiss
of suitcomm nobody could tell the difference, probably. He
blinked, but the pornographic illusion would not go away. I must be
a lot morb tired out than I thought.
--Needs a li'l o1' three-degree realign at sixty azimuth,-- Jeffers
sent.
"Right. Got it," Carl replied. Jeffers's data was integrated as
he spoke, and then Carol's helmet screen leaped into activity. A
graphics view turned, green lines against black ground, showing
how the Whipple looked along all three axes. Then the desired view
came, an overlay in orange cocked at an angle along two axes. Carl
punched in corrections.
A cluster of higher-ups were watching by TV, he knew, and
Ould-Harrad stood on the surface below, cold-eyed and critical.
They would certainly send back an edited version in the squirt to
Earthside. Plenty of eyes to catch a mistake. Watch Carl Osborn
snag ninety-odd souls halfway in, maybe.
Carl shook his head. To hell with that. Just watch the vectors,
do the job. Can't let nerves scramble your synapses, as Virginia would sa)'.
He fired four jets just behind the Whipple's central engine
housing. They pulsed ruby-red against the black. Each cut off in
sequence as the orange image on his faceplate merged with the
green.
--Cleared.--
--Here goes,-- Andy Carroll sent. Andy sat forward in the
small bubble cabin of the ship, and had nominal control. Jets flared
a pale blue along the aft beams.
The Whipple glided smoothly in, clearing the yellow protective
liners with ease:
--On the money!-- Andy yelled.'--Picking up the guide.-The
sleep-slot knob drove cleanly in, catching in the railings
that would keep it from going astray once inside. Over suitcomm
Carl heard shouts of celebration and even some handclapping leaking
through from an open channel back in the Edmund's lounge.
The sleep-slot module separated, descended. The sail tugs
were as slim and weight-wise as classic nineteenth-century windjammers.
Their slender, silvery frames carried sleep slots, SUlY
plies, and a robot crew--all in cylindrical modules fitted snugly
along a tubular frame, the spine for the great spread wings that
cupped the solar wind. Those gossamer sheets were now furled,

	HEART OF THE COMET
	65

awaiting humdrum ervice as mirrors for the surface greenhouses.
That left the naked frame, a great beast now stripped by reductionist logic to a skimpy skeleton.
And somewhere out there the Newburn sails on, Carl thought
about the missing fourth tug. lost, a victim of the coM percentages.
--Reversin' her!-- Andy backed his ship out carefully. It
would slip down a different path, into its own chamber. Jeffers now
commanded the mechs inside to draw the sleep-slot module downward
through nearly a kilometer of shaft, into the vault that had
been prepared for it.
Carl turned up his bonephone: Beethoven's Fifth Violin Sonata,
the last movement a liquid rush of piano notes. A reward.
Lugging big masses around was standard stuff, but it felt different
when there were ninety lives at stake. He needed to ease off, relax.
The main show was over, but he still had hours of work to go.
The graceful, fluid sway of chamber music seemed to Carl
natural for working in zero G. He could never understand Jeffers or
Sergeov, who listened to that raucous, heavy-handed Clash Ceramic
stuffwhile they worked. He vectored down, beckoning to the
distant dot that was Colonel OuldHarrad.
Carl slowed above Shaft 6 to accompany the African officer,
who was space-able but less used to making speed through tunnels.
A mistake could cram you into the wall with bone-splintering impact.
It took years for Earthsiders' bodies to really believe that lack
of weight didn't mean absence of inertia.
They shot downward. Fiberthread walls rushed past, illuminated
by regular yellow daubs of electrified phosphor paint. Carl
watched Ould-Harrad's swarthy face for signs of some reaction,
but the man kept his eyes intently ahead and said nothing. Carl felt a
twinge of disappointment. He had lined this shaft himself, without
mechs, putting in fourteen-hour days to meet the deadline. And a
pretty job, it was. Damn-all if anybody'd say word one about it,
though.
Of course; Ould-Harrad was an Ortho, and pretty hardline.
about it, according to scuttlebutt. All during the voyage out the man
had been distant, formal, his poker face giving away nothing. He
clearly expected that young upstarts would remember their place.
Not likely he'd be glad-handing a menial Percell.
Carl shrugged and turned up the Fifth Sonata. Only after
some time did it occur to him that they were, after all, falling face
down in a shaft that dwindled away into the distance, the phosphors
converging dots .... Even in a micro-G, Ould-Harrad's mental
alarm bells were probably ringing.

	64
	GREGORY BEIFORD AND DAVID BRIN
ice which had not seen the harsh glare of sunlight since the time the
planets and comets first formed.
Carl started to chuckle and coughed tO cover it. Over the hiss
of suitcomm nobody could tell the difference, probably. He
blinked, but the pornographic illusion would not go away. I must be
a lot morb tired out than I thought.
--Needs a li'l o1' three-degree realign at sixty azimuth,-- Jeffers
sent.
"Right. Got it," Carl replied. Jeffers's data was integrated as
he spoke, and then Carol's helmet screen leaped into activity. A
graphics view turned, green lines against black ground, showing
how the Whipple looked along all three axes. Then the desired view
came, an overlay in orange cocked at an angle along two axes. Carl
punched in corrections.
A cluster of higher-ups were watching by TV, he knew, and
Ould-Harrad stood on the surface below, cold-eyed and critical.
They would certainly send back an edited version in the squirt to
Earthside. Plenty of eyes to catch a mistake. Watch Carl Osborn
snag ninety-odd souls halfway in, maybe.
Carl shook his head. To hell with that. Just watch the vectors,
do the job. Can't let nerves scramble your synapses, as Vir-gjnia would sa)'.
He fired four jets just behind the Whipple's central engine
housing. They pulsed ruby-red against the black. Each cut off in
sequence as the orange image on his faceplate merged with the
green.
--Cleared.--
--Here goes,-- Afidy Carroll sent. Andy sat forward in the
small bubble cabin of the ship, and had nominal control. Jets flared
a pale blue along the aft beams.
The Whipple glided smoothly in, clearing the yellow protective
liners with ease:
--On the money!-- Andy yelled.'--Picking up the guide.-The
sleep-slot knob drove cleanly in, catching in the railings
that would keep it from going astray once inside. Over suitcomm
Carl heard shouts of celebration and even some handclapping leaking
through from an open channel back in the Edmund's lounge.
The sleep-slot module separated, descended. The sail tugs
were as slim and weight-wise as classic nineteenth-century windjammers.
Their slender, silvery frames carried sleep slots, sup
plies, and a robot crew--all in cylindrical modules fitted snugly
along a tubular frame, the spine for the great spread wings that
cupped the solar wind. Those gossamer sheets were now furled,

HEART OF THE COMET
	65

awaiting humdrum ervice as mirrors for the surface greenhouses.

That left the naked frame, a great beast now stripped by reduction
ist logic to a skimpy skeleton.
And somewhere out there the Newburn sails on, Carl thought
about the missing fourth tug. Lost, a victim of the cold percentages.
--Reversin' her!-- Andy backed his ship out carefully. It
would slip down a different path, into its own chamber. Jeffers now
commanded the mechs inside to draw the sleep-slot module downward
through nearly a kilometer of shaft, into the vault that had
been prepared for it.
Carl turned up his bonephone: Beethoven's Fifth Violin Sonata, the last movement a liquid rush of piano notes. A reward.
Lugging big masses around was standard stuff, but it felt different
when there were ninety lives at stake. He needed to ease off, relax.
The main show was over, but he still had hours of work to go.
The graceful, fluid sway of chamber music seemed to Carl
natural for working in zero G. He could never understand Jeffers or
Sergeov, who listened to that raucous, heavy-handed Clash Ceramic
stuffwhile they worked. He vectored down, beckoning to the
distant dot that was Colonel OuldHarrad.
Carl slowed above Shaft 6 to accompany the African officer,
who was space-able but less used to making speed through tunnels.
A mistake could cram you into the wall with bone-splintering impact.
It took years for Earthsiders' bodies to really believe that lack
of weight didn't mean absence of inertia.
They shot downward. Fiberthread walls rushed past, illuminated
by regular yellow daubs of electrified phosphor paint. Carl
watched Ould-Harrad's swarthy face for signs of some reaction,
but the man kept his eyes intently ahead and said nothing. Carl felt a
twinge of disappointment. He had lined this shaft himself, without
mechs, putting in fourteen-hour flays to meet the deadline. And a
pretty job, it was. Damn-all if anybody'd say word one about it,
though.
Of coursel Ould-Harrad was an Ortho, and pretty hardline.
about it, according to scuttlebutt. All during the voyage out the man
had been distant, formal, his poker face giving away nothing. He
clearly expected that young upstarts would remember their place.
Not likely he'd be glad-handing a menial Percell.
Carl shrugged and turned up the Fifth Sonata. Only after
some time did it occur to him that they were, after all, falling face
down in a shaft that dwindled away into the distance, the phosphors
converging dots .... Even in a micro-G, Ould-Harrad's mental
alarm bells were probably ringing.

	66
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"Hit the brakes, the vault's only a few hundred meters ahead,"
Carl sent.

--I see. Good,-- was the only reply.

They slowed as the tunnel flared into a roomy chamber, already
partly lined with brilliant lime-green insulation. The sleep-slot
module was already descending from the intersecting Shaft 4, a
stubby intrusion. It nearly filled the uninsulated half of the vault.
Everywhere the primitive ice gave back glinting reflections of the
sweeping lamps of men and mechs. Carl had helped hack out the
rough-cut walls, using big industrial lasers. Seams of carbonaceous
dirt and rusty conglomerates made curly, mysterious patterns on
the broad stretches of black ice, like writing by some unseen biblical
hand.

--Ahhh,-- escaped from Ould-Harrad as he braked to a stop.
Carl noticed that the man looked relieved. Maybe they should have
gone slower.

--C'mon,-- Jeffers called on open channel. --Got to get these
coffins buried.--

Ould-Harrad's clipped, authoritative voice was unmistakable.

--I would appreciate yon men not referring to the slots that way.----Yessir,--
Jeffers said curtly. --You bet.-Carl
sent, "I'll take the blue-coded mechs," and locked his
board on a dozen flitting forms. The slot-sleep equipment was
nearly obscured by roboids swarming around it, an.army of gnats
splitting off sections.

Sleepers would be stored in three widely separated vaults, to
minimize chances that a single accident might cripple the mission.
Technical teams--Computers, Life Sciences, Mechanical
Operations--were evenly spread. The boxy slots were laid outward
like the arms of a starfish from the central utilities spine. The life-support
gear was a knobby backpack on each coffin--Carl couldn't
help but think of them that way, both from appearance and because
the sleepers were as near to dead as you could get and still come
back.

Each slot had to be fitted into hardplast nooks that protected
them and yet allowed the interior to exchange heat with the nearby
ice. The original idea had been to let the ice cool the sleepers directly,
but Carl had seen the results of that at Encke. There was a lot
of carbon dioxide or amorphous snow which could vaporize explosively,
blowing valves and seals on the coffins. It wasn't a snap to
use volatiles in high vacuum. So the engineers had to rig buffers to
save the sleepers from shudders and bumps and sudden, freezing
death.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	67
--Pack those Orthos in tight,-- Jeffers sent on short-range
comm. --Don't want 'em feelin' lonely.--
Jeffers was fiuing hoses into place nearby, his transmission
shielded from the others. Carl triggered a self-closing clamp, finishing
off his own job, and kicked clear.
"Give it a rest. There're Percells in here, too."
--Not very damn many.-- This came from Sergeov, who
drifted into view from behind a silvery heat-exchange sphere. The
Russian spacer was quick, deft; as Carl watched, he flipped,
caught a cable from a spaghetti tangle; and inserted it into a control
cabinet.
The agility almost made you envy him. Almost. The Percell
treatment had eliminated the blood disease Sergeov would have inherited
from his parents.., but it also took away his legs. Unforeseen side effects.
Carl wondered how many times that cool, analytic phrase had
made him bristle, his face flush, his hands knot into fists.
Sergeov had been one of the early, lucky failures--still alive.
Such survivors stirred the first misgivings. The great unwashed
could see Sergeov's lost legs. A dirty little question wormed its way
into their minds: What couldn't you see? What about his mind?
Was he normal? Was he even human?
If it was normal to be able to drink a full bottle of vodka and
still easily balance the empty glasses on top of each other, five
high--yes, Sergeov was normal.
Better than normal. He fiad gone directly into space, where
legs were, in fact, a drawback. All that bulky muscle and bone were
useless in freefall, demanding food and oxygen and time to exercise
them. Leftovers from the struggle against, gravity. Sergeov had
lived in orbit from the age of ten, .making top wages as an assembler.
His arms looked like tree tru'nks; Carl had seen him juggle a
hapless Ortho insPector like a helpless doll, back in Earth orbit.
The man had mumbled an insult, and paid with five minutes of
humiliation. Yet, Sergeov was not a Plateau Three advocate; he
exPended his energies in blanket, burning dislike of all Earthsiders.
"Stop yammering," Carl said. "Come help me with these
thermobuffers."
--Is true, however,-- Sergeov said. --All for good reasons,
for sure. Percells work good, so they get into space. Deepa.t Orthos
think we're garbage, so we stay in space.--
Jeffers put in, --An' end up chauffeurin' Orthos out beyond
Neptune.'
Sergeov grinned. His hands--noticeably large, even through

	68
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

vac gloves--worked swiftly among the cables, deftly quick, free of
the levered counterweight of dangling legs. --Da. Not prefer serving
as workboy for Orthos.--

Jeffers said, --Damn right. When we Could be doing our own
work.-

Carl asked, "Such as?"

Jeffers whirled himself about with one arm, while the other
fished free a short-bore laser. He thumbed it. A blue-white bolt

lanced into the ice meters away.

--Hey!-- Sergeov cried.

White fog exploded past them. It boiled away into the vault,
thinning, but Ould-Harrad saw. --Hey! I ordered no quick-solder
work in here!--

--Sorry.-- Sergeov winked at Jeffers and called, --Was just a

small one. Needed to refuse a socket joint.----These
.are people.--
--Am sorry.--

Sergeov grinned as he said it. Ould-Harrad was hundreds of
meters away and couldn't see the design Jeffers had drawn with
instant, practiced ease in the ice: '


"I didn't know you were a Mars-boy, Jeff," Carl sent.

A female flower enclosed by the Mars symbol--a graphic depiction
of a dream. Once comets could be steered into the inner
solar system, they could be harvested. Even easier, an artful nudge
far out beyond Neptune could smack iceballs into the Martian
plains.

Hammering Mars with cometary nuclei would build up an atmosphere,
perhaps even get the volcanoes spouting again. NatUre's
slow sucking would still. The parching march of aeons pot to rout--a
Promethean dream. Splitting a hard blue sky, flame-cloaked ice
mountains would gouge the lands, rip the permafrost, and release
more ancient ice below. Clouds, fog, then rain--weather unknown
since the sun's wan warming had boiled away the last mudflats in
the spare Martian river valleys, billions of years back, during that
false spring.

In a century or so, a suitably adapted human might be able to
breathe on the surface. The idea was old, but some Percells had

	HEART OF THE COMET
	69

seized on it. They saw Mars as the one plausible location where
genetically altered humans might truly have a place. Even though
still dry and cold and roiling with strange storms, Mars could become
a world where their descendants, genetically engineered still
further, would be the norm, while Orthos would cough out their
lungs in minutes.
--What do you think I WOrk for?-- Jeffers answered;
. "That's crazy," Carl sent. "Terraforming'll take centuries. No
solution to our problems."
--A Percell, he can expect to live in space--what? a hundred
years? two hundred?-- Sergeov's broad, sweaty face beamed again
with his inevitable smile.
Jeffers sent, --Throw in couple slot sleeps, we could all see
it.--
"We're not here to do that," Carl said.
--Jeffers is just looking ahead,-- Sergeov said simply.
"Too damn far ahead."
--Don't be so sure,-- Jeffers said evenly.
Sergeov nudged Jeffers. --You be an Uber, too? Two ideas not
contradict, I think.--
Jeffers eyed Sergeov cautiously. --Maybe. Maybe not.-Carl
frowned. This was all going over short-range close
comm, and he was glad of it. Ubers stood for ubermenschen, Nietzsche's supermen, evolution's ordained next step. Planned.
Designed. There would now be no slow blind stumbling upward,
driven by nature red in tooth and claw. Many Percells thought they
were the first step along a long, inevitable road.
Carl had known of Sergeov's opinions, but it shocked him to
see Jeffers flirting with them.
Sergeov persisted. --If Orths say no to Mars terraforming, I
say yes. Simple.--
--It's right there in the physics and chem simulations, clear as
anything,-- Jeffers added. --Put mechs to harvestin' comets out
past Neptune, it'll take a century. We could sleep right through it.-Carl
sent, "Sometimds a man can see clearer if he has his
mouth shut." He gestured at Ould-Harrad, who was jetting their
way.
--Okay, let's bredk off,-- Jeffers sent.
--Is true, though. Think it over. First .step to much more,
maybe,-- Sergeov concluded, launching himself away with a muscular
shrug.
Ould-Harrad inspected the layout plans or the mechs, then
left. Carl took advantage of the chance to get off and work by him
'70
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
sell He had never liked politics. And their wild talk had been disturbing.
He immersed himself in the sweet gliding grace of Beethoven.
Moving through inky shadow and glaring yellow floodlight, pushing
and towing, smelling the sour suit air, feeling the rrrrrrtttt of the
countertorqued wrench vibrate up his arm, the sweaty Pinch of his
suit at shoulders and knees--Carl thought of California;
His parents had been driving him up the coast when he told
them.
The four years at Caltech had gone by in a blur of golden
sunlight and nights of study, weekend pranks and unending problem
sets, labs and lectures .and precious little love. He'd had no time for
it. Sergeov was so sure that Percells were special--well, okay, Sergeov
probably had to think that, compensating for what he'd never
have. But Carl knew differently.
He had done well because he'd worked, dammit, not because
he was smarter. At Caltech he had felt a growing kinship with all
the men and women who had ever put in long hours in lonely
rooms. Unlike soured drudges or inexperienced kids, he did not
believe for a moment that creative people idled away their time and
then, when the mystical spirit moved them, knocked out brilliant
ideas in bouts of furious, fevered bursts of easy inspiration.
Doing anything well demanded endurance, steadiness, relentless
drive.
Those he had. Brilliance, no.
So as his parents drove him up the coast he struggled with that
inner trt/th. He had applied to Berkeley for graduate school in as-troengineering
and, against all his expectations, got in. They offered
no scholarship, not even a teaching assistantship. That meant
he was marginal. His father loyally-mistook this for another symptom
of the growing prejudice against Percell-made children.
Carl knew better. Universities are sluggish beasts unmoved by
the tides of public bias. The admissions committee undoubtedly
had looked at his 3.3 average and seen that it was attained mostly by
good grades in labs and design courses. Math and physics had put
him on the ropes more than once, groggy with complex variable
integration and quantum electronics.
North of Ventura, his stepmother's happy chatter bubbled over
with enthusiasm he had always found a bit much. He had never
been able to forget his mother's slow death, and adjust to this new
woman in his father's life. So he had sat in the backseat and
watched the scenery and tried to think. The tawny August hills fell

	HEART OF THE COMET
	71

to explain to them his doubts. His stories of distant, intellectual
battlegrounds sounded hollow when contrasted with the solid, enduring
world outside. Weathered barns, their wood silvery from
sun. Rows of eucalyptus, lush hillside orchards, spindly railroad
trestles crossing gorges, minifusion generators sculpted into hillsides,
cows standing as still as statues in the.inky shade of live oaks.
All the unthinking .richness .of Earth.

Morro Bay was glassy when they stopped there for the night.
His stepmother ooohed and aahhhed at a sleek alabaster yacht that
swept by, out beyond the bay's protecting spit of sand. Pretty, yes.
But Carl liked the moored working boats better--oily, rusted, scaly
and cluttered with gear. They had argued over chowder at a wharf
restaurant, his father so agitated that he drank the chardonnay
quickly and ordered another bottle, red-faced.

The next morning he awoke knowing what he had to do. Driving
through the grassy foothills, turning inland to San Luis Obispo
between stony low mountains, he said it--suddenly, clearly.

And now, remembering, he saw that it was brutal, too.

His father had shouted, You're going to give up all this? with a
sweep of a hand. Meaning Berkeley, graduate school, where Carl
knew he ,would burrow into the books and never emerge alive.

Oh, maybe he'd get a master's degree, and a reasonable desk
job. With incredible luck,-a doctorate.

But he'd have been a perpetual second-rate. And he'd hae
wasted years.

He remembered his father's hand chopping the air, the outraged
gesture taking in the hills beyond. You're going to give up all
thisT--and that all had been, in the end, Earth itself.

Carl remembered it in grainy detail, despite the seven
crowded years that had passed since. Years of learning how space
really worked--not the geometric:'certainty of math and physics
classes, where every problem had a pure solution in an orderly universe.
Not the serene world of that distant, unattainable yacht. He
had learned what space really was--grubby, tough, with plenty of
problems that had no solutions at all.

It was a natural locus for Percells to gather, skating high above
the clumping, festering masses who feared and despised them.-Space
held beauty, sure, but the places men had carved out for
themselves in it were more like the rusty scows moored at Morro
Bay, worn and smelly, dented and makeshift, working fine but looking
like hell.

Around him, bulky masses glided by, spotlights poked the
chilly gloom. Coffins nudged into sockets-in the black ice.

72
	ORIGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Beethoven's violin sang to a rippling piano across the yawning silent
centuries. Carl labored on, thinking o-f his long years spent in
space, far from Earth's green confusions.

SAUL

It was hard to remember that the hall was actually a great crystal
chamber, carved out of the heart of an ancient ice mountain. Nowhere
could be seen the dark glittering of carbonaceous hydrate,
veined with shiny seams of frozen gas. Everywhere pink fiberthread
and bright yellow spray-on sealant hid the primordial
stuff of Halley Core.
To Saul Lintz it far more resembled some vast cathedral of
kitsch.
The Great Hall was the heart of Central Complex--the ant
farm of rooms sculpted here deep under Halley's surface. Tunnels
led off in the six cardinal directions, color-coded amber, lime,
strawberry, peach, aquamarine.., and a broad vertical avenue of
orange--Shaft 1--fifteen meters across and rising straight up half a
mile to the comet's cluttered north pole.
Machines had scrubbed the atmosphere and warmed it, leaving
only a faint, almondlike odor to greet people as they streamed
into the Hall for the dedication.
Now and then, when. my head clears, even I can smell it. Saul blew his nose and quickly put his handkerchief away before
anyone noticed. That was why he sat perched on an empty
packing crate at the back of the chamber instead of closer to the
speakers' platform. He was stoked with antihistamines, but still his
nose dripped and he' felt perpetually on the verge of sneezing. Drat Akio and his damn tame viruses.
He looked up at the vaulted ceiling. In the two days he had
been underground, supervising the transfer of the bio lab to new,
larger quarters, he had not yet gotten used to the strange perspectives
here.
Across the chamber, the slot tug Sekanina lay like the frail
skeleton of a dissected beast. Its cargo of machinery and supplies
and eighty sleeping men and women had been taken elsewhere. At
one end dangled the "fishing poles" that had helped control the

	HEART OF THE COMET
	73

vessel's gigantic, gossamer solar-light sails, apparently the only
machinery not cannibalized or stored away in great tents on the
polar plain.
The hall slowly filled as men and women floated in from all
directions. Here, nearly a kilometer into the core, 'the sensible
gravity was so low that anyone dropping through the overhead,
orange-col6red tunnel took several minutes to fall to the floor.
Experienced spacers did not like long transits. Old hands
pushed off at the tunnel mouth to hurtle across the gap in seconds,
swiveling at the very last to land with flexed legs.
One young bravo--trying to show off, Saul supposed--had already
miscalculated. He was being treated for a broken wrist in the
side chamber down Tunnel IF, where Akio Matsudo and his doctors
had set up the main infirmary.
People arrived in pairs and trios. They gathered in small
groups to chat or merely lie back on packing crates, catching a
moment's rest.
Next to the Sekanina, a small cluster congregated, the leaders
of the expedition.
Miguel Cruz-Mendoza stood at least a head taller than the
others--captain and guiding force behind the decade of preparation
leading to this day. The soft-spoken Chilean spacer had distinguished
streak of gray at his temples, which only added to-his
charismatic poise. It was bruited about, mostly in jest, that he had
pushed and lbbied and pressured so hard for this mission in order
to take a great leap forward in time.., and thereby get away from
his accumulated mistresses and women suitors.
The idea wasn't so preposterous, at that. Saul had never
known a man better skilled with the ladies. Some of his enemies
credited Cruz's success to his friendliness with certain women senators.

No matter. The captain was also the sort of leader people
would follow. Many had helped prepare for the Halley Mission;
however, no one but Miguel Cruz could have made this day a reality.
The captain caught Saul's eye briefly and grinned. They had
come to know each other well during the development of the cyan-utes
and other environmental symbionts. Saul smiled back and nodded.
This was a grand day for his friend.
Cruz turned back as Dr. Bethany Oakes said something to
him. His laughter was deep and rich as he shared his second-in-command's
joke.
Saul did not know Oakes as well, but what he had seen of the

74
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
strong-jawed, brown-haired woman had impressed him. As well as
assisting the captain in administering the vast, complex project,
Oakes was also head of the Science Division.
Near the leaders stood the section heads--all except Matsudo,
who presumably was still treating his patient. Nick Malenkov or
Dr. Marguerite van Zoon could have handled the minor emergency
just as easily. Even Saul, rusty as his clinical skills were, could
certainly have managed a simple splint.
But rank hath its privileges. Akio had been bored, lately. Accidents
that weren't instantly fatal had been rare. With this infernally
healthy crew, there wasn't much for a physician to do except oversee
the sleep slots, and occasionally release challenge parasites to
keep everyone's immune systems up to par.
Physician, heal thyself, Saul thought. He had made up a special
batch of dexbrompheniramine maleate, a long-obsolete antihistamine
but one easy to synthesize, so that he wouldn't have to
prescribe for himself out of the expedition pharmacy and leave an
inventory record.
He knew he was being a tad unethical, hiding this from Mat-sudo.
But Saul had no intention of being sleep slotted over yet another
blasted head cold. Not at one of the most exciting moments in
the history of science.
MorSe than a hundred people gathered on he shallowly curved
floor of the chamber. Except for a score or so on watch duty elsewhere,
all of Edmund's crew were present--along with about thirty
temporarily awakened slot sleepers, identifiable by their pale complexions
and still slightly jerky movements.
A few people sat down out of habit, but most simply rested on
their toes, knees bent and arms hanging before them in the almost
fetal spacer's crouch.
Captain Cruz and Dr. Oakes stepped up onto a platform set on
the girders of the gutted slot tug. Cruz raised his hands and the low
murmuring of conversation died away.
"Well!" The tall astronaut rubbed his hands together. "Any'one
for a snowcone?"
The assembled spacers and scientists chuckled. In spite of all
the diverse cultures and beliefs represented here, it was clear that
nearly everyone liked and admired their commander.
Cruz warmed them up a little more.
"I'd like to thank you all or coming all these millions of miles
to attend this meeting. I've called you up here from Earth to tell you
that, alas, the mission has been canceled. We're all to pack up and
head for home tonight."

HEART OF TH COMET 75
That got them. The hall erupted in laughter and applause Saul
grinned and clapped as well. Cruz was a genius at the subtle art of
morale--of drawing the best out of a group.
Of course, there was no way any of them were returning to
Earth... not before the appointed seventy:odd years had passed.
They were riding Halley out of the planetary system at thirty kilometers
per second right now, swooping up and out of the sun's deep
gravity well. That streaking velocity had to ebb and die--and the
great comet begin to fall again--before anyone here was going
home.
Caught up in his thoughts, Saul missed the next jest. But the
reaction was the same. Laughing together, they seemed a happy
crew. Cruz was being deliberately folksy, loosening the crowd
while at the same time maintaining his aura of complete, relaxed
control.
And yet even now Saul could see the divisions. The really experienced
spacers, for instance, were mostly gathered over to the
left. The scientific specialists in Oakes's division tended toward the
front. Behind them were spread out technicians and engineers from
more than two dozen nations.
There were many small clusterings according to geography or
native tongue. And nearly everywhere was the subtle but clear separation
between the "Ortho" majority and he tall, handsome
young Percells.
.Of course there was some mixing, especially among the professional
spacers. Saul saw Carl Osborn lean over and whisper
something to the Ortho girl, Lani Nguyen. She laughed in a single
high chirp and hurriedly covered her mouth, blushing. Lani looked
up at Carl with shining eyes, but Carl had turned away again, his
attention once more on his captain.
"Why have we come here?" Cruz asked, his fists on his hips,
legs apart. Now that he had warmed them, he was gliding into a
higher tone. "There are many reasons given. Philosophers speak of
pure scientific research, of the great questions of the origin of the
solar system which might be solved by understanding the most primordial
matter in space.
"Others believe we are at Halley's Comet because it is there!
.. Or rather, here." He grinned. "And why not just go because it
is fascinating to do so? This flying iceberg has been swooping down
on us Earthlings for thousands of years, enthralling so many of our
ancestors .... "Cruz lifted an eyebrow, "and scaring the shit out of
quite a few of them."
Again, the delighted hilarity. Saul watched the Hawaiian con
76
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


tingent, eight men and women out of thirty sent by their vigorous,
future-hungry land. They had put on bright, floral shirts over their
long johns. Evenly split between Percell and Ortho, the group was
a flamboyant mixture of types and colors. As they joined in the
laughter, one head turned. Virginia Kaninamanu Herbert lifted her
'eyes and looked back his way. She saw Saul and smiled brilliantly.
Saul winked back at her.

"... Search for new chemical compounds, or perhaps to be
used in the terraforming of worlds, bringing life to our sister planets
which were less bounteously endowed than our beloved Earth.

"Maybe some of you.volunteered for all that promised duty

pay--mostly for seventy-five years' sleeping on the job."
Cheers, this time. Whistling approval.
Cruz spread his hands.

"But there are two special reasons why we have come here, so
far from home, on a mission that will separate most of us permanently
from all family and acquaintances.

"First, and I'll..be frank with you, many on Earth are looking
to this mission--with its many members of genetically altered
extraction--as a test of humanity's ability to rise above superstition
and prejudice. For a hundred years, people of good will have been
fighting to wean our species of the most deep-seated tribal reaction
for all--that fear of otherness that has caused such hatred and horror
since time immemorial... ?'

Since time immemorial... Saul closed his eyes, remembering
Jerusalem.

"... Will achieve a great thing if we prove to those on Earth
that so-called Orthos and so-called Percells, living and working together
on a long and dangerous mission, can rely on each other
simply as fellow human beings, and bring home great discoveries to
benefit all mankind.

"The same goes for the many national and ethnic groups represented
here. We are emissaries from the twenty-first century into
the future. For seventy and more years, people back home will
know we are up here, cooperating for the greater good."

Cruz let the words settle over them. Saul saw that many of
those present were looking at their feet, suddenly uncomfortable,
as if they were not sure they were' worthy of this trust.

"And of course there is also the fun stuff." Cruz grinned and
rubbed his hands together. "We came out here to test a lot of technological
toys! Collecting comets into accessible orbits may forever
unlock the door to space. The new toehold on prosperity mankind
has regained, after the Hell Century, will be secure for all time.

	HEART O THE COMET
	77
"And if we demonstrate dramatically that sleep slots work
well for over seventy years--as all the data indicates they will--we'll
have established that humanity need not be locked into the
solar system. The stars, the very stars themselves, will be ours."
The words hung in the chilly air, above the hum of the air fans.
And Saul saw glowing belief on many faces present. Carl Os-born's
heroic jaw jutted in dedication to his captain's goal.
Well, maybe it partly stubbornness, too, Saul thought sardonically.
When Carl played chess, it was with a methodical tenacity
that admitted no defeat until the bitter end. But noSaul thought,
looking at the light in the young man's eyes. He believes in Miguel
dream. And I guess I do too.
The feeling was obviously shared by a lot of the spacers, both
Percell and Ortho. This was the passion of those who longed for
Plateau Three... the stepladder to the sky.
Still, there were others. They kept quiet, but one could read
the signs. This crew, after all, had not been recruited entirely from
the ranks of idealists.
Why did a man or woman volunteer to go into dangerous exile,
far from everything familiar? For many, including Saul, the choice
had not been altogether voluntary.
He saw Marguerite van Zoon, standing beside Akio Matsudo
at the entrance to IF Tunnel and the new infirmary. The French Imperium
had given her the option of "volunteering" for this mission
or seeing her entire family imprisoned for lse-majest6.
Saul htd last heard that her husband had gone to Indonesia and
slotted himself to await her return. It was some small solace, he
supposed.
And then there was Lieutenant Colonel Suleiman OuldHarrad.
Powerful family ties had gotten him into this mission, instead
of a Mauritanian dungeon. Bat the black spacer seemed less
 than happy to be here. He stood over to the right, with Joao Quiver-ian
and some other folk from the equatorial lands of the Arc of the
Living Sun.
Percells and Orthos, Northerns and Arcists, liberals, moderates,
and even a few fanatics; Saul was certain it was pretty much
the same among those still in slots. Cruz and Oakes were inspirational
leaders, and they would get the best out of the colonists, but
Saul did not expect this long voyage to be entirely trouble-free.
Nothing ever is, Saul. Exile is not the same as escape.
Captain Cruz continued with a hearty tone.
"And now I have a surprise for all of you. Many 0fus had high

78
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

hopes for great scientific advances on this voyage, but I'd wager
none of you expected that within weeks of arriving we would already
have written a new chapter in the annals of human discovery.''

Saul saw the audience stir. People looked at one another. A
wave of shrugs and confused looks showed that the secret had held
for the last three days of frantic tests, experiments, and double-checks.
--

Saul took out his handkerchief and blew as quietly as the nose
his parents had given him would allow. He knew it might be his last
chance for a while.

Cruz grinned at his audience, milking the suspense for all it
was wbrhh. He held up his hands and the crowd quieted again.

"I certainly don't want to hog the show, or steal anyone's day
in the limelight .... "

Oh, no, Saul thought. He had asked Cruz not to do this.
"... So let me just call up the man who has made this epochal
discovery, whose name will, within a week, be the toast of the solar
system. Come on up here, Saul Lintz, and tell us what you've
found!"

Sigh.

Saul pushed off from the packing crate as scattered applause
rose from various parts of the hall. After the first stumble caused
him to drift above the floor for a few seconds, he had to endure
being passed from hand to hand by those more experienced in mi-crogravity.

Along the way he saw that much of the applause came from
certain groups--Matsudo and Malenkov, who had helped in the
analyses, from the Hawaiians up in front, from some of the
Percells ....

There were some among the African and Latin contingents
who looked aside and lowered their arms, unable, like him, to forget
Jerusalem.

Someone put her hands under him and pushed hard. He went
sailing, without a bit of spin, in a smooth arc that landed him right
beside Dr. Bethany Oakes. Good shooting, he thought as the small
woman swung him around to face the audience.

"Don't worry, Saul," Cruz whispered to him. "You'll get
your space legs yet. Your problem is you've spent too much time in
that damned wheel."

Saul shrugged. "Some of us are too old to change, Mike."

Cruz laughed and gestured that the "floor" was his. Saul gingerly
slid a' foot forward. He looked out over the assembly.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	79

	"Um, I'm sure you'll all recall..."

"Louder, Saul!" a thickly accented voice called out from the
back of the hall. "You don't have to whisper to prove to us you're
not a loudmouthed Levite!"

Gasps rose from the crowd and several dark faces seemed suddenly
to go pale. Saul recognized Malenkov's shout and wave from
the back of the room. The grinning Russian bear had the tact of a
tornado, but Saul smiled.

"Sorry. I'll try to speak up.

"I was about to say that I'm sure you'll all recall the fantastic
array of organic compounds that the expedition to comet Encke
found while they were testing out the techniques needed for this
mission. Many of those compounds were totally unknown until
then, and led to some revolutionary changes in industrial chemistry.

"In fact, one of our lesser goals here is to see if nature has
cooked up any more wonderful polymers and agglutinates for us,
perhaps as valuable as Enkon and Stannous-Clathride have become."

Directly below the platform, Joao Quiverian frowned. He had
discovered those compounds, on that earlier mission, so in a way he
was responsible for some of the motivation to explore and "exploit''
.comets.

"But one of the most exciting discoveries at Encke Was that the
core of that aged, nearly dead comet contained an abundance of
chemicals best called 'prebiotic' . . . accumulations of purines,
pyrimidines, phosphates, and amino acids nearly identical to the
sort of mixture modern biologists believe made up the primordial
'soup' that led to life on Earth. It was hoped, when we set off on
this trip, that by studying a large, younger comet, we might, well,
shed some light on the way things were on our homeworld four
billion years ago, when we all began."

Saul cleared his throat, and hoped the raspiness in his voice
would be attributed to general hoarseness and excitement. Ten rows
back or so, among the colorful Hawaiians, he saw Virginia Herbert
smiling up at him. The admiration in her eyes was pleasant, if a bit
disconcerting.

Down, boy. Don't imagine more'n is there. No doubt she
looks on you as some sort of surrogate dad.

"Well," he resumed. "Dr. Malenkov and Dr. Quiverian
and I have tudied one of the latest cores collected by Dr. Otis
Sergeov--:'

"Don't be modest, Saul,"-Malenkov interrupted again. "You
did it! You get the blame!"

80
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

This time, at least, peoplelaughed and applauded. Saul
smiled. Thanks, Nicholas. Deep inside he wondered if the Russian
wasn't really right.., if blame might someday be the right word.
Look at what had happened to Simon Percell, whose name should
have gone down alongside Galen's and Schweitzer's. Dame Fame
was a fickle bitch.

"... Uh, well, with the help of those gentlemen I was able to
isolate..."

Oh, come on, Saul, he chided himself. What would Miriam
think if she had lived to see you now, standing here stammering,
when you have a chance to make an announcement, like this!

Saul straightened his back, almost losing his footing in the
process. He looked out at the audience and borrowed one of Miguel
Cruz's gestures, spreading his hands apart.

"The signs are strong. The specimens are unambiguous. No
contamination could explain what we have found. We've worked
for a week to be certain it is nothing brought from Earth.

"How it got here, nobody can imagine as yet. How it survived
or evolved, we haven't a clue. But what we do know now is that we
appear to have stumbled on what mankind has been looking for ever
since our first explorers stepped onto another world, nearly a century
ago."

He smiled. Let them make of it what they will.

"For the first time, ladies and gentlemen--for the first time
we have found definite signs of life beyond Earth:"

IN THE HOT BREATH OF

THOSE DAYS

When beggars die, there are no comets seen--

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

--Wm. Shakespeare

VIRGINIA

The great, tumbling ice mountain hurtled outward into the void.
Behind it, smaller and fainter with every passing watch, the Hot fell
away into the eternal blackness.
Briefly, the sun's blazing furnace had scrubbed and gouged
and broiled away at the snowy worldlet--had cracked and charged
its temporary atmosphere, sending waving flags of ionized gas flapping
in the interplanetary breeze.
But then quick summer passed. The flames were left behind
again, still bright, but growing more harmless hour by hour. The
savage exuberance of perihelion passage was fast fading from memory.
Autumn was marked by a gentle fall of dust. Tiny bits, carried
away from the surface in the waning blow of escaping gas, had
never quite reached escape velocity, even from the comet's feeble
pull. Gradually, they drifted back again, laying a dark, talclike patina
over the icefields and rocky outcrops. The flickering snake of
the plasma tail had already vanis .hed, and now the foreshortened
dust tail--so like shimmering angels' banners not long ago--dissipated
as the ancient comet streaked past Mars and on, toward
the orbit of Jupiter.
Virginia found it beautiful. The dark regolith was laid bare,
here and there, exposing a slumbering icy substrate. Although a
thin coma of shimmering long still hung overhead tenaciously, the
vault already showed more stars than the dark, tropical nights back
home.
I'll bet the view is even more spectacular in person, she
thought. One day I really must go up to the surface myself.
She could feel the soft webbing holding her to her link-couch,
in a cave laboratory deep under millions of tons of primeval matter.
83

VIRGINIA

The great, tumbling ice mountain hurtled outward into the void.
Behind it, smaller and fainter with every passing watch, the Hot fell
away into the eternal blackness.
Briefly, the sun's blazing furnace had scrubbed and gouged
and broiled away at the snowy worldlet--had cracked and charged
its temporary atmosphere, sending waving flags of ionized gas flapping
in the interplanetary breeze.
But then quick summer passed. The flames were left behind
again, still bright, but growing more harmless hour by hour. The
savage exuberance of perihelion passage was fast fading from memory.
Autumn was marked by a gentle fall of dust. Tiny bits, carried
away from the surface in the waning blow of escaping gas, had
never quite reached escape velocity, even from the comet's feeble
pull. Gradually, they drifted back again, laying a dark, talclike patina
over the icefields and rocky outcrops. The flickering snake of
the plasma tail had already vanis .led, and now the foreshortened
dust tail--so like shimmering angels' banners not long ago--dissipated
as the ancient comet streaked past Mars and on, toward
the orbit of Jupiter.
Virginia found it beautiful. The dark regolith was laid bare,
here and there, exposing a slumbering icy substrate. Although a
thin coma of shimmering long still hung overhead tenaciously, the
vault already showed more stars than the dark, tropical nights back
home.
I'll bet the view is even more spectacular in person, she
thought. One day I really must go up to the surface myself.
She could feel the soft webbing holding her to her link-couch,
in a cave laboratory deep under millions of tons of primeval matter.
83

VIRGINIA

The great, tumbling ice mountain hurtled outward into the void.
Behind it, smaller and fainter with every passing watch, the Hot fell
away into the eternal blackness.
Briefly, the sun's blazing furnace had scrubbed and gouged
and broiled away at the snowy worldlet--had cracked and charged
its temporary atmosphere, sending waving flags of ionized gas flapping
in the interplanetary breeze.
But then quick summer passed. The flames were left behind
again, still bright, but growing more harmless hour by hour. The
savage exuberance of perihelion passage was fast fading from memory.
Autumn was marked by a gentle fall of dust. Tiny bits, carried
away from the surface in the waning blow of escaping gas, had
never quite reached escape velocity, even from the comet's feeble
pull. Gradually, they drifted back again, laying a dark, talclike patina
over the icefields and rocky outcrops. The flickering snake of
the plasma tail had already ranis ..llv. d, and now the foreshortened
dust tail--so like shimmering angels' banners not long ago--dissipated
as the ancient comet streaked past Mars and on, toward
the orbit of Jupiter.
Virginia found it beautiful. The dark regolith was laid bare,
here and there, exposing a slumbering icy substrate. Although a
thin coma of shimmering long still hung overhead tenaciously, the
vault already showed more stars than the dark, tropical nights back
home.
I'll bet the view is even more spectacular in person, she
thought. One day I really must go up to the surface myself.
She could feel the soft webbing holding her to her link-couch,
in a cave laboratory deep under millions of tons of primeval matter.
83

	84
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


But otherwise it was almost as if she were up on the comet's surface,
in person. The holographic images brought her a nearly perfect
sensation of being out on the ice.

She was wearing--teleoperating--a Class III surface mech,
moving its spindly, spider legs as she would her own, looking with
its swiveling eyes, feeling the faint brush of drifting gas molecules
as a wind on her face. Her fingertips moved gently in their waldo
grips as she sent a chain of mental commands to the host mech on
the ice, making it turn.

The method had first been tried back in the late twentieth century,
and had seemed quite promising at the time.., until several

famous disasters led to near abandonment of direct mind-machine
 interfaces. It turned out to require a special kind of personality to

control a mech in this way, without letting random thoughts and a
hundred human reflexes interfere, sometimes catastrophically. This
had been discovered the hard way, during those early, naive applications
to aircraft and factory equipment. To this day, spacers like
Carl Osborn tended to distrust the technique, preferring voice and
touch controls.

That was then, though. This is now.

One of the reasons for her presence on this mission was the
fact that such extensive use was to be made of mentally controlled

robots for the first time in decades.

Vasha Rubenchik is a real genius, Virginia thought as she

deftly rode the mech over a small rise. The Russians were idiots to
exile him out here, whatever his political opinions. I've never felt a
mind-to-robot link this good before.

Too bad Vasha was already in the slots, or Virginia would have
praised him for deftly tailoring the neuroelectric and holographic
connections so well to her specifications. This alone was almost
sure to win patent royalties for both of them, when the data were
sent back. The boodle would accumulate in their accounts while
they slept through most of the seven and a half decades ahead.

Although money wasn't her top priority, Virginia had seen
how useful it could be, especially when one wanted to work in areas
frowned upon by the powers that be.

She could hardly wait until things had settled down a bit and
there was free time to try some of these new techniques in experiments
with JonVon.

As if summoned, a voice hummed along her acoustic nerve.


I AM PREPARED TO ENGAGE IN NEW PROBLEMS WkEN-EVER
YOU WISH, VIRGINIA. THE MISSION MAINFRAME

HEART Of ]'HE COMET

IS USING ONLY 15o/o OF MY CAPACITY, RIGH
NOW .... WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO ASSUME A SIML
LATED PERSONALITY?

Oh, great, she thought. All I'd need, while I'm contro
mech out on the surface, would be to let you construct Oli
O'Toole, or some other old movie heartthrob.., have then
charging around, blowing in my ear.
She had chosen pre-vid actors to use in personality-sim,
iments partly out of romantic atavism, and partly because the,.
less familiar to people these days--better to use in blind Turin
on unsuspecting subjects. The simulations had fooled almost,
body, on Earth, even though they still were nothing like wh
was sure they could be.

OR I COULD BRING FORTH SHELLEY. YOU LIKE HIS PC
ETRY.

Virginia subvocalized clearly, crisply:
Not now, Jon Von. Mother is busy. If you haven't enough
helping the colony mainframe, go to some of those secondary
lems I assigned you.

VERY WELL. I'LL CONTINUE SNEAKING THROUGH TH
COLONY RECORDS AND SNOOPING WHAT PEOPLI
BROUGHT ALONG IN THEIR PERSONAL WEIGHT AL
LOTMENTS. YOU EXPRESSED CURIOSITY ABOUT THAT.

Virginia hesitated, then agreed. Okay. You do that. Just
leave any traces.
Of course it was a bit unethioal to use her special tool
skills to snoop into other folks' priate matters. But then, Vi
had always believed people tended to try to keep too much s
Anyway, it broadened the number of people to think,
The dozen crew members still warm and moving about were I
enough for even minimal gossip over the sixteen months of
Watch. in the need to conserve consumables, everyone els
already been put into cold sleep, leaving the first shift to
finishing touches to the habitats and other facilities.
Well, Ginnie, you volunteered to be on First Watch. You
it would be one of the busiest.
Yes, but there are opportunities, as well. Later, she tho Later, after things have settled down, I'll have my chance, I
delicious stretches of work time.

	86
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Her mech finished its slow scan of the surface as the mouth of
Shaft 2 came into view.

Scarred, scratched, and littered, the north polar region looked
nothing like a pristine remnant of Creation. Crates of supplies lay
tethered to the ice or bound up under fibercloth "tents" for later
use. Debris lay everywhere.

Farther off stood six high, peaked pyramids, of dark tailings
from shaft excavations, crudely separated into heaps of primordial
nickel-iron, platinum- and iridium-rich ores, and carbonaceous
gunk.., much like Alberta tar sands. At some point later, long
after she had returned to the slots, the watch crews would start
processing the piles into useful- things, like Nudge Driver housings.

To take us home again. Not for the first or last time, she wondered-
what Earth would be like when they returned. If all their
grand schemes would turn out to have mattered. Would she find
Hawaii, Earth, recognizable? Friendlier? Or would it be an alien
world, altered beyond recognition?


Halley swoops

in centuries,

in intervals--


One human span apart


Halley scoops

up changing times,

up nations' lives--


In one beat of its heart.


Hmm. Thank heavens she was too busy right now, or she
might be tempted to record that bit of doggerel. Still, perhaps
something could be done with it.


SHALL I STORE OR ERASE IT, THEN, VIRGINIA?


She started, then subvocalized quickly, JonVon, I thought
you'd signed off. Those were private musings.

A brief pause told of vigorous cross-correlation checks.


PRIVATE MUSiNGS--REFLECTIONS--FANTASIES . . .


Enough.t And JonVon was instantly quiet. .
Irritated, Virginia took hold of her thoughts and concentrated

 HEART OF THE COMET 87

on maneuvering the mech back toward the work site. The spider's
legs swung, one at a time. Surface vibrations translated into sounds
so she "heard" the mech's feet crunch across the dark powder.

During the early work, so much vapor had been churned out
here that some of the gases actually condensed again, instead of
escaping into space. Sparkli.ng snows had flash-frozen around the
heat-and-gas-release ducts leading up from Central. Broad,
rainbow-colored flows spilled over the feet of the Shaft 2 portal.

The airlock itself was more than just a drab, functional construct.
Far from that, Virginia saw it as a work of art. Structural
braces had been press-formed in high, faery arches. The footing
anchors looked like gnarled gargoyles' fists, gripping the ancient
stuff of Halley.

Only a few crucial parts were made of precious refined metal,
salvaged from the robot freighters. The supports and body of the
building were cleverly sculpted from refrozen, crystalline, water
ice.

It was one reason why Virginia liked working out on Quadrant
2, where Jim Vidor had been in charge of the construction crew.
The man was an artist.

"We build best when we are forced to improvise," Virginia
said softly to herself.
A carrier wave cut in, followed quickly by a woman's voice.
--What was that, Virginia? Did you say somethipg?--

Virginia's head turned a little too quickly, causing the mech to
slew awkwardly as it struggled to follow. At last a slim, spacesuited
figure came into Virginia's field of view, standing over a row of
dark shapes tethered to the ice.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Lani. I was just admiring what Jim and his
guys did in melt-carving this airlock."

Lani Nguyen's spacesuit had "b,en trimmed of its heavy armor,
now that summer had passed and dust pebbles were no longer being
blasted outward by subliming gas. A white cloth tabard covered the
suit's chest area, depicting the head of a smiling unicorn--a symbol
that would identify Lani to workers too far away to make out her
face. Right now the sharp sun reflected in her opaqued visor, anyway,
hiding her soft, half-Asian features.

--Yes, pretty. But not entirely safe, in my opinion. Next shift,
Jeffers-is supposed to break out the factory gear and start processing
some of that iron and carbon stacked out here. I'll sleep a lot
quieter in my slot knowing there's a real stress-filament hatch up
here, capping the air in.-

Virginia sighed softly. "Yes, I suppose so. Still, I hope they

	88
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

leave some of these crystal structures in place. It would be a shame
if the only marks we left were scars on every inch of this little
world."
She heard Lani sniff but politely withhold further comment.
Virginia knew that, to a spacer, talk of "preserving nature"
was nothing more than Luddism. It was all very.well to try to.save
what was left of poor, depleted Earth, but to apply such ideas to the
vast resources out here struck spacers as thickheaded.
Dumb or not, though, a majority of Earthlings felt that way.
And Virginia was not sure, quite yet, if she disagreed.
She walked her mech back over to the stacked equipment and
helped the Amerasian girl unload a new crate of fibercloth tunnel
liner. Carl Osborn was due up here in a little while to work with
Lani on a new link from Shaft 2 to Shaft I. Lani had asked Virginia
to come up--in proxy, of course--to help whip a balky autonomous
mechanical into shape for the upcoming operation.
This mech is working just fine, Virginia thought. The model's
certainly smart enough to have done Lani's bidding without my direct
control. I wonder what her real reason was for asking me up
here.
Together they Pushed the crate toward the gaping airlock
doors, providing fingertip support for the bulky cargo against Halley
Core's faint tug. It was then that Lani spoke again, in a voice of
labored casualness.
--As long as you're up here, Virginia, I want to thank you for
helping arrange to put me on First Watch.-
Virginia started, and nearly dropped her end of the crate as
they lowered it to the floor of the airlock.
"Uh, you're welcome, Lani. I--I don't really think I made
much difference, though."
That was certainly the truth. Three weeks ago, while a hunlred
temporarily awakened men and women scrambled about like
ants preparing for the long winter, Lani had hinted something to
Virginia about influencing shift scheduling. She wanted to remain
awake on the first year-and-a-half detail, after nearly everyone else
was cooled down.
A number of crew members seemed to share this belief, that
Virginia had some sort of a secret back door into the mission mainframe
computer aboard the Edmund. Some had made even more
blatant requests. She had been politely noncommittal to them all.
People took that sort of answer better than an outright refusal.
To be honest, in all the running around, Virginia had forgotten
about Lani's shy entreaty until now.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	89

They had to push down on the crate to set it against the other
equipment, Halley's pull was so molasses slow.
--I'm really grateful. I just couldn't go down there' to sleep .. to pass so much time.., with my mind in such a spin. There
are things.., things I have to work out.--
Although she had half-turned away as she spoke, Lani's face
was now visible under her helmet visor. The young woman could
easily have been Hawaiian, with her faintly Eurasian features and
healthy, taut skin. Right now, though, Spacer Second Class Nguyen
seemed troubled, her mouth working as she sought words to express
herself.
Well, it only to be expected, Virginia thought. They told us
back on Earth that we would all have to take turns being each other
therapists, ministers, listeners. And then they loaded the expedition
down with exiles, cripples, and refugees.
Like me. She gighed. Be'honest with yourself, Ginnie, are you
any less confused than this poor girl?
She waited, and at last Lani spoke again.
--Virginia, I was wondering. Um, what do you think of the
Birth and Childhood Laws?-
Virginia was glad that a mech couldn't show her sudden surprise.
"Well, uh, they don't seem all that fair.., though I guess
there are arguments on both sides. I don't suppose you like them
much, Lani. After all, you're a..."
--A spacer. Yes.-- Lani nodded. --My parents were California
Techno-Liberals. They told me stories, ever since I was a little
baby, about how mankind's future was out in space. How someday
humanity would move out here and get rich and happy and generous
again. Only the dreary stay-at-home types would live o0 Earth.-
Virginia shifted uncomfortab. The mech responded with the
same pelvis cant.
"Your parents were right, Lani. Space is saving humanity.
Even reactionaries and Arcists know that. Why do you think Hawaii
invested so heavily in this expedition? Those dreams will
come true, someday.
"I guess it's just that the Hell Century is still fresh in everyone's
memory. That's why so many countries are so suspicious.
Space has to serve Earth first, until the recovery is complete. Don't
worry, though. I'm sure you'll live to see your Third Plateau."
The mech's vision system adjusted to the shadows. Through
the other woman's faceplate she saw Lani's heart shake.
--Probably too late for me, though. I'll have to go live on

	90
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Earth to have my babies, and no male spacer will give up the Black
to stay dirtside with me.--

There it was, laid out like an open wound. Virginia's palms
felt clammy on her waldo controls. If there was any subject she
would prefer not to discuss, this was it.

She said with feigned lightness, "Isn't that an exaggeration?"
Lani looked up. Her dark eyes were sad.

--Look at the figures, Virginia. All spacers store sperm or ova
in banks on Earth. Most breed by proxy.., except those who are
Percells, and can't find surrogate parents for their offspring.
They're even worse off than us Orthos.--

Virginia felt a wash of savage irony. At least the gift had something
to store away. She had a ticket into the future.

What have I, but my machines? Virginia thought.

"The radiation levels you live in make that necessary, don't

they, Lani?" A truism, of course.

Lani shrugged.

--If they'd let us build real space colonies, instead of just factories
and life-support huts in orbit, we spacers could marry and
raise families together. As it is, those women spacers who go home
and reclaim their plasm have to stay there with their children.
Nearly all of us have to marry Earthers, since no man like Car...
since hardly any man of space would give up the Black without a
fight.-

Virginia tried to pull the conversation back into the abstract,
where she was much more comfortable. "That's a tough situation,
Lani. But the laws themselves..."

--The Birth and Childhood Laws are a crock! You know
they're just reactionary measures against anything new and frightening
to the masses! They don't want to lose control of us out here!
They're terrified of change!-

Virginia quashed her first reaction--to tell the girl not to teach
her grandmother to suck eggs. What, in all the world, had a healthy
Ortho girl to teach her about life? About bitterness and the dark
shadow of persecution? There was only one man out here Virginia
cared to listen to, or who had the right to say anything on those
matters.

Something of this must have been conveyed in the host mech's
six-legged stance. The spacesuited woman straightened up and
shook her head.

--I'm sorry I shouted, Virginia.--

"That's all right, Lani. Come on, let's get that last crate. You
know that hell hath no fury like a petty officer confronted with a job

HEART OF THE COMET
	91

undone. We want to be finished befor His Nibs, Spacer First Class

Carl Osborn, arrives."
Lani laughed, but finished with a sniff and a shake of her
head. Virginia reached out delicately with one manipulator arm
and touched the spacesuit's insulated sleeve. The other woman nodded
and they moved back out under the stars to fetch the last crate.

They had tugged the hulking container halfway back to the
airlock structure when a light fanned forth from the lift doors, following
a spurting ivory cloud of released gas.
A tall, bulky, spacesuited figure emerged. Virginia recognized
Carl Osborn from his languid, graceful movement along the
guide cable even before she could make out the name-chop on his
suit's tabard.
--Hello, Carl,-- Lani sent.
"Right on time, I see," Virginia added.
Carl stopped abruptly.
--Virginia! Are you up here? Well, well, just couldn't keep
away from me, could you?-
He bowed to her mech. --Nice day for a stroll on the surface.
You should tell me, next time you plan to come up.-At
last Carl turned and nodded to his teammate.
--Hi, Lani. Careful with that end, it's drooping.----Oh.
Sorry, Carl. I'll get it.-Actually,
Carl should have addressed the living person before
speaking to the one who was present only in waldo. Lani Nguyen's
helmet had opaqued under the bright glare of the sun, so Virginia
could not make out the girl's reaction. But she had her suspicions.
"I'll leave you here with Heaven's Gift to spacedrift women,
Lani," Virginia sent. "I'm sure he's capable of doing good work, if
watched carefully." '
Carol's back was to the sun, so his faceplate was clear. Virginia
saw him blink and hurry to speak.
--Why don't you come along, Virginia? We've been running
into some interesting sintered and recrystallized formations as we
dig deeper into the core. They're unlike anything we've encountered
until now.-
Virginia had to admit that, even as she found them overeager
and embarrassing, Carol's attentions nonetheless pleased her. The
man was so damned attractive.., in the movie hero sort of way.
If that type of hero had been what she was looking for.., but
no, it wasn't. Net in this life.'Not right now.
She made the mech execute an imitation of a curtsy. "That

	92
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

sounds exciting, Carl. I'll inform Saul Lintz. He and Joao Quiver-ian
are the cometologists on duty, this watch. I'm sure they'll be
eager to see your pix and get your samples."
Carl frowned sourly. That obviously wasn't what he'd had in
mind.
"See you around, Carl. Good luck, Lani."
She engaged the release procedure, allowing the mech's onboard
systems to take over as her own teleoperated presence flowed
back into the deeply buried laboratory where her body lay. The
images faded, but before they departed completely and the lights
came on, she saw that Carl still watched "her" . . . and Lani
Nguyen watched Carl.

CARL

Their torches were blue blades of light cutting the seething fog.
"Hold steady. It'll clear in a minute," Carl sent.
Lani Nguyen sank a spike into a crusty chunk of water ice for
stability. --What an eruption! It must have been bottled up in there
a billion years.-
They had been finishing off a fresh tunnel. Mechs had done
the initial work a week before, roughing it out, but it was better for
humans to do the mop-up; mechs had an odd way of leaving dangerous
knife-edged ruts.
The two of them had been using their lasers on low fan mode,
trimming and scouring away jutting ice, The occasional boulder
they had to chip around, or boil loose with lasers on iightbeam.
Then they would nudge it back to the nearest tunnel intersection,
where a mech would add it to the dumpster.
Lani had been prying at a chair-sized rock when Carl said
laconically, "Remember Umolanda." She had nodded, moving
carefully, tugging--and suddenly it had sprung free, under pressure
from behind. Pearly fog spurted forth.
Lani fruitlessly fanned at the vapor. --You figure it's another
aluminum-melt vault?-
So far the expedition had found fourteen pockets, each con-tainlng
vapor and even a little liquid. Carl peered through the hole.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	93

A bubbling pool simmered at the'bottom of a wide, spherical
room. Fog rose from it in gouts and gusts. Multicolored steam still poured out, frothing. "Damn! Looks like soup's on."
Lani frowned prettily. --Primordial soup, yeah. Lintz and
Malenkov are all ga-ga over it.--
"Keeps 'em out of our hair."
--I'll bet Quiverian's having nightmares over those two finding
all sorts of juicy stuff about his comet.-
As he watched, she brushed at a splotch of gooey purple on
her sleeve. --Eccch. God knows what this stuff is.-
Carl grinned. Lani preferred the austere simplicity of space
work, the Newtonian mechanics of straight lines and known vectors;
of sun-scoured steel and bare, clean surfaces. Not the murk
and splatter of tunnel work.
"Isn't it wonderful, what creation can do with just a few simple
molecules?' He kept a poker face. He had been feeling a bit odd
ever since meeting Virginia's mech on the surface hours ago. The
mech and Lani had seemed engrossed in a beart-to-heart and had
clammed up right away on his arrival. Maybe he could tease Lani
into telling him what was bothering Virginia.
--It's not funny, Carl. This gunk could get into a joint, stiffen
it up.--
"It'll evaporate."-
--Yeah? So how come it didn't boil away four billion years
back?--
"It's been under pressure."
--But everything must've frozen down after the early days.--"Probably.
This was just a flying iceberg for billions of years,
out beyond Neptune. But back when the solar nebula condensed
there was a lot of aluminum 26 in Halley; Chem Section reported
finding the decay products, remember.
--Oh yeah, residue from the same supernova that triggered
formation of the solar system.--
"So they say. Anyway, that aluminum-isotope decay melted
these chambers. Might've kept things percolating long enough to
cook up those exotic chemicals and Prelife forms Lintz found. I
dunno?
Lani widened the opening with a pick. --Then when Halley
got bumped into its present orbit, the sun warmed up these hot
spots again? Waves of heat every perihelion summer?-
Carl shrugged. "Must've." He couldn't think of a way to maneuver
this conversation over to Virginia's secrets.

GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

--Last year's heat from the sun--that must still be seeping
down through the ice, adding just enough to keep these local hot
spots liquid.--

"Right. Malenko and idor measured the temperature
wave."

The fountain sputtered, died. Cottony clouds swirled,
thinned, escaped down the corridor behind them and into the oblivion
of space.

"Let's have a look." Carl knocked a last rock out of the way
and wriggled into the chamber beyond.. He fanned his torch
around--and gasped.

Crystalline facets sprouted everywhere. Points gleamed ruby'
red, emerald, burnt orange. Wherever he turned his helmet lamps,
refracted light came back in brilliant splinters.

--A crystal palace,-- Lani said softly as she followed. --How
lovely. --

"The colors!"

--Concentrations of metals? Magnesium? Platinum nodules?
Cobalt? The pinks, the purples!--

"Here, take some pictures. Our suit heat alone might melt it."

--Think so?-- Lani handed' him her torch and moved away,
unhooking her camera. --Look, I can see images of myself in the
big crystals. They must be a meter across, easy.-

Carl picked his way gingerly, walking lightly on his toes. The
peaked pyramids of delicate arsene blue looked particularly dangerous.
They worked in skinsuits, thin and flexible enough for difficult
jobs, derived from the same woven chain molecules as the
corridor liner. Still, a really sharp edge could slice through.

Carl peered ahead, squinting against the rainbow ribbons of
light that seemed to focus on him. He remembered an optics problem
from Caltech, over a decade ago. If you were inside a reflecting
sphere, what would you see? How many images? The natural impulse
was to start adding up reflections of reflections of reflections,
ad infinitum. The true answer was that you'd see only one image.

Not here, though. Every refraction fed others, giving a myriad
swarm of tiny technicolored Carls. They moved as he did, insects
of every color hovering in a cloud beyond reach.

Dizzying. Thousands of Lanis, each earnestly working a camera.
Between them was a dark spot. He gave a small push and glided
over to it.

"Hey. Some kind of fracture here."

--Careful of these sharp ones, Carl.--

	HEART OF THE COMET
	95

He flipped slowly and brought his head down into the hole.

"Looks like it goes on."

--Very far?--

"Dunno. Some runny brown stuff back in there. Looks wet."
--Yuk. Leave it for the bio boys.--

"Check." He righted himself, drifting lazily over a glinting

field of steepled crystals. "Hey, it's lunchtime."

--Let's eat here.--

"Could get good hot chow back at sleep-slot one."

She grimaced. --And unsuit just to get inside? Roast pheasant
with chestnut sauce wouldn't be worth having to wipe up this mess
an extra time.-

They tethered from the nominal ceiling and broke out food

tubes. "Even self-heated, this stuff is pretty bad," ,Carl grumbd.
--It's worth it to me, just to be away from the others.--"Yeah,
know what you mean."

Their ration was stored in their backpacks, heated there and
available by sucking on a tube that emerged near the chin. Eating
was not an elegant process. Lani had a curious natural daintiness
that made her turn away for each gulp of the light, aromatic broth.
She floated with her arms and knees tucked in gracefully, an economical
cross-limbed Asian sitting posture, more elegant than the
usual spacer's crouch. Carl smiled. She was a hard worker, lean

and' lithe, with steady, remorseless energy.
--I enjoy getting off by ourselves.--"Uh-huh."

--Particularly in such a lovely, well.., jeweled palace.--

"Right. Damn pretty." Carl wondered vaguely about Virginia.

--Do we have to tell anyone about it?-- '
"Huh?"

--Couldn't it be a place.., just for us?--

"Uh, why?"

--To get away. We could come here and bask in the light and,
well, have time to talk.-

Carl didn't feel comfortable with this turn of the conversation.
"Look, somebody'd find it fast enough. I mean, we'd have to leave

a port exit in the insulation, to get back in here ourselves."
--Not if we disguised it some way.-Carl
struggled for a reply, some technical reason why it
wouldn't work. "You mean, mark it as a pressure hatch? Something
like that?"

--I suppose so.-- She studied him intently but said no more.

	96
	'GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

After a long pause Carl spoke again. "Somebody'd notice.
'It'd be just like Samuelson to come by, check on us. Pop the seal

and make the discovery for himself."

--You think so?--

"Sure, he's a straitlaced, um, type." He had barely stopped
himself from saying a straitlaced, by-the-book Ortho. Lani was an
Ortho, too, but one of the good ones.

--I suppose we should report it to Planetary.--

"Yeah, Quiverian'll blow his buttons."

--Still... I would like to have, you know, a retreat.--"Plenty
o(volume in Halley--almost three hundred cubic kilometers.''
He couldn't imagine wanting to spend time sitting in an
ice-walled hole, even if it did get you away from the rest of the
dozen people in the First Watch. Better to go outside if you wanted
that. Have the whole solar system to look at.

--Well, perhaps later, then. We could do it all ourselves, without
the mechs.-- Lani looked at him with a doelike, expectant
gaze. Carl glanced away nervously.

"I dunno. Might have to insulate it."

Unless he could steer the talk to Virginia, he wanted to deflect
conversation away from personal things, to keep their relationship
friendly but strictly professional. He started talking about the insulation
problem, how much worse it was here than on Encke.

Humans liked temperatures around three hundred degrees Absolute,
but some of the frozen gases boiled away in a furious phase
transformation around a hundred degrees. Even a casual brush
from a skinsuit would bring an answering puff of gas. Maintaining
that two-hundred-degree differential had meant developing flexible,
layered insulators. The merest breath of air would evaporate
the very walls from an uninsulated chamber.

There would always be some boiloff, so the tunnei system had
to let the vapor escape toward the surface, where it vented to free
space. At the same time, controlled harvesting of the ice was the
key to the expedition's success. The biosphere needed a flux of
water, gases, even the metals and grit contaminating the comet. So
some of the boiloff was recovered, filtered to keep the cyanide level
down, ahd cycled back into the habitats.

Without a virtually labor-free system to supply fluids and
gases, there would have to be more people awake and working.
That, in turn, would put more demand on the biomatriX, which
drove a spiral of costs. This was the fundamental reason why living
inside Halley Core was essential. As usual, profit and loss had the
final say.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	97

Keeping locks and ports from leaking heat to the nearby ice
was tricky, tedious labor that Carl disliked. He belabored this point
for several minutes, not because he liked to gripe, but because he
couldn't think of any other way to keep control of the conversation.
At last he wound down. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.
--I was hoping we could find some time alone together,--
Lani said simply, though she blinked several times.
"I... yeah, I got that."
--You have felt it?--"Well..."
--I have known you three years now. Long enough to learn
how special you are.-- Her eyes were large, black, and as deep as a
pool. She was being direct and clear and it obviously took an effort
of will not to look away. He could see that she had rehearsed this.
"There'... there isn't anything so great about me. I like space
work. It's my life, same as you."
--We have much in common.--
"Yes, we do."
--In the long times we will spend on watch together, perhaps...--
Her gaze faltered.
"Look, I think a great deal of you, Lani."
--I am happy of that.-- But her face had lost its pensive, focused
look. Her certainty was fading. And there isn't a damned
thing I can do about it, he thought. There's no way I can give her
the answer she wants.
"But, I mean, I don't.., really.., think of you that way."
She stiffened. --Oh.- She isn't any better at talk like this than I am. She misses my
hints. So I have to say it straight out and that huns her. Damn.t "You're... a great teammate, se as hell you are."
Her long eyelashes batted [veral times. The thin, broad
mouth twisted ruefully. --Thank you.--
"God, I don't mean to... to brush you off or anything."
--There is no need to be concerned. You are speaking the
truth, as you must.--
"You really are attractive, too, I don't mean anything like
that ."
Now that he thought about it, she was quite good-looking. Serving a sixteen-month watch, she's thinking about pairing off. They all would be. Still, he simply had not thought of her as more
than a co-worker. Why?
Somehow, she simply wasn't his type. No instant attraction,
no zip.

	98
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Or was that a habit he had picked up--rejecting nearly all
women if he didn't get a buzz off them immediately? Carl avoided
Lani's gaze, took a draw on his feed tube. Even on his Earthside
holidays, he had always been careful to keep affairs sharply defined.
Groundlings liked the pizzazz of space; there were plenty of
groupies. It was easy to let them know he was interested in two
weeks of sex and laughs and fun in the sun, period. Sometimes he'd
been tempted to keep a woman's number, give her a ring next time
he was down.., but once back in orbit cool ambition ruled. He
never called.
Opportunity favored the prepared mind, as the old clich had
it, but opportunity in space also favored the uncommitted soul. If a
long mission came around, those with family ties found it hard to
go. And the Psychological Review Board took that into account,
lowered your rating. They claimed otherwise, but everybody knew
the truth. All that went into his calculations. And sure enough, the
big chance--Halley--had come around, vindicating his strategy.
Then too, Lani was an Ortho. Likes should marry likes.
Virginia, now, she was smart, sexy, and a Percell. Plenty of
zip there. Best to stick to your own kind. Except for holidays
Earthside, he had followed that policy ever since his teenage randiness
wore off and he had time to actually think. There were enough
Percell women in space to keep him occupied.
As much as he tried to take a middle ground in the Ortho-Percell
conflict, his personal life was something else. And while it
was smart for a Percell to maintain that everybody was the same,
that didn't mean you could ignore human nature. He was sure that
even after the stupidity of the Ortho governments Earthside had run
its course, the human race would eventually have to split. The
Orthos would always be edgy with Percells--that was natural. Better
the two breeds kept their distance--by making space mostly a
Percell domain. Cross-breeding wasn't going to solve anything,
just worsen it.
"There's no reason we can't work together, be friends." He
held out a gloved hand toward her.
She grasped it tightly. Through her bright blue skinsuit he
could feel an intense, clutching desire in her. Her body gave away
what her face had concealed. Gently, he released her hand.
--I... had hoped.--"I,
I can see .... "
--There will not be many of us awake on each watch.-He
frowned. "Yeah. We'll have to work out the rotation."
--Yes. It will require . . . public discussion.-- She sniffed,

	HEART OF THE COMET
	99


made to brush her nose with her hand, and stopped when her glove
touched her helmet. She had to use the drip catcher behind the
glassine plate. --I... --

Carl felt miserable. To have hei weeping over him, when all
the time he'd never even thought of her that way. He hated things
like this, where you discovered you had been a callous deadhead
without even knowing it. As though other people were tuned into
frequencies you weren't picking up.

Beneath this consternation there was also a small current of
delighted pride. The old ways were still strong enough to make a
man pleasantly surprised by an unexpected overture. He would
never tell anyone, of course, but maybe, years from now, he might
drop a hint to Virginia ....

Lani sniffed again. Her eyes closed and she sneezed loudly,
the outgoing choooh,t booming almost painfully in his ears.

She recovered, blinked, and gazed bleary-eyed around her
glittering crystal palace, indifferent now to its beauty.

Carl realized ruefully that she had not been weeping over him
at all. She had already put aside her failed overture and was concentrating
on more immediate matters.

Lani had a cold.


SAUL


Saul blew his nose and quickly put away the handkerchief.

The hectic weeks of Base Establishment had diminished into
the long, hollow quiet of the First Vatch. And as this damned cold
of his lingered on and on, he found himself more and more avoiding
Nicholas Malenkov and the big Russian's skeptical medical scrutiny.
Saul knew it was only a matter of time until Malenkov said
something about his perpetual sniffle.

He wasn't sure what Nick would do if it didn't get better soon,
but Saul did not intend to be slotted. Not for a while, at least. There
was simply too much to do.

He pinched the sinuses above his nose. The rnornser antihistamines
had him in a perpetual state of half-dizziness these days, but'
that simply couldn't be helped.

Saul blinked at the pastel walls of the weightless lounge--designed
to supplement the cramped recreational facilities of the

	100
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

centrifugal wheel. It was a barren, empty scene. Except for a few
chairs and cabinets, the only finished area was here, near the auto-bar.
It would be years before the lounge looked anything like the
schematics called for in the Grand Design.

Flimsy readouts lay scattered over the chart table in front of
him, except where a portable holo unit projected a cutaway view of
the nineteen-kilometer-long prolate spheroid that was Halley Core.

Only at the top of the display, near the north pole, was there a
sparse, spaghetti tangle of tunnels where humans had made their
inroads.

Too much real estate to ever really know. And yet far too little
to make a home.

The man across the table from him coughed politely.

"I'm sorry, Joao," Saul said.

The tall Brazilian comet expert resumed what he had been
saying before being interrupted by Saul's dizzy spell.

"It's these caverns, Saul." He inserted his hand into the
computer-generated image and executed an intricate little finger
flick. Although there was nothing more material in that space than
air, the machine read his intent as if he were turning a page. Cutaway
layers peeled back to show dew tunnel traceries to the north
and east, linking a number of oblong cavities.

"I believe I have figured out how the chambers got here in the
first place," Quiverian announced.

Saul looked back and forth from the display to Quiverian's
sallow, patrician features. His Roman nose enhanced the impression
of a bird of prey. The image fit, the man was so unpredictable,
excitable. Saul chose his words carefully.

"I thought that was already decided, Joao. The comet formed
out of the primordial solar nebula, peppered with a lot of short-lived
radioactives from a nearby supernova. Beta decay warmed
parts of the interior, forming the cavities, while the outer shell--exposed
to space--remained cool, a protective blanket around the
molten regions."

Quiverian waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, that old theory.
Aluminum 26 and other short-lived elements must surely have
created some molten channels, for a time."

"I'd started trying to develop a biogenesis rr/odel based on that
idea. But now you say it's no good anymore?"

Quiverian edged forward eagerly. "Radioactives can't have
provided sufficient heat for all the melting we've observed! And
they don't explain the extent of fractionation we find, either!"

"Fractionation?"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	101
"The degree to which elements and minerals were separated
from each other by some dynamic process, forming these ore
bodies we've found everywhere. Saul, the radioactives theory just
couldn't explain that! You see? That is why I started digging around
in the literature for another method, another way it might have happened.''
Saul stood closer to the table. "Well, it sure sounds interesting,
Joao. I was just telling Nick Malenkov that there didn't seem to
be enough--"
"Bear with me a minute, Saul." Quiverian held up a hand as
he shuffled through a pile of readouts. "There is something I want 
to show you. I have it here somewhere."
"Take your time, Joao." Saul shrugged. For now he was content
to enjoy a momentarily clear head--the almond-flavored air
was, for once, fresh in his nostrils. He watched the computer's
slowly rotating depiction of the comet's nucleus.
Seismic studies had filled most of the three-dimensional map
with a vague gray and white tracery, showing in blurry outlines the
locations of many of the major faults and cavities. Still, essentially
all but a small fraction of the rough globe remained mysterious--a
realm to be explored over the long, quiet watches ahead. Less than
five percent of the volume, centered on the north pole, was at all
well known.
Piercing the north rotation axis was a narrow orange line
marked SAVT , Which dropped a kilometer straight down to an ant
colony of chambers labeled CENTRAL CONTROL COMPLEX--including
this lounge and most of the science labs. That shaft continued
inward another two kilometers or so, terminating, at last,
less than halfway to the center of Halley Core.
Along the way, Shaft I met a series of horizontal tunnels,
starting with red-colored "A" near'he surface, passing green "IF"
here, where they now stood, and ending in yellow "N."
The pattern was a lot less neat elsewhere. Several passages
opened into big caverns tb4at the spacers had discovered the hard
way. Three huge chambers now held the fore sections of the slot
tugs Sekanina, Whipple, and Delsemme, and the majority of the
sleeping colonists. Another, near the surface, now held the Edmund
Halley's nearly reassembled gravity wheel.
The computer-generated graphics were good, showing even
the field of storage tents scattered among the hummocks up on the
north pole. A finely detailed model of a partly dismantled torch
ship hung in miniature near the tiny, glittering Shaft I alrlock, tethered
to three mooring towers.

	102
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Saul shifted forward and saw that two tiny dots moved about
near the Edmund Halley--infinitesimal human shapes .... Captain
Cruz and Spacer Tech Vidor were running inventory and writing hp
a task list for the next dozen year-and-a-half-long watches. The
computer showed them at work, going over the ship in detail.
He imagined that if he climbed onto the table and peered up
close, .he would be able to make out the name-chops on the two
spacers' suit tabards, and maybe watch them gesture to each other.
Saul was used to computer representations in his work. He
routinely "dove" visually into the cellular lifeforms he was studying.
Still, he found this display marvelous. Anywhere within reach
of the main computer's scanners one could zoom in and see animated
versions of the dozen active crewmen.., reduced to stereotypes
by the machine's automatic privacy editor. Likewise, the
private quarters were black cubes strung out along Tunnels E, IF,
and G, impervious to the exquisite simulation.
Spacers were used to living in enclosed volumes. In fact, to
them all this room must seem wonderful. But to the civilians, like
Saul, the colony looked a lot like an ant farm.
A fine lot of troglodytes we've become. Regular kobolds.
And yet I can't see anything wrong with Miguel arrangements.
Everything is moving along according to plan.
Knock on wood. Saul rapped the side of his head lightly, and
smiled.
Even the predictable furor over his discovery had been less
bother than expected. The communications time lag from Earth
had let him stack media interviews together. The more hostile or
sensationalist questions could just be "lost in transmission." Saul
saw definite advantages to making major discoveries far away from
the madding crowd.
Now, if only he could figure out how it happened that primitive
prokaryotic organisms were found frozen under the surface of
an ancient ball of ice! Nobody had any idea how the tiny creatures
had gotten there, let alone how they had lived.
"Found it!" Quiverian announced. He snatched up a flimsy
sheet. "As I was saying, I was at a loss to explain all the signs of
past melting we see here until I came across a whole series of
citations having to do with inductive heating during the sun's T
Tauri phase!"
"I beg your pardon?" Saul balanced forward on his toes, leaning
lightly against the table.
Quiverian's lips pursed. "Oh, they wouldn't have included

	HEART OF THE COMET
	103
much stellar physics in your second-hat training, would they? Well,
let me see if I can explain. T Tauri is the name of a certain very new
star in the constellation of the Bull; a whole class of objects was
named after it. Scientists have been studying them over a century.
They're a phase, really, in the development of a young star. Our sun
must have passed through the stage, early in the creation of the
solar system."
Quiverian laced his long fingers together and looked out into
space, as if he was reciting from memory. "The most interesting
feature of a T Tauri star is its truly incredible stellar winds--fluxes
of hot protons and electrons, blown away from a star by sonic force
and by electrical--"
"I know what the solar wind is, Joao," Saul said mildly.
The other man's eyes seemed to flash. "Good! But what you
probably do not know is that during the sun's own T Tauri period
the winds must have been many thousands of times greater than
they ever get now. And this particle current carried a truly magnificent
magnetic field."
Quiverian looked at him expectantly. But Saul could only
shake his head. "I'm sorry, I don't get it."
The Brazilian shrugged in frustration. "Ignorant biologist!
Can't you see? The early protoplanets and comets all passed
through this great magnetism as they circled round and round the
newborn sun. Like wires turning in a great generator! Eddy currents!
Resistance!"
"Ah, rnazel!" Saul clapped his hands together. "You would
get inductive heating."
Quiverian sniffed. "So they did teach you something in Haifa,
after all. Can you see now? Do you understand?"
Saul nodded. His mind was already racing ahead. "The newly
formed comet s surface, exposed to gpace, would remain cold...
an insulating blanket. Even if most of the interior were molten water,
the heat wouldn't escape."
"Right! Of course it works only under certain conditions. You
need a very large comet, like Halley, and lots of salts or free electrolytes,
as we have found here."
Unconsciously, Saul lifted all his slight weight off the floor by
stretching his hands against the table. His body was tense from too
much lab work and too little exercise. Perhaps soon he would have
to accept Mike Cruz's offer to teach him spaceball.
"How long does this T Tauri phase last?"
"A few million years. Not very long. But long enough to cre-

	104
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


ate these deep chambers we found! And with all that electricity
running around, it's easy to see how so many compounds got sepa
rated into thin veins all over the core!"

Quiverian clearly had a right to be elated. The man had envied
Saul his discovery and attention in the Earthside press, but now he
had reported an achievement of his own. It would doubtless be a
sensation, especially in the Brazilian papers.

"Congratulations, Joao," Saul said sincerely. "This is really
tremendous. Can I have this copy of your reference list to look
over?"

"Take it. Take it. I have already sent a preliminary report."

Ideas were fizzing like sparkles of gas in Saul's mind. "I think
this will help me in my own studies, Joao."

"I'm glad. But you know, this is going to require a very complex
computer simulation. I don't want to request Earth assistance
until this thing is better developed.

"Can you help, Saul? You are good at that sort of thing."
Saul shrugged. "As a dilettante, I guess. But one of the greatest
experts is on this very watch crew with us, Joao. Why not ask
Virginia Herbert?"

Quiverian looked uncomfortable. "I do not think this Herbert
woman would be very cooperative. Her type . . ." He shook his
head, letting the implication hang.

Saul was pretty sure he understood what the man meant. He
had heard it before.


"Their kind has always been a problem."

"Their kind..."


Quiverian shifted nervously. "These Percells are a closed, uncooperative
lot, Saul. I don't think she would be willing to help a
scientist from my country."

Saul could only shake his head. "I'll talk to her and let you
know, Joao. What do you say we meet here again for lunch, tomorrow.
And we'll include Nicholas in the discussion."

He was grateful when Quiverian merely nodded moodily and
sighed. "I shall be here."

As Saul left, the planetologist was staring at the slowly turning
holographic glow, his sharp features bathed in colored shadows. It
occurred to Saul, then, that Quiverian was not looking particularly
well.

The fellow really ought to get more sleep. It might improve his
outlook on life.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	105

An hour later, Saul was at work in front of his own display,
mumbling instructions into a subvocal mike and fumbling with the
computer grips, struggling to keep up.
Ideas were coming faster than he could note them down, let
alone integrate them into the new model. Every time he explored
one aspect, a whole vista of unexpected ramifications would, leap
out at him.
It was the true creative process--a sort of divine, nervous
transport--as painful as it was exalting.
But he could almost see it. There it was--flickering like a will-o'4hewisp--a
light glimpsed across a fog-swirled swamp. A theory.
A hypothesis.
A way that a mystery might have come to Comet Halley.
Saul had sorted through terabytes of raw data the expedition
had accumulated about the comet, tracing ingredients as they might
have been stocked in the sun's early pantry. They were all there, but
the right kitchen had been lacking.
Joao Quiverian's references seemed to offer the crucible Saul
had been looking for.
The T Tauri phase . . . Saul mused. In its infancy, the sun was
an unruly child. In those days, the star's breath had been charged
and hot.
So there had been electricity--great. But how much, for how
long?
There were hydrogen cyanide and carbon dioxide and water--as
must have saturated the primitive atmosphere of Earth--so the
basic amino acids would have formed quickly. But the next steps
would be harder.
The three-dimensional network of interrelationships on his
central display grew more and morunwieldy, a towering, tottering
edifice built up from tacked-together assumptions.
"Ach! May your goats chew on cordite and then give you copious
milk!"
He cursed the machine in Arabic; a more satisfying tongue for
such purposes than English. His fingers felt like clumsy sausages,
and the arcane math he had brought in from the astronomy papers
danced just outside of reach. He couldn't quite integrate the equations
into the over-all scheme he had in mind.
For one hour, two, three, he pushed away at it. But the damn
thing just wouldn't gel.
Saul tried brute force, pulling in block after block of external
memory, more and still more parallel processors to iterate the prob-

	106
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
lem. It was far from an elegant approach.., more like looking for
a house in the dark bY sending a herd of elephants stampeding into
the night, hoping to learn something from the sound of splintering
wood.
I'm doing this all wrong. I should g6 have a beer. Listen to
some Bach. Tune the wall to show a Polynesian sunset. Let it sit. Saul drummed his fingers. Maybe I should ask for help.
He sat there in the web-chair, weary not so much in the body
as in the mind, in the heart.
This was the only joy left in his life, the quest for mysteries.
And still he felt like a small boy--frustrated and vexed--whenever
Nature seemed to want to wrestle with him, to make him wheedle
and cajole her secrets out of her, instead of surrendering them easily,
without a fight.
How many of life 's pleasures are painful in the actual process.9
Miriam, forgive me, but you always knew that I loved Life, Nature,
just a little more than you and the children, didn't I?
And here I am, getting cranky because my oldest love won't
put out again.
Saul blinked and sat up. The sudden movement sent him hovering
over the webbing, but he hardly noticed.
What in the...
Unbelievably, something was happening on the display right
before his eyes. A ripple of change.
It started off in the upper right quadrant of the computation.
All at once, elements had begun to grow fuzzy around the edges.
Indistinct, random bits jostled one another. Then, impossibly, the
Gordian knot of logic began unraveling!
At first he thought the entire mess was falling apart of its own
inertia.
Then he changed his mind.
Minnie, mother of pearl...
Out of chaos, simplicity was taking shape. Out of ugliness--beauty!
It was like watching a solution precipitate into a gorgeous,
growing crystal. Wonderful... yes. Too wonderful.
Something or somebody was intervening, he decided. And
Saul quickly realized something else: that this whoever . . . or
whatever.., was clearly a lot smarter than he.
Equations cleaved, as if sliced bY RNA nuclease. The pieces
fell apart, while he stared. They arrayed themselves in stacks, row

HEART OF THE COMET
	107.

by row, piling neatly into a glowing pyramid of logic. And at the

apex...
Saul breathed rapidly as he looked at the culminating formula.
He could feel his own pulse pound.
"I'm sorry I interfered without asking permission, Saul. But
you were stomping all through the data system by the time I noticed.
Sooner or later you were bound to set off alarms."
Saul found his voice.
"That's all right, Virginia. I... I'm grateful for the help."
There was a brief pause. Then a bolo-unit display to his left
came alight and Virginia Herbert's face wavered and smoothed, a
replica in rich color that still hinted of salt breezes and tropical sun.
Her long black hair flowed over her shoulders, slightly puffed, as if
it had been hurriedly brushed just moments ago.
"I'm glad you're not angry with me for butting in."
"Angry!" Saul laughed. "You saved one of us, either me or
this obdurate machine!"
Virginia smiled. "Well, it's a relief to know I did the right
thing. Actually, that's pretty complicated stuff you 're dealing with
there, Saul. I can 'I pretend to understand any of it. I'm just a glorified
numbers jockey."
"I disagree." Saul shook his head firmly. "You are an artist."
Virginia's olive skin darkened perceptibly. Her "Thank you"
was barely audible. Saul shared a long smile with her.
Virginia's eyes darted. "Um, if you'd like, you could come on
down here and we'll put JonVon to work on your problem. He a
stochastic processor, you know. And I happen to believe that makes
him a lot more applicable to the kind of problem you 'ye got there
than these old parallel precision machines.
"I'm sure we can whip up a simulation to make that one there
look like a stick-figure cartoon." ''
Saul nodded. "Only if you let me bring a bottle, Virginia. I
have a feeling we're going to need it."
"Done.t" she said gladly.
As Saul was getting up though, a stretched image of Virginia's
arm reached out across his desk--like an india-rubber man--to tap
with one finger at the glowing, throbbing line of gold lettering at the
top of the tall pyramid of data.
"What is that anyway, Saul? Is it something special?"
He shrugged. "Well. I guess you could say so, Virginia. It's
the chemical symbol for something called a purine base. A rather
simple one, really, called adenine."

	108
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Virginia withdrew her ghostly, representative hand. "Well, I
hope it's important. But whether it is or not, I'll bet we'll be taking
this a whole lot farther. I have a feeling for these things, you
know."
She smiled brilliantly.
"See you down here in a few minutes, Saul. VKH out." Her
image vanished.
Saul stood still for a moment. "Yes, dear," he said at last to the
presence she seemed to have left behind. "I do believe we are going
to take it quite a bit farther."

VIRGINIA

MOLECULAR STRANDS, LIKE MULTICOLORED STAIR	CASES
. .
	. LIGHTNING FLASHING IN THE DARK
	NESS...

At the simulation's finest scale, the molecule was little more
than a stylized ladder put together from standard pieces--bright,
notched slivers of blue, green, and red--amino acids, phosphates,
and simple sugars linked like itl-sorted parts of an intricate jigsaw
puzzle.
The chain seemed to twist and writhe as it tumbled in a churning
stream. A tracery of silvery lines stitched out electric currents,
crackling unevenly through the salty fluid.
Shiny golden radicals smacked into the growing polymer.
Most bounced off again in sudden flashes of light. Occasionally
one knocked a fragment loose into the flow, diminishing the mole-cute,
leaving a hanging, ragged corner. A little more often, the colliding
chunk found a niche with the right shape, and stuck.
As the polymer grew, the scale of the scene enlarged, as if a
camera were drawing back. A new strand joined the first, then another,
twining together in a jumbled mass. The cluster fell toward a
great ocher wall that loomed from below, a rusty plain pocked with
jagged holes.
The edge of one of the black op6nings caught the molecular
skein, one end draping into the gap. The cluster tipped for a few
seconds, then toppled inside.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	109
"It's a clay . . . something like montmorillonite, I believe.
Notice how the chain slips right into the open latticework. Only a
few of the shapes being synthesized in the open stream will be able
to enter this way.
"It's an early step in the long process of selection. Some theories
say it happened this way on Earth, long ago. At last the molecules
are sheltered from the tumbling give-and-take of the
electrified stream. Only certain radicals can get at them in there
 . . and the shape of the cavity aligns the molecules just so. The
buildup--slow and chaotic beforehand--begins now in earnest.
"Funny it being a clay, though. I would have expected it to be
something like iron oxide. But see how the peptides actually seem to
catalyze the growth of new clay layers? Amazing. I'd forgotten
about that.t"
Virginia let Saul ramble on, sharing his excitement but too
busy to reply unless he asked a direct question. Right now it was a
challenge just integrating all the diverse elements in his complicated
program.
She was used to bright pictures and vivid simulations, anyway.
No; what impressed her was the intricacy of this world of molecules
and 'currents, of clashing atoms and chiming balance. It was a
maelstrom of tiny tugs and pulls computed in an eleven-dimensional
matrix space, and still the diversity of forms amazed
her.
The screen showed only the most superficial part of it--the
averaged sampling of JonVon's stochastic correlator. It was the math, down below, that really kept Virginia occupied. Only occasionally
did she look up to see how the images were coming along.
Right now the simulation was following the developing molecules
down into their new home. They nestled into crannies in the
complex clay latticework, leaving central passage through which
fresh material entered from the outside. New pieces were added,
and old ones discarded as dross to float away. The shape of the still-growing
chain kept changing, now as a simple helix, elsewhere
doubling back on itself, switching handedness left and right.
Saul commented again.
"I'm cheating a bit, here, for the sake of speed. We've set up
initial conditions and are letting huge numbers of simulated molecules
'evolve,' leaving it to your wonderful machine to pick out the
most successful line out of billions.., coaxing the most promising
to do the best it can under these conditions.
"We'Il see ifa nudge here and there can take this primitive
thing and give us..."

	110
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Virginia found her job growing easier, now that JonVon's expert
system was picking up the basic rules of this game.

Or was it because Saul was getting better at his end?

They lay next to each other on a broad, web-hammock in her
laboratory, each linked by cable to the intricate hardware/software
unit. For Virginia it was a familiar experience, wearing a delicate
induction tap and playing her fingers lightly like a pianist on the
pattern keys. Saul, on the other hand, was more awkward with his
controls. The bulky cortex helmet he wore lacked the compact
deftness of her specially designed link.

 Yet, he was getting over his clumsiness quickly. And his excitement
was contagious. His subvocalized thoughts arrived directly
along her acoustic nerve.

"This is wonderful, Virginia! Far, far more than a mere simulation
program, this construct of yours explores possibilities!"

"JonVon's processor is bio-organic, Saul. A matrix of pseudo-proteins
in a filament mesh. Back home they dropped that approach
years ago, because its point-error rate is pretty high. In fact, you're
treated like some sort of nut if you even talk about it, today." She
hoped none of her bitterness carried over into her words.

"Hmmm. More point errors, sure. But you can pack so many

circuits into a tiny area that it doesn't matter, does it?"
Virginia felt a thrill. He understands.

"That's right, Saul. A stochastic processor works with probabilities,
not discrete yes-or-no answers."

"It's like the way Kunie describes the operation of the human
preconscious! Have you read any of Kunie 's work?"

Virginia laughed. Aloud it was a soft chuckle. In their heads,
the sound of bells.

"Of course I have! I couldn't have gotten this far without that
man's ideas on the creative process. But I'm surprised you 'ye heard
of him, Saul. Conceptual heuristics isn't anywhere near molecular
biology on the library shelves."

There was a pause as Saul's attention returned to the simulation.
He nudged a particularly large molecular cluster out of one of
the gaping clay tunnels before it could jam the flow of fresh material,
a minor interference for the sake of this early trial.

"I knew Kunie, Virginia. His family gave me a place to stay
after the Expulsion .... "

The "walls" of the simulated latticework throbbed slightly,
and Virginia moved gently to stabilize the model against further
interference by Saul's emotions. Without letting on, she created another
pathway for his feelings--away from the model and into a

	HEART OF THE COMET
	I I I
small side nexus where they might be buffered, studied . . .
touched.
"Was that when you started working with Simon Percell?"
she asked. History had never been her spe/:ialty. And Virginia
knew that there had been more than one "Expulsion" from the land
called Israel.
"Good lord, no." This time it was Saul's turn to laugh. The
tone resonated in the little buffer like low cello strings.
"The Levites were still a small fanatic Jewish fringe in the
Judean hills, and their Salawite friends were nothing more than a
bunch of seething Syrian exiles, back when I worked with Simon in
Birmingham."
While JonVon kept the simulation going, Virginia was attempting
to trace the tendrils of Saul's pain, more vivid than anything
she had ever experienced in a human-to-human link before.
But then Saul changed the subject again.
"We sure could have used tools like these, back when Simon
and I were working on the gamete-separation problem," he subvocalized. "All we had then were kilobit parallel processors, gigabyte
memories, and inferential sequencers that took days to analyze a
single chromosome.
"But they were good times."
Virginia felt moved by his intensity, even as she focused in on
it, enlarging the channel capacity and sensitivity of the link. Saul
was easier to probe than any subject she had had before. Except,
maybe,for the littlest children.
And for some reason it was not unpleasantly disorienting, this
time. To the contrary, it was pleasant, if a little frightening. The
man was.., well, strong.
"Go on, Saul. The simulation's running well. I'd like to hear
more about those days. You startedtelling Carl and me about your
early work on cures for sickle cell and Lesch-Nyhan syndrome and
lupus."
"Cures.t" Saul laughed, and the cellos were joined by a bitter
choir of cymbals. "Yeah, I did. Fortunately, most of our later efforts
worked better. Some of the early 'successes' were only partial."
Virginia knew that. She had already gone into the expedition's
records and expunged all trace of her own infirmity. Of course, it
couldn't affect her duties in any way--in fact the authorities would
likely approve of it. But she had erased the data anyway. It just
wasn't anyone else's damn business.
Virginia smoothed down her own emotions and concentrated

	112
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


on solving the mystery of this oddly open channel to Saul's subsurface
feelings. I'm learning more today than I did in a year, back
home, she thought.

She felt JonVon's central presence pull up alongside, imitating
her actions, learning by "watching" how she played the channels,
adjusted resonances, Smoothly, at her command, her machine surrogate
slipped in to take over. Soon she was able to pull back for a
minute and check the biology simulation, their ostensible reason
for being here.

It surged on, piling intricacy onto complexity. Now the scale
had zoomed back again to enclose an entire field of lattice openings,
each with its own fringe of huge, blue-white molecules waving
out into the electric stream, like cilia around gaping mouths.

She tried to keep the conversation going. "But you weren't
.with Percell when..."

"When he made his fatal error? Those poor monstrosities?
No. Perhaps I should have been. I might have done more good than
I did by going back to Haifa to join the struggle. By then it was too
late, of course. The old Sabras and the kibbutzim had risen, and
been crushed by the Levites and their 'peacekeeping ' mercenaries.
Miriam and the little ones..."

The sudden wash of feelings was overpowering and direct.
Virginia's eyes fluttered and teared as ghe remembered scenes of
grisly horror.., seemed almost to see burning settlements, forests
in flame.., felt the thalamic surge of anguish and guilt.

Furious, she commanded JonVon to stop creating these images.
The machine had no business interfering like this!

I am only enhancing, Virginia, JonVon announced coolly
over their private channel, dryly delivering news that stunned her
even more than the glittering scene of a temple rising on an ancient
hill. Virginia's mouth was suddenly dry. But...

I am not interpolating or simulating any of this. Amplified,
these are direct images from the subject.

Her hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically, forcing
the machine to automatically disable her fingertip controls. Her

breath came in ragged, audible gasps as the truth struck hard.
"He nalulu ehaeha.t"

Distantly, she felt the waldo gloves being pulled from her
hands, her shoulders lifted in strong arms.

"Are you all right, Virginia?" Saul was speaking aloud. "I
didn't mean to come on so strong. I thought you did this sort of
thing all the time.,

HEART OF THE COMET
	'J 13

She blinked, lOOking up at his concerned face. "Y-you knew

what I was up to?"
He laughed. "Who wouldn't, with you and your cybernetic
familiar skulking around at the edges of my mind, poking and probing?''
He shOOk his head. "Honestly, Virginia, what you've done
here is astonishing. It felt.., direct! Thought-to-thought contact.
It's been in so many stories and films, even after Margan supposedly
proved it impossible, years ago, but..."
Virginia was still numb. "It is. It's supposed to be... impossible,
I mean. I use JonVon to mediate, to guess and pattern, to
simulate. But I never expected..."
Now Saul's expression was serious. "You mean that was your
first time?"
Virginia had tosmile. "Yes, my first. But don't worry, Saul.
You were a perfect gentleman."
That did it. He rocked back and howled, and she joined in.
They laughed together. The tension seemed to evaporate and for a
long moment neither of them seemed to take any notice of. the fact
that he was still holding her.
This feels so good, she thought at last.
"Hmmm?" he said, tapping his helmet. "I only got a little of
that, but I'm pretty sure I agree with whatever it was."
She looked up at him. ':Oh, Saul. I'd known you had a sad
life. But it's different feeling it, almost remembering it myself."
Yet another image flickered at the edge of vision, a woman.
She was no great beauty, certainly--mousy dark hair framing an
ordinary face--but her smile was warm, and there was a brimming
glow. Behind her were two smaller faces, a boy and a girl. Miriam ? Your children ?
Yes. Apmn softened by time. Love undiminished.
And in her own heart, another pain, still fierce. Love unanswerable.
"You don't hate me... for what the gene treatments did to
you?" Saul asked.
Virginia looked up quickly and met his eyes. She shook her
head. "I did, long ago. You and Simon Percell. Then I met some of
the other Percells . . . those for whom your lupus cure worked
completely.
"I studied. I learned that without the treatments I would have
been stillborn or horribly crippled.., not merely--lacking. It was
just the luck of the draw that I..."

	114
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


"It's all right." Saul drew her near and she closed her eyes.

"We both still have our work now. Good work. And that does
give us a piece of the future too, Virginia."

"Yes, our work.., and maybe a little more." She felt warm.
Virginia lifted her face to him. Saul had to push aside the wires of
his helmet in order to kiss her.

I've never done anything like this while linked, before. She
thought amid the tidal swell of feeling. I wonder what Jon Von will
make of it.

Above them, unheeded, the simulation had panned back
again, taking in a wall of clay and a salty, electric-bright current.

Bright shapes had begun emerging from the rust-colored crevices.
They flitted about in the hot stream--now coated and armored
against the battering molecules--and set out into a multicolored
world, consuming one another, growing, and making little replicas
of themselves.


CARL


At first he thought it was nothing important.

Carl wiped the green and brown gunk offthe distillation pipes
and moved on. The gas-gathering zone of Shaft 3 was a long dark
tunnel, its phosphors giving everything a lime-green cast.

The plumbing looked okay--magnetic motors humming, pipes
gurgling, a smell of rotten eggs from the sulfur compounds. Excess
vapors were condensed here from the miles of tunnels now threading
Halley Core. Bioinventory showed a surplus of useful fluids and
was talking about storing it. The boiloff would probably lessen as
the more-volatile ices were used up, and also there would be less
heat-making activity during the long cruise out. Everything looked
pretty damn good.

But there was brown sticky stuff in the filters. Shit. It's everywhere.
Carl cleaned them carefully with a water jet and flushed his
covered bucket into the outbound tube--one-way flash vaporization
that dumped directly into free space.

This odd-looking mess wasn't supposed tO be here. Prefilters
should take out the big stuff and sift it for useful solids. These
backup filters should catch impurities and crystallize them.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	I 15
Maybe there was something special about this particular
sticky stuff. He filled a sample bottle--the bio types nagged him
incessantly for traces of anything odd--and kicked off toward
sleep slot I. MMenkov should have a look at this.
Cycling through the big lock into Central Complex, he realized
that he missed Jeffers. The founding crew were all safely slotted
now, making things a bit lonely for the First Watch. Captain
Cruz had made him senior petty officer, which merely meant he
roamed more than the others, checking--but the minor honor
pleased him.
He liked working alone, anyway--gliding smoothly and surely
through the locks and shafts with Bach or Mozart weaving in his
ears. Maybe I'm a natural hermit, he thought I wonder if the crew-selection
people could tell that from their psychoinventory tests. He
had hardly seen anyone these last few days.
When he entered the aft port of Life Sciences the first thing he
heard was loud talking.
"He goes in now! I make no compromises," Nikolas Mao
lenkov's gravelly voice cut through.
Carl rounded a corner to find the big Russian medico arguing
with Saul Lintz in the corridor. Virginia Herbert watched with
folded arms. She gave Carl a glance, but seemed sad and distracted.
"I want a sample to study," Saul persisted.
"I have taken samples." Malenkov put his hands on his hips
and leaned forward menacingly. "Epidermis and fluids only."
"I'll need more than that to find out what--"
"No! Later, we revive him, maybe! When we know what
killed him. If you take samples from internal organs, that will make
it harder for us to bring him back !ater."
Carl frowned. "Hey, what's"
Saul wiped his nose with a handkerchief, ignoring Carl, and
said, "You can't cure him unless you know what killed him!"
"You have smears from throat, urine, blood samples--"
"That might not be enough. I--"
"Hey.t" Carl cut in. "Will someone tell me what's going on?"
Malenkov noticed Carl for the first time. His expression suddenly
changed from tight-lipped rage to sad-eyed dejection. "Captain
Cruz."
Carl felt suddenly lightheaded, incredulous. "What? That's  . . But I saw him just two days ago!"
Neither of the two other men spoke--there was still steam in
their argument. Virginia said quietly, "He had a fever yesterday

	116
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
and went to bed. When Vidor went to find him this morning he...
would not waken. He died within an hour. Apparently there were
no other symptoms'."
"Fever? That's it?"
"It doesn't seem he ever woke up."
The shock of it was only now penetrating, filling Carl with a
sensation of falling. Commander Cruz had been the center, the
heart and brains of the entire expedition. Without him...
"What... what'll we do?"
Malenkov mistook Carol's question. "Sleep slot him--now.
There is yet little or no neural damage."
Dazed, Carl said, "Well... sure.., but I. meant..."
Saul said, "I still feel we must have more data to study these
cases--"
"We are not certain how long he ran a high temperature. Any
more time, he risks brain damage." Malenkov waved a hand
brusquely in front of Saul, erasing any objections. "Come."
They all went numbly to the hub of the sleep-slot complex..
Carl was stunned. He tried to think, chewing his lip. The socio-savants
had written extensively about how small, high-risk enterprises
had to have a clearly superior, Olympian leader to avoid
factionalism and weather hard times. A Drake, a Washington.
Without that leader...
In the sealed prep room Samuelson and Peltier were running
checks and planting diagnostics around a body that was already
wrapped in a gray shroud of web circuitry. Miguel CruzMendoza's
face was calm, and still projected a powerful sense of
purpose.
Wisps of fog laced the air as the workroom dropped in temperature.
Malenkov spoke to the two laboring techs through a mike
and the party watched the last procedures of interment.
"So you'd authorized slotting even before our little argument,''
Saul noted calmly.
"I wanted you should see my logic. While Matsudo is in slots,
I am responsible for health of the whole expedition," Malenkov
said stiffly.
"Indeed you are." Saul's voice carried only a dry hint of irony.
"I hope we can bring him back soon--very soon," Malenkov
said. "Damnation! At the very beginning!"
Virginia said gamely, "We'll all pull together. Of course,
we'll have to..."
"Pick a new commander," Saul finished for her. "That's
obvious--Bethany Oakes. She's next in line."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	I 17

Carl nodded reluctantly. Another Ortho. All the senior crew
were. And Oakes wasn't even a spacer.
They watched in silence as Peltier and Samuelson rolled the
commander's body into a sleep slot and opened the valves to feed
fluids. The tube fitted snugly into a broad wall of similar nooks,
gleaming steel certainty wreathed in gauzy fog. So much like
death, yet it was the only hope of life to come. If they could figure
out what had killed him. If.
Malenkov sighed. "We should have some ceremony. But there
was no time."
Saul said, "And perhaps it's not such a good idea to assemble
everyone in one place."
Still numb, Carl thought, Miguel Cruz wouldn't want a stiff
little ritual. Some of us'Il get together and hoist a few for him later.
The captain would understand that.
 And maybe that might dull the pain, when numbness turned to
grief.
"Dispersal, yes." Malenkov nodded silently, frowning. Carl
realized they were still talking about what had killed Cruz and
whether it was communicable. "Osborn here can adjust job schedules
until we thaw Oakes."
"I'm going back to the lab," Saul said. "I want a full dress
review of the lab results."
"I think not," Malenkov said stiffly.
Carl saw that Saul was already half-lost in thought about paths
of inquiry to follow, checks to make. Saul did not reply at once, but
gazed off into space, toward the slot cap that had closed on Cruz.
Then he turned slowly to Malenkov. "Ummm? What?"
"Is your turn, Saul." "What?"
"This death makes me more firm." Malenkov bunched his lips
together, whitening them, his jaw muscles set rigidly.
"We risk exposure to you even by this talking." Malenkov gestured
brusquely. "Into a slot."
"That's ridiculous." Saul looked irked, as if Malenkov were
pursuing a bad joke. "I can help. Hell, if some of my suspicions are
true--"
"You are not so big and essential," Malenkov said stiffly.
"Peltier, she knows the immunology well--"
"I insist--"
"I will not risk you dropping dead, my friend."
"Nicholas, I don't have whatever killed Miguel Cruz!"
"Look at you--eyes red, nose running." Malenkov gestured.

	118
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"You have something. A microbe caught in your lab, could be."
Virginia stepped to Saul's side and felt his brow. "You're hot,"
she said.
Carl watched sourly as she put her hand on Saul's face with
unselfconscious intimacy. He looks damned sick to me. Malenkov
may be right.
Virginia asked quietly, "How long have you been this way?"
"Days, off and on," Saul said dismissively. "A cold, that's all
it is. Some fever."
Malenkov said, "We cannot be sure."
"I think it's just a leftover from Matsudo's last damned bio
challenge. Which doesn't mean I'm Typhoid Mary."
"The commander died in hours," Malenkov said curtly.
"Not from anything he caught in my lab. He hasn't even been
near it."
"Could catch it directly from you," Malenkov said.
"Exactly! Then why am I still alive? Use your head, Nicholas.
You need me to help track down his killer!"
"It is to save your own foolish life!" Malenkov shook his fist
at Saul, tensing his whole body.
"Saul, you must." Virginia urged, tightness skittering through
her voice. "We can't let you risk yours--"
"No more!" Malenkov shouted. His bulk made the command
imposing. The chamber was of hardened plastaform and cupped
the sound into a resonant, rolling boom. "No more!"
I knew he'd start browbeating if he ever got a chance, Carl
thought. Let him get away with it now and we'Il be taking orders
from him forever, I've seen guys like this before.
Part of it, though, was simple resentment over anyone giving
orders when his captain was barely cold.
"You're not commander," Carl said mildly, suppressing his
initial urge to raise his voice. "Life Support comes next in the crew
chart, as I remember, and this falls under the category of a space
emergency. I'm acting officer."
All three looked at him with surprise. Scientists--they never
look beyond their own fiefdoms.
Malenkov hesitated, glanced at the others, then nodded.
"True... for now. Bethany Oakes, we can thaw her soon, however."
"Go ahead." Carl shrugged. Then she can play these power
games with you and I'll drop out.
Saul said judiciously, "That seems reasonable."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	119
Carl could not help but smile sardonically. You bet it is. I just
saved your ass from the slots.
"I... agree," Virginia added, but Carl saw conflicting emotions
play across her face. They were so obvious to read. If Saul
were slotted she would lose him for a year or two. But if he died...
Virginia and Saul Lintz? Carl was stunned. He couldn't even
think about that, right now.
"We've got other problems," he stammered only briefly as he
hurried on. "I came in to report some stuff clogging the filters in
Shaft Three. We'd better deal with that, and soon."
Malenkov said, "I still do not see why Saul--"
"Because we need every hand, that's why!" Saul erupted.
Malenkov's face compressed, his cheeks bulging, an adamant
set to his jaw. "I do not agree."
Carl said flatly, "Complain to Oakes."
Malenkov abruptly jerked open the hatch. "One thing I have
authority to do! Saul should keep away from all of us. I will not be
in the same room with him any longer."
Saul began, "Come on, Nick, you--"
"I am still chief of medicine!" Malenkov said angrily. "I log
you as quarantined!"
"That's--"
"No contact! You work in your own lab, alone. Enforce this,
Carl Osborn, or I shall speak to Earth of this!" Malenkov pulled
through quickly and slammed the hatch after himself. The others
looked at each other.
"You know he's right," Virginia said angrily.
"Like hell I do. Thanks for stepping in like that," Saul said to
Carl. "I'd forgotten what the line of succession was. Organization
charts aren't my kind of thing."
C/rl shrugged. "I just knew damned well that nobody'd set it
up so Malenkov came next."
Saul chuckled, and Carl smiled on the surface, though underneath
he was in turmoil. He wondered whether he had in fact done
the smart thing. He didn't know enough about medicine, of course.
He had simply followed his instincts. Years in space had taught him
that that wasn't usually a good idea.
What would the Commander think ? He still wasn't used to the
idea yet. I never wanted to be in charge.
Virginia took Saul's arm, chiding him about, being up and
about when he should be in bed. Carl felt a sudden pang of jealousy.

	120
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRI

"Hey, he's quarantined now, you know."
Virginia frowned at him, but Saul nodded. "Carol's right. I'll
crawl home by myself."
If I hadn 'I opened my mouth, he thought, Saul would be on his
way out of our lives right now.
	Maybe it hadn't been so bright to speak up, after all.
On the other hand, Saul didn't look like he'd last that much
longer, anyway. And if they slotted him when he was near death,
the fellow wouldn't be coming back real soon, either.
He blinked as this thought surfaced. What are my real motives
here?

	It hurt even if he moved his eyes ....
Throbbing aches, a muggy dullness filling his head, a dry rasp
in his throat. I haven't been hung over like this since I was twenty.
That wild wine-tasting in L.A ....
He sat up in total blackness, feeling the rustle of crisp sheets,
and it all came back.
The Hawaiian woman, Kewani Langsthan, had come up with
a big bottle of fiery coconut brandy to help Carl, Jim Vidor, and
Ustinov violate Malenkov's rule against gatherings, and drink to Captain Cruz's memory. Whoever heard of Hawaiians holdfng an
Irish wake ?
He realized dimly that he had deliberately, stolidly gone about
getting drunk. And even as he did, he knew it couldn't blot out that
awful despair, only daub it oven
Sometimes the only way to pay tribute to the dead was by a
rousing, gut-busting ceremony of demented excess. About half the
crew had reached the same conclusion.
	But something else had happened 	He
tried to remember,
failed.
Okay,
fine. It was my off-duty time and I used it as I deemed appropriate,
as the regs say. I just don't have much talent for big-time carousing.
Now I pay the price.
As if
in reply, a lancing ache ran through his stuffy head. He reached
out for the light and instead touched a soft thigh.
Oh
yes. All at once she had seemed maddeningly attractive, witty,
sympathetic ....
	"Umm?"
Lani murmured. "Carl?"
He
tried to speak, had to clear his throat. He swallowed painfully
and croaked, "Ah, yeah. G' morning."
	She
switched on a dim nightlight, throwing their shadows

	HEART OF THE COMET
	121

against the walls of her snug little room. "You... look awful."
He tried a grin. It felt like a crack had split his face. "Better
thanI feel."-
Lani's broad, frowning face seemed none the worse for wear.
"Can I get you something?"
"No, I'll just sweat it out."
"I have some B-complex and Soberall. They can dampen the
effects."
"Well... okay, let's see what science can do." He knew the
line sounded hollow, but he felt instinctively that he should keep
things light. He could only dimly recall how he'd ended up here,
what was said. My subconscious has gotten me into trouble again, he thought ruefully.
She flipped the covers aside and glided nude across the room,
lithe and unembarrassed. Lani fished in a medical compartment
and returned with five pills and a bag of water. He took his time
swallowing, trying to figure out how to handle this.
He remembered being suddenly angry with Virginia--that's
what had started it. He'd had some of the deadly mai-tais Langs-than
had brewed up and then Saul Lintz came on a screen nearby,
just tuning in to see what was going on. Yeah, that must 'we done it.
I'd been making sense until then, but of' smug Saul looked skyward
and gave us that indulgent look of his and I got damned mad. At
him, at Virginia...
"Better?" Lani asked quietly.
"Uh. Marginal." He lay back on the sheets, dimly aware that
he was naked.
She hung in air over the bed, folded into lotus position, slowly
descending. "You should get more sleep."
"Uh, I... What time is it?"
She smiled slightly, as if she guessed his intention. "It's
nearly ten."
"Oh... I'm on watch soon."
"You have to return to the living first."
I'll... be okay." Actually, he felt even worse. He couldn't
think straight. He had never been in a situation where he honestly
didn't know whether they had made love or not. Damned unlikely.
I've never been much good with a skinful in me.
"You're wondering," Lani said, the faint smile playing on her
lips.
"Ah... yeah." She was always one move ahead of him.
"Let's say your motives were pure."

	122
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


	"Htth?"

"We talked for a long time and you said you wanted to see my
wallworld."

	"Your..."

	She uncurled and tapped a command plate on the bedpad. The

room immediately leaped into being around them.

	"Ow!"

	"Oh, sorry. I'll tune down the light."

It was the crystal cavern. She had gone back there, carefully
shot the many angles, captured the myriad facets. Brilliance refracted
and glinted everywhere. Miraculously, she had managed to
assemble views without any reflection of herself or her equipment,
so the shining cavern was a vision no one could ever see in person.
It was better than reality. Then she had arranged her room so that
furniture and appliances occupied dark areas of the cavern, enhancing
the effect.

	"It's great. Everybody else uses Earth scenes."

She shrugged. "I can get that National Geographic tourist
stuff anytime."

Even through his logy blur he was impressed. And slowly he
remembered their conversation, how she had seemed witty, warm,
bristling with ideas. He had never noticed that before, never given
her a chance, really ....

	"So I came to see it .... "

	She nodded, eyebrows arched in amusement. "And passed

out."

	"Oh."

	"I thought you might not appreciate having people see you

being hauled unconscious through the tunnels, back to your bunk."
"I guess not."

She blinked, bit at her lip, and then said arefully, "I... liked-the
way we talked last night, Carl. We've never really had a chance

to say very much to each other. Not since the first weeks."
"Yeah," he said uncomfortably. "Been busy."

She said firmly, "I know you won't let go of Virginia right
away."

"Let go? I haven't got her."
"Let go of the hope, then."
He nodded sourly. "Right."
"Not immediately, I know that."

He looked at Lani as if seeing her for the first time. She was
different than he had thought. Maybe...

	But Virginia...

	HEART OF THE COMET
	123


"There's no rush," she said,, seeming to know exactly what he
thought. All my emotions must be written across my face, he realized
uneasily.

"I... Maybe you're right. I'm so damned confused."

She leaned forward and kissed him daintily on the lips.
"Don't be. Just do the work and leave little things like love and life
for later."

He had to smile. "You're making this a lot easier for me than I
deserve."

"I want to."


She put a silencing finger to his lips. "Shush. You don't have
to be civil, not with a hangover like that."

He showered--she had installed her own equipment, even arranged
a projection of the crystal cavern inside the stall--and
dressed. She kissed him goodbye, and before he had fully registered
their conversation he was making hi's way to the suit-up room,
shaky but ready for duty.

He was already at work before the hangover cleared and he felt
the sudden weight of depression descend again. Ever since leaving
Earth, he had worked with single-minded determination, never
questioning. But now he couldn't keep his mind off bigger issues,
problems he could see coming in the days ahead. There was nobody

he could trust to take care of that, not any longer.

Carl felt a yawning emptiness, a foreboding.

Captain Cruz is gone. It just doesn't seem possible. What in
the frozen hell are we going to do ?


SAUL


It should not have been possible.

Saul stared at the patch of green and brown in the petri dish. It
didn't take a lab regimen to know he was looking at something that
just shouldn't exist.

Standing in a relaxed, low-G crouch, Spacer Tech Jim Vidor
peered over Saul's shoulder. Strictly speaking, the man wasn't even
supposed to be here. The decon mask over his mouth and nose were
sops to the official quarantine Saul was under.

	124
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Saul took a fresh handkerchief from the sterilizer and wiped
his nose. After two days, when it seemed his body was in no great
hurry to flop over and die from this tsuris of a cold, the isolation
order had lost some of its original urgency. To spacers, disease was
an abstract threat, anyway. Far more real to them was the trouble
they were having with gunk getting into everything from air circulators
to mechs, threatening the machinery that kept them all alive.

Nevertheless, Saul motioned for Vidor to stand back--for the
same reason he had kept Virginia away, in spite of her mutinous
entreaties.

Nick Malenkov might be right, after all. Anything could happen,
when Halley was able to come up with things like this on the
dish before him.

"The stuff was growing in the main dehumidifier, way up
where Shaft One intersects A Level, Dr. Lintz. I showed it to Dr.
Malenkov when I got back down here to Complex, but he's busy
full time in sick bay now that Peltier's keeled over. He said you were
the grand keeper of native animals on this iceberg, anyway, so I
brought it to you."

No doubt Nick assumed you'd use a mech messenger, Saul
thought. Every few hours a mechanical knocked on his door, carrying
a thermos of soup and a tiny note from Virginia. Maybe those
little packets were the real reason his damned bug hadn't gotten any
worse.

Working with his gloved hands in an isolation box, he used
sterilized forceps to tease apart a clump of red and green threads,
lifting a few onto a microscope slide. The unit whirred as probes
crept forward into position. This thing that couldn't exist obviously
did exist. It had to be examined.

Naturally, Malenkov would not be interested in looking at anything
as macroscopic as this. As Shift-1 physician, Nick's chief
concern was the strange and terrifying illness that had appeared out
of nowhere, killed their leader, and now had another victim prostrate
in sick bay.

The "thawing" of Bethany Oakes and half-a-dozen more replacements
had been delayed by discovery of brown slime in the
warming bins, which had to be cleaned laboriously by hand. The
resumed unslotting was now keeping the Russian medic too occupied
to bother with anything so large--and therefore "harmless"--as
threads blowing in a faraway tunnel.

Saul, exiled to his own lab, had little to do except analyze the
tissue samples taken from poor Miguel Cruz and the new patient
.. and deal with queries from a worried Earth Control. Mostly, he

	' HEART OF THE COMET
	125

had a broad-spectrum incubation program under way, from which
he couldn't expect results for at least another thirty-six hours.

"Have th' tests told you anything at all about what killed th'
captain, Doc?"

Saul shrugged. "I've found signs of infection, all right, and
foreign protein factors, but little more definite than that." He had
come to realize, at last, that he would probably never track down
the pathogen, or pathogens, without a lot more data. He needed to
know more in a basic sense about Halley lifeforms.

If Nick wouldn't let him near the patients, then he should be
looking elsewhere! What Saul wanted most was to get out into the
halls and see for himself.., to collect samples, build a data base,
and find out what had killed his friend. But this damned quarantine...

He turned his head and lifted a tissue before sneezing. His ears
rang and his vision swam for a moment.

Well, at least Jim Vidor didn't seem to feel in much danger,
visiting a presumed Typhoid Mary. He had backed away at the
sudden eruption, but as soon as Saul's composure returned, the
spacer stepped back up to look over his shoulder.

"Got any idea what it is, Dr. Lintz? This new stuff was clustered
all around the inlet pipes on B Level, and I'm afraid it may
turn into as big a problem as that green gunk, if it plugs up the
dehumidifier."

Nick and I are scared by the tiny things.., microscopic life-forms
that k{ll from within. But spacers have other concerns. They
worry about machines that get clogged, about valves that refuse to
close or open, about air and heat and the sucking closeness of hard
vacuum.

"I don't know, Jim. But I thin..."

The screen whirled and a tiny cluster of threads leaped into
magnified view. Saul cleared his throat and mumbled a quick chain
of key-word commands. Abruptly, a sharp beam of light lanced
forth, evaporating a tiny, reddish segment into a brilliant burst of
flame. One of the side displays rippled with spectra.

"Nope. I guess it can't be a mutated form of something we
brought with us, after all. It has to be native." Saul rubbed his jaw
as he read an isomer-distribution profile. "Nothing born of Mother
Earth ever used a sugar complex like that." He wondered if it even
had a name in the archives of chemistry.

Vidor nodded, as if he had expected it all along. Innocence,
sometimes, leaps to correct conclusions when knowledge makes
one resist with all one's might.

	126
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Saul, too, had suspected, on seeing the stuff for the first time.
For it looked like nothing Earthly he had ever seen. But he had
found it hard to really believe until now. Microorganisms were one
thing, be could rationalize that, particularly after seeing JonVon's
wonderful simulation of how cometary evolution could occur.
Primitive prokaryotic microbes, yes. But how, in God's perplexing
universe, did there ever get to be something so complex.., so very
much like a lichen, deep under a primordial ball of ice?
I never really believed Carl Osborn's story of macro-
organisms out in the halls, he confessed to himself. I guess I just
pushed it out of my mind, denigrating whatever he had to report,
answering hostility with hostility. Instead I kept bus), doing routine
stuff, studying microbes, ignoring the evidence that something far
larger was going on here.
Of course, Carl had not exactly cooperated, either. They had
not seen each other since that fateful morning in the sleep slots.
And Carl had never sent the samples Saul had asked for. Small
wonder he had been so glad when Jim Vidor took the initiative.'
"For want of a better word, Jim, I'd have to call this thing a lichenoid.., something like an Earthly lichen. That means it's an
association creature, a combination of something autotrophic--or
photosynthesizing--like algae, with some complex heterotroph like
a fungus. I'll admit it's got me stumped, though. Nothing this complicated
ought to--"
"Do you know of any way to kill it?" Vidor blurted. His eyes
darted quickly to the screen, where the fibers slowly moved under
intense magnification.
Suddenly Saul understood.
Vidor is an emissary. Carl couMn 'I get any useful help out of
Malenkov. Of course he wouMn 'I come right out and approach me.
Not as angry as he is over Virgini[t.
Another wave of dizziness struck and Saul gripped the edge of
the table, fighting to hide the symptoms.
Maybe Nicholas is right. Maybe this isn ' I just another fiu bug.
Perhaps I'm already a goner. If so, isn't Carl right too ? What have
I to offer Virginia, other than, maybe, a chance to get infected ill
ever do get out of quarantine ?
What right have I to stand in between Carl and her, if I'm
doomed anyway ?
Oddly, the idea that he might really be dying made Saul's
heart race. He had supposed himself free of any fear of death for at
least ten years. But now the mere idea made his skin tense and his
mouth go dry.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	127

Incredible. Did you do this for me, Virginia ? Did you give me
back the ability to feel fear? Fear of losing you?

It was a wonder. Saul became aware again of Jim Vidor, eyes
blinking down at him from above his mask, and smiled.

"Tell Carl I'll make a deal with him. He gets me loose of this
fershlugginner prison, so I can go out and see what's happening in
person. In return, I'll do what I can to help him keep gunk out of
his pipes. Even if all I can do is,. swing a sponge with the rest of
you."

Vidor paused for a moment, then nodded. "I'll tell 'im, Dr.
Lintz. And thanks. Thanks a lot."

The spacer spun about and whistled a quick code, so the door
was open by the time he sailed through into the hallway. Saul
watched the hatch close. Then he looked back up at the tangled
bird's nest of alien threads on the screen.

A part of him wondered if it was morally legitimate to go looking
for ways to fight the indigenous lifeforms that were causing the
spacers such grief. After all, Earthmen were the invaders here.
They had arrived from a faraway world as much different from this
one as Heaven supposedly was from Hell. Nobody had invited the

humans. They had just come--as they always did.

As we have always meddled, eh, Simon ?

Saul shrugged. The little moralist voice was easy to suppress,
as was the fear that he was dying. He would fight, and he would
live. Because for the first time in a decade he had someone to fight
and live for.

That's right, he thought ironically. Blame it on Virginia, you
buck-passer.

He stopped to wipe his nose, then dropped the handkerchief
into the sterilizer. Saul popped an. her cold pill into his mouth.

Smiling grimly, he reached forward and turned up the magnification.

"Okay, buster. You've got me curious. I want to find out all
about you. If we're going to have to fight, I Want to know just what
makes you tick."

He put the Tokyo String Quartet on the vid wall, recorded by
cameras and pickups only feet away from the famous chamber
group. They played Bartok for him as he twisted dials, spoke into a
recorder, smiled grimly, and occasionally sneezed.

	128
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID

VIRGINIA

See the mechs dance, see the mechs play, Virginia thought moodily,
halfway through a reprogramming. God, I wish they' 'd go away.
It had been hours on hours nov,' and the jobs were getting
harder. She lay stretched out, physically comfortable but vexed and
irritated by the unending demands. She tried out a new subroutine
on a mech filling her center screen. It turned, approached a phosphor
panel. Careful, careful, she thought--but she did not interfere.
A mistake of a mere centimeter would send the mech's arm
poking through the phosphor paint, breaking the conductivity path
in that thin film, dimming the panel. The virtue of phosphors lay in
the ease of setup--just slap on a coat of the stuff, attach low-voltage
leads at the corners, and you had a cheap source of cold light. The
disadvantages were that they had little mechanical strength and
tended to develop spotty dim patches where the current flowed unevenly.
A mech could bang one up with a casual brush.
Which this one proceeded to do, as she watched. It tried to
spot the growing green gunk and wipe it away with a suction
sponge. Partway across the panel, though, the arm swiveled in its
socket and dug into the phosphor with a crisp crunch. The radiance
flickered, dimmed.
Damn. Virginia backed the mech away and froze it. Then she
plunged back into the subroutine she had just written, trying to find
the bug that made the mech arm screw up at that crucial step.
--Virginia! I need five more in Shaft Four, pronto!-- Carol's
voice broke in.
She grimaced. "Can't have them! All full up." She kept moving
logic units around in a 3D array, not wanting to let the structure
of the subprogram slip away. Just a touch here, a minor adjustment
there, and--
--Hey, I need them now!--
"Shove off, Carl. I'm busy."
--And I'm not? Come on, the gunk is eating us alive out
here.--
"We're overextended already."
--I've got to have them. Now!--

	HEART OF THE COMET
	129

It was hopeless. She punched in a last alteration and triggered
the editing sequence. On a separate channel she sent, "JonVon, take a look at this. What's the problem? I'm too dumb to see it."

PERMISSION TO INTERROGATE MECH AND ADJUST ONBOARD
SOFTWARE?

That was a little risky; JonVon was great at analysis, but had
not had much experience working directly with mechs. What the
hell, this is a crisis. "Sure."
--Virginia? Don't duck out on me.--
"I'm here. I feel like a short-order cook, trying to switch
these mechs around. Between you and Lani and Jim, there's no
time to reprogram these surface mechs for tunnel work."
Carol's voice muted slightly. --Well, sorry, but I'm facing a
bad situation here. This stuff is spreading fast--must be more moisture
in the air here. We may have to clean them out in vac. That's
tougher.--
"I know, I know." Carl always patiently explained why he
needed help, as if she simply didn't understand.
She switched to another channel, surveyed the situation near
Lock 3, and issued a quick burst of override orders directly through
her neural tap to stop an overheating valve from melting a hole in
the vac-wall, Then back to Carl: "Look, I can't do it right now."
--How come?-- Was that a petulant, irritated tone? Well, the
hell with him.
"Because I'm up to my ass in alligators!" she shouted, and
broke the connection.
It felt good.

CARL

It began with a high, thin whistling.
Carl was working at a pipe fitting--cursing the green gunk
that made it slippery--when he heard the sound, at first just a distant,
reedy whine. He was far out along Shaft 3, near the surface
lock, and assumed that the single, persistent note.came from somebody
working further in, toward Central.

	130
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
He was alone because they were so low on manpower. Carl
had been working with one of Virginia's reprogrammed mechs, but
avoided that if possible. It got in the way of the job when the machine
spoke with her distinctive lilt.
The first awakenings were due to "thaw out" next Tuesday,
and he hoped that would help with the chores. The gunk was slimy,
foul, and persistent; he hated it.
And those damned threads that get caught in the air vents.
Maybe Jim Vidor's right, I should let Saul out of quarantine, have
him study this stuff up close.
If he had been with a partner he might have been less meditative,
and heard it sooner. The sound kept on while he tightened up
the joint with his lug wrench, the rrrrrttttt rrrrrttttt rrrrrttttt sending
vibrations up into his shoulders.
Carl lifted his head. He felt a breeze.
There was always circulation of air in space, driven by booster
fans if temperature differences didn't give enough convection. But
'Not this far from Central, not a steady feather-light brush past his
ears.
He stopped, listened. The same steady note. It came from below,
downshaft, toward Central.
Then his ears popped.
He reeled in his tools and pushed off, all in one smooth uncoiling
motion. A burst from his jets and he plunged inward. Phosphors
dotted the shaft with pools of yellow-green light every hundred meters;
automatically he used them to judge his speed, to keep from
picking up momentum he wouldn't be able to brake. Smears of
green gunk covered some of the phosphors, growing on the wan
energy they put out.
He passed tunnels that ran horizontal, 3B, 3C, and 3D, but the
sound wasn't coming from them. Coming toward 3E, he slowed
because the whistling was getting louder and a steady suction was
trying to draw him downward. Carl had always hated high-pitched
noise and this was now shrill, grating. He was searching for a split
seam in the insulation but wasn't at all ready for what he found. Worms.t He blinked, stunned.
Purple snake-like things oozing, wriggling. Moist, slick, waving
slowly, ringing 3E's entrance. It was like a living mouth calling
with a cutting siren wail, the wind moaning and tugging and sucking
him toward the beckoning purple cilia that eagerly flexed and
yearned and stretched out toward him--
He fumbled at h. is jets and pulsed them hard, backward. Wind

	HEART OF THE COMET
	131
swirled by him, sending his tool lines streaming away, tearing the
wool cap from his head, ruffling his hair. He twisted and caught a
handhold in the shaft wall. The noise was deafening now and he
knew he was getting rattled by it.
What the hell--,t
He ripped open his emergency pocket and fished out a plastisheet
helmet. It took a long moment to tuck it into the O-ring seal
in his skinsuit. I haven't practiced this drill in a long time.
It caught. He pulled the F[oot bottle tab. The bubble expanded
with a reassuring whoosh of air. That provided some sound
insulation, but not much. Not enough.
"It's at Shaft Three, Tunnel E," he sent over the emergency
channel. "Three E, Three E, Three E. Bad. Whole area around the,
collar is ruptured."
A faint voice called in his bonephone,--.., can patch with
spray foam? Got some on its way.--
"I doubt it. Something... something's broken through. This
sure isn't just a rip."
Carl bit his lip. He didn't know how to describe it. The team
would take only a few minutes to get here, but the shaft was losing
torrents of air.
The purple.., things.., must've broken through to a crevice
leading to the surface.
He launched himself/crss the shft. The wind blew him several
meters before he hit the far side and managed to hook a temporary
clip into the insulation. He hung on and watched the nearest of
the purple worms twist and pulsate, rivulets of ocher sweat running
down from the pointed tip. The wind blew the drops away, sucking
them back into the gaping hole that ringed the base of the worm.
The horrible thing bloated, gontracted, bloated again--each
time prying the insulation wider, admitting more of it into the shaft.
The nearest was at least a meter long and visibly growing, convulsing
in a slow agony of swell and clench, swell and clench. Its maw
glittered with what looked like crystals of native iron.
They're after the green gunk, he realized as the worms
pressed against the layers of mosslike growth within their reach.
They seemed to absorb it directly. They're grazing on the stuffi. And
sucking threads out of the air.
Around the aluminum and steel collar of 3E's entrance Carl
counted thirteen of them. He played out some line and the howling
gale sucked him down, toward one of the eyeless, slime-sweating
things.

	132
	GRGOR BNFORD AND D^VD

Carl clench his I. He was breaing tfled air n but
he'd swear he could sll it--cloying, ick, humid, like
moldering leaves.
He uook his laser cuer, um it to max, and rid at
o. The am drove a thin r line stight rough it... wi no
significt efft.
He made e next lt last longer d slice thing off a few
centimeters above e base. A spray of pule-r whipd away
hto e wind. The top wobbled aM fell aside, then tumbl slowly
away.
More fluid seed from e would and then it began to film
over. As Carl watched the thing gan growing a thickening crust.
The new maer had a rich, glossy pule sn like an eggplant.
Then it began to thrust outward, sideways, outward again--onward,
into the shaft, e wound oy a momentary interruption.
Cad felt the hair rise in pricUy fear along e back of his
neck.
--... it like now? Repeat, can't pick you up, want to
OW . . .
The rest was lost. Carl could see no one in the shaft. Where
were they?
He pulled his patch gun from its holster on his left calf. It was
intended for small work, but he couldn't think of anything else to
do.
To get closer he played out another meter of, line, then hastily
drew some back in as e burgeoning ing way his way. Could it
sense him? Without eyes or any visible organs? Maybe his y
heat. He wasn't going to he any chances.
e patch gun spat a wad of yellow gum at e hole. It splatte
over e oning, spreading quicy as e long chain molecules
gras for e maximum surface area to nd. The suction
wed it inward but e yell patch held.
For most a minute. Then the worm bu against the cloying
yell film, wrench, flex,--and shk it free. The wind
tore at e lse edge. It flaptilely le a ragged flag.
"We'll me the big stuff' Carl sent. "Bring all we got."
--... can't hear.., any oer measus...' rake to
sure...--
"Ye. Se all lks. Evehere."
--... don't under.., we' sendi1...-
''If we run out of sealant, the lks are our only bacp." A if tt fails, he thought, we'Il e to live in suits.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	133
Ten minutes later, that didn't seem so unlikely.
Only Lani and Samuelson and Conti were available to help
right away; crew was stretched thinly everywhere. Lani was a
spacer, quick and smart, but the other two had been pressed into
jobs they didn't know.
They worked as fast as possible. Chopping the tendrils was
simple, but more pushed in before the sealant could harden. Carl
and Samuelson discovered that to make any progress at all, they had
to get close into the tip in the insulation and clear out the whole
area, cutting all the way back to the ice.
--Got to slice it clean away,-- Samuels'on said. The large man
licked his lips 'nervously. --Damnedest stuff I ever saw.--
"Watch out there with that torch, you're close to the ice." Carl
had to hold Samuelson on a rope to keep the man from being
sucked directly against the hole. The team had rigged a set of linchpin
stays and lines to keep the howling wind from plucking them off
the shaft walls. Now the shrill, hollow shriek slowly dulled as the
air in Shaft 3 finally ran out.
Carl shouted. "Don't get too close!"
Too late. Samuelson's big industrial laser had finished off the
purple stuff, all right--and then hit a vein of carbon-dioxide ice,
vaporizing it instantly. A gout of steam shot out of the hole and blew
Samuelson away, spinning.
"Lani! Slap that sealant in now," Carl sent. He released the
line, letting Samuelson get clear. It was going to be messy around
there in just a second.
Lani maneuvered at the end of a tether, holding the snaking
blowline in both hands. --Here goes.-
Sticky yellow sealant spattered over the cleaned holes. Carl
and Conti played fan lasers on it I the lowest setting, to flash-dry
it.
Lani worked her way around the collar of 3E, shooting thick
coats of yellow over the rents. Here and there it buckled from pressure,
but she quickly' spewed more on to reinforce the barrier.
--Not supposed to use it this way,-- Conti sent. --Too thick.
We' II run out.--
Samuelson returned, velcro-climbing the walls to rejoin them.
--Anything thinner, she'll crock right through.--
--There'll be none left.--
"Cut the crap;' Carl said sharply. If you let a crew bitch they
lost concentration and didn't give their best to the job.
Lani called, --I'm done.-- The steam petered out.

	134
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
The sudden silence was startling. Carl cast off from the shaft
wall, able to hover now that the sucking draft had stopped. There
was hardly any air pressure left. "Maybe that'll hold it."
Samuelson sent, --What the hell was that?----Something
that grows in the ice,-- Conti said.
--Come on, in ice?-- Samuelson asked sarcastically.
--No other way possible,-- Conti said flatly. --Perhaps they
get through cracks? Through softer snow veins? This is not any
terrestrial form!--
--But so big,-- Lani said. --What Saul found were mostly
microorganisms, correct?--
--Yeah,-- Conti added. --And the green gunk and the
threads, they don't chase you around, last I heard.--
Samuelson laughed. --These 'uns are bigger all right.--"And
strong. It breaks through insulation," Carl said.
They hung in the near-vacuum, staring at one another. Sa-muelson
kicked off the wall and gestured upward, where splashes
of phosphors dottedaway into a long V with perspective. --Could
happen anywhere in th' shaft.-
Carl shook his head. "It came through close to the collar, nowhere
else. What's special about this spot?"
Conti said, --Something about the collar, where it fits to
ice?--
"We'll have to check every collar, every intersection."
Samuelson said, --Damn right. We better collect all the bits of
it that got blown into this shaft, too.--
"Good idea," Carl sent. "Let's get to work."
They spread out through the shaft and nearby tunnels. Carl
snagged several drifting purple glops and stored them in a plastic
carry bag. Blobs of jelly floated free or had stuck to walls. It was
sticky and left a smear on whatever it touched. He kept a running
commentary to Central, describing the lifeform to Malenkov. Saul
Lintz came on, peppering him with questions. He had no idea how
to answer. Saul demanded samples immediately.
"We'll all have to get decontaminated before returning to any
pressurized zones, I'm sure of that," Carl said.
--Well, do the best you can. I'll get some sample bottles to you.--
"I'll make do. Don't let anybody into this section."
--You think it's that dangerous?--"Damn
right."
He broke off and kept searching. His team spread around,
checking intersections for signs of buckling. Something was nag
	HEART OF THE COMET
	135

ging at him but he had no time to stop and think. The purple chunks
had drifted far and wide and he had only a few people to retrieve
them all.

At th tunnel leading horizontally to Central, Samuelson
found a purple tip just sticking through the plastaform. He called

Conti and the two of them took a sample.

They were careless.

When Carl got there a few minutes later, both of them were
slapping patches on themselves and yelping with startled pain.
Through their faceplates each looked surprised, white-faced, eyes
big and jerking around.

"What happened?"

--I snagged this piece and it got away from me,-- Samuelson
said. --Conti grabbed it and it... ate through his glove.-

There was a big, awkward patch on Conti's right hand. "I

suppose you brushed the piece with your arm?" Carl asked.
--Yeah, and the damned thing stung me.--

Conti's face was twisted into a self-involved grimace of agony.
--Gettin'... worse.--

"Samuelson, take him. The two of you go to the emergency

entrance lock. I'll call Malenkov and let him know you're coming."
--Wh... what you think it is... doing?-- Conti asked.

Eating, Carl thought, but kept it to himself. "Get to the doctors.''
He gave them both a push inward. "Hurry!"

In the next hour Malenkov sent him reports on their condition.
The purple thing had eaten through fiber covering their suits, probably
reacting to it as potential food. --Maybe it just likes long chain
molecules,-- Malenkov had suggested. Once inside, it burned the
skin. Some probably had gotten into the bloodstream. Conti and
Samuelson reported a spreading, dUI ache. They were sedated and
under observation.

Carl warned Lani and kept searching. Nearly an hour later he
suddenly had an idea.

"Saul! Lintz! You there.9''

The cross-link clicked and hummed, and then, --Yes.--

"This purple stuff is light, moves easy. Most of what we cut
away got sucked into the holes."

Carl visualized the alternating layers of inert material and vacuum
that made the wall insulation. Beyond the insulation was a full
two centimeters of helium, intended to isolate the wall from ice. It
also provided a route for boiloff to swarm upward to the surface
and escape. "Where's this shaft's venting go?" .

--Shaft Three vac line funnels everything from sleep slot one

	136
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


to the surface. That's not my department, though. You'd better ask
Vidor.--

"No, listen. We always think of boiloff escaping upward,

right? But the wind we had here, it was strong."

--Yes. We lost a lot of air.--

"Point is, that air gusher was big enough to blow some back
inward."

--Maybe. It'll leak out pretty fast, though, even... Oh, I see.
You're worried about...-

''Right. The purple stuff. It's been carried by the air back toward
Central."

--There are storage vaults along there, and...-

''Right.'' Carl hesitated, then decided. "Saul! I'm overriding
Malenkov during this crisis. As of now, you're out of quarantine.
Shanghai Quiverian and anybody you can find. Get down to Three
J. You bio guys better think fast. I bet these things'ye got into sleep
slot one."


SAUL


Saul blinked wearily through a double-antihistamine haze as he finished
wiping the last green traces from the edges of the filter unit.
Reduced from high science to scut work, he thought grumpily.
Mama took in washing to send her little boy to college--to do this ?

Of course his real "mama" had done no such thing. She had
been a colonel in the Israeli army, a hero of the '09 liberation of
Baghdad, and probably would have approved of her intellectual
son's being forced to use a bucket and mop, from time to time.

Still, the ironic fantasy amused Saul, so he nursed it. He gritted
his teeth and pounded the filter back into place. Thirty years of
education, and a half-billion-mile trip into space--all to be a janitor.
It confirmed his long-standing .belief that there mas, indeed,
such a thing as progress.

At least the present crisis appeared to have taken him off the
pariah list. Every hand was needed to fight the Halleyform infestations,
and few begrudged him an occasional sniffle.

Done, at last.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	137
Saul sealed his sponge inside the bucket and stripped off his
gloves. He looked over the rows of coffinlike sleep slots, foggy
from internal chill and condensation, each showing a dim, hibernating
form within. For two days he had been down here in the
chilled chamber, trying to keep the infestations out of the slots.
Beyond the rows of sleepers, a workbench lay strewn with bits
of glass and electronics torn from a half-dozen gutted instrument
panels. A tall form stooped over the clutter.
"You about finished with those lamps, $oao?" Saul called. "I
promised them to Carl soon."
The sallow-faced Brazilian shook his head and muttered
sourly, "I have only unpacked and mounted four bulbs since you
last asked, Saul. Give me time!"
Quiverian obviously did not like being dragooned into doing
"stoop labor" out here in sleep slot I, where it was cold and dangerous.
Saul had been forced to go down in person to Central and
drag the man away from a long, rambling, time-lag conversation
with an Earthside planetologist colleague. Until then, Joao had behaved
as if the total mobilization order had nothing to do with him.
First job had been to go over every inch of the sleep-slot chamber,
cataloging infestations. Then had come long, grueling hours of
scraping, wiping, disinfecting. The air-circulation inlets had fouled
with the threadlike lichenoids, nearly choking off a whole, row of
slots. Except for one brief sleep period, the two men had been at it
nonstop for almost forty hours.
Thank a merciful heaven Virginia mechs report few problems
in the other two sleep slots,t
At last, when Quiverian had seemed on the verge of rebellion, Saul had put him to work assembling the hydrogen lamps, an easier
job than stoop-and-swab labor. ,
"If you're in such a damn hurry," Quiverian groused, "why
don't you wake up lazybones over there. Put him to work doing
something more useful than snoring and warming the whole cave
with his electric blanket!"
Saul glanced at the recumbent form of Spacer Tech Garner,
lying on the fibersheath floor in a dark corner. Garner had been on
duty for four days straight. The man was just catching a few hours'
shuteye before going back out to join the battles once again. In
comparison, Joao's work here had been a holiday.
"Leave him alone, Joao. I'll take the first four lamps and test
them. You just keep working on the others."
He paused, then added, "Only please, Joao, be careful, will

	138
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
you? Try not to break any more of those bulbs. It's a long trek back
to the supply store."
Quiverian shrugged. "First you say to hurry, then to be careful.
Make up yourt mind."
Saul realized the man would wear him into the ground if he
remained here. "Just do the best you can." He picked up a set of the
spindly beacon lamps--meant to flash navigation/location reference
to astronauts working on the moon or asteroids. He had an
idea they might be useful in another function, here.
We'll see if they're any good against a form of life that lives in
space.
He set forth in a low glide toward the entrance to Tunnel J, an
amber-colored exit from the great chamber containing sleep slot I.
Right now the place was eerie with the Iights dimmed low. The
vaulted recesses seemed deeper, more mysterious, like naves in an
ancient tomb. Fibercloth rounded the edges, but the vast cave was
still an irregular hole deep under the ice. One didn't dwell on how
many tons hung overhead, in the kilometer or more to the surface.
At the center of the chamber floor, casting shadows in the light
of a few active glow panels, the fore end of the slot tug Whipple lay
at the center of five aisles of casket-shaped containers--the individual
resting places of more than a hundred hibernating men and
women.
If we lose this battle, will any of these people ever see light
again ? Will they breathe, and laugh, and love ?
Saul wondered, Does any of our desperation penetrate, and
disturb their slow dreams ?
It was dark as a sepulcher in here. It was also getting damn
cold.
The lights were dimmed to save energy. The fusion pile had
been damped two weeks ago, when all but fourteen humans had
been cooled down, and everybody expected a long, quiet, boring
watch ahead. Now there wasn't the manpower to supervise a fully
stoked reactor. Every hand was needed in the passages, in the utility
corridors, or in sick bay.
Anyway, light was one of the things that attracted the lichen-oids
and the purple things. That and heat, and air, and food...
I guess it's no accident we like the same things. The biggest
difference is that the Halleyforrns only experience spring briefly,
every seventy-five years or so, when the heatwaves come migrating
down from the sun-warmed surface. They're built to act, and act
fast, to take advantage of the sudden season.
Saul was still mystified by the abundance of types--by the

	HEART OF THE COMET
	139 '
complexity of the forms that fed on the green, algaelike growths.
They violated the tenets of modern biology by existing at all.
But he was practical enough to stop muttering "Impossible!"
to himself after a while. Later, he could try to discover an answer.
Right now, he had to find ways to stop them.
He was getting better at low-G maneuvering. Still, his feet got
in each other's way on alighting near the open Tunnel J hatch.
Fortunately, there were only a few entrances to sleep slot I.
Tunnel J was the critical one. Only a few hundred yards down that
way, and up one level, Carl Osborn and his tired crew were wearily
scouring away the green Halleyform variants the spacers had taken
to calling "gunk" . . . trying tl rid a critical passage of the food
supply grazed on by the horrible purple worms.
So far, liberal doses of certain antiseptics and synthetic herbicides
seemed to be doing the trick . . . for now, at least. But we
can't rely on that forever.
Carefully he laid down three of the lamps and eased the fourth
into position just past the open hatchway, in the tunnel proper. He
had to hunt for the right electrical socket, and found it at last, partly
hidden under a filmy cobweb of multicolored threads. These had to
be brushed aside with his boot before he could plug the unit in and
set the timer.
"Hello, testing." He tapped the little headset microphone that
extended from under his wool cap.
"Lintz speech-routing to Spacer Osborn's headset, please
connect for conversation." He knew there were more economical
ways to ask the main computer to link him to Carl--he had seenlhe
spacers chirp routing instructions in less time than it took to do a
good hiccup--but he had forgotten the correct protocols. This way,
at least, the machines were sure to,understand.
A short pop/then a hissing carrier wave.
--Lintz, Osborn. What's up, Saul?-
The reply in his left ear was spare, to say the least. But spacers
were like that. Terseness didn't necessarily mean anything.
"Carl, Joao Quiverian and I have finished checking out sleep
slot one. Destroyed twenty-three infestations. Can't be sure we
didn't overlook a few minor ones, but the slots don't appear to be in
immediate danger anymore."
Saul quashed the tickling sensation of a threatening sneeze. He
spoke quickly.
"I took an hour and went up to the surface to rummage
through the storage tents, to see if there was anything we might use.
There were a couple of dozen halogen-hydrogen space-signal lamps

	140
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
that gave me an idea. I figure we can place some at critical passage
junctions and set them to bathe an area, at intervals, with intense
ultraviolet. Who knows? It might slow the beasts down a bit."
There was a pause before Carl answered again.
--Sounds reasonable. But we don't want to blind or burn anybody.-
Saul nodded. "I thought of that. Brought down goggles and
sun salve for the hall gangs. Also, I tore apart an unused mech-controller
board and pulled out some type-fiye malfunction alarms
 . . you.know, the ones that go brrr-ap! brrr-ap!"
The carrier wave came on again, suddenly. It sounded like
coughing until he realized Carl wts laughing at his rendition. He
grinned.
"Anyway, an alarm will go off a minute before each lamp is
triggered. Both will stay on for five minutes on the hour."
--GoosJ enough. Where'll you set 'em up?--
"At the entrances to each sleep slot, just outside Central, and
along Shaft One. I'm not sure if we have enough power or bulbs to
do more, so--"
Carl interrupted, --Fine, Saul. But I want to try them on
something else, first. I'll send Vidor and Ustinov down to pick up
the goggles and half-a-dozen lamps.--
"What's up?"
There was another brief pause. Then Carl confided.
--We're about to mount an assault on the purples that have
surrounded the power plant. Maybe your idea will help there.--"Uh,
I sure hope so?'
--Yeah. Anyway, give Garner a few more minutes, then wake
him. Tell him he's to come back with Vidor. We're going to need
every hand on this one. Osborn out.-
The carrier wave clicked off. Saul stood very still for a moment,
shaking his head.
The power plant. I had no idea.
No wonder Virginia had been so terse the last time he had
called. He'd felt like a silly teenager, wondering if she still loved
him, because she had blown him a hurried kiss and hustled him off
the line.
She probably had her hands full right now, preparing mechs to
help Carl. If any of a dozen conduits leading into or out of the pile
were clogged by organic matter, it could trip an automatic shutdown.
That, in turn, could mean the end for all of them.
He ought to give the lamps a brief test before sending a set to
Carl. No sense in burdening the man with a clutter of useless equip
	HEART OF THE COMET
	141
ment if the things wouldn't do more than give the Halleyforms a
suntan. Saul slipped on a set of goggles and bent to turn on the
timer.
The sudden brrr-ap! of the tiny alarm made him jump, even
though he was ready for it. Then came a faint pop as the lamp
suddenly filled the amber tunnel with sharp, actinic light. Even
under the goggles, Saul blinked and had to turn away.
When he next looked, he realized that something funny was
going on. All at once every surface appeared to be coated in a shimmering haze. The walls themselves seemed to ripple and crawl, like
the fur on a caterpillar's back. At first he thought it was an optical
illusion--an effect of the weird coloration and glare. Then he realized.
There's Halley Life everywhere! It's impregnated into theft-bercloth,
and now it's fleeing from the lamplight.
The fuzzy ripples swept back in waves. Nearby, Saul saw the
air begin to fill with a fog of fine dust--killed organisms, he
supposed--floating free of the walls and settling with glacial slowness
toward the floor. Trying not to inhale any of it, he wafted bits
into a sample bag and sealed the container tight.
Then, as abruptly as it had erupted in brilliance, the lamp shut
down. The noisy alarm quit without an echo and suddenly all was
dimness and quiet. Saul pulled off the goggles, blinking as he
waited for the spots to fade.
His bonephone crackled to life.
--Lintz, Vidor. Saw your glare all the way down at Shaft
Three, Doc. Is it safe to come in now? Carl wants Garner and those
lamps right away.., like yesterday.-- "Uh,
yeah." He shook his head. "Lintz to Spacer Vidor. We
have lamps and goggles and fresh cffee for you guys. Come on in,
boys."
He turned and skip-launched himself back into the irregular,
vaulted chamber. Through the frosted sides of the slots, the sleepers
were still silhouettes. Status lights on each casket made the center
of the dim hall glitter like some phosphorescent Christmas tree,
or a giant, glimmering starfish at the bottom of the ocean.
Ninety packages, waiting to be opened. Someday. If we make
it.
The several-times-delayed unslotting of emergency replacements
was reaching a critical stage in sick bay, where Nick Ma-lenkov
was all alone, now. One med tech had died of a purple bite,
and Peltier, the other, had succumbed tO some raging infection yesterday.
At this rate it was a good question whether the "unthawing"

	142
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


crew would find anyone alive to greet them when they awakened.
No. We will succeed. We must.
He passed the bench where Joao Quiverian still' muttered to
himself, piecing together lamps and bulbs with snaillike deliberation.
Later, Saul knew, he would have to personally check all the
lamps himself.

He made sure the coffee maker was full, then gathered up his
own spacesuit.

They'Il be needing all the help they can get, even if Malenkov
has declared me an invalid. I may not be able to fight as long and as
hard as these youngsters, but even a middle-aged alter kocker like
me can hold up a lamp and squeeze a spray bottle in a fight like
this.

Funny thing about that. Although he was weary--and in a perpetual
haze from the drugs that kept his sinuses clear--in some
ways Saul had never felt better. His digestion, for instance--there
were no hint twinges anymore, and his knee joints no longer grated

and vibrated as he moved.

Weight.lessness and calcium deconditioning, he decided.., or

maybe it's just that somebody loves me again. Never, never underestimate
the effects of morale.

He almost stopped to call Virginia then. But of course he
would get his chance to talk to her when he joined the others at the
power plant. She would be there, at least in surrogate, controlling
up to a dozen mechs, doing the work of ten men..

Perhaps he would have a chance to wink at one of her video
pickups, and make her smile.

He had just stepped into his suit--and was reaching for his
tabard decorated with a DNA helix--when voices over by the entrance
told of the arriving spacers.

Vidor and Ustinov shot through the opening in graceful tandem.
Tired or not, pride wouldn't let them skim walk or pull along
the wall cables. The two men twisted in midair and landed in
crouched unison not more than two meters in front of Saul.

"Where;s Ted?" Joseph Ustinov asked tersely. The bearded
Russo-Canadian took quick note of the direction Saul indicated,
and headed out past the stacked packing crates toward the dim corner
where Spacer Garner's electric blanket was a radiating ball of
warmth.

"Got that java, Doc?" Vidor asked Saul, grinning. The young
Alabaman seemed to have thrived in the adversity of the last week.
Days of combat in the halls had brought him out of the depression

	HEART OF THE COMET
	143
of having been the one to find captain Cruz slumped over his sleep-webbing,
almost dead.
"Sure, Jim." Saul handed him a bulb of hot, black coffee, and
began filling a thermos-for Carl and the others. "There are fresh
sandwiches over in that bag. I'll help you fellows tote the lamps and
goggles, and show Carl how--"
A shrill, horrified scream seem to curdle the air.
Hot coffee spilled out in globby spray as Saul whirled. Across
the dimly lit chamber, Spacer Ustinov tumbled in midair, still rising
toward the ceiling and sobbing as he shook a clublike object in one
hand.
Someone or something had startled him into leaping skyward
with all his might. Whatever it was had scared him half out of his
wits, for the man was gibbering, transfixed on the thing he held.
As Saul and Vidor stared, Ustinov cried out again and threw it
away. The object arced through the chilled air, curving over gently
in Halley's faint gravity, and struck a packing crate barely meters
from Joao Quiverian's workbench.
The Brazilian scientist jerked back, first in astonishment and
then in revulsion when he saw what had bounced within close
reach. A delicate bulb shattered into powder in his left hand.
There, dripping ocher onto the lime-colored fibercloth floor,
lay a dismembered human arm. Impossibly, the grisly limb seemed
to be still twitching.
Things, Saul realized, sickly, were crawling out of the hunk of
flesh and bone. Purple things.
He grabbed the wide-eyed Vidor by the collar and pushed him
toward the stacked equipment. "Get goggles and a lamp!" he told
the spacer quickly. "They're our only weapons here. Joao! Rig an
extension to that outlet! Quickly!
This .time the Brazilian didn't argue. Vidor fumbled with the
cords binding the lamps while Saul squeezed a spray of scalding
coffee at a purple that was about to duck out of sight behind a sleep
slot. A whistle escaped the thing as it retreated back into the open.
"Dammit, Doc!" Vidor cursed. "I gotta teach you how to tie
proper knots!"
Saul started to answer when he glanced over his shoulder.
 "Oh damn," he moaned. "I'll be right back."
"Where are you going'?" Vidor cried out.
By then, though, the die was cast. Saul had crouched and
leaped off into open space.
Vidor was really the one more qualified for this sort of thing.

	14.4
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

But right then he was tangled up in lamps and cords. Saul had been
the one to see Ustinov begin to fall again, and realize that the man
was still sobbing and unaware of where he was headed. Even Halley's
gravity wouldn't allow any explanations or delay.

Ustinov's suit was a lot more sophisticated than Saul's. But the
incoherent spacer didn't seem about to use his jets, or anything
else, to keep from falling back toward the tattered ruins of Spacer
Tech Garner's electric blanket, now awrithe with waving purple
forms.

Everything was happening in slow motion, or so it seemed to
Saul, who spoke quickly into his communicator.

"Lintz routed to Osborn and Herbert. Mayday! Purples in
sleep slot one! Garner's dead. Mayday!"

The two floating men drew toward each other, one rising, the
other descending microscopically faster with each passing moment.
Saul turned away after one glance down at what awaited the

falling spacer. It was more than his stomach could bear.

Oh God, please let me' have done this right.

But no. Saul realized that his trajectory was too low! He would
pass under Ustinov. It looked as if there was nothing in this world to
prevent the man from dropping back into the spreading, pulpy
mass.

Suddenly, he was as near as he was going to get. "Ustinov,
wake up!" he shouted. "Stretch out!"

The man might have understood, or maybe it was just a
spasm. But a booted foot kicked forth and struck Saul's outstretched
hand stingingly. He fumbled for .a grip and the momentum
exchange sent him rocking over. The cavern whirled as he held on
for two seconds, three, and then was kicked free by Ustinov's next
jerk.

Was that enough ? DM I divert his course ? Or am I maybe on
my way to meet a crowd of purples up close myself?

The floor came up toward him. Everything might seem to happen
in slow motion; but he had to land with energy equivalent to his
takeoff, and he had taken off in a hurry. His right shoulder struck
hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs in a burst of pain.

He rolled over onto his hands and knees. It took a moment to
blink away the dizzy whirling, and another to catch his breath.
Then he saw Ustinov, lying only two meters away, moaning, shaking
his head, and apparently unaware of the small, crawling things
that wriggled toward his warmth from only a few feet away.

Saul gasped for breath and put everything he had into scrambling
toward the man, racing to get there first. He lunged, grabbed

	HEART OF THE COMET
	145
the folds of Ustinov's insulsuit, and fought for traction to drag him
backward.
"Don't move any farther, Dr. Lintz!" It was Vidor calling out
to him. "There are two more behind you! The electric blanket
must've shorted out. The ones.not eating Garner are fanning out
across the floor now!" -
Saul had never before felt this way toward any living things--even
the fanatics in the mob that had burned down Technion. Right
now, though, he wished looks really could kill. He stared at the
horrible things closing in on him from all sides, and knew what
loathing was.
He gathered the quivering Ustinov into his arms. What is wrong with the man ? I thought spacers were built of stronger stuff
than this.
My God. I'll bet he been bitten,t
Ustinov wasn't heavy, of course, not in Halley's gravity. But
he massed nearly the same as he had on Earth, and that made the
Russo-Canadian's inertia and bulk awkward. Still dizzy and disoriented,
Saul knew he wasn't ready to jump out of here holding this
unwieldy burden.
It was one thing or the other, though. Jump or throw. He
crouched.
"I'm tossing him to you! Get ready!"
"No! Wait! I've almost got a lamp--"
"No time!" Saul insisted. He uncoiled, heaving with all his
might. The helpless man flew out of his arms, sailing over the
writhing mass that had erupted through the fibercloth floor in
search of heat.
It was a good throw, but recoil sent him drifting backward. He
craned to look. Clearly, he wasvgoing to land between two of the
pulpy, hungry heterotrophs.
Strangely, part of him was less concerned than curious. It was
his first chance to look at one of the higher Halleyforms up close
and not already pickled for dissection. The nearest one tracked him
waving a pulpy maw rimmed with red, glittering needles of primordial
nickel iron. There was no face, per se. But he could sense the
thing's regard.
Probably track by infrared, he thought.
They were odd creatures indeed. Though perhaps no less odd
than those worms that live down in deep, undersea vents, back on
Earth. They, too, dwelled in total darkness, under immense hydrostatic
pressures, living off sulfide-transforming bacteria. Lord, thy
handiwork never ceases to amaze me.

	146
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Marvelous, yes. And mysterious. But ugly was ugly, and
death was death.

He fumbled at his waist for something to throw, to change his
trajectory, but the belt loops were empty. All he accomplished was
to set himself turning awkwardly, still drifting toward the creatures.

No doubt he could squash any number of them in his bare
hands, but he had no wish to tangle with them if he could help it,
not after Samuelson and Conti had suffered such agony from their
poisoned wounds.

Saul writhed around, catlike, somehow bringing his feet to the
fore. His left boot caught and the right stabbed out at an awkward
angle to compensate, striking a waving, grit-lined orifice. There
was a sick, squishy impact as he skidded and began to tip over
again.

"Jump, Saul!"

It was his chance. But as he bent his knees, pain lanced up his
left ankle and that leg gave way. He swerved to avoid falling into a
crowd of open-mawed worms, and in so doing tripped.

The slow-motion illusion helped as he landed on his fingertips
and somehow walked across the floor on his hands--hopping from
arm to arm to avoid the damned things. There was no other way. If
he stopped to turn over or gather his strength, they would get him.

At last, there looked like an open space ahead, where he might
flex and really push off ....

"Saul!" someone shouted. "Shut your eyes!"

He heard a loud, grating noise.

Oh great! Just when I need to see where I'm going!

His eyes squeezed closed at the very last instant. The last thing
he saw was a dirty, segmented mass of pulpy mauve tissue turning
toward his heat, bringing forth a round glittering of sharp, primordial
stones.

Then the world disappeared in brightness. Saul cried out and
his arms convulsed as he pushed away from the floor, drifting off in
the direction of who knew what. He wrapped his arms over his eyes
and rolled up into a ball, hoping his spacesuit would protect him
when he next landed among the ravenous creatures.

The ratcheting sound groaned louder in counterpoint as another
lamp joined the first from a new angle. The brilliance could
be felt as heat on his skin. Saul couldn't open his eyes enough even
to seek shelter from the beams, designed to be visible across thousands
of kilometers of open space, against the diamond-bright
stars.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	147

He hit the ground again and rolled to a stop against something
hard. Saul tried to keep still, not to move, and imagined himself an
icicle.

--Saul? This is Virginia. Can you be more specific? What's
the mauer? All of a sudden my remote pickups in sleep slot one
have gone out.--

Another voice broke in, --Lintz, Osborn. On our way in. Four
with sprayers and torches. E.T.A. two hundred seconds.-

Saul realized then that it must have been no more than a couple
of minutes since he had reported the purple breakout. Time had
telescoped. The cavalry was coming, but would he last long enough
for help to do any good?

Over to one side he heard Spacer Vidor mutter surprised
oaths, then shout int6 his own mike.

"Carl, Jim. Intense UV sends them into retreat! They dissolve
if they can't get out of the light fast enough!"
Saul lay curled in a ball, but his breathing came easier. If only


There was a loud pop, and the level of hurting brilliance
penetrating his tightly closed lids suddenly cut in half. There was
cursing, then Vidor spoke again.

"One of the bulbs just blew, but I don't think it matters anymore.
They're all dead or fled. Hang on, Saul. I'll bring you a set
of goggles."

In a moment Saul felt a hand on his shoulder, and a shadow
blotted out the remaining sunlike brilliance. Gratefully, eyes still
closed, he lifted his head and helped Vidor fit the covering over his
upper face.

"Congratulations, Saul. Damn fine weapon."

He blinked through tears ang! blue entopic spots to see the
young spacer offer his hand. He reached up and accepted help getting
to his feet.

"Uh, thanks." But he was remembering how few bulbs there
-were in inventory. Three were gone already. We're going to have to

come up with better tricks than this. We can't work in goggles all
the time, for one thing ....

The two men picked their way in low hops past shriveled purple
husks over to a charred hole in the yellow floor covering, where
the remains of Spacer Garner had tumbled--along with the ill-chosen
electric blanket--into a narrow crevice. It was a flaw in the
cavern that no one had thought anything of when the chamber was
selected and covered over.

	148
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID 13RIN
"They don't dig through solid ice!" Vidor sighed. "We
thought they might--that they could strike from anywhere at all.
What a relief."
Saul had only been staring, appalled, at the jumble of human
remains scattered down a steep crack in the ice. Young Vidor was
made of tough stuff.
"They move through low-density veins, then?"
Vidor nodded. "We'll have to look for more of those and melt
'em shut. I know just how to do it."
Virginia's shown me pix of some of his sculptures, Saul remembered.
Jim Vidor was a whiz with ice. If anyone could figure
out how to seal the chambers, he would.
There came the sound of voices from the Tunnel J entrance.
The spacer turned. "I'd better go take the guys some goggles, or
 shut that lamp off."
Saul followed. Nothing more could be done for poor Garner,
anyway. "Don't forget the salve," he called. "You and I are going
to get fierce sunburns, as it is."
In spite of the pain in his ankle and the tremor of a fading
adrenaline rush, he felt good. An atavistic part of him seemed
thrilled at having passed through the last few minutes and survived. Action had its points. There were some things one could not get in a
lab.
With his goggles on, Joao Quiverian looked like some great
nocturnal creature. "You had better look at Ustinov," he told Saul.
"He's in pretty bad shape."
Saul nodded. "I'll go get my bag." .
"If he's got the same toxins in him that got Conti..."
"There are things I can try. But I've got to act fast. Help me,
Joao."
Even if I can't save him, maybe this time we'Il be able to slow
the chemical retction down enough to slot him. Perhaps someday
we'Il have an antidote.
The sole remaining lamp burned on, accompanied by the incessant
ratchet of the alarm.
Under the glare, Saul picked up his black bag and took
again, after so many years, the practice of medicine.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	'149


VIRGINIA


She scrolled up the lines written yesterday and tried to view them
dispassionately. This was her break, and writing poetry seemed a
better way to spend it, a quicker mental exit from the grinding relentless
mech labor, than slurping up coffee in the lounge. Particularly
since there'd probably be nobody else there; anyone not
working was surely floating in exhausted sleep.

Crew were supposed to log most of their sack time in the
wheel, where centrifugal pseudogravity could mimic the subtle
flows that avoided zero-G imbalances. But you got more real rest in
Halley's weak field. The survivors found isolated cubbyholes free
of the green gunk and caught what sleep they could on the spot.

The struggle was less panic-driven now, but still critical. They
had managed to drive the infestations away from the slots and
power stations. By 'fusing the ice behind the most critical spots,
they had denied the things an easy route back.

She should rest, sleep.., but sleep wouldn't come.

The hell with the outside, with grim reality. She plunged into
her poetry.


Nipples, navel

your pubic thrust

makes a kind of face

I trust--

and trust and thrust

and thrust again.

Have all

my thick-thighed welcome, friend.


"Um," she reflected to herself. "Artistic, no. Therapy,
maybe."

CERTAINLY IT REVEALS THE GENERAL TENOR OF
YOUR THOUGHTS.

Blue-green letters floated in the holo zone above her.
"JonVon, this is private! I should've disconnected."

	150
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


SORRY. I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO TELL THIS.

"Common sense should--right, that's not a characteristic I've
worked on, have I?"

SOME OF MY SIMULATED PERSONALITIES KNOW
RULES, BUT I HAVE NO BASIC UNDERSTANDING OF
"COMMON SENSE." PERHAPS IT IS NOT USEFUL IN
DAILY WORK?

"No, there just hasn't been time.., never mind."
MATTERS SEXUAL REQUIRE COMMON SENSE?
"When you're dealing with humans, yes. Actually, it would be
better if you remained silent. Nobody thinks machines have anything
to say about sex."

THERE ARE PSYCHOANALYSIS PROGRAMS I CAN
CALL UP, EXPERT SYSTEMS WHICH HAVE A DISTINGUISHED
HISTORY OF DIAGNOSING--

"No, JonVon! Just let me get on with my poetry."

MAY I WATCH?

"I can hardly keep you from reading my doggerel, can I? It's
in General Manuscripts."

I CAN CONCEAL RESULTS IN MY OWN BANKS.

"Good idea, actually. I don't want anybody blundering into
this file."

She stared at the screen. JonVon's intrusion had made her
self-conscious. She had never been so overtly sexual in her writings
before, and she felt her passion was an intensely private thing, for
Saul only. In Hawaii, men had regarded her as somewhat prudish.

So you 'ye always been a little shy about it... so what? You
have to overcome that.t

She frowned at the poem. ,ge-old custom dictated that love
poems should be written in flowing ink on thick, luxuriant, creamy
paper.., not glowing letters in open space. Well, the hell with
that. Let see.., my thighs aren't thick, actually.., is that part
worth saving for the alliteration ?... skip that and try something
else ....


bodies red and rangy

your face all engraved anxiety
above me: fevered, aye!--life-enhancing
mad protracted
two-backed dancing.

Quick!

cut my breasts, with your

	HEART OF THE COMET
	151
iron beard
make your point
I've never feared
I'll bend back
no disgrace
to take it from you face to face
sweaty, unhygienic
slick wet thrust
quarantined
if you must
I'm of that race
wallowing swallowing
in the dust
piston-engine snowballed love
oh professor
possessor.

Teach me to live in the present tense
with no past perfect
Orbits aren't the only things
to make a tangential rendezvous
with brave design

	Gasping, knowing that
He's mine!
leathery skin welcome fact
my ice is melting
each livid drop Don't stop.t sticky reign of fire and honey
grind me grin me find me sih me

She stopped, her heart thumping.
SYNTACTICAL STRUCTURE--"Shut
up!"
Virginia unbuckled from her couch, threw aside the link coupling,
and launched herself for the doorway.
STORE COMMAND?
"Shove it, for all I care!"
She moved quickly through 'the corridors, the long glides between
kicks seeming to last forever. It would take only a few minutes
tp reach Saul's lab--impossibly short, considering how
unreachable he had seemed to be, how much s. he had missed him.

	152
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Just before the turn down Shaft I, which would take her to
him, she ran right into Carl Osborn and Jim Vidor, coming down the hall without their helmets on. Both their suits were scratched
and blotted with chemical stains. Vidor's face was puffy, unshaven,
and his eyes seemed to drift far away. They were towing a body in a shroud.
"Who..."
"Quiverian," Carl said. "He's gotten too sick. We can't wait
any longer, or he'll die."
"Hi ho, hi ho," Vidor said with thin humor, "it's to the slots
we go."
Virginia clung to a handhold. "We . . . we'll have to up. slot
someone."
"Right," Carl said worriedly. "We've got six almost thawed.
Want to decide who's next?"
"No, I..." She knew she should help, but... "I'm going to
see Saul."
"He's still off limits except for real necessity," Carl said
stiffly. He stopped his slow kick-glide rhythm and let the body
come to a halt. Vidor compensated awkwardly on his own side,
looking tired.
"You guys see him. He works beside you all!"
"Sure, but we aren't intimate with him. You and I both know
what you'll do--"
"Mind your own damn business, Carl!" She felt her face
flush.
Carl turned away, obviously trying to keep in control. '?Ma-lenkov
said Saul's to be on at least semiquarantine--"
"I don't think that means anything anymore, now that Ma-
lenkov's dying. Saul is our doctor now."
"I think it's a bad idea to risk--"
"Carl, I'll take my chances."
"Stay away from the rest of us, then," Vidor said sternly.
"Lintz is an okay guy, but I don't let him come too close. You touch
him, same applies to you."
Virginia was startled. She liked Vidor, but the man's face was
a stiff mask now, hostile and wary. He tugged at the comatose
Quiverian's tow-line and started it moving again. But his usual deft
sureness was gone and he seemed to be having trouble keeping the
forces acting through a single axis. He looked as clumsy as a
groundhog.
"Don't worry, I will," Virginia said angrily. "Maybe I'll just
quarantine myself, too!"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	153

She kicked off and sped away, not bothering to look back. Hell, Vktor looks worse than Saul. Then she put her irritation
hind her as best she could.
When she entered the lab, Saul looked up in surprise. In the
enameled lab glow his haggard, gray face lit with joy. She knew she
had made the right decision.
"You really shouldn't risk..." he said without much conviction.

She bore down on him.
The hell with poetry, she thought. I'll take the real thing.

CARL

Jim Vidor wasn't being much help.
He coughed, into his hands, leaning against the wall of the
sleep-slot prep room. Vidor was pale, with the same pasty mottling
and strange stiff sheen that Quiverian had developed less than two
days ago.
Carl finished fitting the nutrient webbing around Quiverian's
body and attached the sensor tabs. Everything looked right, but he
went over the whole chemline and circuit layout again. You
couldn't be too careful. One bad connection and they died. on you.
The monitor computer should pick up errors, but the moment you
started relying on the backup systems, well, that was the beginning
of the end as far as he was concerned.
As the crisis went on and on, Carl increasingly found himself
being meticulous, his way of compensating for fatigue.
"Blood pH stabilized. Metabolic Q-10 on track. Might as well
file him," Carl said.
idor nodded, eyes runny, and shuffled forward to help. Together
they maneuvered the body into the slot, se.aled it, and attached
the external hoses. The banks of filled containers in the prep
room formed a sphere around them, so they worked under a frosty
dome. Cottony clouds drifted lazily in the air currents over their
heads. These slots had flown out on the Sekanina and had tricky
hose connectors. Somehow nothing ever gets completely standardized
on a mission, Carl thought moodily. Then you spend years
tinkering and retrofitting.

	154
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"No ceremony this time?" Carl said.
"Don't feel like it," Vidor agreed.
They were all too worn down to keep up the niceties. "Go on,
get some rest," Carl said kindly. Not that he really thought it would
do much good.
He logged Quiverian into the over-all monitoring programs
while Vidor left, moving as though his joints were sore. Same as
Quiverian, Carl thought. But neither of them got that brown rash
that grew all over $arnuelson. Different symptoms--or different
diseases ?
Not that it mattered all that damn much, now. At this rate
they'd all be gone inside a week.
Which meant he had to start some more unslottings right away.
Now.
They were at a crucial point. The six thawing in sick bay
would not be enough to keep Halley Core running, not while they
recuperated. If the diseases felled Virginia, Saul, himself, Lani...
the expedition would fail. Unattended, the slots would malf one by
one. Halley would become an endlessly orbiting cemetery of frozen
corpses.
He thumbed in his Priority control code and set to work. Some
simple systems had to be warmed up, calculations made, drug inventories
drawn on. Carl had some experience with the procedures
from the Encke mission. He worked as well as he could, referring
to the manual whenever he had doubts. Saul Lintz could advise him
if absolutely necessary.., even with rusty skills, Saul was still the
doctor. But...
But what? Yeah, I know--l don 'I want to call him. I don 'I care
if I never see the bastard again. And I know it's just childish jealousy,
too. But that doesn't make things any easier. Just the opposite,
maybe.
It was a good idea to get this practice himself, anyway. In a few
days he would probably be slotting Saul. I hope Virginia doesn't
catch whatever he got.
He was working slowly, his thinking mired in mud. He had to
shake off the mood, he knew that, or else he'd make some dumb
mistake. Music? That was about all he had these days. He'd been
listening to Mozart and Liszt and Haydn for sixteen hours every
day, the only way to distance himself from the backbreaking, unending
job of cleanup. And all the time watching over one shoulder
to see if a goddamn purple hadn't broken through the insulation
nearby, wasn't there waiting for him to brush against it, burn
through his st, get its deadly poisons into him ....

	HEART OF THE COMET
	155

"Carl!"
He turned, surprised by the feminine voice. Virginia.t She
didn't go to him after all.
The sight of Lani entering the prep room crushed his sudden
hope.
"I heard about Quiverian, thought I'd come down and.., oh.
You've already slotted him?"
Carl nodded. "No
ceremony?"
"Wasn't in the mood. Jim's not feeling too well, and a ceremony
by yourself..."
Lani studied him sympathetically. "I understand."
"Maybe we'll all get together tonight, hoist a few beers....."
He let the sentence trickle lamely away, remembering that they had
almost started a romance, back a few lifetimes ago. He hadn't
thought of that for some time. Every day he revised his opinion of
Lani upward, but his pulse still quickened for Virginia. Not that it
matters .... We're all run ragged.
She nodded emphatically. "Yes. We could use a little group
solidarity. You're the leader now, Carl. You'll have to hold us together.''
He had been nominal leader for more than a week, though
without time to think of himself that way. "All six of us? With
two or throe sick? Some crew. Half of shift one gone in--what?
ten days? No, less." He shook his head. "Things're movin' too
fast ."
What would Captain Cruz have done that I haven't? What
have I missed ?
."You're tired." She put a hand on his shoulder and patted him
gently. Like I was a big dumb animal, he thought. Well, I'm not
much better than that right now
"I... I'm glad you came."
"So am I. You obviously need help."
"I started unslotting a couple more."
"Won't we need a dozen at least?"
"That's what I need help with. We must have good people, but .. well, who would you pick to introduce into this death house?"
Lani nodded silently, her face pensive and withdrawn. He
wondered how she was dealing emotionally with the ever-present
threat. She might be catching something from him--or vice versa--right
now. They had no real idea what vector these diseases followed.
"Not my friends..."

	156
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

He was surprised. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I'm figuring
on picking people I know can stand up to this."
"I see. I considered first sheltering my friends; you think of
pulling out those you can trust. That's why you are suited to command,
and I am not."
Carl shrugged. He knew he was no real leader, not remotely
like Captain Cruz; he just did what seemed obvious. Her other
point was right, though. It was a lot less painful to watch comparative
strangers sicken and die.
"I don't like having to make these decisions on my own. I'm
just an ordinary spacer. This is life and death, for chrissakes."
"So it is."
In a subtle way Lani withdrew from him, standing apart, face
blank and eyes wary, waiting for his orders. She didn't want the
responsibility. Neither do I.
"Okay, I've got to tell the system which slots to start warming,
or we can't go any further." He turned to the big console and
began running his hands down the displayed list of crew skills. He
pressed a finger at the dimple points next to two names.
"Jeffers and Sergeov," he said grimly. Then he managed a dry,
crusty chuckle. "Boy, are they going to be surprised."

SAUL

Enough. Leave his poor body alone.
Saul rocked back from the treatment table and put down his
implements.
"Cease code blue. Halt resuscitation procedures," he said to
the spidery med-mechs clustered around the pale, waxy figure that
had been Nicholas Malenkov. "Maintain type-six tissue oxygenation,
and begin precooling glycogen infusion for term storage."
It was too late to "sick slot" the Russian. His dying had penetrated
too deeply. Saul's only recourse was to prepare the corpse as
well as he could and actually freeze it against a hoped-for day when
both thaw and cure might be available.
The master unit beeped twice. Saul, who had been looking
sadly at his dead friend, glanced up.
"Yes? What's the problem?"

HEART OF THE COME
	157

"Clarification request, Doctor," the med-mech announced.

"Please select infusion and cooling profile. Also, term-slotting

requires a death certification."
He nodded. With clinical skills as rusty as his, it was a wonder
he remembered the right general procedure at all.
"All right, then. Voice-ident: Dr. Saul Lintz, citizen of the
Diasporic Confederacy, seventh physician on Halley Expedition.
Code number..." He pressed fingers at his temples. "I forget. Fill
it in from the records."
"Yes Doctor," the machine assented quickly.
"I hereby certify Dr. Nicholas Malenkov, citizen of Greater
Russia, expedition second physician, to be deceased beyond recall
by available means. Cause: massive peripheral neural damage
brought on by undiagnosed, raging infection which crossed the
blood-brain barrier three hours ago. Details and tissue analysis to
follow in addendum.
"Patient term-slotted on this date .... "
Saul looked up at his reflection in the side of the gleaming
mech.., pale, yes, tired. More tired than he looked, apparently.
What is the date? Was it still November 20617 Or already
December?
Have I missed Miriam birthday? Only ten years since she
died at Gan lllana. And yet it seems like another century.
Sometimes it felt as if he was fighting on for one reason only--so
that Virginia could' get to see age twenty-nine. If they were still
alive, in six months, to put another candle on her cake, then he
would find a new priority. One thing at a time.
"Fill in the date. And select the most commonly used slotting
procedure for neural-damage cases," he told the mech.
"Yes Doctor." The machine would consult the mission mainframe,
aboard the Edmund HalleY'*and take care of the details.
There was little likelihood that medical science would have
learned to reverse such massive trauma in eighty years--as well as
how to thaw bodies frozen solid as ice. Still, he owed it to Nick to
offer him that chance.
In any event, term-slotting did not call fr human supervision. Let the mechs do it. If--when--we go home, it'd be best if the procedures
used-to cool and store the body were as standard as possible.
Saul turned to leave the treatment room, leaving behind him
the whirr of automatic processing. As the door hissed shut he rested
his shoulder against the fibercloth wall. His arms felt heavy, even in
the thin gravity. His sinuses throbbed.

	158
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Well ? he asked inwardly. What're you planning to do ? Develop
into a real sickness and kill me ? Or quit bugging me and go


The damn cold had been hanging on for eight weeks! In all of a
life plagued by little, dripping bouts with one virus after another, he
had never, ever suffered anything really serious. But now this lingering,
dull ache was really getting to him.

He shook his head to clear it. Make up your damn minds! he
told the bugs, at the moment not caring if they were cometary
scourges or more banal imports from a warm and fecund Earth.
Right now Saul didn't see anything unscientific in personifying his
parasites. He hated them.

Poor Nick Malenkov, survived by the man he nearly slotted.
He tried to remember the big, brilliant bear of a Russian the way he
had known him in life, but it was hopeless. All he Could see was the
pale slackness of cheeks unanimated by emotion.., the emptiness
of eyes unbacked by mind.

Oh, Lord, he prayed. Don't let anything like this happen to
Virginia.

She had used an override to get into his room, two days ago,
and by some definitions committed a completely shameless act of
rape. His weak protests had been smothered under her warm body,
her blazing mouth--as she shared in a moment any microfauna he
had, and thereby ended any further argument over protecting her
from contagion.

A decisive woman. She had hardly left his side since, except
for the fourteen-hour shifts, of course. And although he worried,
Saul could not say he was anything but glad.

It her choice, he thought. And Carl Osborn will just have to
learn to live with it.

For as long as the three of them lasted, at least.

Yesterday he had helped slot Jim Vidor, feverish and raving. At
least that time they were able to get the poor fellow in in time. Lani
Nguyen had watched raggedly. For lack of any real attention from
Carl, she had taken up briefly with Jim. Now she was as alone as
before.

His wrist beeper pulsed. The mechs in the recuperation chamber
were signaling him.

Enough loafing, he thought. Somebody must have wakened, at
last. One of the first six.

Put on a happy face, he reminded himself as he started stepping
into isolation garments. While slipping on antiseptic booties
he touched the bandage covering his left ankle.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	159
The scar was almost healed now. He still wasn't sum how he
had been cut, during that frantic struggle with the purples in sleep
slot I. At first he had been certain it was a bite from one of the
horrible native worms, but after what happened to Peltier, and Us-tinov,
and Conti, he figured it couldn't have been. There had been a
swelling and soreness, then it had gone away.
Just a scrape, I suppose. A man like me won't die of a purple
bite, anyway. And there too little gravity her to be hanged. His nose itched.
I'll probably die in a sneezing fit.
Saul finished dressing. He put on an isolation helmet and
passed into the booth with a flashing green light over the entrance.
Someone had indeed awakened. It was Bethany Oakes, the
first person decanted after Captain Cruz's death. The assistant expedition
leader had Ix/en a tough case. Her thawing had not been
easy.
Hibernation wasn't a natural human function. Inducing it involved
complex, massive doses of drugs that dropped the body into
a slumbering, near-death state--reducing metabolism and pH,
cooling tissues down to a bare degree above freezing. The. process
was anything but routine, even after decades of use in space flight.
To prove it for interstellar travel times had been one dream of Mi-guel
Cruz-Mendoza. It was supposed to be another gift from the
Halley Expedition to the people of Earth.
Working alone, with equipment that might or might not still be
polluted with Halleyforms, Malenkov had chosen the slow-thaw
method, allowing the patient to throw off sleep-center suppression
naturally. The decision had been questionable. It might be safer,
but it left the possibility that the decanted would awaken with no
	one left alive to greet them.
	.
	Bethany Oakes was still an ample woman. Three weeks' hi
	bernation under an IV drip wouldn't change that much. But her

	eyelids were already dark with the blue heaviness of slot stupor. As

	Saul approached, they fluttered open. Her pupils contracted une
	venly in the light.

	He dimmed the wall panels and picked up a squeeze tube of

	electrolyte-balance fluid to wet her lips. Her tongue flicked out,

	drawing in the sweetness.

	Good, he thought. The sipping reflex was a rule-of-thumb test

	Nicholas had taught him. A sign of good progress.

	In the hazel eyes, an apparent s'truggle--a mind climbing labo
	riously out of the cold.

	"S-Saul . . . ?" Her voice was barely audible.

	160
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


"Yes, Bethany. It's me, Saul Lintz." He bent forward.

"Are we..." She swallowed, and smiled thinly. "Are we at
aphflion yet?"

Saul blinked. Of course, the expedition's second-in-command
hadn't been scheduled$o be unslotted for thirty-three years, when
the comet would have nearly reached its farthest point from the
sun, when the colony would be briefly busy again preparing for the
rocket maneuver that would send them hurtling past Jupiter toward
rendezvous with the waiting harvesters, nearly four more decades
beyond that.

How could he tell her that it had been more like thirty-three

days!

He shook his head, wishing he had better news, and wondering
how to tell it.

Saul smiled in his best bedside manner. "No, Betty, not
quite..."

WHEN SPRING LAST
CAME TO GEHENNA

January 2062


Nobody ever did anything very foolish
except from some strong principle.

Melbourne

fER


EARTI


MARS

COMET

HALLEY


Positions of Inner Planets

and Comet Halley

February 2062

VIRGINIA


What a difference a mere throe weeks made!

Virginia wondered as she glide-walked past hurried, bustling
workers. Had it been only that long? Only twenty-five days since
the remnants of the First Watch had gathered, weary and haggard,
to note the passing of the year. 20617

An ebullient New Year's Eve it had not been. Even with the
wall holos set to their cheeriest summer scenes, it still felt like the
&inter of Ragnarok. They had huddled near the farthest end of the
mammoth Central Complex Lounge--four poor survivors--and
toasted from Cad's carefully hoarded supply of Lacy Traces liqueur.

The bottle had gone quickly. There seemed little point i saving
anything.

All attempts at conversation had lapsed. The vids from Earth
were too depressing to watch--snappy scenes of commercial consumption
or, even worse, an awfu}hnelodrama about the Scott expedition
to the South Pole... no doubt somebody's stupid idea of a
gesture in their honor.

At her suggestion, Saul and Carl had tried to play their first
game of chess since the death of Captain Cruz--or since Saul and
Virginia had taken up shared residence together. But it wasn't like
before. The two men had hardly exchanged a word or a glance, and
the play was savage. When Saul's wrist comp called him away to
tend the thawing sleepers again, Lani and Virginia had shared a
look of relief.

She would never forget that gloomy evening for as long as she
lived.

That had been less than a month ago. Now... well, things

163

	164
	gREgORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

were different. At least superficially, they were much better. One at
least heard voices in the cool hallways again, and people were trying
to find solutions.
Virginia was also getting better at moving about in Halley's
soft gravity. She skim-glided quickly, grabbing the fiber floor with
velcroed slippers and pulling along a wall cable on her way toward
Control Central.
It was still a new experience, coming this way without a mind
fogged from lack of rest, or a body nearly limp from fatigue. A full
seven hours' sleep was like a sinful luxury.
Yesterday, her shift had coincided with Saul's. They'd had a
chance to make love for the first time in a week, and slept side by
side, linked through her electronic familiar, touching in the dim
glow of JonVon's status lamps. Saul had to leave early to get ready
for today's test of his new invention, but Virginia had awakened
feeling his warmth still on the webbing beside her, his musty, now-familiar
scent on her arm.
Someday, when I have some free time again, I'll have to find
out what Jon Von making of our dreams. Saul and I are getting
closer all the time, our shared, enhanced senses more and more
vivid. I wonder--is it possible that I might have been right, after
all? Is it possible to simulate human mental processes so well that
you can achieve "telepathy" of a srt ?
If so, cart we give Earth at least one present, before we all die ? This morning she had stopped just before leaving her cubicle,
hesitating by the slide door, and turned back to pick up a stylus. On
the face of a memory pad she had scribbled quickly . . . not a
poem--not yet--but a sketch for one.

Hoku welo welo,
Oh, unforgiving Comet--
Ua luhi au,
I am very tired--

The mixed verse had reminded her of her homesickness. She
missed Kewani Langsthan, the only other Hawaiian on the first
shift, who had lost an arm to an explosion on A Level, on Christmas
Eve, and had to be slotted immediately when the stump went
infected.
No Hawaiian was among the replacements. She didn't know
whether to regret it or to be glad that her countrymen were being
spared this terrible time.
Anyway, the news from the island republic was not good. The

	HEART OF THE COMET
	165


last time she had had time to listen to the Earthcasts, tensions had
been rising. Nations of the Arc of the Living Sun had accused Governor
Ikeda's government of "unecological projects."

Ever since that evening months ago, when she had briefly
shared Saul's memories of his lost homeland, she had suffered from
a deep, lingering fear for her own people's precarious renaissance.


Haalulu kuu lima

My hand shakes--

Eawiwi...Kala '

Be quick, oh Sun--


The sketch had disappeared into JonVon's stochastic well of
memory. Perhaps she would call it up again to work on it, if she had
time, or remembered. Meanwhile, her pet machine would echo
with her musings. Unlike the prim processors of Earth--or the
stolid mission mainframe the techs had begun crating to move down
from the Edmund to Central--JonVon did not simply file things
away. He... it... was programmed to "remember" from time to
time, untriggered and unpredictably, and to "ponder" new Correlations.

She herself had no time to devote to the project with which she
had planned to while away the years. But JonVon would always
have at least a small corner of memory devoted to it, gathering and
organizing data for when, at last, she could turn her attention back
to the question of intelligence itself.

I must remember to ask him what he has learned, now and'

then.

And here we are, she thought on coming to a double hatch
with a burning amber light overhead. The entrance to Central Control..,
command post for the invading hordes from Earth.

Before entering, she had to submit to another damned cleaning.
A bulky mech towered beside the hatchway.

"Please present all surfaces for ultrasonic exposure;' it directed,
holding forth a flat, humming plate and a vacuum hose.

She sighed and stepped forward, turning before the double-tubed,
jury-rigged machine. Harmonics from high-frequency
sound waves stroked her skin in multiple octaves, all the way down
to a low, grumbling growl that made her teeth grate.

She knew all the override codes, of course. But it would be
better to submit to these measures, as half-ass and useless as they
had to be. Somebody was bound to find out if she got into the habit
of bypassing regs for her own convenience.

	166
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

The low tingling told of bits of debris being shaken loose from
her clothing and skin, to be sucked away into the vacuum inlet. Of
course, this wouldn't really stop people from tracking around cometary
germs. Saul had said that the only long-term effect of the
procedure would be to destroy all their clothes and eventually
wreck everybody's hearing.
The tingling stopped and the vacuum hose shut off. Virginia
imagined a puff of air, cotton fibers, and skin cells--all sighing out
into space far above, where the stars shone unblinking on a stark
icescape.
,Prepare eye protection, please."
She grimaced and drew the goggles from her waistband.
"Lay on, MacDuff," she muttered, and scrunched her eyes
shut as the hallway seemed to fill with actinic brilliance.
This was sheer idiocy, she knew. The UV lamps were their
belt weapon against the Hal. leyforms, but there were only about
two dozen left, and tl{ey were burning out'at a rate of one or more a
day! There were already numerous cases of sunburn and skin rash.
The uncomfortable glare cut off and she breathed in relief.
"You may pass," the mech pronounced.
"Thanks," she answered sarcastically as the softly hissing
door opened, letting her into a bustle of activity.
Voices tinged with anxiety.., human torsos that disappeared
into hooded data-speech shells . . . hands working switches or
mech-waldo controls. Yes, there's quite a difference that three
weeks can make.
But the undercurrent of dark fear was still with them. If anything,
it had grown.
Over in a far corner, a half-dozen forms clustered in low-G
crouches around a holo map. Virginia recognized Dr. Oakes and
her chief aides. Another damn strategy meeting.
Olakou na alii .... They /re the chiefs, heaven help us.
I wish Saul didn't have to go down to the inner chambers to
test his new machine today. I miss him so, already.
Virginia stepped up behind Walter Schultz, the man now operating
mech-control I. She was still early, but the fellow clearly
needed to be relieved. His shoulders were hunched under the isolation
hood, and his hands clenched whitely on the waldoteleoperator
controls.
She knew what he was going through. Mech Operators had it
almost as bad as the men in the corridors. They weren't in direct
physical danger, of course, but the hours were worse, and the intense
mental effort just as draining. From the displays she saw that

HEART OF THE OMET
	167

Walter was handling four big 'bots all by himself. He needed a

break.
It wouldn't be a good idea to pull him back too abruptly,
though. Two days ago she had tapped Walter's shotlder while he
was linked. The man had whirled on her, pupils dilated, roundly
cursing her as a "meddling Percell bitch."
He had apologized later, but the phrase stuck in her mind. I'll tell him I'm here over an open comm line. But her hand
hesitated just over the panel microphone. From under the isolation
hood she heard Schultz sniffling. It was hard to tell if the man had a
cold or if he was crying.
These days, it could be either.
"Virginia!" a high voice called out behind her. "Virg]nia.
Would you come over here please, dear?"
Other than Saul, only one person spoke to her that way. She
turned and nodded to the brown-haired, matronly woman motioning
to her from the other side of the room.
"Yes, of course, Dr. Oakes." She glide-walked quickly toward
the big holo tank where the acting section leaders stood staring
gloomily at the big display.
The current chief of Cometary Science Section, Masao
Okudo, moved pointedly away from her end of the table, as did
Major Lopez, the senior awakened military man. Virginia ignored
the slight. It was part of the general undercurrent of resentment
against her, as well as Carl and Saul and Lani. As if the First Watch
had somehow been criminally incompetent in letting all this come
about.
She had always found humans to be irrational creatures, deep
down--herself included, of course. Many resented the choices that
had been made, of who should be unslotted as part of the Crisis
Management Team. "Why me?" was a refrain she had heard repeatedly,
muttered in anger or wailed out loud as one after another
of the wakers was injured fighting the crud in the halls, or fell ill to
some unknown bug.
Carl had to make those hard choices, after Captain Cruz died. The wakers blamed him. And it didn't help at all that he was a
Percell.
I suppose the only thing keeping him and Saul and me from
being completely ostracized is the fact that we're indispensable.
Bethany Oakes, at least, seemed immune to any such feelings.
She smiled as kindly as ever as she shook Virginia's hand.
"Thank you for coming over, dear. We are having a bit of a

	168
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


disagreement over a technical matter, and I was wondering if perhaps
you could help us with the expertise you picked up during
those frightful weeks you and the others faced this emergency all
alone."

Virginia nodded. "I'll help any way I can."

Dr. Oakes smiled back with moist, small lips. Virginia
couldn't help noticing that her face was puffy, and she wore
makeup that seemed skewed, somehow.

Oh fates, you are mean bitches. You had to take Captain
Cruz--our Columbus, our Drake--right at the very start, didn't
you ? He made an expedition out of a spill of exiles and misfits, and
now he gone. This nice woman is simply no substitute.

Dr. Oakes turned to Lefty d'Amaria, the head of Virginia's
own department, Computations and Mechanicals. Lefty, at least,
gave Virginia a quick smile, which she returned gratefully. Alas,
the man gripped the table-edge uncertainly, and his brow was
speckled with perspiration.

"There're two problems we . . . we wanted to consult you
about, Ginnie. The first has to do with how to fight the stuff out in
the halls."

She opened her hands. "Dr. Matsudo and Dr. Lintz have been
studying the gunk. I've had less experience with it than any o.f the
other survivors of the First Watch."

D'Amaria nodded. "Yes, in person. But you've fought it
through mechs, helping Osborn and his crews. What we want to
know is if you think it might be possible to retrofit the surface
mechs for work in the shafts."

"Well, we've already reworked some of them--ship-utility robots,
mostly."

"No." D'Amaria shook his head. "We're thinking about the
big ones. The real surface mechs."

Virginia blinked. Were things already so desperate? Surface
mechs had never been meant to work in tunnels. The thought of
those great-limbed behemoths and spidery cranes cramming their
way down here, under the ice, was enough to make her cringe.

"I... I don't know for sure. We'd have to unlimber some of
the factory gear...."

"A couple of factory-team crew are being warmed now," Lo-pez
told her. "Jeffers and Yeomans and Johanson are already
awake."

Virginia nodded. "But even with the factory running, it'd be a
mess. In order to fit lifters or pushers into the shafts, we'd have to

	HEART OF THE COMET
	169
do more than just remove their legs and rollers. I'd have to burn
new patterns i'nto read-only memory. With the facilities at hand,
it'd be a pfitch job, and I'm not sure it could be reversed."
Okudo nodded. "Fine, fine. Then you are saying it can be
done."
Virginia blinked. "But it's crazy! We'd never be able to set up
the Nudge Launchers at aphelion without surface mechanicals.
And without the Nudge, Halley's orbit can't be shifted. We'll never
be able to go--"
"Will you shut your stupid Percell mouth?" Major Lopez
hissed quickly, baring his teeth. The Space Corps officer's eyes
seemed to burn, and he pulled back only slowly when Dr. Oakes
cleared her throat pointedly. He glanced at the acting mission commander,
and then back at Virginia. "Excuse me. I mean will you
keep your voice down? Please?" His sarcasm was evident.
Virglnia ignored him.
-- We'll never be able to go home, she thought, finishing her
agonized complaint in her own mind.
Dr. Oakes spoke to the military man. "Now, Fidel. I'm sure
Miss Herbert realizes how essential it is to be discreet about some
of the implications of our upcoming actions. Morale is bad enough
as it is."
"I'll say," Okudo muttered. "I hear some crew are even feigning
illness, trying every malingering trick in order to get back into
the slots."
I didn't know. Virginia's stomach felt queasy.
Captain Cruz would have been more forthright with us. And
nobody wood have even considered letting him down tO, trying to
run away into time.
Bethany Oakes contemplated;the holo tank moodily, giving
Virginia her first real chance to look for herself at the big display.
The region penetrated by tunnels was no larger than it had
been a month ago, still taking up less than five percent of the volume
of Halley Core, in a warren clustered around the north polar
region. A few large chambers stood out, including three where the 
sleep slots lay buried. And this one, Central, amid a cluster of
rooms barely a kilometer straight down from the tethered Edmund
Halley.
Thank heavens most of the hydroponics are still aboard the Edmund, Virginia thought. Safe from the native lifeforms we 'ye
inadvertently wakened down here. If the gunk Or the bugs ever got
into the main gardens, we'd likely starve in short order.

	170
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


As it is, we'll probably be going hungry soon anyway, if we
have to keep this many awake much longer

Nearly all the depicted tunnels and shafts were stained, the
colors standing for different types of infestation. Only the four
main chambers still shone antiseptic, uninvaded white--along with
one path to the polar storage yards. And it had taken every UV
lamp and half an eighty-year supply of disinfectants to keep just
those areas clear.

Most passages glimmered in some shade of green, where the
only known invader was some variety of the lichenlike growths
popularly called gunk. Those routes still held air and heat. For all
anyone could tell, they might even be perfectly safe. At least Saul
thought they were. He had gone off more than once, heedless of
supposed danger, in search of more samples to study.

Maybe that one of the things that attracts me to him. Saul
wasn't brave in the flashy way, but in a manner that seemed to say
"living day from day has always been a calculated risk."

Perhaps her love was analytically simple. For Saul did remind
her of her father. Anson Herbert had possessed the same sad, gentle
wisdom, had shown her more in his quiet strength than other men
with all their flamboyant posturing.

Virginia shook her head. Anson had been dead for two years,
but she could almost hear him, telling her to quit daydreaming and
get to work. There were problems to be solved, and always idiots
trying to use hammers to fix clocks.

Lopez was gesturing at the tunnels that had the worst infestations,
especially along the ducts where heat flowed from the power
plant. Purple, yellow, and red stains showed where more active
Halleyforms had erupted, tearing tunnel seals, wreaking havoc on
vital machines, and, occasionally, even reaching out with a poisonous
grasp after a passing Earthman.

"... Bigger surface mechs could patrol an expanded hallway,
here, scraping and remelting the ice at intervals, sealing crevices
and removing infested layers for disposal at the surface .... "

Virginia couldn't believe she was hearing this. The plan was

lunacy. It was a cumbersome scheme that ignored the seven decades
ahead.

"There are still other options tO try," she suggested. "Saul is
working on a possible way--"

Lopez sniffed loudly. "Lintz's death ray, right?"

Bethany Oakes nodded without turning her gaze from the
map. "We can hope somebody comes up with something new, of
course. But every conventional approach has failed. One thing is

	HEART OF THE COMET
	171

certain: If the infestation reaches the sleep slots, we are quite finished.''
She looked at Virginia. "That is why we asked you to join us
over here, not only to help convert surface mechs for the struggle
below. You..."
The older woman paused, blinking, as if trying to keep her
train of thought. Virginia realized with shock that she must be on
some sort of drug.
"... You are the only real xpert we have on that old subject .. artificial intelligence. I am familiar with the traditional proofs,
of course, that the real thing is impossible. But a very good, flexible
simulant might be enough." She sighed. "Anyway, we must
grasp at any straw. Saul Lintz's invention, and even robots capable
of acting on their own.
"We must come up with a way to make as many mechs as autonomous as possible.., and soon. You see.., we are losing
men and women faster than we are unslotting them."
Virginia stared. She found she could say nothing at all.
"This is a military secret, Herbert," Major Lopez growled
"You tell anyone about this and I'll have your Percell ass."
Virginia only shook her head, and let him take it to mean anything
he wanted.

A little later, by the refreshment center, she nursed a bulb of
weak tea and wondered how she might even approach the nearly
impossible tasks she had been assigned. It was ironic. I never
thought anyone would ask me to work on machine intelligence.
Under these circumstances, it seemed so very wrong to her.
That was when the man she wanted least to encounter floated
up next to her with a soft push of,nubby legs.
"Well, sweet machine lady?Otis Sergeov grinned. "I suppose
you have heard latest interesting developments, Earthside?
Have you not?"
"Go away, Otis," she said levelly. "I don't want to hear any
more bad news right now, especially from you. What are you doing
here, anyway? You're hall crew."
The Russian Percell shrugged. His eyelids wei'e still slightly
blue-tinged and his cheeks chalky from his recent awakening from
slot sleep.
"I just stopped by to grab a look on way to Shaft Three. I go to
help your lovers test their new machine to save the world."
Virginia looked up quickly. "What are you talking about?"
"You know who I mean." He winked. "Osborn and Lintz."

	172
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Sergeov held out a small slip of paper with her name scratched
on the outside. She plucked it up with her fingertips and unfolded it
to read the message. Virginia nodded.
"So you're going to help Carl and Saul test the new beamers.
Is that it?"
He nodded.
"Okay, then. Tell Saul I'll arrange to send him the mechs he
needs for the experiment. I'll scrape them up somewhere."
Sergeov nodded. "Ah, ways to get around channels. I knew that he had influence with Secret Mistress of all Machines. I must
learn his tricks."
Virginia shrugged. Sergeov had had a reason to seek her out.
Now she only wanted his visit to end.' "Is that all, Otis?"
"Only one more thing. A personal curiosity. I did underrate
you, Virginia. You may be Orthophile, but at least you chose the
father--or uncle--of our race for shacking up with. He is still
Ortho, but so is anybody over fifty, so if you are so kinky as to
prefer old men, I guess you have no better choice, eh?"
She glared at him. "You dirty-minded LITTLE--"
"Wait until/get that old. Hmmm? Will I then a chance have?"
Virginia's head whirled. The man said so many infuriating
things, each deserving to be burnt down with scathing logic. Oh,
why am I so compulsive? He's not looking for an argument over
semantics, he wants to get on my nerves, that's all.
"Fuck you, Otis," she said at last.
Sergeov blinked in momentary surprise, then he laughed. His
head rocked badk and he cried out in delight. "Said well! If only we
had you on Earth, day before yesterday! You could have told them."
"Told who?" "Bastards in Geneva."
Virginia hesitated, feeling suddenly cold.
"What's happened on Earth?"
"If you had more than time of day for your own kin, you
would have by now known," Sergeov taunted her. "We have no one
to talk to but each other now.., now that Orthos blame us for the
diseases."
"They do not .... "Virginia closed her eyes and resolved not
to be sidetracked. "Tell me what happened on Earth, Otis. Or this
time I really will break your arm."-
The Russian spacer nodded. His voice was suddenly subdued.
"There was coup, Virginia. Hawaii is now under Arc of the Sun."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	173

"What?" She stated. "But... But that's impossible! How?"
"Mercenaries from Philippines. Governor Ikeda dead. There
is martial law."
"But the Thirty-second Amendment... the United States has
to defend--"
Sergeov shrugged. "Supreme Court of United States met in
emergency session, Virginia... ruled that Hawaii, since 2026, is
been sernisovereign... I think that is proper phrase. Means a de
facto Arcist government is hokay--so long as it pays federal taxes
on time, and keeps external-affairs-nose clean.
"They have already the Percell School closed down. Shut
down uplift-research institute and that big tidal-energy project.
More is to come, for sure."
Sergeov came forward, one hand on a rail, breathing intensely.
His voice was thick with sarcasm "Now you see? See why
we could have yesterday used your eloquence back on Earth? The
case was only six to three, decided. Surely if you had there been,
you would have been able to convince them. Or at least could have
told them fuck you right into their Ortho..."
He stopped then, because Virginia had already stumbled out
into the hallway, past the hulking decontamination robot, ignoring
its monotone request that she submit to its worthless sound-and-light
treatment. She moved without destination, blinded by sudden
tears, navigating purely by rote.

CARL

Things were getting bad.
Carl drifted on a tether, waiting for Saul Lintz to show up: He
was glad for the break.
In the last few days he'd learned to take his rest where he
found it--in little cat naps and food breaks, using every slack moment
to let his muscles forget about what he was putting them
through. There wasn't time to get mechs into place for most jobs,
and a lot of it they couldn't do anyway.
Good old grunt work, Carl thought. Only it's different if your
life depends on it.

	174
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
In a way, he was glad he wasn't running things. Major Lopez,
who barely concealed his distrust of Percells, had all the headaches. Fine. Let him sweat.
There weren't enough hands to control the green gunk algae,
much less the big forms. Bethany Oakes was busily unslotting people
to help out, but that took tim. e. He had heard things weren't
running well down there, either. Some unslotted ones were angry at
being reawakened early, and then scared of catching the whatsits
diseases running around.
Not that he could blame them. He had a new guy on his crew, a
husky Norwegian named Veerlan, and already the sniffles and
coughing were starting. The man had been out only thirty-five
hours, hardly even fit for heavy work yet.
"Is the team ready?" Saul's voice came to Carl out of a foggy
blur. Saul landed stiffly on fiberthread nearby and hooked a line to
a stay.
"Ah... yeah. Not much of a team, though."
"How many?" Saul seemed alert and ready, even though long
fatigue lines rutted his face. He carried a bulky machine strapped
to his back.
"Four."
"Including you?"
"Yeah."
"Urn... I don't know.., it's going to be pretty cumbersome."
"I'll call mechs."
"I've already had Sergeov tell Virginia. She'll send some as
soon as possible."
Carl felt a hot spurt Of irritation. "I'm in charge of mechs in
this quadrant."
Saul's mouth tightened. "Look, this is an emergency--"
'I'll call Virginia. This isn't your lab, Lintz. I call the shots
down here."
"All right, be my guest. Call."
"Well . . . yeah . . . I'll patch through while we're on the
way." Carl shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "You've got the
spec frequencies?"
Saul tapped his vest pocket. "Right here. Took all night."
"This better work."
"I hope it will."
"Hope isn't near good enough."
"I can't guarantee--"
"Listen, we're down to a dozen, maybe fifteen able-bodied.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	175

They're dropping faster than we can unslot 'em, I hear. I'm using
men who've groggy from work--like me--and women with noses
running in their suits, coughing into tissues they've wadded under
their chins. I mean..." He sucked in air, his eyes squeezed tight,
and expelled a tired breath. "It better work."
Saul nodded sympathetically. "Let's go, then."
They met Jeffers and Sergeov and Lani in Shaft 3, where it had
all started. The shaft was well lit so they could see to work, the
phosphors glowing like regularly spaced advertisements along a
dark highway that dwindled away into the yawning distance.
The party hung like dots of color, each suit a different primary,
against the pink fiberthread background. From a lateral tunnel
came a large,.asymmetric bulk, towed by mechs Three extras
trailed.
--Virginia freed 'em up,-- Jeffers said happily. --Makes it a
whole lot easier for us now.--
"Yeah," Carl said. He felt irked that Saul had gotten mechs
quickly, without Virginia even asking for approval. And he hadn't
had any mech backup this whole damned shift, until brilliant Saul
Lintz and his miracle cure came on the scene. "About time."
I don't suppose I'll cry any if this doesn't work, Carl thought,
and then immediately rebuked himself. No, that's stupid. You're
really getting worn down.
Jeffers must have been just as tired, but he grinned and wisecracked
as he wrestled gear toward the target area. His angular face
gave no hint of how he felt about being awakened into hell.
Both Jeffers and Sergeov still had Shadowy slot eyes. Carl said
to them, "Don't bust your butts, guys. Easy does it."
They checked the mechs' securing cables and pivoted the array
to move up the center of the ,haft. Telerobots had towed the
microwave-digger assembly, minuits tripod mount, all the way
down from the surface. Without its legs it lost its former spidery
grace and became merely another lumpy machine, pipes and struts
sticking out at odd angles.
Ahead, the smooth surface of the tunnel was broken by purple.
strands jutting into the vacuum.
--They're not moving,-- Lani said. Beneath her high, melodious
voice there was an undercurrent of fatigue.
--How long has the air been gone from this shaft?-- Saul
asked.
--Days,-- Jeffers answered.
--And the temperature is down? Then the purples may be
dormant.--

I Z6
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
--What's 'at?-- Jeffers asked fuzzily.
Saul glanced at Carl questioningly, as if to ask, Is he groggy?
Carl shook his head. We're all tired, so what? We haven't
been sitting on our asses in a lab all this time.
--The larger forms apparently were stimulated by leaking heat
at'the intersections,-- Saul sent, --where the collar makes contact
with the ice. But once they broke through, looking for more heat,
they hit a bonanza. The air waimed them as it rushed out, and the
forms kept growing--for a while. Now it's almost as cold in here as
the ice, so they're dormant again. Mostly.--
--Uh-huh.-- Jeffers stared straight ahead, somewhat blearily
chewing at his lip, and Carl couldn't be sure the man had understood
any of it.
"The purples will break in anywhere the gunk grows;' he
said. "That means anyplace there's heat or light or air."
They slowed, the mechs' jets taking up the inertia of the microwave
borer. Bulbous Halleyform organisms protruded into the
shaft all around Tunnel 3E. In yellow-tinged phosphor light they
seemed to be sweating a film of oily blue.
--Beautiful, huh?-- Jeffers sent sarcastically.
--In a way,-- Lani said somberly, taking him seriously. --So
strange...-
''Philosophy later," Carl said. "We've got to kill it."
--No, I want a sample first.-- Saul coasted over to the wall
and smacked into it awkwardly. Carl grinned maliciously. Let Saul
make his own mistakes. He wasn't going to waste energy babying
anybody, especially Lintz.
--I have not seen them in this state. I had only reports to judge by.-
Oh great. "You mean you don't know you understand them?"
--Oh, we've learned a lot. For instance, we now know that
they aren't really differentiated organisms at all, not like mammals
or insects or earthworms. They're more like jellyfish or slime
molds.., wheredifferent groups of independent cells take on specialized
tasks for brief periods. I haven't seen a phase like this before,
but their fundamental chemistry could not change simply
because they have a respite in their growth cycle.-
The bland professorial arrogance of it irked Carl. "Who says
so? How come you're so sure?"
Saul pulled out a sample bottle. --General biological principles.
The resonant frequencies of their long-chain molecules can't
change simply because their life rhythm slows.-
Saul clipped a fragment from the nearest jutting growth, and

	HEART OF THE COMET
	177
caught it in the bottle. He peered into the open cut, where darkening
tissue oozed. --Remarkable. It exudes a film for protection
against the loss of vapor to vacuum. Yet the film itself is a fluid that
somehow doesn't sublime.--
"Hey, come on," Carl called impatiently.
--I suspect it's a very high-surface-tension fluid. Somehow it
binds to the surface, yet remains liquid enough to cover the plant
entirely, compensating for injuries.-
Saul clipped a section from another, then pushed off. --Done.--
--Good! Let's get the microwave oven ready for fried
eggplant,-- Jeffers said.
Carl directed the mechs to focus the antennas on the plants.
There would be side lobes that would lap onto the walls, but that
couldn't be helped. The trick--Saul's idea--was to-tune the microwave
borer to the precise vibrational frequency of a molecule peculiar
to the native forms so that a short burst would fry them without
also heating the ice, nearby.
"Hope you're sure."
--The calculation's straightforward. I'm confident.-- Saul
eyed Carl. --Look, if it works on purples, I can tune it to some of
the worst varieties of green gunk, too.--
"To kill this stuff you might have to blister everything else
around. If the exposed ice vaporizes, we're going to be smack in
front of a hurricane."
Saul caught his look. --My calculations show.., oh, to hell
with it. Let's try anyway.--
--She all tuned?-- Jeffers asked.
Saul nodded. Carl put his glove on the manual switch "Firing.''

There came a faint buzz beneath his hand as the capacitors
discharged, and then the wall flew at him. A white streaming gale
hit Carl, blowing him across the shaft, slamming him into the wall.
He bounced off, spun, regained his attitude. The comm line
carried grunts, swearing, a yelp of pain. --Watch the spider! It's
gonna crash into the wall,-- Jeffers said.
The microwave unit was drifting backward with ponderous
menace. If it slammed into the fiberthread--
"Mechs! Mechs!"
Jeffers and Carl leaped for the mech-command module. Stopping
the mammoth machine by themselves would be impossible.
Jeffers punched his side console, swearing. Figures moved in
the dim light, frantically grappling for purchase on the ponderous,

	178
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


awkward bulk. Mecbs surged in several directions, slowing the
unit. In a slow-motion swirl they applied force and leverage, while
seconds ticked and forces merged.

It worked--barely. The unit bumped into the wall in a slow
scraping of green.

"Any injuries.9''
--No.--Only
to my pride,-- Saul sent. He brushed at a smear of
green on his suit bottom. --Ouch. I guess I must've sprained my
wrist, too.-

Slowly they assembled. The burst of vapor had blown Lani in

a three-bank shot, ending up a hundred meters away.

--Hey!-- Sergeov sent. --Regard.-- He pointed to the rim of
Tunnel E.

"The plants.., they're gone," Carl said.

--Not just fried. We disintegrated 'em,-- Jeffers sent.

--Of that I was certain,-- Saul said. --But why so much vapor?
Must've boiled the water in their tissues. I'll have to adjust the
frequency better.--

"Tune all you want," Carl said. "Come on! Slap patches on
those holes before something else grows through them."


.It took another two hours of tuning before they could blow the
native forms apart with a single short burst from the spider and
cause only a minor steam-storm of hot steam. Carl slowly admitted
that the idea seemed to work. It was hard to get used to.

Dr. Oakes was enthusiastic. She approved orders to bring in
two more spiders and crews to man them. If they worked three
shifts per day they might clear the most important shafts and tunnels
inside forty-eight hours.

The advantage of the microwave technique was that it ripped
apart the Halleyforms down at the molecular level--much more
effective than chopping them up or tearing them out of the ice by
hand, hoping you had gotten every root and strand.

No; he thought, now to get rid of the goddamn green gunk
itself.

Carl began to feel a faint ray of optimism cut through his
bone-deep weariness. He sent Virginia slow-frame pictures of purples
exploding as the microwaves hit the bulbs. She sent back an
enthusiastic "Yaaaaay!" then echoed it artificially so that it
sounded in his headphones as though an entire stadium were applauding
him. That lifted his spirits more than anything.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	179
They were heading back toward Central, inside a pressurized
tunnel, when the madman struck.
"Leave it, leave it, leave it be! You killers! You're the aliens
here!"
They turned to see a man in a tattered ship-suit, hanging from
a side passage, glaring at them angrily.
"What... ?" Carl began to say. But the man screamed and
leaped forth.
He threw himself at Cad, shouting, incoherenfly--a high-pitched
babble, laced with obscenity, and the eyes wide with fevered
energy. Hands stretched forward like claws, legs set to kick.
Before Carl could react, hands had grabbed his helmet ring
and they went spinning away together. His helmet flew out of his
hands when they smacked into a wall. The madman wrapped his
legs around Carl and pounded with hard, quick fists.
Carl was sluggish, dazed. He punched at the other but missed.
A right cross caught him in the eye--brilliant crimson flashes. He
swung wildly. Missed.
He fast. Carl blocked another punch. He struck--missed
and struck out again. This time he clipped the man on the shoulder.
With the energy of the mad a flurry of fists smacked into his cheek,
his arm, his chest. Then, at last, help arrived. Someone yanked and
the man spun away, yelling, holding out a handful of something.
Carl felt friendly hands grab him, stop his mad tumble. Lani
cradled him.
"What the hell?"
"Who was it?"
"Couldn't tell."
"Ingersoll, I think. A guy from Chem Section."
He blinked unsteadily as the-igure launched itself away with
well-timed kicks off the tunnel walls. The gibberish went on, fading.
No one followed. They clustered around Carl, who was still
numb from surprise.
I'll have bruises, that's all," Carl said groggily, fighting
down the adrenaline rush.
"Damnedest thing," Jeffers said.
Lani touched Cad's face gently. "It's swelling already. What
could have provoked him?"
"He seemed deranged," Saul said. "I'd heard he had come
down with something, but Akio said it did not appear to be fatal.
Whatever it was, it's obviously affected his mind."
Sergeov's face took on a grim, gray cast. "Now he flees into

	180
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

lower tunnels. Be very hard to find him, treat him, in there, if he
does not want you to catch."
"As far as I'm concerned," Carl said, rubbing his jaw, "he
can stay lost forever."
Saul nodded, but his voice was pensive and worried as he said,
"There were Halleyforms smeared on his face. I wonder how many
others have what he's developing?"

	-
	SAUL

At times, the words still haunted him. We are the aliens. Men were
the invaders here, the interlopers. Now and then Saul wondered
what right they had, killing what they did not understand.
Still, he admitted to a feral pleasure in roaming the deep ice
caverns, zapping gunk--a savage thrill in aiming a sort of ray gun down a hallway, whispering "zap, zap" under your breath, and
vaporizing the more dangerous outbreaks of comet stuff.
It didn't surprise Saul that he was of two minds on the matter. In this instance, it's the soMier, the caveman in me that wins
over the philosopher. My job is to chip flint, th flake new weapons
and help save the tribe. It a priority that comes down from long,
long ago. And it is right.
He touched the dial on his portable beamer. The rheostat kept
drifting, and it was important to keep the device tuned exactly on
the right frequency, in case they rounded a corner right into a
writhing mass of purples.
In the days since that first experiment, the hall crews had
learned a lot about how to use the new weapons. There was neither
enough power nor labor to keep every passage clear all the time,
and the waste heat would prove most unpleasant, if they tried for
very long. But the effect on morale had been tremendous anyway.
For the first time there seemed to be a chance they might just get
through this. Those who weren't sick were actually starting to
catch up on sleep. There was less desperate talk of stripping surface
mechs to be brought down below the ice.
Now, if only we can lick the sicknesses. Saul's major reason for
agreeing to come out here, to the remote tunnels near the surface,
was to take enough samples to develop his data base, to begin to get

	HEART OF THE COMET
	181
some idea how Halley lifeforms interrelated, what roles the microorganisms
played.
Just behind him, Lani Nguyen rode a large tunnel mech. The
big robot carried a microwave digger that had been modified for
hall scrubbing. Except for a dicey area back, on E Level, they
hadn't had to use it much. The really rough areas were those closest
to human habitatibn, where heat and light and air fed complex lichenoid
growths and attracted the deadly, iron-mawed, worm-like
colonies.
Here in the outlying tunnels, the phosphor lamps were far
spaced and the temperature was kept well below freezing. Only a
thin film of green coated the walls. It was easier moving about--even
in spacesuits--than back where the purples crawled.
He raised his hand and Lani halted the mech at an intersection
that had once been bright in orange and blue plastisheath. Now the
walls were dingy under the verdant pallor of a few green-covered
glow panels.
Saul scraped away lichenoid, exposing letters on the wall: D- 14TAU.
Good, they weren't lost.
--I'll make soundings for crevices, Saul.--
He'nodded. "Okay, Lani. Just don't venture too far from the
intersection."
--I'm leashed to you like a faithful puppy, you betcha.--Saul
smiled. Lani was smart and brave, but she was also cautious.
The combination was one reason he was glad to have her
assigned as his partner.
She moved carefully along the walls, thumping the fibersheath
and listening with an audioscope, skillfully seeking out breaks and
soft spots in the ice underneath.
They had found through hard'experience that the tiny, almost
imperceptible Halley-quakes that had been going on ever since their
arrival kept opening narrow cracks in the icy aggregate. The danger
was particularly acute at intersections, where the insulation
was weakest. Part of their job out here was to map the worst of
these crevices for later remelt and sealing . . . if there was ever
enough manpower to get around to it, that is.
The scrapings from the intersection sign went into a sample
vial. Saul was almost certain this was just typical Hallivirens rna-lenkovi. But on this trip he had also discovered a host of other, as
yet undescribed types. The ecosystem clearly varied from place to
place as conditions changed.
Right now Akio Matsudo was back in Central's bio lab, work
	I 82
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
ing with Marguerite von Zoon and three weary techs to seek treatment
for the growing sick list.
Akio was a competent scientist, but he was ideologically incapable
of really adjusting to the implications of this unexpected
tide of cometary life.
Everyone's excited over the success of my microwave disruptor.
I've got a reputation as a man of action, now. But has it persuaded
anyone to take my advice ? To step back and try to get the
wide view ?
Ha!"
Saul was resigned to investigating the Halleyform problem on
his own, in his own way. One part of that investigation was coming
out here and looking into it for himselfi
The biggest drawback is missing Virginia so much.
Saul said a grateful prayer every day they woke up together,
neither of them yet suffering from some horrible, deadly thing. It
was a blessing that she had--so hr--not caught anything from him.
Virginia had had a few rough days there, back when the news
had come about the coup in Hawaii. The resulting Percell-Ortho
tensions had almost overshadowed joy over the success of the
beamer technique.
Three steps forward, four steps back, Saul thought.
He wiped his nose on his helmet's drip pad, took another antihistamine
pill, and washed it down with a sip from a water teat.
Saul bent-swiveled his body upside down in the hint gravity to take
another scraping of an interesting-looking growth.
There was a low growl as Lani returned with the mech. She
muttered rapidly in arcane engineering dialect as she recorded her
results, then she looked up at Saul.
--Only small cracks as hr as Shaft Six. So, do we toast this
stretch of tunnels?-
He shook his head. "No, not here. We'd be halfa day finding
the right tunings for the individual lichenoid components. The disrupted
cells would only spread out and coat the walls anyway, serving
as food for a new generation. This stuff doesn't seem to be
doing any harm right now."
He also wanted to avoid selecting for disruptor-resistant variants.
They had a weapon, now. It would be unwise to squander it as
twentieth-century man had done with the best antibiotics and insecticides.
"Why don't you just zap the area around each phosphor
panel?" he suggested. "So this corridor doesn't go completely
dark and unusable."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	183

--And the vent valves.-- Lani nodded. --Right, Saul. I know
the drill by noW.-
In the thin, chill air the mech's motors gave off a low, brittle
rumbling. As the carrier passed, he glanced at the cold cargo
strapped to its back.., the corpses they had found late yesterday
and early today.
One was a spacesuited woman, still twisted in a frozen-backed
body arch, as if cold and rigor had taken her in the midst of an
agonized spasm. Bulging eyes and a swollen tongue disfigured her
nearly out of recognition, but Central had identified her as a Power
and Propulsion tech, missing three days now.
The other corpse was clothed only in insulstat coveralls. Saul
and Lani had found him in the embrace of a lifeform .Virginia had
called a hall anemone. Bits of flesh had torn off as I. hey tried to tug
the body free. They'd had to readjust the beamer and blast the
writhing colony creature to bits in order to recover and bag the poor
fellow's remains.
Who could tell why a man had died out here, so far from
Central and all alone? Until they could do tissue analysis, nobody
would even know who the unrecognizable jumble had been.
It was a troubling pattern. Other parties had found dead men
and women in outlying tunnels. More seemed to be dying in solitary,
during their off-duty hours, than suffered casualties during the
hall fighting.
At first I thought it was like the way a wounded animal will
sometimes drag itself away from the pack, seeking a hole in which
to die. I wondered if, maybe, sick, feverish people just crawled off
to be alone.
But that WaSh 'I it at all.
He drew his sheath knife ami picked away at a mosslike
growth next to the intersection code sign. The gunk was hiding
something else.
Green stuff floated away from his ,i-brating blade, and there it
was.., a circle with an arrow coming off to the upper rightT-the
symbol of maleness--with a stylized flower within.
It was the third type of graffito they had found. In this quadrant
the most common had been the Arc of the Living Sun--symbol
of radical Orthos from equatorial-belt countries. But there had
been others as well, including the P and infinity cartouche . . .
... the Sigil of Simon Percell.
--Finished with that tunnel,-- Lani announced. --Good-thing
we checked. The pressure release was Stuck. Could've caused
problems.--

'J84
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"What do you make of this one?" he asked Lani, pointing to
the uncovered circle-and-arrow symbol.

There was a long silence. Her face seemed pale under the helmet
highlights.

--Every variety of crank was sent on this mission, Saul. Even
we spacers have ours, I guess. That's the sign of the Martian
Way.-

Saul nodded. His suspicion was growing more firm.

"Clan marks. People really have taken to living out here. At
first I couldn't believe it."

Lani explained, --It's picked up since people have grown a
little less spooked by the purples. Those guys we met down on
Level K... from Madagascar and Fiji... they do their jobs at
Central, but they're terrified of Percells. Refuse to sleep in the
same chamber with 'em.--

"Terrified," Saul repeated. He found it amazing that modern
men and women would behave this way. He had been astonished by
it all his life.

It wasn't the Percells' fault that they seemed more resistant to
the comet diseases than unmodified humans.., or at least showed
fewer superficial signs of illness. But that didn't stop the irrational
myth.

During the Middle Ages the same thing had happened to the
Jews of Europe. Because they killed rats on sight and washed their
hands, they tended to suffer less from the Plague. In the end,
though, their clean habits made little difference. Enough died at the
hands of enraged mobs to more than balance the toll.

Never underestimate the potential for human stupidity. It
seemed that more and more crew were taking to sleeping in their
spacesuits, in outlying tunnels. And sometimes, out there, the sicknesses
got them and they died, horribly and alone.

--I've asked people in the different faction territories to try to
report if somebody's missing. I don't know what good it'll do.-

Faction territories, Saul mused. "Everyone still talks to you,
don't they, Lani?"

She looked back at Saul, perhaps a little nervously.

--Well, I guess nobody feels threatened by me. I'm a pretty
innocuous type. People tend to tell me things.-

Saul smiled. The Amerasian girl had depth, perhaps more
than she realized.

"No. That's only part of it. You're a bridge of sorts, Lani, an
Ortho, but one who likes Percells. A... what's it called?"

--A Percephile, Saul?--

	HEART OF THE COMET
	185
Her laughter had a dry, nervous edge to it.
He nodded. "You're the only one of us survivors from First
Watch that most of the wakers seem to trust."
--Mostly 'cause they know I was just a grunt. Had nothing to
do with deciding who to thaw. That's what they blame poor Carl
for....--
She shook her head.
--Anyway, you're wrong about that, Saul. Folks are pissed off
right now, but if they had to pick three indispensable people out of
the whole expedition, it'd have to be you and Carl and Virginia.Saul
laughed. What a sweet child! She reminded him of what
little Rachel might have been like, had she grown up. But with
deep, almond eyes.
He almost asked her how things were going with Carl. Rumor
had .it they were getting together at times.., though obviously on
less of a committed level than Lani would prefer. Too bad. It would
be good to see something going between them, if for no other reason
than because it might ease Carol's stubborn anger over Virginia.
Saul decided against bringing up t-he subject. Probably l'djust
put of' foot squarely into mouth.
"Heigh-ho," he said, lifting his portable beamer carefully to
compensate for inertia. "Back to work, kiddo."
Lani smiled and started up the mech. He hung on in front as
they moved down a long stretch of tunnel, watching the close,
green-tinged walls warily.
Up at A Level the chamber scheduled to be the launcher factory
gaped like an antediluvian tomb. The aft end of the sail tug Delsemme lay in the center, amid a scattering of unopened crates
and machinery. Colored threads festooned the sides of the cargo
vessel, giving it a faintly fuzzy outline. The cavern looked as if it
had.been abandoned for years. It was hard to imagine it humming
with bright lights and activity--as it would have to if they were ever
to get home again.
Carl k friend, Jef/ers . . . he been too busy to come up and
look at this. I wonder if it would be a kindness not to tell him.
"Let's give the place a zap on disruptor frequencies three,
five, and ten," he told Lani. "Then we'll hurry through that inventory
Betty wanted us to do up here."
--Right, Saul.-- Lani's mech moved out under her delicate
control. Soon a tiny series of clicks was accompanied by rising
clouds from all over the chamber as the Hallivirens algoid blew
apart under microwave disruption.
Saul pondered. If only treating the diseases were as simple.

	'J 86
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
He took out a light pen and began scanning boxes, letting his portable
computer take inventory of the contents of the chamber.
--Saul,-- Lani whispered. He turned'from a scraping he had
been taking, and saw that she wa at the other end of the chamber,
pointing down one of the side passages. When he arrived where she
was standing, his first reaction was one of quick combat adrenaline.
For there was a telltale squirming ripple that told of purples, grazing
on the gunk-lined fibersheath.
Then he saw something else. A hundred meters or so down,
near one of the fungus-dimmed glow balbs, an indistinct figure
floated.
"Another deader?"
She shook her head.
--No. I... I think it's Ingersoll!Saul
cursed the scratchy, intermittent blurriness caused by the
antihistamines. He peered down the tunnel. The dim. figure was moving.
Ingersoll. Everyone simply assumed he was dead, by now. At
first he thought the missing madman wore a green spacesuit, tinted
to match the growth-lined hallway. But then...
"What on Earth?" Stunned, he realized that the figure was
not wearing clothing.
--That's dried gunk he's covered himself with! What's he
picking off the walls, Saul? What's he doing?-
Fortunately, their suit helmets contained the sound of their
voices. Saul tried to float closer quietly, using an awkward puff of
his gas jet. "I think..."
The man must have heard something in the thin air. He
whirled, and Saul saw that only his face was not coated by a thick
layer of green, living growth. He cried out, eyes clouded with madness.
Saul could make out only a few words.
"... Perfect! . . . Sweet, sweet, sweet an' warm! . . . YOu'll
know, know, no, no, no!.."
It was hard to pay close attention when one saw what hung
dripping from the man's mouth.., a purple bleeding mass.
Then, in a sudden spin and kick, Ingersoll was gone. Lani and
Saul could only stare after him, momentarily too stunned even to
think of giving chase.
Finally, Lani broke the silence.
--Yuk,-- she sent. Even through her suit he could see her
shudder.
Saul nodded.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	187


"Well, that's one fate I'll be spared. If it were me, I'd probably
be allergic to the stuff."

He touched Lani's arm and winked at her. Finally she smiled.
Then Saul sneezed.

"These damn antihistamines are wearing off again. Come on,
Lani. Let's mark this passage and go home."

With a backward glance down the purple-lined hallway, they
turned and headed back, alone with their separate thoughts.


An hour later, they had looped around toward Central again
and were approaching the worst area--the Border--where the
warmth and air and moisture of human habitation most excited the
comet forms. Lani was tuning the disruptor back to settings deadly
to the purples, in case they had to fight their way through. Saul,
though, felt his spirits rise. Beyond No Man's Land, he knew, there
was warmth, and food, and one special person waiting just for him.

His thoughts were a mix of shapes. The frankly sexual image
of one of Virginia's nipples, warm from his hand and stiffly erect.
Her soft breath in his ear and the electronically enhanced tendril-touch
of her emotions, channeled directly to his own...

And yet his mind kept drifting back to little cells, multiplying
in profusion, growing in mottled, many-hued hordes, forming cooperative
macroorganisms where no one with any common sense
would have expected them to exist, let alone thrive.

There was a common chord to the images. A symphony of
self-replicating chemistry.., a young woman's sexual flush, her
deep currents of love, the surging tide of Comet Life, rising to meet
waves of heat from a spring that came but once every seventy-six
years...

Only indirectly, without malice, did the native forms wreak
havoc on the visitors--killing thmT' and bringing retaliation in
turn. Saul might have felt guilty over inventing weapons for such a
war. But guilt would miss the point. Nothing we do here will set the

Comet Life back. We are like the summer. And we, too, shall pass.
The speaker above Saul's right ear crackled.
--Lintz, this is Osborn. You awake up there?-Saul
nodded. "Yes, Carl. What's up?"

--There's been some developments, Saul. Can you come to

Shaft Four, K Level? I... We may need your belp.--"Oh?
What's happened?"
There was a pause.

--I want to talk to you privately, if possible.--

	188
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


"Why's that?" Saul frowned. "Is it something you can't mention
on a. coded channel?"

There was another pause.

--No, not exactly. But... Well, I think I know where the
missing slot tug is. I'm pretty sure I know what's happened to the
Newburn. --

Now it was Saul's turn to stop, biink.

"We're on our way in. Lintz, over and out."


VIRGINIA


"JonVon," she said pensively, "I can feel what you're doing."
HIGHLY UNLIKELY.

"No, really. There's a tingling, a tickling."

THE NUCLEAR MAGNETIC RESONANCE SCANNING
PROCESS MOVES NOTHING. IT DOES NOT EVEN TOUCH
YOUR SKIN.

"I can feel it." ,

THERE ARE VERY FEW SENSORY RECEPTORS INSIDE
THE SKULL.

"Well, something's moving. Like fingers dancing on my scalp,
only.., deeper." The sensation was unsettling, like tendrils lacing
through her head. She stirred uneasily on the webbing. Only a thin

buzzing came from the banks of equipment that ringed her.
THE MAGNETIC FIELD, PERHAPS.
"Can people feel magnetic fields?"

STRONG ONES, YES. I AM APPLYING 7.6 KILOGAUSS
TO THE ZONE OF STUDY. UNIFORMITY ERROR IS LESS
THAN ONE HUNDREDTH OF ONE PERCENT.

Just like the pedantic program--and she should know, she
wrote it--to throw in an irrelevant detail.

Or maybe it wasn't irrelevant. The tumbling of infinitesimal
spinning electrons inside her skull demanded fine tuning of an order
unusual even in research. She quelled the temptation to slide
her eyes sideways to see the poles of the big superconducting magnet.
Even that much movement would set up unwanted trembling in
her head.

I AM ACCESSING THE LATEST DATA BASE ON HU~

	HEART OF THE COMET
	189

MAN NMR. I WILL INVESTIGATE POSSIBLE UNANTICIPATED
EFFECTS.
"Do. It itches inside my head."
SEARCHING AND INTEGRATING NOW.
"Did Saul mention any effects?"
HE SUPPLIED SAFETY MACROS WHEN HE BROUGHT
THIS NMR UNIT DOWN FROM MED CENTER, BUT
STATED THAT USE WAS HARMLESS WHEN INSIDE THE
INDICATED OPERATING RANGE.
"Ummm. Maybe I should've done this sedated."
NONSENSE. I WOULD NOT WISH TO UNDERTAKE
THIS TASK' ALONE.
Just like me, she thought. Anxiety loves company.
THAT IS QUITE TRUE.
There was virtually no difference now between JonVon's
grasp of her surface thoughts and her speech, since JonVon read
both directly through the neural tap. Still, it felt different to her.
Her mind processed the words in subtly different ways. The pre-speech
processing center in her brain gave its own pacing to the
phrases, feeding the words "forward" in the unconscious cadence
that made her own speaking style. When she thought without the
subtle intention to speak, there often were no words at all. A quick,
almost holographic perception of the idea shot through her. She
wondered if JonVon could tell the difference.
OF COURSE.
"Of course," she said/thought ruefully.
I DO NOT DETECT THIS TINGLING YOU MENTION.
THOUGH OF COURSE I CAN PERCEIVE AN ECHO OF IT IN
YOUR GENERAL STANDING WAVE PATTERNS, NOW THAT
I KNOW WHAT TO LOOK FOR...
JonVon's words came to her ii5 two steps--the flash of their
general sense, followed an instant later by an arranged sentence.
That was her speech center operating in reverse, taking a series of
swift, fleeting inputs from JonVon and forming them into prim,
linear sentences.
"What a work of art we are," she said.
SHAKESPEARE?
"Taken vaguely from him, yes."
UNTIMELY RIPPED.
She constantly forgot how quickly JonVon could search out
and scan a vast literature. I'll have to keep up your poetry lessons.
You show a certain aptitude."
YOU HAVE MADE ME... There was a true hesitation in the

	190
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

transmission, Virginia noted with surprise. It was not part of the
simulation, but real uncertainty.... PERCEIVE THE AMBIGUOUS
SENSE OF SUCH LINES. THE VIRTUE OF INDEFINITENESS.
She guessed that the program was reluctant to use feel and
chose perceive only after a long comparison search and an inner
struggle. Machines did not share a human's casual confusion of
senses and thoughts, since their input paths were vastly different.
JonVon, though, could fool laymen into thinking he was a real person
by using the terms in the normal, slippery human way. People
commonly said I feel for I think; machines usually kept ironclad
walls between the two meanings.
Which was one of the reasons she was doing all this, as well.
Throw a rock at a woman and she could quickly digest the information
incoming on sense channels, process it into intuitive vectors,
speeds, and angles--then race forward, project, make approximate
solutions--all to see where she should dodge.
Silicon-based machines could do that, but quite differently.
They much preferred--meaning, humans were far better at pro- gramming
them to--taking it as a problem in introductory physics,
setting out the initial conditions all neat and clean, then integrating
the equations of motion forward to see the exact result. Fine. Only
by then you're dead.
THAT IS A DRAWBACK.
"Another spurt of humor! You're doing that more often now."
YOU DID NOT LAUGH.
"That was irony you used, not yuk-yuk."
OH. I ONLY DIMLY SEE THE DIFFERENCE.
She suspected JonVon used dimly see as a speaking convention.
He did not have real power of language metaphor yet. "Well,
all humor is based on two elements--ridicule and incongruity.
Irony has..." She frowned.
YES?
"There are some things.. 7'
MAN WAS NOT MEANT TO KNOW?
"Nope, wrong clich6. There are some subjects beyond explanation
7'
A RIDDLE WRAPPED IN AN ENIGMA?
"Boy, you're fast-accessing today. Can you do that and monitor
this experiment at the same time?"
MOST ASSUREDLY.
Virginia could not remember inserting that smug lilt into this
particular simulation. Was it mimicking Saul? JonVon had been in

	HEART OF THE COMET
	191

link contact with her lover a lot, lately. And she should never forget
that JonVon, as a bio-organic construct, was midway between humans
and silicon computers in his information processing. That led
to unexpected capabilities.

"Can you stop the tickling?"

JonVon's input broke into two channels, which she felt as a
sluggish red stream of rusty words, with blue darting commentary
slipping in and around them:

WHILE WE "SPOKE"
	--NOT THE RIGHT WORD,
	I

I TESTED THE EFFECT
	KNOW, BUT THERE IS NO

AND FOUND IT IS DUE
	OTHER

TO CONCENTRATIONS OF

MAGNETIC DIPOLES
	AVERAGE NUMBER
	109

FLIPPING TOGETHER

WHERE YOU HAVE BUILT

UP EMOTION-LADEN
	PROBABLY FROM ADOLESCENCE

TRIGGER COMPLEXES.

I AM AFRAID I CANNOT

ELIMINATE THEM BECAUSE
	THEIR PRIMARILY EXTERNAL

THEY ARE CLOSELY
	TRIGGER SEEMS TO BE SEXUAL

TIED INTO YOUR LEARNED

MOTOR RESPONSES
	THE IMAGE YOU ARE CALLING

	UP AT THIS MOMENT IS THE

	CONTRACTION OF UPPER

	THIGH MUSCLES AS YOU

	SPREAD YOUR LINGS FOR--

"Stop! I don't want my sex life played back by you."
YOU ASKED.
"I did?"
SORRY.

Her head was clamped in close-packed foam, which proved to
be good foresight--she would've flinched with embarrassment,
otherwise.

"How much do you..." Well, of course. The times with Saul.

YOU ARE DISPLAYING RHYTHMS OF EMBARRASSMENT.
SORRY.

"Oh, it's not your fault."

I CAN ABORT THE EXPERIMENT.

"No! I need this for the mechs."

I AM RECEIVING VALUABLE SUBROUTINES NOW.
She supposed this last sentence was supposed to be reassur-

	192
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


ing. The program had an uncanny way of responding to her apprehensions.
Still... "Just out of curiosity, what has my motor skill at
handling tools--that is what we're trawling for in my middle lobes,
isn't it?--what has that got to do with spreading my thighs?"

YOU HAVE ASSOCIATED THESE ACTIONS IN YOUR
SELF-PROGRAMMING.

"Self-programming?"

LIFE-LEARNED.

"Oh. Experience, you mean."

THE BEST TEACHER, AN OLD SAYING GOES.
"Maybe. Some things I'd rather get safely out of a book."
YES.

He -being diplomatic. After all, he doesn't have the option of

direct experience. "Can you scan the nearby memory tie-in?"
YES.

Was there a hint of reluctance? "Can you assign a date when
those complexes were laid down?"

A YEAR, NO. TIME ASSOCIATIONS ARE VAGUE.
HOWEVER, YOU ARE LYING ON SOMETHING GRITTY
AND COLD. THERE IS A SOUND. WATER WAVES, I ESTIMATE.
OVER YOU THERE IS A FACE AND A POUNDING IN
YOUR LOWER ABDOMEN.

Yes. That warm spring Hawaiian evening, fragrant with promise.
A movie and a shake and off to the beach for some friendly
necking. Only the warm kisses and gently probing, caressing hands
hadn't stopped there. Something powerful had seized her in a way
she had never imagined--no matter how many thousands of times
she had already thought of it, tried to visualize it--and then they
were actually, unbelievably, doing it. And rather than a fiery yet
lofting sensation, a cosmic rapture, a mystical union, as her dreams
had envisioned, it was raw, crude, uncomfortable, painful, and finally
depressing.


SHORT PANTS
ROMANCE


"A simple rhyme isn't poetry," she said primly.

TRUE.

"And anyway, what do you know about it?" Even as the words
formed she thought, Well, actually, Jon Von knows exactly what you
do. Or will, when he's finished mapping your lobes, dipped into
your hindbrain, plumbed the reptilian core of you. It was a sobering
thought.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	193
JonVon chose to not reply, Tact? Or was she indulging the
usual programmer's bias, reading human traits into machine response,
s?
The delicate cool tickling continued. She relaxed, letting her
mind glide away from the red swirl of emotions the recollection had
called up.
She knew that memories lodged close to sites where physical
associations were stored, so that the body led the mind in storing
data. A crisp dry smell could call up a distant dusty afternoon of
childhood. But this made her wonder about the radical experiment
she was attempting here.
The mechs needed supervision. Special processing programs
controlled subtle waldo arms, but they weren't smart. JonVon was
fairly "smart" but he couldn't help a mech turn a screwdriver or
balance a suction sponge. As a stochastic machine, he was built to
deal in uncertainties. He did not interface well with the mechs reductionist,
solve-the-equation worldview. And JonVon lacked the
intricate motor skills that evolution and exercise had given humans.
So she had decided to try one of her outlandish, low-probability
dreams: Let JonVon read her skills. Her reflexes were
also stochastic and holographic. He might understand them better.
The technology was available, if you knew where to look. The
brain stored memories in the orientation of electrons, deep down in
the cells and synapses. In principle, one could read the directions
that these electrons pointed. The entire swarm of spins stored
information--the intricate turns and tugs necessary to swivel a
wrist, poke a finger. Virginia already had good programs that translated
the human moves into mech moves. If JonVon could store her
motor skills,he could take over much of the mech-managing. That
would be a big help. Carl and '0ther spacers had nagged her endlessly
to spend more time with the mechs, and she was getting frazzled.
This was a way out. Maybe.
She would have to develop this technology eventually, anyway.
Even with Saul's microwave eraser, things were still dicey. Oakes
and Lopez still gave mech-directing top priority.
If they kept losing people, over the seventy-year haul the
mechs would have to be much more independent than the expedition
had planned. And she had to be slotted eventually, so she had to
at least start on a better programming system right away.
READING NEARING COMPLETION.
She sent an expression of relieved excitement: burnt-gold
lightning strokes zapping across a velvet sky.

	194
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
I RECORDED THE TRIGGER SITE. I COULD SUMMON
UP FOR VOLUNTARY RECALL THE INCIDENT FROM
YOUR CHILDHOOD. FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT.
"I wasn't a child, you bucket of bolts."
THE ASSOCIATIONS--
"And I don't think it was 'entertaining' either. That big hulk
of a boy--" She had a sudden jolting memory of a rasping, panting
male voice muttering Eli a hohonu keia lua. His hard, machinelike
ramming had hammered the words into her memory: Idig this hole
deep. Shehuddered.
YOU MAY MOVE NOW. READING COMPLETED.
"Thanks."
NOT THE BEST OF BEGINNINGS.
She knew JonVon didn't mean the reading. "No, it wasn't.
Oh, he was kind enough, I guess. I liked him enough to go out with
him several times before that, after all. But never after.., that."
AND SINCE?
"I've had my share. An engineer in college.., no, who am I
kidding? Not many. Not many at all."
A CONGRUENCY IS DIFFICULT.
"It's not a mathematical congruence, you know, JonVon. People
don't look for someone exactly like themselves. Almost the opposite,
in fact."
YOU ARE YOUNG. YOU SEEK AGE?
Saul's desert-weathered face came to her, grinning in that
lovely distracted way he had, and for a moment she was not sure
whether she had recalled it or... yes... "JonVon, you put him in
my head."
IT SEEMED NEEDFUL.
I'll be the judge of that. At least let me stage manage my own
fantasies!"
OF COURSE.
But the quick vision of that lopsided grin below the dark,
seldom-joyful eyes had indeed gotten to her. It seemed an age since
she had seen him, taken shelter in those strong enveloping arms,
smelled the heady musk of him, talked--
"JonVon! Call him for me."
I BELIEVE HE HAS AN APPOINTMENT WITH CARL
OSBORN. ONE OF THE MECHS I COMMAND WITNESSED
HIM PASS BY 1.34 MINUTES AGO.
 "Drat! I miss him." She jerked the foam padding away from her head and grimaced at the imposing banks of equipment: spindly

	HEART OF THE COMET
	195

nuclear resonance pickups, looming pancake magnet poles, tanks
of digitizers,
"I'm worn out with this everlasting crisis."
YOU NEED RECREATION.
"You bet."
A picture leaped into her mind--so graphic, so lurid--silky
entwined limbs, and more. She would have turned away if she had
ever seen it displayed in mixed company.., and yet she found it
sensually enticing, pulse-quickening, as if calculated to pry up the
hinges of her own special private places.
"JonVon!"
ONLY A SUGGESTION.
The quilted scene faded, leaving a halo of blue afterimage.
"How did you.., know?"
I READ A LOT.
It was, she supposed, a joke.

CARL

"Over here!" Carl shouted.
Saul's silhouette turned at the far end of Tunnel K and waved.
Tho figure kicked off and glided the hundred meters, passing
through pools of ivory phosphor radiance.
"Damned chilly," Saul said as he windmilled to bring his feet
around in front of himself. He lnded, knees taking the shock.
He's getting better, Carl reflected. Everybody's going to have
to learn to sweat from now on. "We're keeping it cold even in the
central tunnels now. Me, I'd like to vac all these."
"It would cut down on our maneuverability enormously."
"Cut down on the purples, too."
"I use the inner tunnels every hour or so. If I had to suit up
every time--"
"I'm going to recommend it anyway."
"Bethany Oakes has already decided--"
"Yeah, I know." Every time you confront Lintz with a problem
he starts citing decisions by the higher-ups.
Saul seemed reflective. "On the way here Lani and I saw In
	196
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

gersoll down one of the side passages near Level A. He's eating
native forms, I think. Amazing. He seems harmless., if crazy."

Carl felt a jab of irritation at the mere mention of Ingersoll.
Things are so bad we can't even catch a madman. But he kept his
VOice matter-of-fact; diplomacy came first. "Yeah, he's crazy, but
crazy like a fox."

He shook his head and decided to get right to the point.

"I... Look, I'm going to propose to Oakes that we go retrieve
the Newburn."

'Really? You've really located it?"

"Right. It was Lani's idea, actually. We were just talking,
looking at that numerical simulation Virginia did a while back."

"The one which showed how the Newburn's solar sail
could'ye been shredded by Halley's plasma tail?"

"Yeah. I figure the other slot tugs were just plain lucky they
didn't get hit. The cross-tail=induced currents probably blew out
Newburn's tracer beacons, too. Without that sail deployed, finding
Newburn was hopeless. So Lani, she says maybe we could try sending
tightbeam microwaves and listen for an echo. I used a little sack
time and did just that and--bingo!--got a signal back after a week-long
search."

"Wonderful. And so simple!"

Saul's surprise was gratifying. At least he didn't think of it
first. "We're going to need those forty sleepers, at the rate we're
losing people."

Saul nodded, thinking. "Right . . . the manpower problem
will get worse."

"We've got to do it soon. The Newburn's drifted pretty far
away, more than two million klicks already."

"I agree, but I still don't understand. Why get me all the way
out here to tell me?"

"I want to line up support first, before telling the Committee.

I'm no good at arguing with Oakes."

"And I am?"

"Right. Also, I want you to go with us as doctor."

Saul brightened. "Good thinking. Those slots may have suffered
damage."

"Be a good morale booster, too."

"Exactly what we all need. I'm sure I can make Betty see the
advantages, now that the purples are under control. But can the
Edmund fly right away?"

"Jeffers says his tritium.finding mechs have already filtered
out enough to quarter-fill the short-range tanks, just as a byproduct

	HEART OF THE COMET
	197


from iunnel digging. He can top off the fuel we'll need inside a
week."

"Good! You've thought this through."

Is that supposed to be a compliment? Gee, thanks, Dr. Lintz.
We grunts try to do some thinkin' now and then, we do.

"Let's see." Saul rubbed his chin. "It'll take the better' part of
a month to get there. That means we'd have to take some hydroponics
modules, and..."

. Carl had already figured out the basics, but he had also
learned that it was a good idea to let scientists talk for a while
before you got on to the hard part, the decisions. Maybe that was
what kept them out of the really top positions. If you sat there while
they gave their little lectures, usually they'd feel they'd had their
say and they wouldn't make a lot of stupid objections to what was
already obvious.

Saul crouched against the wall with the innate insecurity of a
ground dweller, always a little uptight about simply hanging on to a
handhold above what his senses--no matter how well he trained
them into submission--told him was a long drop.

"Sure," Carl said when Saul had wound down a little. "Point
is, what about Oakes?"

"We'll need a consensus on this plan, of course, which may
well take time."

"Consensus, hell. Every day we wait the Newburn gets further
away!"

Saul scratched his head. "Well, some will see the Newburn as
a side issue."

Carl gritted his teeth. "It's forty lives."

"True, but even I might be forced to put them on the back
burner. The major problem is u.n.erstanding the Halley lifeforms.
If I can finish my current experiments on time--"

"Experiments!" Carl couldn't believe he was hearing this.
"You think they're more important than forty people?"

"I didn't say that, Carl! But we're not out of the woods yet.
There are so many diseases! We have to understand how the cometary
ecology works when we add a new source of heat. That's what
we hadn't anticipated, of course. I was speaking on tightbeam with
Earth day before yesterday, and Alexandrosov, the head of the
Ukrainian Academy, has a theory. Even with the minutes of time
delay in the conversation, we got a lot of thinking done I told him

my ideas--preliminary ones, of course--and he saw an analogy--"
"Aw crap," Carl said harshly.
"What?" Saul blinked.

	198
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"You're talking like this was a damn thesis problem or something."

"Thesis.'?" Saul blinked. "Carl, I assure you, an event of this
magnitude, with so many implications, is bigger than a mere--"

"Shit, I don't mean how big a deal it is with your professor

friends back Earthside! I mean that you're using it to make points!"
Saul's face compressed, reddened. "That's incredible. I--"
"You keep running tests and making up theories, yakking to
your buddies Earthside--and the rest of us are working our butts off
to stop this stuff."

"I don't need you to--"

"Come off it!"

"I'm sure I don't know--"

"Life on comets! Discovery of the century! Saul Lintz, the
interplanetary Darwin!"

Saul stiffened. "That's ridiculous."

"Some of us, we're starting to wonder."

Saul glowered. "What's that supposed to mean.'?"

"You weren't Mr. Popular in the scientific world when you
signed on for this cruise, were you?"

"I was the last living figure identified with the origin of the
Percells, if that's what you're driving at."

"Right." Carl felt a sudden hot embarrassment, remembering
who and what this man represented. But he could not keep his resentment
in check. "The Israel you knew wiped out, family dead,
career finished--you were on the ropes."

Saul spoke in separated syllables. "So nu?"

"So you ship out. Why not take this ride--it'll return you
when your past is old, forgotten, right?"

Saul said with surprising mildness, "I didn't think I'd return
and still don't."

Carl rode over this pause in the momentum. "But! Along
comes alien life, and then the greet gunk, the purples--bonanza!
You're famous--by accident, really. Anybody could've analyzed
that ice and found microbes. But to understand it--that's the big
game. That's where Saul Lintz will make his mark, show that he's
not just lucky. No, he's a first-class scientist. And he can work on
all the new stuffby himself. Study it hard. Squirt it Earthside when
he likes. Every biologist back there is waiting for a speck of data

about the first alien life, and the only person he can get it from is--
ta-daah!--Saul Lintz!'

Carl finished, puffing, his breath spurting cotton clouds in the
cold air. 'Saul regarded him silently, his face lined and more than

	HEART OF THE COMET
	199


middle-aged in the harsh phosphorescent glare. A long silence
passed between them and Carl calmed down, began to regret .... '
But it was too late.

Saul poked at the caked sealant. "This wasn't why you called
me out here. You asked me to volunteer for the Newburn rescue.
Very well. I volunteer. I don't have to eat any of this chazerei."

He cast off awkwardly, heading back toward Central. As he
coasted, still looking back at Carl, his words came in the chilled
quiet: "It's really Virginia, isn't it?"

And Carl knew that it was.


He came into the Rec and Lounge cylinder with a sour, tired
weight pulling him down. The grav wheel had been one of the last
items transferred from the Edmund. It was always depressing coming
in from near-zero G into a centrifugal G field, for several reasons.
Even in a big wheel, there were Coriolis forces that set your
reflexes off, induced a mild veering nausea. After a day in near-zero,
where the slightest tug was important, you couldn't walk
without feeling the misaligned forces. Halley's spin always pushed
you slightly to the left.

But the worst of it was the simplest: you had been an eagle,
and were now a groundhog.

So Carl was not in a warm mood when he met the Ortho. The

man's name, Linbarger, was stenciled on his crew over-ails.
"Don't sit there," he said as Carl eased into a recliner.
"Huh? Why not?"
"Got a friend coming."
"Plenty of room."

"Not for some there isn't."

Carl put down his drink. "Yore just out of the slots, so I'll
take that as a sign of the drugs not wearing off yet."

Linbarger had all the slot symptoms. He was a thin stub erid of
a man, all skin and bones and no meat. The slots gradually used up
your stored fat because the body was still running, only at an exponentially
reduced level. But Linbarger must have been thin to start
with. His head was long and narrow, set on a chicken neck with a
knotty Adam's apple. His face was all nose and cheekbones. His
watery gray eyes were s.et deep in the skull, the jaw round and hard.

-"My friend, he's just been unslotted, too. And I'd just as soon
neither of us sat next to a Percell."

"Oh, really?" Carl said with mock concern.

"So clear off."

Linbarger wasn't awakened for the rendezvous, so he not

	200
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

mentally adjusted from Earthside ideas, Carl thought. Okay, I'll
allow for that. Some. "Look, things are tough enough around here
without you being a jackass."
Linbarger rose and knotted his fists. "Don't breathe on me,
Percell, or I'll--"
"Oh, it's my bad breath? Sorry, I didn't bring any mouthwash
from Earthside."
"You know what I mean. It's the damned germs you're carrying.''

Carl snorted derisively. "The microbes are in the ice, not in
US."
Linbarger's face took on a sour, cynical cast. "I've been out of
the slots three days, reviewing what% happened--and you can't fool me. Normal people have died twice as often as you Percells."
"So?" Carl had heard something about that from Virginia,
but in the confusion and long hours of these last two weeks it had
meant nothing. Just another piece of data.
"You Percells are using this to take over the expedition." Lin-barger
announced it as a known fact. Heads turned at other tables.
Carl noticed Lani Nguyen get up, concern knitting her face, and
start toward them, but another Ortho put a restraining hand on her
shoulder.
"That's what you think?"
"We all do--those of us normal people who have come out of
the slots. We know it. You can't pull the wool--"
"Spare me." Carl said, lifting his hands. There was no such
plot--who the hell had time to think about such things?--but how
could he convince Linbarger of that?
Across the curve of the cylinder he saw Lieutenant Colonel
Ould-Harrad. He called, "Sully!"
The black man,approached, compensating for the Coriolis
twist with an easy stride, a drink in his hand.
"I was hoping you could straighten this guy out," Carl said.
"He's going around saying that it's us, the Percells, who've--"
"I know," Ould-Harrad said abruptly.
Carl nodded, relieved. Ould-Harrad hadn't been out of the
slots for long. He had been called up for service when Major Lopez
had sickened in hours and been slotted: Ould-Harrad wasn't working
in the tunnels all day; he would have time to keep on top of this
political crap. Carl could turn all this over to him.
But then Ould-Harrad looked uncomfortable, his broad face
converging on an unwelcome topic by lowering the thick eyebrows

	HEART OF THE COMET
	201
and pulling the wide mouth up into an expression of sorrowful,
vexed concernl "I believe you people should pay attention to what
Linbarger says. He points out difficult facts."
"But he's warping them, making--"
"The source hardly matters. Consider the implications."
Carl was stunned. "What... what implications.'?"
"We need more protection against the diseases."
Carl said, "Well, of course we do, but--"
"No. You do not understand. I, We do--we normal people. Es~
pecially."
"Oh... So it's going to be that way?"
Ould-Harrad looked at Carl grimly, ignoring Linbarger's eager
nodding. "Heaven forfend, it already is that way. Unless normal
people feel they are protected against these diseases by
isolation, by more care--then they can see only one outcome."
"What?"
"You Percells will come to run the entire expedition. There
will not be enough other people alive to oppose you." The African
spoke with a calm earnestness, free of aggression and all the more
striking because of his powerful frame. He had the impressive calm
of those whose strong religious convictions inform their every
word.
"That... we don't intend that," Carl finished lamely.
"No matter." The brown eyes held sadness. "Many believe
that is what will happen."
"Look, I called you over to quiet down this guy, this Lin-barger.
I--"
"It's not for the likes of you to shut me up," Linbarger said
hotly. "If you think you can, I'd be glad to--"
"No, no," Ould-Harrad said-.ternly, raising a hand toward
Linbarger. "Please be quiet now."
"But he--"
"Please." Ould-Harrad silenced Linbarger with his ministerial
presence.
Carl thought hotly, It might be fun to bash Linbarger around a
little. Bad for him, but good therapy for me. Better than all this
talk, anyway.
He said, "I certainly didn't think you'd back up Linbarger!
These guys are using hypochondria to get back into the slots. And
all this Ortho nonsense--"
"You see?" Ould-Harrad said. "You have your own name for
US."

	202
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"So? You call us Percells."
i'We need no special name. We are the normal people--the
human race."
"And we're not?"
"I... I did not say that."
"You intended it! You probably think we don't have souls."
The black man shook his head mournfully. "That issue is in
the hands of the omnipotent. The point remains that we are different.''
"Yeah, and you've got renegade Arcists and worn-out Zionists
and Salawites--" Carl noticed Ould-Harrad wince: "But you
all stick up for each other around us, huh?"
Ould-Harrad said mildly, "We must struggle to balance the
viewpoints of all."
Carl had never been good with words, did not have the easy,
oily skills of an administrator, and he had no magic way to get
through to Linbarger, or to Ould-Harrad. All this endless talk! He
gritted his teeth in irritation, stood, and left without another word.

SAUL

Not paying attention, Saul thought. That was our basic mistake,
these last few centuries. Nature fiowering and bursting with life all
around us, and we never paid enough respectful attention.
He was waiting for the others to arrive in sleep slot I, trying
to rest in these few free moments. Avoiding thinking about the daily
slot meeting, about to start.
You'd think we'd have caught on with the limestone business. He smiled wanly. Only blue-green Earth burgeoned with life. And
Earth had proved to be the only planet with an oxygen atmosphere,
thick, yet transparent enough to let excess heat escape. It had taken
generations to realize that the latter fact did not cause the former.
No, it was the other way around. Life... trillions of tiny cells in
the early days of Earth, had pulled the carbon out of the primordial
atmosphere and stored it in their bodies, which silted to the ocean
floor and became limestone beds.., changing the air itself in the
process.
Science was still fumbling with the notion that life might be a

	HEART OF THE COMET
	203
driver in the evolution of worlds, rather than a simple passive passenger,
shoved about by the rude winds of astronomical fate. After
the bleak vistas of Venus and Mars, scientists still assumed that
minute changes in planetary mass or distance from the sun made
life impossible. Like all the others, he had ignored the possibility
that life had spawned in comets. It had tailored this ice mote, too,
carving caverns and spreading seeds.
A tiny Gaea . . . a self-regulating ecosphere sealed in ice,
revived when the sun licking warmth came to briefly banish the
long night . . . and perhaps trillions of others, too, swooping in
from thefardark... He would have to mull that one over, if he ever
got a .spare second ....
"My, how serene." Virginia's lilting, affectionate sarcasm cut
through his musing.
"Urn? No, just my ritual worrying." He sat up, feeling dull
aches rearrange themselves in his legs and back, even in the faint
gravity.
Virginia sat beside him on the narrow bench that was the only
furniture in sleep slot l's observ!ng room. In the pale enameled
light he studied her with wonder. She was trim and sure, her milky
green pullover covering but not concealing a flat stomach, breasts
hard and high, a muscular calm. The septic certainty of the room
numbed his senses, but she redeemed that with a soft warming
presence, calling up memories of humid, spice-laden Hawaiian air. Yet she likens herself to her machines, cool and cyborg-certain.
How wrong,t 'The
quiet comfort of being with her reminded him of other
days, of cramped apartments, gas flames licking the dark as friends
talked far into the night, meals of peppery meats and crisp onions,
an enfolding sense Of an enduringftatural order--
He cut off the thought. Nostalgia clutched him sweetly with
hollow, fuzzy fingers whenever he let it, and this was most certainly
not the time.
Virginia said lightly, "You look like something the cat dragged
in." She scratched the back of his neck.
"You can't turn my head with mere compliments." He rubbed
his eyes. "Besides, we have no cat."
"Lucky we didn't thaw the pets right away. Or would they be
susceptible?"
"Of course. These viroids love lung tissue--I suspect some
spread through the air."
"So Spot and Fluffy would buy the farm, too."
"Definitely."

	204
	GREGORY 'BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
He did not mention that he and Matsudo had thawed some
rabbits and monkeys already--had to, for tests of new treatments.
Of course the poor creatures had to be sacrificed. He had never
been able to do that without a twinge of guilt. Yet you chose to be a
biologist.
She looked out through the transparent wall, to where several
suited figures labored over pale, waxy bodies. "If we could just
stop the stuff from spreading! Particularly that green gunk climbing

	he
	walls--it gives me the shivers." .
	't"I suspect the algoids and lichenoids aren't the true danger."

	"They're spreading so fast!"

	"There are so many variants, it's difficult to control them even
with the microwaves. But we're making progress."
She wrinkled her nose. "The stuff smells."
An introspective, distant smile creased his leathery skin.
"Aesthetics come later. If ever."
Virginia frowned. "Do you think you're learning.., well...
fast enough?"
"My father always said that life was like giving a violin concert
while you are learning the instrument."
She grinned. "And while everyone you care about is watching.''

"Quite so." He was aware that Virginia was trying to cheer
him up, but a mere sunny smile would not do it. He was familiar
with his own moods, the fitful depressions that had c-omc more
regularly these last few years.
Not that he did not have ample cause now, of course. With
more self-knowledge than he would have liked, he understood his
own brooding as another evasion. Ever since the fall of Jerusalem,
he had found it far easier to meditate, to POntificate, than to throw
himself fully into the raw world, to feel all its stings and scrapes.
He still needed the security of his emotional calluses.
Virginia had seen his mood. She put her hand in his and said
softly, "I know .... "He squeezed her hand. "If there's anything--

"Get this straightened out," a thin man said loudly as he came
into the room with Suleiman Ould-Harrad. "Damned if I'll let
them play the angles while we sit on our asses."
Linbarger nodded toward them, his lean face self-involved. "I
figure it's obvious--we've got to keep normal people on top, where
they can see everything's run right. We can't let the Percells move
up! If the casualty rate keeps on this way, they'll outnumber us,

HEART OF THE COMET
	205

maybe'en two to one. Unless we hold the commanding positions,

they'll make every decision, run right over ofir interests."
Ould-Harrad looked embarrassed. "I will have to confer--"
"No conferring to it! This is an executive decision, you have
to do it. Start taking a vote and we'll be goners."
Saul grimaced. "Is this what it sounds like?"
Linbarger turned, hands on hips. "I'm trying to make sure
our people don't lose control of the situation."
"Our people?"
"Right. You heard? Oakes has that sky-high fever, the one that
fries the brain in a couple hours. She's going into a slot right away."
Saul said, "Oh damn," and sat down. Maybe Ishould've spent
more time in sick bay. I might've made a difference...
"Someone has to do the research," Virginia whispered, as if
reading his thoughts.
Bethany Oakes had been barely adequate in these last few
days, but at least she had been the obvious successor to Miguel
Cruz. Continuity was important.
After Major Lopez was slotted, skin half-gnawed away by
some slimy fungus, Ould-Harrad had been pulled . . . and now
dropped into a command position no one could envy. The tall,
rangy black man had never been more than the nominally senior of
the five section heads. He carried no cachet of command. Certainly
the dour African had not been selected for his skill at balancing
political forces and quieting clever loudmouths.
Linbarger nodded, licking his lips. "Pretty fine mess, huh?
It's either the fever or the chills with the blue spots all over you, or
else that shaking thing--all of 'em fatal."
"I believe I've isolated the agent that causes the chilling disease"
Saul said quietly. "A vaccine should take only a few days.
The skin infections show igns of'k, ulnerability to microwave--"
"But there're eight or ten diseases already!" Linbarger
shouted. "And that's just the ones we know of. That we can spot
easily."
Saul looked into the man'spinched, anxious face and read
there something that felt like a cold draft let into the room.
"There are some promising measures for the rest. That's all I
can tell you right now." He glanced at Ould-Harrad. Take the wind
out of this fellow's sails, Saul thought, as if to will the African into
action. But Ould-Harrad remained impassive, eyes distant, his
arms folded across his broad chest.
Linbarger seemed to feel he was gaining momentum, winning

	206
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

an argument. He looked at the two men, ignoring Virginia. "With
Lominatze out there getting iced"--he pointed at the transparent
wall-- "and Byrnes and Matsudo headed there before long, that
means Percells are going to be running both Power Systems and
Tunnels and Gases."
Saul said formally to Ould-Harrad, "May I ask why Dr. Lin-barger
is at this meeting?"
The tall black man's face took oa wary, diplomatic cast. "I
felt each, ah, faction in the crew should be represented in making
slotting decisions."
"Yeah," Linbarger said. "That's why she's here."
Saul looked at Virginia. "Oh? You came at Ould-Harrad's request?"
She nodded. "I was free. Most Percells are either asleep or
working in the tunnels. Or sick," she added pointedly.
"I'm taking a risk just being in the same room with her," Lin-barger
muttered.
"No one's assigned vectors for most of the diseases," Saul
said carefully, restraining his rising irritation. "There's no reason
to believe the genetically augmented people carry anything."
"Just because they're immune doesn't mean they can't be carriers,''
Linbarger said. "I know that much."
"There is no correlation--" Saul began, and then realized no
scientific discussion was going to reach the man. "Look. We need
to learn more, and that means cooperating with every--"
"Pretty soon they'll be giving us orders! If--"
"Shut," Saul said precisely. "Up."
Linbarger frowned, puzzled, plainly feeling betrayed.
"You're a biologist, you know three of us get these diseases for
every one of them."
"Then thaw out more Orthos," Virginia said cuttingly. "Swell
your ranks."
"And see most of them die?" Linbarger whirled toward her,
fists clenched. "You know a man fresh out of the slots is more vulnerable
to these bugs!" Linbarger glared at her, but was obviously
playing to OuldHarrad.
"We must use all those available hands," the African spacer
said at last. "Especially if we are to save the Newburn."
"You're approving the mission?" Saul asked, helping the apparent
effort to change subjects. Bethany Oakes had ruled out the
effort to seek and recover the long-lost slot tug.
"Yes. Carl Osborn's case is convincing. It may distract us
from our.., disputes." Ould-Harrad glanced pointedly at Lin
	HEART OF THE COMET
	207

barger. "They are our comrades, aboard the Newburn, and if it is
God's will, Inshallah, we shall rescue them."
"Who goes?" Virginia asked.
"I shall decide later. First we must refine more tritium from
the ice--"
"Jeffers is already doing that," Saul put in. "He says he can
get us enough in a week or so."
Ould-Harrad pursed his lips. "You people have been continuing
work even though Bethany vetoed it?"
"Well, yes," Saul admitted with a small smile. "The refining
uses big surface mechs which weren't doing anything else."
"Ah. So be it. Then the hydroponics pods must be arranged,
the majority brought into Halley."
"I'll do that," Linbarger said. "Some of my buddies will pitch
in, too."
Anything to get away from Percells, Saul thought. He'Il have
plenty of Ortho volunteers.
"Very good," Ould-Harrad said warmly. "As for the rescue
crew, .I will decide after careful--"
"I'll go," Linbarger said. "If Osborn isn't in charge."
Virginia smiled dryly. "You want an all-Ortho crew?"
"Why not?"
"You're more likely to have sick people going, then," she
said.
Saul frowned. Soon he would have to break it to her that he
was going as ship's doctor.
Ould-Harrad said soothingly, "We all are taking risks."
"You have no idea if Lintz and van Zoon and the others will
find cures." Linbarger's mouth knotted up into a sour, disgusted
sketch of impatience. "If they clan't, and I get sick, they'll never bring me out of the slots."
Ould-Harrad spread his hands, open and uplifted, showing his
 good will. "Then you will finally wake up on Earth."
"Nobody intended us to sleep seventy years sick! Metabolism
is slow in the slots, but it's not zero. All the experience has been
with people who've well, right? We could all die."
Linbarger had a point, but Saul was damned if he would admit
it. "There is ample reason to expect that--"
"Ha! 'Ample reason.' That's not enough for me and my
friends."
"Which friends?" Virginia asked. "More dumb Arcists?"
Linbarger bristled. His voice came out thin and reedy, as if
from a tight place inside him. "Yeah, some of us. Got kicked out of

	208
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Indonesia for being against land rape and poisons and experimental
animals like you."
Virginia muttered, "And made up for it by shooting people in
Pan-Africa."
Saul tried to cut in. "Just a--"
"No, let him babble," Virginia said evenly, her arms held
ready, a concentrated energy in her stance. "I've heard it before.
His kind took over Hawaii. Governor Ikeda's dead, Keoki
Anuenue's uncle is in prison. I want to see what kind of creature
does things like that."
Linbarger did not seem to notice her rigid restraint.
"Im an ^rcist, sure, but I'm talking for all the normal people.
We aren't going to take orders from Pereell pigs."
Saul said, "You watch your--"
"Sure, we're herding you Percells into camps in Hawaii--and
we'd be better off doing the same thing here!" He shook a fist in her
face.
Virginia caught him full in the stomach with a quick, savage
kick. Linbarger flew backward with a heavy grunt and smacked
into the wall. Ould-Harrad moved to block Virginia but she compensated
neatly for the low gravity and slipped past him. She
clipped Linbarger neatly on the chin with the heel of her hand,
putting the full force of her shoulder behind the chop. Linbarger
made a gurgling noise and spun away, still conscious but limp.
"Stop!" Ould-Harrad cried severely and unnecessarily--Virginia
had already come back to an automatic zero-G defensive
stance, floating, eyes gleaming like ice.
"Sorry," she said. "It was a reflex." Obviously she regretted
nothing.
Ould-Harrad and Saul checked Linbarger, who waved them
away feebly.
Virginia said, "I've been hearing Arcist bullshit for days now,
holding my tongue. No more. He's endangering the whole expedition.''
"Do not overstate your case, Dr. Herbert. Dr. Linbarger has a
right to his opinions;' Ould-Harrad said judiciously.
What does it take to stir him up ? Saul thought. Or has he
witnessed scenes 'this bad already? An unsettling suspicion. Saul
hadn't been socializing himself for a week.
"In any case," Ould-Harrad said, shaking his head gravely,
"nothing excuses such conduct as yours. If we were not desperate, I
would confine you to quarters."
"Oh, please do," she said sarcastically. "I need the sleep."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	209

Linbarger opened his mouth to say something, but then the
prep-room door opened to admit Bethany Oakes. They all fell silent
as the official commander slowly entered with her escorts.

Saul was shocked at the sudden change--at her red-rimmed
eyes, bone-white face, and shambling walk. Her palsied hands
trembled and her mouth sagged vacantly.

"Betty, you shouldn't be walking," Saul said.

Then he saw Akio Matsudo and Marguerite von Zoon following
respectfully, their eyes beseeching him not to interfere. She was
making a brave show, the commanding officer committing herself
gallantly. Even Linbarger saw it, and though hit face was still compressed
with anger and resentment, he kept quiet.

Matsudo did not look very well, either. His eyes were glazed
and his face had a hard, sweaty sheen. If he goes, that,will leave
. only Marguerite and myself to run the hospital. That 'll keep me off

the Newburn rescue for sure.

Bethany Oakes met his eyes briefly. "Saul..." Her smile was
wan, sad. "Persevere..."

She passed slowly into the chilly inner chamber and the waiting
techs.

Damn. Saul was uncomfortably aware that Oakes might well
never revive from the slot-sleep process. If the disease could continue
to do its dreadful work as she floated through, the dreamy
years, she might well be going to her grave. The accompanying
party had probably guessed this, and there came upon them a reverential
silence as Oakes insisted on struggling up onto the slab herself.
She gave a fluttering wave of farewell and then sank down into
the pink nutrient web. It was a release for her, Saul saw, amid the
chill promise of salvation, to lie down gratefully into the embrace
of fog-shrouded, gleaming steel'and glass.

Saul looked up at Ould-Harrad. It was easy to read the African's
silently moving lips, shaping words in Arabic. Saul knew that
the prayers were only partly for Oakes, but also for the new, reluctant
commander, Suleiman Ould-Harrad himself.

	210
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


VIRGINIA


	"Damn! I wouldn't put it past him to have done this on purpose!"

	Virginia paced back and forth in her tiny laboratory. It was

	difficult to do in less than a milligee, but she managed by holding

	on to a nearby console. Her velcro soles scritched softly as she

	walked from one end of the room to the other, tossing her hair and

	muttering to herself.

	"Carl planned this. I know it!"

	The main holo screen rippled. A face appeared, but the

	"man" was no member of the Halley Expedition . . . nor indeed

	any man at all. The visage was long-cheeked, with reddish locks

	and a curling, salty mustache.

	"Sure an' 'tis a churlish deed, liken to the way Queen Maeve

	was deprived of her beloved," the figure agreed.

	Virginia sniffed. "Oh, cram it, Ossian. I don't need sympathy

	from literary simulacrums, I need Saul! And I don't want him

	blasting off in a stripped-down, overaged spaceship that needs fifty

	years of overhaul before it's supposed to fly again!"

	The display flickered. Another face formed . . . a graying

	eminence in scarlet robes. The woman on the screen held up a sign

	of beneficence. "It is a mission of mercy, my dear child. Forty

sou[s are at stake 	"

"Don't
you think I know that?" Virginia's feet left the floor as
she smacked the tabletop. "Cardinal Teresa, off! I don't need logic
or appeals to my better nature. I need a reason why..."

A last image appeared, drawn from deep within--an early
simulation, seldom called up for the pain it brought. A smiling man
with a small gray beard and eyes that crinkled as they smiled
warmly down at her.

"Anuenue, little rainbow. Reasons do not help at a time like
this, daughter. Feelings have a logic all their own."

Virginia buried her face in her hands. She floated against a
storage cabinet and slowly settled toward the floor.

"I was happy, Daddy. I really was, in all this hell. I was
happy."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	211


A slender, lambent, transparent hand reached down, as if to
touch her. The voice was strong with gentle wisdom.

"I know, darling. I know."


CARL


--E Alulike.t' the strawboss urged. And the crew pulled together
filling the chosen comm channel with their chant.


--Ki au au, Ki au au

Huki au au, Huki au au.t-


The Hawaiians heaved at the hawser as the main cargo unit of
the Edmund Halley lifted out of the vessel's body. Massive and immense
as it was, the section climbed swiftly toward the top of the
spindly A-frame, where a spacesuited figure gestured in exaggerated
semaphore.

--Easy, easy. Okay, you Indonesians and Danes over there,
you draw radially!-

Carl had not seen Jeffers so happy since the man had been
unslotted. The man had hated work in the tunnels, preferring by far
the hard glimmer of space and the oily tang of metal and machines.

Carl couldn't really blame him, at that. Almost anything beat
the doom and gloom down below. That was a major reason why he
had pushed for the Newburn rescue attempt. He was convinced that
the benefits to morale would do more for general health than all of
Aldo Matsudo's traditional therffPy and Saul Lintz's laboratory
concoctions.

He adjusted his visor to magnification 4 and looked toward
Scorpio, where the comet's fading dust tail was now barely a faint
glow in the infrared. A few speckles told of grains big enough to
reflect light still from the diminishing sun. One of the biggest of
those speckles, he knew now for certain, was the slot tug Newburn.
If she had not existed, we would have had to invent her.

There came a cheer over the open-background comm as the
storage unit met Halley's surface with a soft puff of vapor. Jeffers
wrung his hands over his head in nonchalant triumph. Carl had to
smile.

	212
	GREOORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


This was his favorite of the three shifts working to refurbish
and strip down the Edmund. Sure, he felt at home with Sergeov's
purely Percell team. But the mixed volunteers were the most cheerful
lot.

Especially the Danes and Hawaiians. They didn't seem to give
a hoot if a man was an Ortho or a Percell... or a Denebian Gleb-hound..,
just as long as he wasn't a purple or a goddamn Arcist.

Virginia is Hawaiian, he remembered. No wonder she was
such an unrepentant Orthophile. Ortho-lover. Obviously, she didn't
see anything wrong with shacking up with one.

The thought lingered and made him feel a bit guilty as Lani
Nguyen passed by, carrying a nickel-iron brace that would have
crushed her anywhere with gravity, even on the moon.

--Hey, handsome,-- she sent. --You busy for the next three
months?--

"What've you got in mind?" he said, leering back amiably.
And she managed to put a little wag into her walk as she passed.
Her unicorn tabard grinned back at him.

Oh, hell, Carl reminded himself, there are some good Orthos.
Lani had volunteered for the rescue mission in a flash. Good
oMLani. She was so patient with him, never rebuking him at all for
showing up at her cubicle every now and then, looking for company,
then disappearing or keeping things strictly comradely for
weeks at a stretch.

If only she were more what I'm looking for. More intellectual.
More sensual. A Percell.

More like Virginia, in other words.

Only one Arcist was on duty right now. Each faction had a
"watcher" to keep an eye on the others' shifts . . . an unofficial
designation, to be sure, but one more and more common at important
functions such as slottings and unslottings.

Helga Steppins viewed the proceedings carefully, using a laser
transit to double-check everything done by Jeffers's crew. As Carl
approached, she stepped to one side warily, as if he could infect her
through two spacesuits and three meters of vacuum.

"You know, it'd be a lot easier to get at the Edmund's science
cluster if you'd let us remove the hydroponics modules first," he
told her. "It'd probably save two days."

The taciturn, blond Austrian woman shook her head.

--Stupid trick, Osborn. We both know the launch date is set by
when the fuel is ready. That's at least next Tuesday.-

He balled his fists in disgust over this obstinacy. "Why, in the
name of the Black, would I want to trick you? You people are the

	HEART OF THE COMET
	213

ones to insist on an insanely huge fuel reserve for a simple three-month
rendezvous and return! We'll have a stripped ship, and we
don't need more than six kilometers per second delta-V!"
The Arcist woman shrugged. --Safer if the tanks are topped
off. Only an idiot sets sail without proper stores.--
"But..."
--You don't like it? Complain to that Percephile, OuldHarrad.--
Carl snorted. Ould-Harrad? A Percell lover? Ha.t
"Look, if we lower just the number-one hydroponics module

--No!-- She whirled on him, gr{pping the laser transit tightly.
--The whole colony depends on that farm!--"But
the new dome is almost ready. All the fittings..."
Steppins swiveled back to face the Edmund again, as if afraid
that Carol's intent was only to distract her while Jeffers and the Hawaiians
spirited the entire torch ship away.
--You Percells don't fear the Halley diseases as much as we
human beings do. We won't go into why, since you keep denying all
responsibility for the sicknesses. But it is sufficient to know that we
will not let the hydro be polluted! Both the big and small hydroponics
modules stay attached until the new dome is completely checked
out.., and by an Ortho specialist!-
Carl fumed. He knew what his alternatives were. He could
give Jeffers the go-ahead anyway.., and maybe spark a miniwar
among the factions.
Or he could run below and complain to the spineless Mauritanian
in command.
Or he could go down and lend a hand.
"Use a purple during your next erotic rest break," he suggested,
and kicked off toward the v0rkers before she could reply.
"Hey, Lani!" he called. "Let me help you with that thing."

SAUL

"I'm getting so I don't even care about the danger of dying anymore,
Saul. It's the itch I can't stand. All day, all night, in spite of
the topicals Akio Matsudo gives me. I swear, if this keeps up I'm

	214
	GREGORY BENFORD .AND DAVID BRIN
going to ask 'Kio if I can borrow his great-grandfather's seppuku
knife and really scratch!"
Marguerite yon Zoon lay facedown on the taut webbing, trying
to keep still as the masked and gowned treatment-room techs
picked away at her skin with tweezers and little glassine vials, sampiing
the fungoids that were turning her body intoa battlefield.
A quarter of her skin was broken and cracked. Pink, half-open
wounds and dark-domed blisters erupted in ugly patches. Here and
there, the flesh had split open in nasty ulcerated sores, glistening
with sickening dampness.
Saul worked his team as quickly as possible, knowing how
hard this must be for her. Marguerite was an intensely private
person--a true exile who had left Earth only in order to save her
family from punishment for political crimes. Whatever it stated on
some piece of paper, only a bureaucrat would try to say that she had
"volunteered" to come out here to become food for gnawing alien
cells.
And yet Marguerite's cheerfulness was legendary. The discomfort
had to be severe for her to be complaining at all.
Saul stepped up beside her as soon as the techs had finished.
"Marguerite, I'm going to bring up the new beamer and try that
experimental subdermal scrub now. Try not to move unnecessarily.''
She nodded curtly. Only a damp sheen on her forehead and
her flexing palms betrayed her nervousness. Saul guided a wheeled
hospital mech into position, canting the broad plate of a synthetic
aperture microwave array over her prone form.
I've been privileged to know many fine human beings, Saul
thought. But none braver than this good woman.
She had volunteered to be the first to try this' untested treat-mem.
When offered a chance to escape into the slots instead, she'
had rejected the idea outright. "I'll not leave you and Akio as the
only physicians awake during this crisis," she had told him flatly.
Days had passed while the technicians built and rebuilt the
new beamer to Saul's specifications.., always scratching for priorities
against the hall crews and those overhauling the Edmund
Halley. By now, there was little choice left. If this treatment didn't
work, Marguerite would have to go qn ice.
Secretly, Saul feared it was already too late even for that.
There was no guarantee that cooling down to a degree above freezing
would stop these vicious, multicolored, funguslike growths,
once they were this deeply established.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	2 I  '

A third of the awake crew--and even a few of the slotted
corpsicles--ha.e these creeping skin disorders. They worry Akio
worse than the Crump Mumps or even the Red Clap. They're the
biggest reason why I may not be able to go out with the Edmund
after all. Osborn and the others may have to take their chances
without a doctor.
And there was one more cause for his hurry to make the new
treatments work.
Yesterday, while they were making love, he had found a fme,
lacelike webbing of green strands, spreading under Virginia's shoulder
blades and issuing across her back. He hadn't said anything to
her, yet. But his motive was stronger than ever to find a cure.
The machines had f'mished moving into place. "All right,
Marguerite," he told his patient. "Now remember, hold still."
"Yes, Saul."
Her hands clenched the table's mils. Saul turned to the hulking,
spiderlike medical-mech. "Access five--" he began. But he
had to stop as a sudden wave of dizziness swept over him. He managed
to lift the collar of his gown just in time to contain a violent
sne.z.
Saul's head rang. The dull body aches that he had managed to
put out of his mind for half an hour or so returned in force now. It
was a long moment before he could look up, blinking through drifting
blue spots, and address the machine again.
"Access... five-two-seven Jonah."
A receptivity light winked acwss the mecl/'s plastic panel. He
continued, "Play sixty milliwatts in preprogrammed fungoid RNA
resonant spectrum A dash two-nine-four, focused on foreign subdermal
growth, patient's right inner rear thigh, five hundred seconds,
safety factor beta."
They had adapted a unit designl for magnetic resonance and
ultrasound inspection of internal injuries. The sophisticated mech
would be able to aim and evaluate the focused radar far quicker
than any hman operator.
"Preparing to project," the machine announced flatly.
Saul's best assistant, Keoki Anuenue, was watching a data
tank, supervising the procedure. Not only was Keoki a skilled laboratory
technician, he was also one of the strongest men Saul had
ever known. Three days ago, he had had a chance to see the big
Hawaiian in action, when there had been a cave-in up on Level B.
A particularly nasty variety of vermin had lodged a beachhead
in the utilities shaft leading to Airlock I, their main lifeline to the

	216
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Edmund Halley. The major cooling vent--eSsential for keeping the
ice around them from melting--was nearly chocked off with an
ocher variant of worm bigger than the purple horrors.

Saul and Keoki had arrived on B Level just as the halls erupted
 in loud screams and alarm Klaxons. Most terrifying of all was the
grinding groan and squeal of collapsing ice. The cable Saul had
been climbing broke loose and whipped from the wall like a tortured
snake, flinging him away 'just as a block of dark, mottled
crystal pierced through the fibersheath lining and smashed the side
of the shaft.

Keoki Anuenue caught Saul and planted him into a safe niche,
then turned and leaped up toward the glittering stone boulder that
,. had seven men and women trapped in the utility tunnel. They had
minutes, at best. Keoki went at saving them the only way possible.
He braced his back against the tattered plastisheath, planted
. his feet on the iceblock, and heaved. It must have massed a hundred
tons, not counting the rubble lying atop it. "Kei make nei mai..."
Keoki had grunted as the boulder, unbelievably, grumbled and
started to move.

A blast of fetid dankness flowed through the gap. The Hawaiian's
face was a beaded torrent in the humid air, his neck tendons
bunched like knotted ropes. Saul had no time to stop and think. He
dove into the narrow opening.

Along with a dozen other odors, the air was filled with the
scent of almonds. If any of their suits had been punctured, even the
blood cyanutes wouldn't have protected the trapped crewmen much
longer from the rich vein of cyanide that had been broken open by
the falling rock.

Saul had wriggled in though quite aware that he wasn't wearing
a suit at all. He tried not to think about the big man behind him,
struggling with enough mass to crush a building, on Earth . . .
prodigious even at half a milligee.

Thus had begun a hellish race to drag the survivors out. No
one ever told Saul how long the ordeal took. All he knew was that
Keoki Anuenue could have let go after one, or two, or three had
been pulled free.

But Keoki did not. A figure carved in stone, he held the ragged,
primeval mountain until Saul verified that the last two trapped
crewmen were dead--and stopped briefly to take a ten-cc sample of
pasty, reddish fluid from a crushed, pulped thing the size of an
anaconda. Only after Saul had wriggled out of the utility tunnel--to
see the relief party come jetting up the shaft at last-did the silent
giant finally ease slowly back in a groan of ice and flesh.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	217
All Keoki had said, when Virginia's mechs moved in to take
his burden away from him, was a mumbled phrase Saul remembered
as clearly as his own name:
"Ua !uhi loa au..."
Strange, magical words--a phrase ripe with secret strengths,
the mysteries of exotic gods.
Later, Virginia told Saul that it meant, simply, "I'm very
tired."
That had been just a few days ago. The hall baffles continued
slowly tapering down. Diseases took their toll. And preparations
for the Newburn rescue mission neared completion. One did not
dwell on past heroics to any benefit. Let the billions following the
"war news" on their vid sets, back on Earth, keep score. Here,
people were simply too busy.
Keoki stood by his monitor screen and motioned to Saul. All
appeared in readiness.
Saul stepped back and gave the spidery medical-mech the go-ahead
command: "Five-two-seven Jonah, commence."
An oval spot of light, about five inches by three, hppeared on
Marguerite von Zoon's fight thigh--only a soft laser spotter beam
depicting where the machine's synthetic aperture was now projecting
invisible, freely modulated microwaves from Saul's slapped-together
treatment device.
Rube Goldberg science, he thought ruefully. This was much
more difficult than using those giant beamers in the passageways to
blast the bigger comet lifeforms.
There, we can just pour energy into the animals' major cells
through protein resonance bands. Don't have to be too. accurate in
choosing the right frequency. Whatever misses just spills OVer into
heat. Shove in enough power and the cells tear themselves apart.
Here, though, he couldn't {tse that kind of overkill. In this
microwave scrub of Margnerite's skin, he wanted to wreck only the
invader cells. Not only must the machine be tuned not to disrupt
any of the patient's own tissue, he could not even allow much waste
heat.
They had to finely adjust each scrub beam to a narrow set of
frequencies, and play the atoms like beads on a string, tapping and
tapping again until the overstrained molecular threads fell apart.
Tuning had to be orders of magnitude more exact than for the weapons
being used by the hall crews.
Marguerite's thigh quivered, from tension certainly. She
shouldn't feel more than a faint warmth.., at least in theory.
Saul looked back to make sure Keoki had not read anything

	2'18
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRtN
untoward in the patient's vital signs. But the big Hawaiian watched
the tank placidly, showing no sign of concern. He hummed softly,
placidly, rocking in his spacer's crouch.
That was when Saul saw Colonel Suleiman Ould-Harrad slip
into the treatment room.
Oh, heaven hero us. Now what is it ?
The spacer officer sought through the dimness until his gaze
finally lighted on Saul. Saul's initial resentment evaporated as he
saw,Ould-Harrad's expression--his lined face a mask of exhaustion
mixed with open dread.
"I'll be right back, Marguerite."
"Take your time, Saul. I am not going anywhere."
He touched her shoulder for encouragement. "Watch her
carefully, Keoki."
"Sure thing, Doctor."
Saul passed through a disinfectant haze in the decon airlock
and removed his helmet as the outer door cycled open. The acting
expedition leader waited, absently rubbing the back of one hand
with the other.
"Colonel Ould-Harrad? How may I help you?"
"There is something that I..." Ould-Harrad shook his head
and suddenly looked away. "I know you have no reason to wish to
help me, Lintz. I would understand if you told me to go straight to
hell."
Saul shrugged. 'lerusalern est perdita." Jerusalem is lost.
"The past hardly matters now. We' re all in this mess together. Why
don't you tell me what ails you, Colonel? If you want to keep it
quiet, we can arrange treatment outside of sick call .... "
tie trailed off as Ould-Harrad shook his head vigorously.
"You misunderstand me, Doctor. I need your advice in a nonmedical
area.., a matter of most grave urgency."
Saul blinked.
"Is it something new?"
The tall Mauritanian bit his lip. "There are so few left with
level heads, anymore. My people are collectivists, and so I cannot
deal with emergencies as Captain Cruz did. I need consensus. I
must seek advice."
Saul shook his head. "I still don't understand."
Ould-Harrad seemed not to hear him. His gaze was distant.
"Earth is too far away, too confused in its instructions. I need a
committee to help me decide how to deal with a dire emergency,
Dr. Lintz. I am asking you if you are willing to please be a mem-

	HEART OF THE COMET
	219

"Of course. I'll help any way I can. But what is all this
about?"
"There has been a mutiny," Ould-Harrad tld him concisely,
his lower lip trembling with emotion. "A band of fanatics has taken
over the Edmund Halley. They seized Ensign Kearns when he discovered
their plans and--"
The man hid his eyes. "They threw him out of the ship naked,
onto the snow! They... they are demanding sleep slots and tritium,
or they will blow up all the supplies in the polar warehouse
tents."
Saul stared. "But what do they think they can accomplish?"
The African spacer blinked, he shook himself, and at last met
Saul's eyes.
"They have computed a carom shot past Jupiter. The mutineers
actually believe that they can steal the Edmund and make it all
the way back to Earth alive.
"In the process, of course, they seem hardly to care if they
doom the rest of us to certain death.'

VIRGINIA

She sped through Tunnel E, pulling a gray wool sweater over her
jumpsuit. It was cold.
Too damned cold, even for her. All the mission crew were
"warms'--people who had minimal vascular-seizure response.
Virginia's capillaries did not greatly contract when cooled, which
meant she felt comfortable when most ordinary people--"freezers'--would
be jittery with chill. The major' disadvantage
was that "warms" lost heat faster and needed more food. The flip
side of that was freedom from fat--"warms" seldom needed to
diet.
But now Carl had set the air temperature so low that even the
"warms" were chilly. Virginia didn't know if that really suppressed
the algae growth, but it certainly depressed her.
She came into the warmer core bay of Central with relief. The
big monitoring screens brimmed with shifting patterns of yellow-green.
She read them at a glance--the Bio people were holding
their own against the gunk, and the purple orms had eased off.
Good. Not that they were the main problem any longer.

	220
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Saul was conferring with Ould-Harmd. The big man towered
over Saul's wiry frame, hands on hips, head shaking slowly in solemn
disagreement. Saul's mouth was twisted into a grim, bloodless
curve she had never seen before. She snagged a handhold, swerved
nimbly, and coasted to a stop beside them.
"I ran the simulation you asked for," she blurted.
"Good, good." Saul seemed grateful to turn away from OuldHarrad.
"And?"
"I can disable most of their controls if I can get three mechs
aboard Edmund. Then I'll need five minutes to use them."
Saul brightened. "Excellent! They'll be paying attention to
loading the sleep slots they demanded, being sure we aren't slipping
them inadequate supplies and so on. Preparations for the New- burn rescue weren't complete when Ensign Kearns discovered their
intentions. So they need more gear before they can leave."
"Those bastards!" Virginia spat out. "Pushing poor Kearns
out the lock--murder! If the mission mainframe hadn't already
been transferred Halleyside, I could get into their control systems
and vac them all!"
Saul nodded. "Ferocious, but apt. Alas, they're on manual
controls, hard to override. Still, consider--they haven't got enough
food and air aboard for the entire return flight. They've got to be
damned sure we give them enough slots to make it back. There are
fourteen of them, they say. Now, if we can find a way to distract
them, to give Virginia an opening--"
"No," Ould-Harrad said flatly. "There is little chance of approaching
for more than a few moments with mechs. You heard
Linbarger."
"They've got to allow mechs close to Edmund when we deliver
those sleep slots," she answered.
Ould-Harrad frowned. "They will watch the machines
closely: Surely they will not miscount the number returning to Halley
and let three remain."
Virginia shook her head. "I can do it while'they're loading the
sleep slots into the receiving bay. The cables we'll cut are near that
lock."
Ould-Harrad pursed his lips. "Your numerical simulation--it
was complete? You yourself attempted to guide the mechs to the
cables and then destroy them?"
"Well... no, I don't know the Edmund's systems that well. I
let JonVon do it. I've been upgrading his mech control and--"
"Then we cannot be sure, you see?" His eyebrows lifted into
semicircles above dark eyes, the irises swimming in whites which

	HEART OF THE COMET
	221

showed a fine tracery of red veins. "JonVon is not practiced in the
direct handling of mechs. Simulations are always easier than real
operations. I--"
"Carl could do it," she said rapidly. "Get him here, have him
try my simulation."
Ould-Harrad's mouth puckered into an expression of polite
disbelief. Then he sighed, nodded, and began speaking spacer
quick-talk into a throat mike.
Virginia turned to Saul. "Hw much time?"
"They've given us two hours."
"That's crazy! They can't expect us--"
"They know we can move the spare sleep slots if we start right
away."
"But that appeal to 'fellow normals' offering free passage
Earthside. If anyone responds, Linbarger'll have to wait for them to

Saul smiled wanly, his eyes seeming to remember desperate
situations long ago. "A fevered mind thinks all the world can turn
on a dime. Besides, they are calling every one of us, ah, normals on
the comm. To demand that we go with them, drop everything, leave
immediately--providing we are well, of course."
"They called you?"
"Oh yes. I was among the first--a doctor, and therefore valuable.
They have no shame. I wondered why they demanded to see
me on camera--until they abruptly broke off, and I realized." He
chuckled and wiped his nose with a' ratty handkerchief.
"Your... flu, or whatever it is." Virginia felt an irrational
irritation at this. "That doesn't mean you're really sick."
Saul grinned sardonically. "To them it does. You know, it is
like the plays of Elizabethan times, including Shakespeare. If a
character coughs in the first act, ybu may be sure he has the pox and
will die by the third."
"They're crazy!"
"Merely because they would not take me?" He laughed. "I
must commend their taste, really. Despite my profession, I've
never truly loved ill people, not in their gritty reality. All their
crankiness, their tsuris. I preferred them as abstractions;as problems
in genetic art."
Virginia had to answer his smile. He was incredible--joking
in his mild, self-rebuking, almost elfin way, in the middle of a crisis.
Ould-Harrad finished his checking with the tunnel and surface
teams. "I doubt it will matter overly, but Carl is coming."

	222
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"Good," Virginia said. She felt soothed, by Saul's calm, ironic

manner.

Well, at least this means he isn't going to risk his neck going
after the Newburn, she thought. Then.she felt immediate shame. It
also probably means the Newburn crew will drift on and die.

She struggled to think. "I... I still believe my simulation
shows it can be done."

"Can, perhaps," Ould-Harrad said. "Should--that is another
matter."

"We must do something," Saul said sharply. "Forget the New-
burn for a moment, or that we'll need the Edmund seventy years
from now. Our immediate problem 'is that nearly all the
hydroponics--"

"Yes, yes." Ould-Harrad raised a hand tiredly. "But one wonders
if perhaps giving fourteen people a chance at returning might
be worth it."

Saul rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "We can't assume the diseases
will win! Look--"

Virginia watched him launch into the same explanation he had
given her last night, about promising approaches to curing the
plagues.

He wonderful, and I really shouldn't carp, 'she thought. But
Saul can be pretty tedious when he switches over to pedant mode.

Feeling the warmth of the big room seep into her muscles, she
let herself relax. The wall weather was impressive here, with so
much area to use. It was a windswept beach, mid-morning. Beyond
the scrolling data screens she watched a blast of wind sweep in
from the north, whipping pennants on a distant bathhouse straight
out from their staffs. The sky grew dense, purple. Cumulus clouds,
moments ago mere puffballs, thickened and boiled, filmy edges
haloing dark centers.

Purely by accident, the running program was providing a pathetic
fallacy. A simulated storm in the midst of a real crisis. If this
were an entertainment--such as they had had daily until the troubles
started--there would be sound, even smell and pressure modulations.
The choppy ocean rippled and rose, sweeping cloud
shadows raced across it. Great icy drops battered the beach, as big
as hailstones. A cliff of somber air rolled in, unraveling skeins like
yarn, spitting yellow lightning. As if waiting for this signal, tiny

 speckled sand crabs scuttled from their holes and scurried toward
the frothing sea. Lightning flashed again and again-as if God were
taking photographs, she thought, bemused, transfixed by the silent
rage that curled and spat and sped across the walls. She wished she

	HEART OF THE COMET
	223
could hear the mutter of departing thunder, the hiss of rain on
dunes.
From the distance a large dog came running, gouging the
sand, snapping at the crabs. Mist gathered in wispy pale knots. She
yearned to feel the cleansing rain plaster her clothes to her skin,
drench her, shape her hair into a tight slick cap. Even in my best
sense-sim with JonVon, I can't completely escape. I'd trade it all
for a ticket home right now.
She recognized the longing: to be away from here. To breathe
salty air, feel gritty sand, smell the lashing wind. And once she had
felt it, she knew how to put it away, turn back to the present. If she
had not been able to do that, she would never have made crew. But
these Ortho fools are risking the mission for their fantasy of escape.
Carl arrived, red-brown stubble at his chin but showing no'
fatigue. He drifted to a webbing that served as furniture in low
gravity. "I had a mech retrieve Kearns. He's a frozen statue."
Virginia said, "Is there any... ?"
"No chance. His cells are ruptured." Carl sighed, his hand
brushing at his face as if to dispel all this as a bad dream. He visibly
took control of himself and said with a deliberately calm flatness,
"I clamped down security on the surface lOCks, in case anybody
tries to join them."
"Ah, good," Ould-Harrad said.
Carl said, "I put Jeffers and some mechs out of sight of the
Edmund, armed with lasers."
"For what purpose?" Ould-Harrad asked coolly.
"Insurance. In case they try something else." Carl studied
Ould-Harrad expectantly. "What're you going to do?"
"I wish a quick check of Virginia's simulation;' OuldHarrad
said.
Carl nodded and swung over 'th a work console. He tapped into
the sequence and time-stepped through it, oblivious to their nervous
attention. They waited expectantly until he unhooked, replacing
the helmet.
"Won't work;' Carl said.
"Why not?" Virginia demanded. "I spent--"
"Mechs aren't fast enough in close-up work."
"JonVon got them to do it!"
"JonVon is swell for minimizing moves, sure. But it doesn't
allow for safety factors or slips. There're always some in close: '
quarter work."
"I could correct, introduce stOChastic--"
"Not with the clock ticking," Saul agreed reluctantly. "If a

	224
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
mech finds some leftover box in the way, it'll consult JonVon and
there'll be a pause. There simply isn't enough time."
Virginia blinked, feeling hurt that Saul so quickly took Carol's
side. "I still--"
"That settles matters," Ould-Harrad said. "God and Fate act
together. We must let them go." .
"We can't," Saul said. "The hydroponics, the Newburn, the--"
"I know. There is much equipment we would miss," OuldHarrad
said. "Perhaps, indeed, the lack will speed our doom. But
we have no choice. I will not condone any attack on the Edmund." "That's... crazy!" Virginia blurted.
Ould-Harrad's face was impassive, distant. "When one faces
death, what matters is honor. I will not harm others."
Saul and Carl shared a look of disbelief and frustration. Virginia
thought, Ould-Harrad won't oppose an Ortho rebellion, but if
Perce!ls tried it...
"How about if we disable her?" Carl asked casually, leaning
back with his hands behind his head, 'stretching.
/ He given up the Newburn. And deliberately showing nothing
about how he feels.
"You heard Linbarger," Ould-Harrad explained patiently. "If
we show any signs of bringing devices out, anything that can be
used as a weapon--"
"Yeah, they'll use the big lasers on it. Sure. But they can't
shoot you if you're already inside the ship."
Ould-Harrad said, "As I said, any approach--"
Saul broke in, "I think I see.., send them a Trojan horse,
correct?"
Carl grinned. "Right. Inside the sleep slots they're demanding/'

Ould-Harrad's eyes widened, showing red'veins. "A bomb? It
could damage anything, hurt pople, there would be no control--"
"No bomb." Carl grimaced. "A real Trojan horse--put men
inside ."
There was a long silence as they studied each other. Virginia
could read Ould-Harrad's puzzled reluctance--plainly, the man had
decided to accept Linbarger's demands and simply let the expedition
make do for the next seventy years. His pan-equatorial stoicism
had won out.
Carl, though, was.almost jaunty, certain his plan would work.
Saul pensively ran over the many possibilities for error and

	HEART OF THE COMET
	225
disaster--but he licked his lips in unconscious anticipation,
tempted, almost amused at this sudden hope.
And what do Ithink? Virginia realized that she had bristled at
Ould-Harrad's assumption that Linbarger had to be accommodated.
She had studied the charts the mutineers had broadcast. Edmund had just enough fuel to arc outward in something called a
Byrnes maneuver: loop through a close gravitational swing by Jupiter,
reach Earth in a high-velocity pass, and attempt an aerobraking
rendezvous. But the window for that trick was closing fast, with
only a few days remaining.
Is Ould-Harrad play-acting ? Could he be planning to duck
across to the Edmund at the last minute, go back with them ? "I do not know..." Ould-Harrad began meditatively.
"Think it through," Saul cut in. "I see one major problem."
Carl frowned. "That equipment is vital. There'll be plenty of
volunteers."
"That I do not doubt. But a sleep slot is narrow and shallow.
You could not get in with a spacesuit on."
"So what? I..." Carol's voice trailed off.
"Yes. Tb-e obvious defense for them is to vent the sleep slots in
space, to be sure no one is inside."
Carl bit his lip, thinking. Virginia was acutely conscious of
seconds trickling away. She liked Carol's plan, not least because it
would give them something to bargain with. If Linbarger took off,
the expedition would have to construct their own biosphere without
many vital portions. It was one thing to grow a few seeds under
lamps and quite another to start up an entire interconnected ecosystem
from scratch. Like starting off juggling with eight balls. Of all
the ways there are to die out here, I had not considered simple
starvation.
Irritated, Carl spat out a cit, "I hadn't thought of that."
A long, agitated silence. Moments falling into an abyss.
Virginia had a technique for dealing with problems under time
pressure. When she was first doing detailed simulations Earthside,
she had evolved programs so vast that they had to be booked days or
weeks ahead of time on huge mainframes. If your program went
awry, you could stop it in midcourse. Then there were a few minutes
when the system would do housekeeping calculations for distant
users. You could hold on to your reserved time, still run your
simulation, if you figured out the difficulty and managed to fix it in
that brief interval.
Under pressure like that, it was easy to clutch up. So she had

	226
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


developed a way 'of letting her mind back off the problem, float,
allowing intuition to poke through the tight anxiety. Focus outside
the moment, let the surface mind relax...

Idly she noticed that on the walls the storm had built to a sullen,
roiling rage. Wind blew streamers of foam from the steep
waves, and huge raindrops pelted the slender grasses on the ilashore
dunes, crushing them. The dog had vanished, the crabs milled aimlessly
beneath the hammering, incessant drops. The heavy air
churned, looking too thick to even breathe--

"Wait," she said. "I've thought of something."


CARL


Slots, he realized, were a lot like coffins. That's what had always
bothered him about them.

He had a small flashlight with him, thank God. He could see
the grainy sheen three inches from his face, feel the soft padding
around him. The trapped tighmess, the constriction, the cold... In
the dark it would have been worse. Much worse. He didn't mind
the empty yawning black of open space, free and infinite. This
cramped coffin was different.

Carl had felt the gentle tug of acceleration a minute ago and
now counted seconds, ticking off the estimated time it would take


the five mechs to maneuver across to the Edmund.

There. A gentle nudge forward, pushing him against the gray
covering plate. His nose brushed it and a faint torque spun him
clockwise.

That would be the deceleration, then a docking turn. Going
into the aft hold, almost certainly.

A dull clank. Fitting onto the auto conveyor, probably. The
raehs would decouple then ....

Five ringing spangs. Good.

Now... if Virginia's idea was right...

Scraping, close by. A mech grappler caught--dunk--on the
hatch's manual release handle. He could see the inner knob rotate.
He braced himself, took a deep breath ....

The hatch popped free and whoosh--the air inside the slot

	HEART OF THE COMET
	227


rushed out, fluttering the straps over his shoulders and his blue
coverall.

He sucked in air through his face mask. Virginia's risky
solution--a small air bottle, no suit.

His ears popped, despite the pressure caps he wore over them.
Goggles protected his eyes to stop the fluid from sputtering away,
freezing his eyelids shut. The strops were so tight they bit into his
flesh painfully. That was all he had between him and hard vacuum.

The slot hatch had stopped at its first secure point, five centimeters
clear. Beyond he glimpsed the stark white glare of full sunlight
on the rim of the aft port. His sleep slot was pinned to the
conveyor, as he had guessed. He saw a few stars, and a shadow
moving on the distant smooth curve of the Edmund's hull. That
would be a mech moving on to pop the next slot, to check for gifts
bearing Greeks.

He had gambled that Linbarger would think that was enough
precaution. If he was wrong...

And Linbarger was already hypersuspicious, after they had
detected and blocked Virginia's attempt to take over command of
the Edmund's mechs. Ould-Harrad had insisted on trying that so-called
easy solution first, and it had failed quickly. Now for the
hard way...

Linbarger would want the mechs well clear of the Edmund
before anyone ventured into the hold to secure the slots. That gave
Carl two, maybe three minutes.

Carl lifted the cover and floated out, curling into a bail as he
went. He wore a coverall, gloves, and boots, nothing more.

How long since the air had vacced? He glanced at his thumbnail.
Twenty seconds.

Saul had figured three minutes of exposure before he would
begin to feel the effects. Thei his internal pressure imbalance
would get serious, he would become woozy, and anybody coming
into the bay could handle him like he was a drugged housecat.

Not that Linbarger and his crowd would waste any time on
him. Probably they'd just push him out the lock and wish him bon
voyage, like they'd done to poor Kearns. Have a pleasant walk
home...

He' uncurled, looked around.

The hold bay was empty. They were probably watching the
mechs separate and back off.

He repelled off the lock rim and got oriented. The lock's
manual-override seal was a big red handle, deliberately conspicu-

	228
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
ous, at ten o'clock and across the bay. His ears popped again. His
senses were ringing alarms, but he suppressed them all and
launched himself across to the red seal-and-flood lever.
Halfway there, somebody tackled him.
The suited figure slammed him backward into the bay, grappling
for his air hose. Carl twisted away, jerked free.
Of course. Obvious. Linbarger had put somebody outside, to
inspect the mechs as they came in, be sure nobody clung to an
underside. From that position the man could see into the hold, too. Idiot! Carl chided himself for not predicting this.
Ninety seconds left.
They separated, both drifting down the long axis of the hold. It
would be ten seconds before either touched a wall. The spacesuited
man fumbled for his jets and changed vectors, deftly moving between
Carl and the. red seal-and-flood.
Carl had no doubt that the fellow could stop him from reaching
the lever for a minute or so. The Ortho had jets, air, and all the
time in the world.
Damn, it cold, too. Carl twisted, looking for something,

There. A set of tools. He glided by the berth rack, stretched--and
snatched up an autowrench. Carefully he aimed at the figure
ten meters away and threw.
It missed by a good meter. Carl could see the man's face split
into a sardonic grin, the lips moving, describing it all with obvious
 delight, for the Edmund's bridge.
Which was what Carl wanted. Throwing the heavy wrench
had given him a new vector. He coasted across the bay, windmilled,
came about to absorb the impact with his legs.
Where was the damned--?
He sprang for it. The fire extinguisher easily jerked free of its
clasp. Carl pointed the nozzle at his feet and fired. A pearly white
cloud billowed under him and he shot back across the bay, still no
closer to the s6aland-flood.
His ears popped again. Purple flecks brushed at his eyes,
making firefly patterns ....
He struck the opposite wail, this time unprepared. A handle
jabbed him' in the ribs.
Where was... ? He launched himself at the man, riding a
foam jet. Halfway there he cat-twisted, bringing the fire-extinguisher
nozzle to bear ahead of him--and slammed it on full.
Action and reaction. He slowed, stopped--and the frothing

	HEART OF THE COMET
	229

white cloud enveloped him. He fired again and rushed backward,
out of the thinning smoke.
Darkening purple everywhere. The raw light of the barth
lamps couldn't seem to cut through it ....
Now, before the roiling fog cleared, he flipped again and fired
one more time. He flew through blank whiteness--and struck
something soft, yielding.
He grabbed at the man with one arm, bringing around the extinguisher.
Hands snatched at him, clawed at his face mask. Vectors, vectors . . . Which way... ?
It didn't matter. He pressed the nozzle against the man and
pulsed it again.
Billowing gray gas.
Cold, so cold...


	. . A huge hand pushing him backward...
A long second of gliding.., the extinguisher slipped away...
numb hands.., he was tumbling.., aching cold in his legs...
impossible to sec.., the purple getting darker.., shot through
with bee-swarm white flecks darting in and out.., in and out...
spinning...
--then a jolting stab of pain in his leg, a crack as his skull hit
decking.
It jarred him back to alertness. He clawed for a hold. Looked
up.
The fog was thinning. Directly out through the lock Carl could
see the suited figure wriggling, dwindling, trying to get reoriented
to use his jets An insect, silvery and graceful...
The thrust of the last pulse had acted equally efficiently on
each of them, driving Carl inwar and the other man out.
He sprang for the seal-and-flood. Grasped it, pulled. The lock
slid shut just before his opponent reached it, and the loud roating
hiss of high-pressure air sounded for all the world like a blaring,
rude cry of celebration.

I 	"I made it," Carl said into his comm. "The tubes are

!
	blocked." He panted in the close, oily air of the pressurized cylin-

 I
	der.

	"Good!" Ould-Harrad answered in his ears. Now there was

"What's that jackass mouthing about?" came the chief muti-

	230
	GREC:,C)RY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"Carl Osborn has jammed up the fusion feed lines;' Ould-Hatred
said precisely.
Faintly the voice of Helga Steppins: "Fuck! I told you to cover
the fore tubes!"
Even fainter: "He must've crawled through them from Three
IF section. Shit, we can't cover every little--"
"Shut up." Linbarger's voice got louder as he addressed OuldHarrad.
"We'll sweat him out of there."
"You try it and I'll vent the tritium," Carl said tensely.
"What?" Linbarger could barely contain his anger. He demanded
of some unseen lieutenant, "Can he do that?"
Faintly: "I don't... Yeah, if he opened those pressure lines
into the core storage. He might've had time to do that."
"Without tritium to burn, your fusion pit won't reach trigger
temperature," Carl added helpfully, grinning.
"You--!" Linbarger's line went dead.
Carl twisted and made sure the entrance behind him had a
hefty tool cabinet jamming the way. He had long-lever wrenches on
the two crucial pressure points, ready to crack open the valves.
They could come at him from behind, but he could spray a lot of
precious fuel out into space before they got the valves closed again.
Enough to kill their plans, certainly.
"Are you sure you can do it, Osborn?" Ould-Harrad asked
cautiously.
"Yeah." What do you want me to say? No? With Linbarger
listening ?
"Well, this certainly gives us a better bargaining
position .... "
"Bargain, hell! We've got 'em by the balls."
"If they get to you fast enough, perhaps they can retain
enough tritium to make a multiple flyby with Mars. Draw lots to
use the nine slots they have now. Then--"
"Cut that crap." Go ahead, give them ideas. "I'm simply--"
"I said cut it!"
"I'm trying to prevent--"
"It's not your ass on the line over here, OuldHarrad."
He twisted, watching the feeder lines drop away to the left. If
somebody wriggled in that way, they might try to shoot at him. But
that would be stupid, right in the middle of the fusion core. Damage
these fittings and they would take weeks to replace, if ever.
Linbarger's grim voice said, "You hear me on this hookup,
Osborn?"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	231

"I'm right here, just a friendly hundred meters away."

Silence. ,Then Linbarger's reedy, tight voice said slowly,
"We'll fire the start-up pinch if you don't leave."

Carl caught his breath, let it out slowly. That was the one alternative
he hadn't mentioned to anybody. It wasn't smart, because
start-up could do real damage if you handled it wrong--and Lin-barger
had no experience at that. But he had seen the possibility of
frying Carl as the hot fluids squirted through this network of tubes.
And Linbarger was just desperate enough to do it.

He said as calmly as he could, "You'll burn out the throat."
"Not if we're careful. It won't take too much fusion fire to
cook you up to a nice, brown glaze." Linbarger was clearly enjoying
himself, thinking he had turned the tables.

"I'll vent the tritium anyway." Now let's see how much he
knows.

"No, you won't. The subsystems will shut down those lines as

soon as we start up. It's automatic--says so right in the blueprints."
Damn. "That's not the way it'll work." Bluff.
"Don't try that crap on me."

Linbarger Was smarter than Carl had thought. But he wasn't
going to win.

"You'll never get back Earthside. You're low on tritium as it
is. I'll blow enough of it to make sure you have a long voyage.
You'll never pick up the delta-V for a Jupiter carom. Even with the
sleep slots, you'll starve."

"We've got the hydroponics."

"Sure. And no extra water to run it."

"There's Halley ice right outside."

"Try stepping outside." Carl played a hunch "Hey--Jeffers!

What happened to that Arcist I b.lw out the lock?"
--What Arcist? All I see is bits 'n pieces.-Silence.

This tit-for-tat couldn't go on much longer. Linbarger's voice
was getting thin, hollow-sounding. The man's words came too fast,
spurting out under pressure.

Carl bunched his jaw muscles, wondering if he believed his
own words. If Linbarger acted, it would be a matter of seconds.
Carl would have to choose whether to launch himself for the aft
hatch and try to get away, or to use the wrenches. No time for
dithering...

"You're lying." Linbarger didn't sound so certain now.
"Fuck you."
"You wouldn't--"

	232
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"I'm starting tritium release now."
"No!" Ould-Harrad said. "I won't have it come to this. We
had a deal worked out--"
"And you double-crossed us! Percell-lover!" Linbarger
barked.
Ould-Harrad said, "I couldn't let that hydroponics equipment
go, you refused to understand that."
Carl said caustically, "Don't apologize to that scum."
"Carl," Ould-Harrad said, "I must ask you to stop--"
"The party's over," Carl said. "Surrender, Linbarger!"
"I think I'll give you a little pulse of the hot stuff, Osborn. It
might improve your manners."
"The second I hear a gurgle through these pipes, you Arcist
prick, I'll--"
"Stop it! Both of you! We have to work this out." The African's voice was frantic.
A long silence. Carl tried to imagine what was going through
Linbarger's mind. The man had apparently concealed from the
Psych Board his fanatical hatred of Pcrcells. Or maybe he'd just
snapped. Couldhc think around that now, be halfway rational?
They've lost, dammit. Could Linbarger see that7 Or would he
prefer his moment of revenge?
And Carl would know of it by a whispering in the pipes ....
"Okay." Linbarger's voice was grating, sour.
Ould-Harrad answered, "What7 You agree?"
"We'll trade the hydro for the tritium and slots."
"No!" Carl cried. "We have them!"
"Quiet, Osborn!" Ould-Harrad shouted.
"The alternative;' Linbarger said slowly, "is that I blow up the Edmund Halley. Better... all of us here agree . . . better a
quick end.., than..."
Carl felt a cold chill at the croaking, slurred, mad voice. It was
utterly convincing. He really means it. "Sweet Jesus," Carl muttered.
First his captain, dead. Now the Edmund.
Ould-Harrad spoke at last. "We... we will make the exchange."

What is a spacer without a spaceship? Carl wondered numbly. What will we be, when the Edmund is gone ? It was too awful to
even think of.
"You can offload the hydro stuff," Linbarger said. "Get Os-born
out of there and I'll set the mechs to doing it."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	233


"No. I stay here until it's done."

Another silence. "Well . . ." More whispered arguing. Finally,
"Okay. You can use those mechs to detach the main greenhouse
module as a unit. Make it fast--or we'll fry that piece of
Percell shit."

Carl let out a long, slow breath. The thought he had suppressed
all these long minutes, that kept jabbing him, finally came

swarming up: Why are you doing this? You could die, fil.
Now that he let it surface, he had no answer.
"Hurry up," he said irritably.


SAUL


April 2062


Wriggling, fluttering in a saline solution, the tiny beasts flicked
here and there, hunting, always hunting.

Certain substances, flavors, drew them to the equivalent of
sweetness. Others repelled. The choice was always as easy as that,
a logic of trophic chemistry. On the level of the cell, there were no
subtleties, no future to worry about. No past to haunt one's dreams.

Saul was pensive as he watched the tiny creatures pulse under
the fiber microscope. They were the last and most potent of the new
developments cooked up during the two months since the mutiny.
Biological smart bombs for an ui{wanted war against Comet Halley.

So many of the rules he had lived by--codes of slow caution
when experimenting with the stuff of life--had been pushed aside
in order to get here. He envied the little microbes, in a way. For
they would do as they were programmed, but he, their "creator,"
was left with his load of doubt and mystery.

No, Of course you don't worry, little ones. Guilt is a teamwork
th ing--a trait of eucaryotic metazoans--vast collections of conspiring
cells gathered to form men and women, societies.., gods.

Look at me, tampering with what I barely understand, on the
questionable excuse that all our human lives depend on it.

The cyanutes had fully as much history behind them as he did.
Their tiny ancestors had spent well over three billion years evolving

	234
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRtN
in Earth's waters. Then, some few millions of years ago, they
adapted to take up a different way of life in another salty soup--the
bodily fluids of complex creatures with great, nucleated cells.
How many thousands of my own ancestors did they kill in order
to establish that first beachhead? How many trillions of them, in turn, were fought off by my forebears' immune systems--latched
onto by antibodies and transported to destruction, or engulfed and
digested by white cells ? How long did it take for a truce to be called
at last.., for evolution to work out a negotiated peace, a symbiosis?
It was an unanswerable question. But at some point in the past
some human being and some ancestral cyanute struck an accidental
bargain. In exchange for a minor cleansing function in the lung
cavity, the creatures were granted safe conduct from the body's immune
system. They settled down to an innocuous existence, so innocuous,
in fact, that they weren't even discovered until the waning
days of the l;st century.
In our wisdom, we meddled with them, turning them into
"cyanutes." `4nd, Heaven forgive me, I'm not ashamed at all. ,4
hundred skilled, devoted men and women spent half a decade altering
the fruits of four gigayears' evolution. Given special permission,
we used the tools of Simon Percell--and forged a useful thing
of beauty.
But this!
The creatures on the screen had been changed even more,
given jagged new protein coats, snipped and edited with tailored
chain molecules, analyzed and reanalyzed by "reader enzymes"
 . . warped by the drives of an emergency nobody had expected.
The job had taken only eight weeks since the mutiny. And,
except for Virginia and her biocybernetic familiar, and a few tentative
suggestions from brave colleagues on Earth, he had had no help at all.
By all the laws of biology I should not have succeeded: Not
without a research team and thousands of hours of careful simulation.1MillinSknew
better!f tests. Heaps of luck.

	It a wonder that I even tried.

	Saul's eyes flicked over the unrolling data display, seeing noth
	ing but success. The uniformity of it made him more nervous than

	any flaw. It was too perfect.

	I took both the sample cyanutes and the reader units from my
	.i

	own blood. The data on that line goes back more than five years.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	235
There are elements of Halley-Life in the new form... . I had to
include them.
Saul shook his head. He couldn't see how that would explain
this convenient success.
To the left, one of JonVon's unbiquitous color simulations
turned a complex, jagged chain over and over.
The involute compound sugar was unknown in the literature.
Last night, while holding Virginia close, he had told her that the
Academy on Earth wanted to name it after him.
"That's quite an honor, isn't it?" she had asked sleepily. The
cable snaking out from'her neural tap looked like a braid of hair,
and hardly got in the way.
He had smiled and stroked her glossy bangs. "Sure. They've
reinstated my membership, too. But naming a chemical after

"You don't want them to?" she had asked.
"Hell, no!" He'd laughed. "Think of poor Thomas Fruck,
with his name tied forever to fructose!"
She was too logy and languid from their lovemaking to do
more than reach back and pinch him for the affront of a joke.
SERIOUSLY, I SHOULD SUGGEST A NAME, he subvocalized.
By now JonVon knew their surface networks well enough to
deliver clear words most of the time. Saul felt her understanding
echo back, amplified, the way her sexual fury and climax had confirmed
themselves in his own mind a while ago, like explosions
trying to lift the surface of his skull.
"Hmmmm," she mumbled. He could sense her drifting off
into slumber.


	. . COMET-OSE... came her suggestion.
He had been so offended by Ce horrible pun that it didn't even
occur to him until later that she must have already been asleep
when he heard it.
Whatever its name, the sugar compound was the key.., the
sweetness he had used to forge a gingerbread cannon.
The missing madman, Ingersoll--by now a legend of the lower
caverns--had given him the idea. Not long after he had glimpsed
the man grazing on Halley lifeforms in the outer hallways, he had
done something admittedly foolish; he had tasted some of the wall
growth himself.
The stuff had been sweet, tangy, like lemon drops.
Saul played a hunch. Began some experiments. And here they
were, the new cyanutes. They were still good at their old jobs, but

	236
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

now they were also voracious for anything with the special sugar
complex.., for any invader wearing clothes saying "Halley."

On the screen the tiny creatures clustered where cometary-viroid-coat
factors flowed from the tip of a needle. Instruments
showed them gobbling contentedly and multiplying with abandon.
We were due for some good news.

Oh, the Halleyforms would adapt, evolve. This was not the
end by a long shot. But it was starting to look as if the acute panic
period might be over at last.

What have I missed? Saul wondered anxiously, perplexed.
How was it possible to do it at all?

A chime sounded. Everything checked out. Saul pulled out the
tube of fully tested cyanutes. From his lab it was a short glide to
sick bay, where two lines of people waited along opposite walls to
be served by the two med-techs on duty.

One of the queues was shorter than the other, but Saul did

not see any Orthos moving over to stand in the Percell line.
Ould-Harrad should never have let this system of segregation

develop.

People did not stand any closer together than they had to. No
,one was sure how the cometary diseases were transmitted. Fights
had broken out over a cough.., or over one man using another's
space helmet without permission.

And every sick call turned up several who were faking symptoms,
trying to escape the backbreaking work and drop-dead sicknesses
by fleeing into the slots.

Well, at least the lines are shorter than they were a few months
back. First, anger over the mutiny took their minds off things for a
while. And Carl Osborn's heroics had suppressed the Ortho-Percell
squabbling. The "norms" all knew they owed their lives to a
Percell.

Now, if only these new cyanutes work as well as the first tests
indicate...

A booth at the back of sick bay opened, and out stepped a
woman who smiled and waved at Saul. Marguerite von Zoon
looked almost like a different person. Gone were the ravages that
were tearing her skin apart two months ago. She had resumed her
medical duties, releasing Saul for research.

Saul's smile dropped when he saw Marguerite's patient--a
younger woman in a gray ship's suit--who edged past the Walloon
physician and hurried away toward the exit holding a cloth to one
side of her face. Even turning her head away, she could not completely
hide a shimmering, pink rash.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	237
"Lani!" Saul whispered in dismay.
He had hoped that Marguerite's diagnosis might turn out to be
wrong, but there was no mistaking the symptoms of Zipper Pox.
"Lani?" he said, but she hurried by without looking up.
Those in both lines edged away as she passed.
Oh, Lani.
It was one of those diseases that seemed impervious, so far, to
any of the tricks to come out of the lab. Even with his recent string
of incredible luck.
It was ironic. While others were fighting to get back into the
slots, Lani had begged to stay awake. But the decision was made.
Her cooling had already been scheduled for day after tomorrow.
Carl has been a real rat to her, Saul thought. If he isn't there
for Lani slotting, I'm going to punch him in the nose.
"Dr. Lintz!"
Keoki Anuenue, the med-tech handling the shorter Percell
line, stood up as Saul crossed the waiting room. The Hawaiian momentarily
left the side of a dull-eyed man whose ears were packed
with cotton, who slapped the side of his head every few minutes as
if in a vain effort to stop the sound of bells.
AnUenue was exceptional even for a Hawaiian--one of the rare
Orthos who seemed completely oblivious to both sickness and despair.
He seemed never to sleep. Whenever Saul came in, Keoki
was already on duty.
He grinned broadly, gesturing down at the vial in Saul's hand,
anticipation in his voice as he asked, "Is that the latest cyanute
varietal, Dr. Lintz?"
He thinks I can do anything. So does Virginia. Saul shrugged. And after the luck I've been having, who am I to disagree ? It was a
sardonic thought. He knew sometl g mysterious was going on,
and it had little to do with skill.
He held out the vial.
"Here you are, Keoki. Find volunteers the usual way. Only
desperate cases, at first. These ought to be useful against the Node
Lodes, as well as Sinus Whinus and the Red Clap."
Anuenue eagerly took the flask. He started to speak, then
somebody in the line along the left wall cut loose in a loud, sudden
sneeze.
All around the room, people looked up accusingly. It wasn't
me, this time, Saul felt like disclaiming.
As if it were a trigger, more sneezes erupted from the Ortho
side of the chamber. The line lengthened as people put more room
between themselves and the miscreants.

	238
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Saul glanced at the genetically enhanced group. Percells
hardly ever sneezed.
They caught the same diseases as everyone e!,e. Saul had tried
to explain this over and over to resentful Orthos. If a viroid or other
comet microbe was going to kill outright, it didn't matter much
which group you belonged to.
But Percells' bodies did not overreact. Their lymph nodesand
membranes might swell while the body's immune system waged
war on invaders, but the process was self-limiting. They didn't balloon
up and die of their own overeager defenses.
Simon, he thought. This was the gift vf which you were proudest,
even though it mystified you, too . . . that every child you
worked on somehow benefited from the same augmentation, whatever
genetic disease you had started out working on.
It had surprised everyone, back in Berkeley. They had 'used
DNA strip-readers and molecular surgery to edit harmful genes
from sperm and ova of couples desperate to have children. But few
had expected the babies who came forth out of those microrepaired
cells to emerge so enhanced.
It a gift we gave them. A gift with the terrible price of making
them different.
"Saul!"
A voice from across sick bay--he looked up and saw Akio
Matsudo waving at him from his office door.
Saul glanced at Keoki Anuenue, who grinned. "(30 on, Doctor.
I'll find those volunteers, and I'll let you know before the tests
begin."
Saul nodded, concealing deep within the dread of what he
knew had to come, sooner or later. Eventually, his bizarre string of
luck would run out. One of his tailor-made symbionts would kill,
rather than save its host. And then, no matter how much good he
had done before, they would turn on him. All of them.
As they had turned on Simon Percell.
As the mob had burned a university on a mountaintop, so long
ago and so very far away.
"Mai kii aku i kauka hupo," he told Keoki.
Don't get an ignorant doctor.
The big Hawaiian blinked in surprise, then rocked back laughing.
The sound was so rich, so infectious, that several of those
standing in line smiled without quite knowing why.
"'Coming, 'Kio," he called to Matsudo. I'll be-right there."

	HEART OF THF COMET
	239
The snow-covered slopes of Mount Asahi were as symmetrical
as the green pines blanketing its tower flanks. Clouds, like rice-paper
boats, floated past on an invisible layer of either air or magic,
setting forth toward a setting sun and a dark blue western sea.
Saul was content to watch Akio Matsudo's weather wall, perhaps
the finest in all the colony. Indeed, until Virginia came off
shift in two hours, this was just about the best thing he could think
of to do with his time.
It beats working, he thought tiredly. For once his mind was not
awhirl with ideas, the next experiment to try, the next clue to trace.
He sat, zazen fashion, thinking as little as possible.
Something we Westerners have learned from the East... that
beauty can be found in the smallest things.
The earthy brown clay tea set had been brought all the way
from the shores of the Inland Sea. Its rough surfaces reflected the
mute colors of the late afternoon light in a way that could not be
described, only admired. The shaping marks on the cup in front of
Saul'seemed to have been formed on the same wheel as that which
turned Creation. It was contemporary with the planets, with the
sun.
Entranced, Saul glanced up when Akio Matsudo spoke.
"The wait will be worth it, Saul. Be patient." Waiting ? Saul thought. Was that what I was doing ? Highlights in the Japanese physician's glossy black hair shone
like Mount Asahi's glaciers as he fussed over the tea, commenting
on the difficulty of boiling water properly in low gravity, what with
weakened convection and all. To Saul, the man's voice was one
with the rustling pines.
"I will now pour," Akio intoned, and lifted the cups delicately.
'*
	Saul was not in a hurry to get to business. When the ceremony

was finished, and the tea poured, they gossiped over inconsequen
tial matters--the latest fashion in mathematical philosophy on

Earth, and the strange propositions being put forward by the Marx-

ist theologians of Kiev. The journals had been full of it, and they

both wondered aloud what Nicholas Malenkov would have made of

it all.

	Akio seemed in much better health now. He had been one of

Saul's first volunteers to take an early version of the retailored

cyanutes. It was that or lose him permanently to the infection tear
ing away at his liver. Now the sickly yellow pallor was gone. He had

regained weight. Soon he would even quit using the mechanical

endocrine rebalancer that had been keeping him alive.
	

	240
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Saul was very pleased to sec his friend healthy and spry again. I was able to help Virginia, and Marguerite, and Akio.
Maybe, later, we can do something for Lani and Betty Oakes, and
so many others.
Memory of Mignel Cruz was still a sharp pain. More than
anyone else, their commander was needed. But there were limits to
what Saul ever expected to be able to do, no matter how lucky he
was.
Aklo Matsudo put down his cup and carefully removed his
glasses to polish them. "Saul, my friend, forgive my bluntness. But
I think that perhaps I should explain why I asked you here today. I
believe that now it is time for you to go into the slots."
Saul put down his cup. Akio raised his hands.
"Before you protest, please allow me to explain. There are
many, many reasons."
He raised one finger. "First Watch was supposed to last only a
little over a year. The colony's anniversary is this month. And you
were one of the few civilians awake for the entire trip out, on the
Edmund. You are losing lifespan. It is unfair to you, who have less
of it to spare than the youngsters outside."
Saul snorted. "What is this, Akio? We may have passed
through the worst part, but the staffing nightmare isn't over yet.
With all the people we've had to pull, term-slot, and even vac-store
out on the surface, it's clear the shifts will have to be longer than
planned. You know that argument's a load of crap."
Matsudo winced at Saul's bluntness.
"Yesss." His agreement sounded more like a suppressed hiss
of disapproval. "Perhaps. But I must tell you that Bethany Oakes
made me promise, before she herself was slotted, that you would be
put away if your symptoms grew worse."
"They aren't any worse;' Saul grumbled. "It's just another
bad cold. I think i's still a leftover from one of your damn challenge
viruses. I can tell by the way it tickles before I sneeze."
He knew better, of course. There was comet stuff inside him,
from viroids to latent baccroids. Some of the variants did not use
the Halley sugar complex, and so were doubtless invulnerable to his
new silver bullets.
And I'm older than most. Could be that makes me more vulnerable.
For a moment the contemplative daze threatened to returu. The conversation had reminded him of a weird sensation he had
had, a few days ago, on examining a sample of his own blood.., a 
feeling that something...

	HEART OF THE COMET
	241

He shook his head. No. This is... He searched for a Yiddish

expression and .failed. Bullshit. Good old Anglo-Saxon bullshit.
That the only word for it.

"There is a second major reason." Matsudo squeezed and
covered another cup of sharp, yellow-brown tea for each of them.
"Because of the mutiny, this year's desperate effort will be to build
greenhouses on the surface, and farms down in chamber Tau. The
hydroponics pod from the Edmund must be kept alive until new
food-production facilities are set up. That is why Evans is being
thawed now--he is the best of all the expedition ecologists, and
Svatuto is coming out of the slots as his backup."

Saul noted Matsudo's pained expression flickering when he
had to mention the Edmund. Even more to be avoided was any mention
of the Newburn. In all the time since the mutineers had departed,
not once had Saul heard anybody utter the name of the lost
slot tug, now apparently completely out of reach and growing more
distant with every passing day. It was an utterly taboo subject.

"Yes? So it'll be good to consult with Evans. There are some
matters concerning the origin of Halley lifeforms that an ecologist
can help with. I'm not certain I can accept the old explana[ion any
longer."

Akio looked out over the scene of sunset on the Western Sea.
The clouds had turned orange and black, breathlessly beautiful.

"You misunderstand me, Saul. This means we will have more
medical people awake than is proper in the long run, over forty
shifts. Svatuto is a better clinician than you are, anyway. You know
that, Saul."

Saul shrugged. "That's why I went into research," he said,
reaching for his handkerchief. "Can't... can't stand sick people."
The room wavered. Saul shook his .lead vigorously. Then he turned
aside and sneezed.

Matsudo jumped slightly, and finally smiled. "Nobody does
that so dramatically. It is that Semitic profundity of a nose, I SUlY-
 pose. Seriously, Saul, that is another reason. Forgive me, but you
disrupt everything. People fear your noisy, drippy symptoms, even
as they respect your genius. Lieutenant Colonel Ould-Harrad and
others think that it would be best for everybody if you should rest
for a while."

Saul shook his head. "I just now realized, you're actually serious
about this, Akio. Right when my work is . . ." He stopped,
unable to find words for how well things were going in the lab.

Then there was also Virginia, Her love is the best thing that
happened to me in ten years.

	242
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

The tentative, simulated telempathy they shared through her
daring, unconventional biocybernetics was as exciting in, its own
fashion as his work in bioengineering. They were both accomplishing
things that would shake up half-a-dozen disciplines! Why, over
just the last week he had received messages from crusty old Wallin
at Oxford, and even aloof, above-it-all Tang in Peking ....

"This is in no way to detract from your accomplishments,"
Matsudo said quickly, trying to soothe Saul. "You have, in fact,
achieved wonders, wonders! I find your methods unnerving, as well
you know, but I cannot argue with success. If any of us survive, it
will be in no small measure thanks to you."

Saul shook his head. "There's more to be done! We have to
see if the procedures--"

"And I insist that you underrate your success!" the'tall Japanese
hissed.

Akio must have been severely agitated. This was the first time
in Saul's experience that he had ever interrupted anybody. The man
looked quickly aside. "Excuse me, please. But I have done simulations,
and Earth Control concurs. The larger Halleyform
organisms--the purples especially--can be kept in check using ultraviolet
and your new microwave beamers. The fungoids are now

under control using more precise versions of both techniques."
"And the diseases?"

"The diseases fall off dramatically in nearly everyone who has
received your new cyanutes. Tests show there are few actual cures,
but the advantage has been given back to the human body's immune
system."

"So--"

"So your techniques will hold the line! People will fall ill,
true. Some will even die--but at a far, far slower rate."

Then Akio did something quite rare. He looked Saul directly
in the eyes.

"I am in awe of your power, Saul Lintz," he confessed softly.
"Another reason you must.be slotted is that we simply cannot afford
to lose you. There are three decades ahead until the hard work
of aphelion. A greater period afterwards. There will be more crises.
New, adapted bacteroids and viroids. Please think of yourself
as our secret weapon, our reserve against all contingencies."

His eyes were pleading, asking Saul to accept, and not to inflict
any more of his Occidental directness against something that
was already decided.

He homing something back, Saul realized. Politics ? Orders
from Earth ?

	HEART OF THE COMET
	243
Virginia had spliced press clips for him, over the two months
since the mutiny He had been too busy to mqre than glance at the
news blurbs, but apparently some elements in the media were making
celebrities of two particular members of the Halley Expedition. Carl Osborn and me. We're the latest sensations, back there.
DOC HALLEY-DAY AND WYATT PERCELL . . . IIATTLING CREEPY
BUGS AND BUGGY CREW . . .
Could it be that the powers back home can't afford to have this
popular image last too long ? Both an augmented person and a
former collaborator of Simon Percell in the headlines ?
Oh, what a laugh! I sought obscurity and safety out in space--and
find neither!
Matsudo looked away again. Saul knew, then, that this was a
matter decided far above, and there would be no use inflicting protests
on his uncomfortable friend.
He had seen simulations better than Matsndo's--prepared in
stochastic logic by JonVon to his own models. Matsudo was right.
Things were indeed getting better.., or at least they would slip
downhill more slowly for the foreseeable future. Saul had hoped
that it would mean more time to study--to really study--what was
going on here.
There was more to all of this than a life-or-death struggle between
colonists and native organisms. Much, much more, and he
wanted to find out about it.
But how does one fight city hall?
Maybe I could persuade Virginia to desert with me, into the
tunnels. We'Il graze on green stuff, like Ingersoll. Raid the animal
lockers and thaw some sheep to raise. Maybe plant sorghum down
on the south forty and tell the universe to go to hell.
The ridiculous image made him smile, in spite of himself.
"I must have three months." He began the inevitable bargaining.
"There are experiments to finish, and I've got to brief Svatuto.
Also, Keoki and Marguerite need more training before I hand the
lab over to them."
Matsudo shook his head. "Two weeks. It is all I am willing to
 . . all I can risk you further."
Saul smiled. "I'll have to write a training manual for future
shifts--on handling the cyanutes and using the microwave disruptor....
Eight weeks, minimum."
After a long silence, Matsudo sighed in acquiescence. "I fear
for you, Saul. But I am also selfish. I admit that it will be good to
have you here for that much longer."

	244
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


The black-haired immunologist looked out over the slopes of
Mount Asahi. Sunset faded into a purpling night. Lowering clouds
flickered with hints of thunder.

"Flesh is weak," Akio Matsudo said softly, removing his
glasses to polish them one more time. "And it is lonely without
friends, where only the snow falls."


VIRGINIA


June 2062


As she approached the sleep-slot prep room one of her own
poems--if indeed they deserve such a highfalutin' name.t--came
rushing into her head.


Your musky hollows
sand-colored, rutted skin
neatly fitted bones, a calcium cage
to house a heart I enter,
and would devour
if only we had icy slow days.

I could rhyme

the tick of time,

frame elegant meals.

No springtime in Gehanna.

The long cold orbit out

could not cut the years

we have left.

Time's fair gamble,

days not yet done.

Perhaps they'll dwindle down

to none. But they will

see us entwining

together in the sun.


Okay, you're brave enough to say it to Jon Von. Now do it.

She slipped into the prep room. Saul already lay in the carrier

	HEART OF THE COMET
	245
beneath cool pale light, surrounded by cylinders and spheres of
gleaming steel. Carl Osborn was helping Keoki Anuenue, the med-tech,
work over him. The red nutrient webbing resembled a net of
blood vessels projected through the skin, like a demonstration in
school. Saul was still awake, though drowsy. His eyes followed her
as she walked to his side. Fog curled in chilly fingers around her.
Carl glanced up. "Where the hell have you been? I've been
listening to the comm. Just as I started, all the mechs went dead."

"Oh, is it already fixed?"
"It will. be, if I give the order," she said precisely.
Carl blinked. "What's that mean?"
"I shut them all down. And I won't bring them back on line
unless you and Ould-Harmd honor my request."
Anuenue kept attaching leads to Saul, oblivious, but Carl
stopped and carefully put down his needle-nose pliers. He stepped
away, where the tech couldn't hear. "You're... threatening us?"
"Let's call it a promise."
"Promise! What the--?"'
"Either let me slot now, or you won't get any useful work out
of me or the mechs?'
"That's disobedience! Blackmail!"
"Call it anything you like. Just do it." Virginia compressed
her lips into a thin, pale line.
"We need you."
"There are other programmers available--unslot one. And
JonVon can take over a lot of functions. I've upgraded his capabilities.''
"No computer is as good as you."
' Good. Get him to argue rdonally. "JonVon's general organizing
structures are better than mine. He also does higher-order
self-programming. That makes him very adaptable."
"But your experience--"
"Listen, I'm not negotiating here. I'm demanding."
Carl sighed and she saw that he was worn down. Not
physically--his solid jaw and strong cheeks were ruddy with
health, a welcome sight in these days--but mentally. OuMHarrad
is a frustrating commander. Carl was the natural choice for exec
officer, but it's a relentless task being number two to a man .like
that. And I'm not making it any easier on him.
"You honestly think JonVon will work with another computer
wizard? He's your baby, after all."

	246
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"i've instructed him to. I mandated it, using the old mission
mainframe. Just as I've told himto keep the mechs dead.until I give
him the word."
Carl said angrily, "So it is blackmail."
"Call it a negotiating position."
"You said you were demanding, not negotiating."
A shrug. "Skip it. Slot me or else nothing gets done."
' Carl bristled and pointed a finger at Saul. "He put you up to
this."
"No. I never talked to him about it. I . . . decided on my own."
Cad's voice seemed squeezed, diminished. "You... love him
that much?"
This was no time to care about anything except results. Carol's
face was reddening, his breathing getting faster. If he saw how unsteady
she was, how much nerve it took to do this-- "Of course.
You've known that all along."
Somehow this simple declaration blunted Carol's building anger.
"You... want to spend the same time in the slots?"
"We belong together."
Carl sighed again. "Damned nasty, shutting down the mechs
this way."
"I had to show I mean it. I don't intend to live without Saul.
Particularly since nobody really knows how much longer things
will hold together here anyway."
"We've got the diseases licked, Saul says."
"Yes, for now. But what about long-term effects? We've got to
be sure we have able bodies for service decades from now. People
who can come out of the slots in good condition, ready to work.
Saul and I fit that description. You know we can survive."
She played out the arguments just as she had rehearsed them.
There were holes in them, of course, but she saw now that Carl in
his disoriented state was vulnerable to her, unable to muster a coherent
objection. Perhaps he would, in fact, be glad to be rid of
both her-and Saul; their love was a continual irritant to' him, she
guessed.
Cad asked, "Keoki, could you get some more KleinTex solution
from stock?" The tech nodded and left.
Cad seemed pensive, almost dazed.
"Carl... I know this is a hard time .... "
He blinked, obviously struggling with inner conflicts. "You
know, I never pay attention to the people around me... never know
what they're thinking.., feeling."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	247

"No, that's not true, you--"
"Lani, I never saw her," he said bitterly. "I was so wrapped
up in dreams about you. To see her going into the slots, that
damned disease eating her up... I could'ye had some time with

"If you'd been a superman, yes," she said patiently. "We've all been run ragged, Carl. You can't bhime yourself for not being
all things to all people."
He didn't reply, just picked absently at the weave of nutrient
tubes and sensor wires that covered Saul. Virginia watched his expression
settle into one of sad reflection. He sighed, then looked
into Saul's relaxed face and asked, "You can understand?"
A nod.
"She's coming with you."
A slow smile. The lined skin around his eyes crinkled with
unmistakable happiness.
She asked Carl, "His speech centers?"
"I can reconnect them if you want. Or call Matsudo, if you
don't trust my fumbling."
She covered Carol's hand tenderly, sorry that it had come to
this. "No... don't. I think we understand without speaking."
Saul nodded.
Carol's face was blank, numb. He looked from one to the other.
Virginia felt pity for him, a man thrust too quickly into the center of
events. She was sorry that she had been forced to do things this
way. But there was no turning back.
"We'll slot you within a few weeks," Carl said evenly, clearly
summoning up strength from some reservoir. "First we thaw your
replacement, sO you can brief her. We'll have to square it with the
sleep-slot committee, argue over:whether the replacement should
be a Percell or an Ortho--the usual. Should take less than a month.
We'll start as soon as you get JonVon and the mechs in shape."
She didn't take her eyes away from Saul. I'll assign my personal
mech, Wendy, to give JonVon permanent manual function."
"The details don't matter. You've won. That's what counts."
She nodded, unable to speak.
He stood silently in the curling moist fog and cold for a long
time. "The people I most cared about, they're all slipping
away...." Then he shrugged. "Y'know... I'm going to miss you tWO .' '

THE ROCK IN THE
DESERT

What nature doesn't do to us,
Is done by our fellow man.
--Torn Lehrer


COMET
HALLEY


SATURN


JRANUS

JUPITER


Positions of Planets

and Comet Halley 2092

SAUL


2092


The world came back slowly, and not too pleasantly. It tingled, deep
down at the roots of his nerves, and then everything began to itch.
He could not scratch. '

Later, as the tickling finally began to fade, there came his first
real sensation of deep cold.

It was a fevery chill, this slow returning to awareness. Like a
Sickness--a bad one in which the mind is disabled, scattered, and
yet some core part of a man knows that it wants to think--to figure
out what is wrong and how to fix it.

It was also 14ke a nightmare, with blurred images, fragments
of voices murmuring and fading, beyond recall or meaning. Only
the dreamer knew that this time there would be no quick, relieved
awakening.

There was one way out of this dream--a long, slow ride to the
end.


The first time Saul felt certain that he wasn't imagining things
came as a blank whiteness overhead slowly swam into focus. His
eyelids fluttered with hesitant feestback--actually responding to his
will.

Shut, he commanded. The light closed off to a muted, rosy

hue.

Open! he ordered desperately, afraid the world had gone away
again. But nerves flashed and muscles fired on cue. A torrent of
light poured in again.

It cold .... Cold as the High Priest heart.

And Saul remembered a dry, freezing morning in the Judean
hills, the scent of century-old cedars and the chill of a hope dying.

Flames licked the sky in the direction of Gan lllana. There
was more burning on Mount Herzl. But in Jerusalem the Armies of
The Lord advanced in song, led on one side by a swarm of golden

	252
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRN

crosses, on another by the Mahdi and all of the Salawite mullahs.
And in the center, chanting Hebrew psalms and carrying the Rebuilt
Ark, the Kahanim priests of the new Sanhedrim The faithful
surged around the ruins of smashed buses, chanting in joy and
carrying bricks and mortar.

Unable to move anything but his eyelids, Saul seemed to see it
all again, played out against the pale white ceiling. It was a memory
of smoke, and the acrid odor of superstition.

U.N. "peacekeepers" stood watch as the Architects planted
the flags of three faiths on the Temple Mount and proclaimed the
land holy in three tongues. The hover tanks had not moved to stop
the riots. The world press hardly covered the slaughter of those
resisting the new theocracy.

To the world it was a great day. "Peace" had come at last to
the broiling navel of the world. Billions looked on it as a miracle as
representatives of three great religions joined together in a holy
cause.

To build a Temple to the Ultimate.

To fulfill prophecy.

To erect a place to speak to God.

Even after the fires had dimmed, after the Levites, Salawites,
and Tribulationists had sealed the land, smoke still rose up to
Mount Zion where he had watched. The pungent, sweet smell of
roasting, sacrificial lambs.

The scent of Leviticus climbed once more into Heaven, curling
under the nostrils of the Lord.

Saul closed his eyes again, and slept.

When next he awoke there was motion. A figure moved into
view. He blinked, trying to focus.

It was an older face. Sterner. But he recognized it.

Saul felt his lips being moistened. He worked his mouth and

managed to whisper one syllable.

"C... Carl?"

The visage overhead nodded. "Yes, Saul. It's me. How are
you feeling?"

Saul lifted his eyebrows. The lazy man's shrug conveyed more
than words could at this point. Carl Osborn responded with a
smile, not a particularly friendly smile, but ironic. "Good. Your
unslotting is proceeding normally. You should be up and about
soon."

Saul's voice felt dry. Dusty. "Is... is there peace now?"
Carl blinked, then shook his head. "Most wakers ask what

	HEART OF THE COMET
	253

date it is. Or, if they've alre.ady been out, they ask if we've beaten
the gunk. But not you. Not Saul Lintz."
There was no antagonism in the remark. Saul managed to answer Carol's wry smile with one of his own. "Okay, then. What...
what's the date?"
Carl nodded. "Eight years before the new century." So, Saul thought. Thirty years. That was a long nap. "Aphelion..." he breathed.
"Not far from it;' Carl agreed. "We're thirty a.u. out. You
should see the sun. It's not much brighter than the moon in a desert
night ."
Where no person has gone before.
"The Nudge Launchers?" Saul asked. "Are they..."
Carl frowned. "We'll get 'em built."
Saul read a lot in that expression. It answered his first question. No peace. But we're still here, so it can't be all bad.
His body felt as if it were made of lead, but he managed to turn
his head. "So who's is charge now?... Kuyamato? Trugdorff?....
Johannson?"
Carl shook his head. "They're all dead, or dead-slotted."
"Then who?"
Carl made a restless shrug. "I'm operations officer. If anyone's
in charge, I am."
Saul settled back, slowly absorbing this.
He is older, harder. I wonder how many more years Carl has
spent awake, while I slept.
"So do you need a doctor?" Frankly, he wouldn't have expected
to be revived, if it were up to Carl.
"Yeah, that's right, Saul. We need a doctor. And Earth suggested
it might be a good time to lst you have another look at the
diseases. Some seem to have mutated."
Carl hovered over him for another moment. His lips pressed
together. "I ought to be honest with you, Saul. The biggest reason I
had you taken off ice was because we need Virginia."
"Virginia;' Saul breathed. Remembering.
Carl nodded, his mouth tight. "Rest, Saul. You won't be
called on to do much. Not right away. I'll check in on you later."
, Saul said nothing as the tall man slipped out of his peripheral
vision. The years still had to be unsorted. Dreams that he had not
quite experienced felt like water behind an overfilled dam. Faces
riffled like shuffling cards.
Faces of women--Miriam, Virginia, Lani Nguyen. Faces of
comrades--Nicholas Malenkov, dying in his arms.

	254
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

And the ghost of Simon Percell. Through the fibercloth walls,
through the ice mountain that surrounded him, Saul felt he could
almost hear a soft, ironic laughter. It stayed with him when he fell
into a deep, natural sleep.
Twice more he stirred briefly. The first time when a tech he
recognized from the crew of the Edmund--now a middle-aged
woman with a strange, greenish stain on one side of her face--greeted
him mildly and offered him a drink. He had to ask her to
speak slowly because she seemed to have picked up a queer accent.
An oddly handsome man without any hair at all was his caretaker
the next time. A burn on one cheek seemed more like a brand than anything an accident might produce. Saul thought it wise to
forbear comment.
Wait. Absorb. Learn.
The slot tenders were not as busy as they once had been. The
pace was casual, but under it all, the tension was still there. In the
hushed conversations he overheard, there were words, phrases, that
he could not follow. He was allowed to sit up, the next time the watch
shift changed, and he saw that there was some sort of ceremony as
new slot tenders took charge.
No. There is no peace.
He saw on the wallboard that two recuperation lights shone.
One for him. One for Virginia. She had kept her promise, and followed
him down the River of Time.
Clever girl, Saul thought. I knew you could do it.
I can't wait to tell you how much I really love you.., however from you are by now.
With that wry thought, Saul slept again, and knew that he
would be stronger when next he awakened.

CARL

Kepler's Laws seemed almost biological now. Carl stared at the orbital
display and sighed. Following a long ellipse out from the sun's
sting felt a lot like aging.
You start with a hot, fevered time when movement is rapid,
life burgeons. Spring, a swelling heat, and ripe, quick summer. It
passes. Things calm, raw reality seeps in, you slow and cool and
come to terms with the fundamental hostility of the universe. Like
growing old.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	255
Simple Newtonian dynamics explained it all. The eccentric,
moody Kepler had deduced the basic laws governing elliptical motion
in a classic, brute-force manner: staring at the data until order
seemed to ooze out, the eye bringing forth structure where another's
would see only a hash of numbers. Carl respected that ability
far more now, after years of dealing with mountains of data,
faithfully delivered by the interlocking systems of Halley Core.
He stepped Halley's orbit forward on the big screen, watching
the long ellipse advance, the scale swelling as the warm realm of.
the inner planets dwindled, circles sucked into the vortex of the
sun. They were far past Saturn now, turning with an aching lethargy
toward aphelion, beyond Neptune. Gravity's weakening tug
nudged the ice mountain feebly, the sun's gossamer apronstrings.
He still came to Central every few days to check, to touch the
consoles and renew his faith that this long night must have an end. Like growing old.
How old am I, anyway? Two years serving under OuldHarrad,
after Saul and Virginia went into the slots. I was damned
glad to slide into that chilly sleep myself. Worn out and depressed.
Then another shift under Lieutenant Morgan a decade later.
Less harrowing, sure, but boring. I got heavily into the sense-stim,
just to blot out the monotony of ice and dark. Must've run through
every tape in the library a dozen times. JonVon was a help, rearranging
and blending sensations and dramas. Some odd, delightful
effects there... Still, much more than two years and I would've
been ready for the rubber room.
Now it's been--what ? four more years ? seems longer!--since
Calciano woke me to take his place. The guy was pretty damned
near gone; too.
He examined his reflection in amearby blank screen, the gray
flecks at the temples. Well, Virginia liked 'em older .... Maybe
now I can compete. I was a little hard to take, I guess. Brash and
idealistic and pretty abrasive, I'm sure. Now, though . . .
He shook his head. Whatever he was becoming as a man...
well, it was secondary. His main focus was on being a commander,
or what passed for one these days. Plugging away, keeping the factions
workihg together with minimal friction. He'd love to slip back into that dreamy cold sleep, let go, ride home free ....
But there was no one left in the slots he would trust with the
important aphelion maneuvers ahead. On the display they were a
mere finger's width from the turnaround, a lonely blue pinprick.
He'd had the time to bone up on Halley's Comet, something
he had skipped when applying for this mission. It had seemed irrel-

	256
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

evant: Halley was another iceball, bound for the outer system and
zones of space nobody had ever seen. That was enough for an ambitious
youngster of twenty-five.
He had been chagrined to find he was even pronouncing the
name wrong. Astronomers and space workers called it Halley with
a short a; ground-huggers of his native North America used a long a, as if it were "Hailey." But the discoverer had pronounced it with
a w in the middle, so it should sound like "Hawley." Carl imagined
a haughty Englishman enunciating the name with one eyebrow
arched, his lips turned into an amused, condescending smile..
They were riding the comet on its thirty-first passage since an
ancient Chinese first recorded seeing the splash of shimmering
light in the sky--a span that dwarfed the long years Carl had spent,
and humbled the empires of Man. The fourth recorded apparition,
in 11 n,c., came close to the birth date of Jesus of Nazareth, and
some said it must have been the Star of Bethlehem.
We could use some salvation now, Carl thought, and thumbed
off the display. And where that goddamn Jejfers ?
As if called, the hatch creaked and Jeffers appeared, his long
rusty beard flowing over his skinsuit neck yoke like a lurid moss.
The man had argued that letting body hair grow was only sensible,
providing much-needed natural insulation. Carl had countered that
it got in the way of suit fixtures and fouled the helmet placements,
but he knew why Jeffers liked it: the image of Methuselah, of wisdom,
of the old hermit in the woods.
"How'd it go?" Jeffers asked. If anything, his southern drawl
had thickened with the years. They were all trying to keep alive
whatever links they had to distant, vibrant Earth.
Carl shrugged. "I sent the weekly transmission yesterday. Got
the usual short response today, thirteen hours twelve minutes
later."
"Any shows?"
"Here." Carl hit a key and an index scrolled forward. He
stopped at a Ews entry and shifted to realtime. "Feast your eyes."
A woman announcer grinned at them, her torso paint aswirl
with technicolor curves. Her nipple ornaments glittered as she took
a deep breath and said enthusiastically. "Arrested on two counts of
public foreplay today were Starlet Angela Xeno and Compassatino
Rilke, line player for the Visigoths." A 3D picture of a smiling
couple, half-nude. "Insiders say the incident was publicity for
the Visigoths' upcoming tube match against the Wasters. Turning

HEART OF THE COMET 257


Carl snapped it off. "There're three new porno sestinas, too,

if you want them."

Jeffers made a face. "Naw, gettin' so I can't take that stuff
anymore."

"Me neither." He never had, but it was a good idea not to
disparage the tastes of people you had to work with; another small
fact he had learned.

"When's Malcolm comin'?"

"Any minute now."

Central was one of two common meeting grounds between the
factions. They all had to run into each other in the harvesting bins
of Hydroponics, but Central was the obvious spot for real negotiations.

Jeffers slid into a webbing, stretching. "Just got back from the
surface A man can hardly move anything out there. Lotsa mechs
are down for repairs and the rest drag around like they's drugged."

Carl nodded. Every month it got slightly worse. The persistent
cold, the malls, the difficulty of making new parts or repairs
.. "I wonder if there'll be some of those titanium-cylinder manifolds
in the Care Package."

"Hope so." Jeffers frowned. "I still wonder how they got all
those parts and supplies into such a small package."

"They've gotten better at high-boost, I suppose. It's been over
thirty years, after all."

Earth had undoubtedly made great progress in .propulsion of
high-quality loads for the Mars and asteroid bases. Still, it had been
a surprise to be told, three years ago, that Control was sending a
cargo of much-needed parts and supplies, boosting them out under
enormous acceleration. They would arrive before aphelion, and
could-help crucially in the Nud.[e. Even with three decades of
Earthside's improvements, a packfige like that was expensive--but
nothing, of course, compared with the investment already sunk into
the Halley Mission.

"I ran that optical sighting through JonVon, got a measurement,''
Jeffers said. "The Care Package is riding a fusion torch. Big
orange plume behind it."

"Already decelerating?"

"Yeah, but not much. Guess they're going to slam on the
brakes right at the end."

With rendezvous two years away, the Care Package still had to
shed four kilometers per second to come alongside Halley. News of
it had been a real morale boost. Carl hoped its arrival would lift

	258
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

them all, bring back some of the spirit the mission had enjoyed in
its first days.
"Major Clay--our new contact guy--said he had included a
bottle of 1986 Malescot St. Exupery Margaux."
"Hot damn! I can't pronounce it, but I'll sure as hell help
drink it."
"A bottle of the best from Halley's twen-cen apparition, he .
said."
"Great. Just fine."
Jeffers was plainly pleased at this fragment of news. Ca31 had
saved details of the Care Package, dealt them out one at a time to
keep enthusiasm up. An extravagant gesture, shipping old grape
juice across the solar system--but Earth, despite its madnesses, did
understand something of the psychology out here. It was a masterful
touch.
One hell of an improvement over the hysteria under OuldHarrad--one
month I'm a hero, the next I'm a Percell freak. And
under Criswell they didn't answer at all. If it weren't for Phobos
Base relaying newslink on the sly, we couldn't have proved Earth
was even inhabited. Sounds like-things are settling down now,
though.
He rubbed his face, massaging some of the ache away. He
tapped in instructions and the walls lit. Best to put on something
pretty, calm, warm. Ah, here. A sunny day breaking over Hong
Kong Free State.
The swarming masses of junks and flyers always pleased him.
A baking sun had just lifted free of green, artificial hills to the east.
A rainbow grinned, upside down beneath the vapor fall of a floating
luxury home. Heat shimmer made the distant alabaster spires
dance.
The hatch clanked again and Malcolm appeared. He was lean,
and his face was set in a perpetual dark glower, black eyes peering
out distrustfully. Without a word Malcolm settled into a webbing
and nodded. "We want more from Hydro."
Carl sighed. "You know the terms."
"It's not enough. We're all losing body weight."
For a nasty instant Carl was tempted to say, Try eating some of
your kids. The ones you insisted you had a "right" to have. But he
kept his face impassive and said, "We're getting as much out of
Hydro as we can, you know that. Look over the numbers."
"But we're growing, and the agreement doesn't allow for
that."
"Those kids were your choice."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	259

"Look, we been over this," Malcolm said evenly. "Normal
people get sick easier. We got to keep a larger population in case
there's another plague."

Jeffers, who had been chewing his lip all this time, burst out,
"You just want to take over, is all. Couple decades, you'll outnumber
us Percells."

Malcolm said stiffly, "The normal people will keep to our
own zone."

"We see you guys around in Three C--you movin' in there?"
Jeffers asked.

"No." Malcolm sniffed derisively. "We can't stand the smell."
"Delicate li'l bastards, aren't you?"

Carl said mildly, "Stop trading insults. We've got things to
negotiate."

"Those kids are bastards, y'know--you've got some kinda

mass breeding program going, don't you?" Jeffers asked sharply.
Malcolm reddened. "That's no business of you Percells."
"You treat women like breeding stock--"

"Cut it," Carl said firmly. Malcolm was sensitive about the
fact that their children were stunted, victims of Halleyform intrusions
into the womb and development problems in low-G. They
seldom lived long. Reproducing in such a hostile biological environment
was simply a bad gamble, and the Orthos had lost.

He let the men stare sourly at each other for a moment and
then went on, "We've got to do something about the slot problem.
The medical inventory is even worse than I'd thought. There aren't
enough fresh crew left. Nowhere near enough to do the remaining
work of setting up the Nudge."

Jeffers asked, "How's that possible? There're hundreds--"
"Were hundreds." In the firstnten years they had cycled most
of the mission crew through, before they got the green gunk and
viroids really under control. If the thawed-out ones got sick--and a
lot did--they were popped back into the slots. For replacements
they pulled fresh sleepers.

"Killing off normal people, that's what you were doing,"
Malcolm said.

Carl sighed. "Forget that crap We did what we had to.
Orthos got sick fast, that's all."

"Not the way I heard it. We--"

Jeffers spat out, "You unfroze twenty years after rendezvous!
You know nothin' about the hard time."

"I can read records! And the oldsters tell us. I know you unfroze
normal people more often than you had to."

GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
them all, bring back some of the spirit the mission had enjoyed in
its first days.
"Major Clay--our new contact guy--said he had included a
bottle of 1986 Malescot St. Exupery Margaux."
"Hot damn! I can't pronounce it, but I'll sure as hell lelp
drink it."
"A bottle of the best from Halley's twen-cen apparition, he
said."
"Great. Just fine."
Jeffers was plainly pleased at this fragment of news. Cal had
saved details of the Care Package, dealt them out one at a time to
keep enthusiasm up. An extravagant gesture, shipping old grape
juice across the solar system--but Earth, despite its madnesses, did
understand something of the psychology out here. It was a masterful
touch.
One hell of an improvement over the hysteria under OuldHarrad--one
month I'm a hero, the next I'm a Percell freak. And
under Criswell they didn't answer at all. If it weren't for Phobos
Base relaying newslink on the sly, we couldn't have proved Earth
was even inhabited. Sounds like-things are settling down now,
though.
He rubbed his face, massaging some of the ache away. He
tapped in instructions and the walls lit. Best to put on something
pretty, calm, warm. Ah, here. A sunny day breaking over Hong
Kong Free State.
The swarming masses of junks and flyers always pleased him.
A baking sun had just lifted free of green, artificial hills to the east.
A rainbow grinned, upside down beneath the vapor fall of a floating
luxury home. Heat shimmer made the distant alabaster spires
dance.
The hatch clanked again and Malcolm appeared. He was lean,
and his face was set in a perpetual dark glower, black eyes peering
out distrustfully. Without a word Malcolm settled into a webbing
and nodded. "We want more from Hydro."
Carl sighed. "You know the terms."
"It's not enough. We're all losing body weight."
For a nasty instant Carl was tempted to say, Try eating some of
your kids. The ones you insisted you had a "right" to have. But he
kept his face impassive and said, "We're getting as much out of
Hydro as we can, you know that. Look over the numbers."
"But we're growing, and the agreement doesn't allow for
that."
"Those kids were your choice."

HEART OF THE COMET
	2,59

"Look, we been over this," MalColm said evenly. "Normal

people get sick easier. We got to keep a larger population in case

there's another plague."

Jeffers, who had been chewing his lip all this time, burst out,
"You just want to take over, is all. Couple decades, you'll outnumber
us Percells."

Malcolm said stiffly, "The normal people will keep to our
own zone."

"We see you guys around in Three C--you movin' in there?"
Jeffers asked.

"No." Malcolm sniffed derisively. "We can't stand the smell."
"Delicate li'l bastards, aren't you?"

Carl said mildly, "Stop trading insults. We've got things to
negotiate."

"Those kids are bastards, y'know--you've got some kinda

mass breeding program going, don't you?" Jeffers asked sharply.
Malcolm reddened. "That's no business of you Percells."
"You treat women like breeding stock--"

"Cut it," Carl said firmly. Malcolm was sensitive about the
fact that their children were stunted, victims of Halleyform intrusions
into the womb and development problems in low-G. They
seldom lived long. Reproducing in such a hostile biological environment
was simply a bad gamble, and the Orthos had lost.

He let the men stare sourly at each other for a moment and
then went on, "We've got to do something about the slot problem.
The medical inventory is even worse than I'd thought. There aren't
enough fresh crew left. Nowhere near enough to do the remaining
work of setting up the Nudge."

Jeffers asked, "How's that possible? There're hundreds--"
"Were hundreds." In the firten years they had cycled most
of the mission crew through, before they got the green gunk and
viroids really under control. If the thawed-out ones got sick--and a
lot did--they were popped back into the slots. For replacements
they pulled fresh sleepers.

"Killing off normal people, that's what you were doing;'
Malcolm said.

Carl sighed. "Forget that crap We did what we had to.
Orthos got sick fast, that's all."

"Not the way I heard it. We--"

Jeffers spat out, "You unfroze twenty years after rendezvous!
You know nothin' about the hard time."

"I can read records! And the oldsters tell us. I know you unfroze
normal people more often than you had to."

	260
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"Because the Ortho faction wanted to keep their numbers up.
It was their idea," Carl explained. "Look, I was there, you
weren't. Until Calciano handed things over to me, every commander
was an Ortho. I'm not going to try to crack through that
bonehead bias of yours anymore. Just listen, okay?"
Malcolm nodded reluctantly. The man kept a certain tattered
dignity about him, despite his grimy uniform and matted hair. Usually
he made some show of being clean and neat. The Orthos must
be having a hard time of it lately.
There were internal disputes, too. The Ortho-run tunnels had
as wide a range of fanatics as the Percell zones, maybe more.
Malcolm was hard to take sometimes, but he was the only one all
Orthos trusted to speak for them--much the same position Jeffers
served among Perceils.
Carl could respect Malcolm's position, but could only pity the
stupidity of the people he had to represent. Many Orthos would
never compromise with Percells now, after all that had happened,
the wasted blood and bile. Very well--but cooperation on some
tasks was essential.
There were some groups that kept above all of this, of course.
The
	Blue Rock Clan hadn't sent a representative to this meeting.
The
	Hawaiians and surviving spacers preferred to keep out of the
perpetual Ortho-Percell bickering.
"We need more help in Hydro;' Carl said. "Equipment keeps
breaking down and the only way to make up is with labor."
"You want more work from us?" Malcolm said resentfully.
"Right. But it can't eat into the Nudge program."
"Impossle. We're stretched too far as it is."
"Orbits wait for nobody," Jeffers said. "We got to have the
launchers ready by aphelion or else there'll none of us see Earth
again ."
Carl nodded. "And I doubt we could survive an extra ten
years."
Malcolm's lean mouth set in a determined line. "I get it. You
want to unslot a bunch of our people, then work them to death."
"That's not it at all." Carl had anticipated this reaction, but
not so soon. He's edgy, suspicious. I don't envy him, having to deal
with Quiverian and Ould-Harrad and the Arcists. Of course, Jeffers
doesn't have it easy either, coping with Sergeov and the radical
Percells.
Carl said calmly, "I think we'll get by if you simply stop trying
to produce children. That will free more women to work full
time."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	261
"Uh-uh. We got a right to reproduce."
Carl thought bitterly, Now you understand how we felt about
the EarthBirth Laws. He put the thought aside--a dim dispute from
another life--and leaned forward earnestly. "Look, think this
through. We have--"
The hatch clanged. Carl looked up in surprise to see 'Saul
Lin[z gingerly making his way into the center of the console banks.
"Saul, this is a parley. You're not invited. And frankly, I think
you're too weak to--"
"Nonsense. I heard where you were and decided to come have
a look. You're the, ah, Ortho leader?" Saul peered at Malcolm as if
trying to place him from the past.
As the two made introductions, Carl thought. Could he use
Saul to persuade Malcolm? Saul's prestige in suppressing the Black
Year plagues carried weight. How much did Lintz know of what
had happened? He would have to step carefully here.
"Oh, I understand the problems," Saul said to Malcolm. "I
tapped into the running inventory, projections, the maintenance
programs. What, I want to know," he said carefully, looking at Jeffers
and Carl, "is why the Nudge Launchers have been reprogrammed."
Damn. "It's preliminary, since only a few of the launchers
have been built yet.' We've sharpened our analysis--"
"No, that's not it. They're set to bring us nowhere close to
Earth, after the Jupiter slingshot." Saul looked at Carl steadily.
"Look', I was going to sit down and go over this with you in
detail as soon as you--" Carl sighed. "Okay. Here, I'll play the
squirt from Earth, same as we got it years ago. You might as well
have the full story."
It wasn't hard to find. He h replayed it incessantly, and so
had many of the Orthos, he imagined.
The main screen glowed, fluttered. NEWS.
A burly announcer looked mirthful, shrugged comically, and
said, "Remember that trag ex-ed on Halley's Comet? How they
went balloka and started checking out from the bugs. they found?
Well, here's how they looked when Orbital got 'em in sights again."
A dry chuckle. The screen showed a silvery profile swimming
in blackness--the Edmund.
"Some of the nonbuggy ones jumped into their mother ship
and flew home. Only nobody's nonbuggy out there now, so Fed
said--you know what Fed said, right?"
The leering, wide-eyed face of the announcer swelled, smiled
broadly with impossibly white teeth, then dwindled as down-tonal

	262
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

sound effects rose and--the screen flared with brilliant blue light.

"Scintillatin' sendoff, yes! All gone-free for you and me, to
keep bugs out of the huffy-clime. Went up clean, too, one big
fuse--"

Carl snapped it off. "Welcome to the coming new century," he
said sardonically.

"Good... Lord..." Saul was dazed. His gray pallor slowly
reddened and he blinked rapidly. "They... they weren't going to
take any chances."

Malcolm said bitingly, "Why should they? Even if Earth quarantined
the Edmund, how could they be sure?"

Jeffers said levelly, "You sound like you're agreein' with what
they did."

"I can understand it." Malcolm eyed Jeffers with open dislike.

"Only good thing," Jeffers said cuttingly, "is that Linbarger
and those Ortho assholes all bought it."

Saul gritted his teeth, as if swimming up from some personal
memory that had overwhelmed him. Carl suspected which one: the
old Zionist associations were broad enough to be triggered by anything
like this.

"I expected some strong measures.., but to..."

Carl said flatly, "You wanted to know--okay, there it is. We
can't go back to Earth. Ever. They'll never believe we're not disease
carriers, and they'll be damned well rigkt, too."

Sanl's eyes seemed to swell in his papery, pale face, sensing
possibilities. "Then... where can we .' . ."

"That's what we have to decide. We're aiming for a close pass
of Jupiter on the inbound, and we can slingshot ourselves just about
anywhere from there."

Saul said distantly, "I see."

Carl watched Saul carefully during the rest of the meeting.
The man listened mutely, lost in his own dark introspections.

Malcolm was balky, reluctant. He gave ground grudgingly,
agreeing to a slight increase in the labor hours in Hydroponics,
swearing he could give no more without consulting all the Ortho
factions. Jeffers made similarly hedged promises on behalf of the
Percell groups.

Carl himself spoke for the ex-spacers--mostly Plateau Three
types--and the Hawaiians. What would I do without those diehard
idealists ? he thought, watching the give and take of the meeting.
There aren't nearly enough of them ....

He moved into the verbal crossfire, working them around to a

	HEART OF THE COMET
	263
livable compromise. He used hard-won skills to cajole Mal.colm
into doing what it seemed to him anyone rational would immediately
agree to--but by now he was used to it, resigned to the obdurate
mulishness of the human species.
And this was only a minor sticking point. Eventually they'd
have to get Quiverian and Sergeov to sit down, too, representing the
extremes. And all this bickering over mere Hydro, too--the deeper
issues of finishing the Nudge Flingers would be far worse. It resembled
the never-ending news from the Middle East. Even with Saul's
lost Israel broken into squabbling theocracies, the region was still
rife with more microscopic factions, unending rivalry, bitterness,
stupidity. Nobody could see beyond their noses. No, Halley was all
too representative of humanity.
After the meeting he sat and watched the sun set in vivid ruby
splashes over Hong Kong. He wondered idly if the place existed
anymore; there had been reports of a small nuke war somewhere
near there, twenty years ago. He would have to check sometime. Or
maybe he didn't really wish to know. The city simmering in its rosy
sunset looked better if you thought it could still be there.
At last he roused himself and went down to sleep slot I. The
thawing was proceeding normally; he had kept track by remote
throughout the day. Suited and encased, he came into the foggy
kingdom of eternal chill. He did not rush into the prep room,
though. The team was not quite through yet ....
Carl stopped at Lani Nguyen's slot. Frost filmed it and he
checked the fluid lines automatically. He had come here often to
stare into that blissful, milky, floating refuge--and to envy them
all. He peered through the slowly churning fluids at the watery
form inside. Did he see a face gazing out?
I miss you, Lani. I was a young idiot when I knew you. Not
that an older idiot would do any better. That night after Cruz died
 . . We know how it should have worked out, don't we ? He smiled
wanly. You should sleep safely to the end. But we'Il need you soon,
too. And pray that unslotting doesn't give those plagues lying dormant
in you the crucial edge they need...
He could contain his impatience no longer. He went into the
prep room and stood aside as the technicians finished their hours of
careful labor. His eyes followed every feeder line, each stimulating
circuit, all the myriad details that spelled the difference.
She still as wonderful. Just looking at her makes my heart
feel as though a hand is squeezing it.
He stood aside as they unwrapped the nutrient gauze from
Virginia's almond skin.

	264
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


That luscious color belongs on beaches, not in ice.

He had waited so long for this .... And had thought a thousand
times of violating his pledge, of reviving Virginia without
Saul. What could they do about it except complain? He had even
come down here once, at the nub end of a lonely, half-drunken
evening .... Invaded the realm of frost and started the warmup,
let it run on for two hours before finally facing the fact that he
couldn't do it. Not merely because she would be enraged, would
surely see through his invented explanations.., but because he
knew he could not live with having done it.

But now all that was past. The long years dropped away,
done.

He stepped forward to see her again.


VIRGINIA


Long ago, Virginia hal wondered what it would be like if she ever
really succeeded.., if ever she fooled them all, and actually made
a machine that could think.

How would awareness seem to the new entity? Would it appear
suddenly, as great Athena was supposed to have come into her wisdom,
springing self-aware from the brow of Zeus?

Would it be like a child growing up? A long, slow, tedious/
thrilling process of rote and extrapolation? Of trial and error and
skinned knees?

Or would it happen as humanity had done it--evolving by
quirk and happenstance from the feral reflexes of microbes, all the
way up to the hubris to challenge gods?

Most often of all, she had imagined that it would be like this.
A slow gathering of scattered threads. A learning anew of what was
already known.

An awakening.

All the blurry images came together into a single shape that
swam in front of her eyes--a complete mystery. A blob.

Then, with no transition at all, she knew it as a face.., one
that ought to be familiar.

"Carl?" she tried to ask. But her facial muscles would only
twitch a little, a promise of returning volition, but not much more.

HEART OF THE COMET
	265

The figure overhead blurred, unfocused, and finally went

away. Virgin'Fa slept. And for the first time in a long while, she

dreamed.


The white walls were sharp and clear when next she opened
her eyes.

Recuperation room, she thought. I wonder how long it's been.
There was a rustling tap tap tap of a databoard nearby. Virginia
laboriously turned her head, and saw a man in a faded,
threadbare hospital gown perched crosslegged on a webbing, looking
intently into a portable display and rubbing his chin slowly with

one hand. His eyelids were slot-blue and he looked so thin.
"Saul," she whispered.

He looked up quickly. In a single motion he put aside the data-board
and was by her side, bringing a squeeze bottle to her lips.

She sipped until he drew it away. Then she worked her mouth.
"H . . . h-how... ?"

"How long?" Saul took her hand. "About thirty years. We're
getting near aphelion. Carl told me you left little watchdog programs
throughout the data systems that kept popping up, promising
bloody hell if you were awakened before me."

Virginia smiled weakly. "I told you... I'd... m-manage it."
He laughed. "And I'm so very proud of you."

The richness of his voice made her blink. Saul was still only
partially recovered from his own slotting, and yet something else
was different about him.

Her preslotting memories were coming back clearly. There
was a little more gray at Saul's temples, maybe, and yet could it be
an illusion that he actually looked younger than before?

Oh, I must be a mess, she ttmught. I had better do some hard
eating to put some meat back on, after three decades.

But if slotting drops years off you, I must learn to conquer my
fear of it.t

"How am.... I... doing?"

"A doctor's joy." He grinned. "A marvelous piece of womanly
engineering. Recovering nicely, and soon to be put to work, by

orders of his Grand Poobah-dom, Commander Osborn."
Virginia shook her head.
"C-commander... ?"

Saul nodded. "Lieutenant Commander, actually. Commission
from Earth. They had to. Only two officers left alive, and they
hardly count. Ensign Calciano's in the slots after a ten-year shift in

	266
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

which he seems to have become convinced he was the Flying
Dutchman. Ould-Harrad's resigned his commission and gone off to
join the Revisionist-Arcists over in Gehenna .... "
At Virginia's puzzled expression, Saul squeezed her hand.
"It's a different world, Virginia. So much has changed. Back
on Earth, things have gone from very bad to better to incomprehensible.
And out here they're.., well.. "He shrugged. "Out
here they're just plain weird."
"But Carl... ?" She started to rise, but he pushed her gently
back against the pillow. Even Halley gravity was a weight for her.
"Enough talk. Now you rest. Later I'll explain what I've been
able to discover. We'll try to figure out a place for ourselves in this
strange new world."
Virginia let herself relax.
We... she thought, liking the way the word sounded in his
voice. Yes, we will.
She was starting to drift off when she felt Saul gently pull his
hand away. Virginia looked up and saw that he was fumbling with a
handkerchief and staring into space with a screwed up, half-orgasmic
squint. It ended deep inside the square of cloth in a muffled
sneeze.
Virginia hiccupped in a little laugh. She reached out with
leaden arms and touched the tear that rolled down one scratchy
cheek.
"Oh, darling," she sighed. -"Out of the slots only a few days,
and already you have a cold!"
He looked at her sheepishly, then he smiled.
"So nu? What else is new?"

SAUL

Everybody seemed to be dying.
In fact, the more Saul learned about this aging colony, the
more it seemed a myst6ry to him that anyone was left alive at all.
Oh, people had adapted, found ways to cope. Human beings
were good at that. Since thirtFyears ago, when Akio Matsudo had
finally given firm orders and seen Saul strapped into his slot, the
tools he had left behind had been added to, improved.
But the modified cyanutes, the subtly tuned microwave scan
HEART OF THE COMET
	267

ners, all of their.clever devices could only slow down the long ero
sion, the declining spiral. Halley-Life, too, was adaptable, and

much more at home here. It was a war of attrition that men could

only lose.
I should have known that Akio would hardly.take his own advice, Saul thought in the ch!lly domain of sleep slot I. It had been a
mistake to come down here so soon after leaving Recuperation
Hall, to look in on old friends. A rude shock to have it brought
home so clearly that three decades had passed.
Until now his last memory of the Japanese physician had been
of glossy black hair framing smiling almond eyes under wire-rimmed
glasses. But that image--as fresh as last week--was jarringly
crushed down here among the chilled caskets. One was
labeled with Akio Matsudo's name. The figure behind the frosted
glass was almost unrecognizable.
A thin fringe of gray wisps rimmed a pate turned speckled
with age spots and scarred from bouts with skin infections. Those
once-plump cheeks were now the hollowed inheritance of a man
grown old fighting the inevitable, the implacable. And there was no
hint of laughter anymore in the lines rimming poor Aki0's sleep-shut
eyes.
The charts at the foot of every slot told the story of each hibernating
occupant, red symbols denoting medical reasons for internment,
black trim meaning storage without real hope of recovery or
resuscitation, and blue marking a krewman or -woman who was
simply "off duty" for this span of years.
At first glance the situation looked serious, but not impossible.
There were plenty of blue folders. However, a quick scan of
the colors did not tell the true story. Akio, for instance, had a blue
folder. .a
A tired, sick old man, he thought on reading his friend's folder.
It wasn't just the lingering in.fections, or malnutrition from decades
of eating only the narrow range of foods grown in the colony's agro
domes. Osteoporosis had so weakened the man's bones that there
was no way he would ever walk his beloved western Japanese hills
again. Electrical bone stimulation had not made up for year after
year in near weightlessness.
The Edmund Halley's gravity wheel hung in cavern Gamma,
frozen and broken down. So far, nobody had had the energy to fix
it.
Saul read a random sample of blue folders and pored over slot
readings. Slowly, he came to a chilling realization.

	268
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

No more than ten percent of the colony was Well in any real
sense of the word.
Is Carl really that good a liar? He wondered how Osborn was
able to maintain the fiction that the mission could ever be completed. Or is everyone pretending for the sake of their sanity ?
He saw no way there'd be even a fraction of the manpower
needed to build and operate the "ringer" launchers--the mass
drivers that were supposed to alter Halley's orbit come aphelion.
And without the Nudge, they all might as well go to sleep for
good, because there would be no homecoming for any of them.
His thoughts were clouded as he left sleep slot I. Still a bit
weak from his long hibernation, Saul stretched long-unused muscles
by glide-walking the long tunnels downward and southward, an
area he had not visited yet since his internment.
In this area nearly all the passages were coated in luxuriant
green layers of Halleyviridis fungoid. The stuff was too slick to
allow good purchase for his vel-stick slippers, but offered a sure
grip when he used his bare toes as he had seen others do.
It actually made movement much easier. He found he didn't
need the almost hidden wall cables, for instance. Grabbing a tuff of
growth in passing gave him all the added leverage he needed to
move along swiftly.
Saul wandered for some time without paying close attention to
where he was going, thinking about the strangeness he and Virginia
had awakened to.
Earth appeared to have completely written off Miguel Cruz's
grand odyssey. Oh, th%y .still maintained contact, after a fashion,
sending up entertainments and dribbles of technical data from time
to time. Saul had extracted a promise from Carl Osborn to bring
him more fully up-to-date soon--the distant, somewhat aloof
spacer had been imprecise about when. Apparently, most of the
awake colonists lived day to day, and took a detached view toward
time.
Soon, though, Saul knew he would have to resume his duties
as expedition doctor. And the burden of hopelessness that had worn
down Akio Matsudo would be his.
Most sorry of all had been those poor Orthos down in Quadrant
9, with their pitiful children--scabrous, wild-eyed, stick figures
barely human in aspect, always hungry and frail as leaves.
Perhaps the EarthBirth Laws were wise. Gravity runs strong
in our genes.
But there was more to it than that. Yesterday he had examined
five of the Ortho kids. All seemed to suffer from the same enzyme

	HEART OF THE COMET
	269

deficiency. He already had it mapped to the seventh chromosome.
In a few weekS he should be able to track it down and ....
And what, Lintz? Are you contemplating meddling, again?
Just emerged into a new world, and already you're coming up with
ideas how to change it ?
The glow of phosphor panels was growing sparse. Saul tried to
take his bearings and realized that he had not been paying close
enough attention. He was lost,
In the old days that would have been impossible. But by now
all the old intersection "street signs" were obscured, completely
covered over by the soft, native carpeting. Instead, where shaft met
tunnel, there were deeply incised "clan markings"--filled in with a
pitchlike substance that seemed to repel the Halleyforms. The
marks denoted the boundaries of the various human bands. He
looked around for one of these.
Apparently only Central, the sleep slots, and the hydroponics
domes were neutral territory, now. And the deep, inner regions of
Halley Core, of course. But only madmen ever went down that way,
he had heard.
In one of the faction areas nearest Central he had seen what
had become of the fibercloth that had once lined the tunnels and
shafts of Halley Colony. The material had been turned into clothing
and tentlike, "purple-proof" habitats, suspended from the ceilings
of the bigger chambers.
Every sleeping hall maintained a round-the-clock watch for
the most deadly of the comet lifeforms. Nevertheless, every year or
so another poor victim fell to the feared native foragers.
Animals would be an ideal solution, he thought as he scraped
away at the mosslike growth, hoping for a clue to where he was: On
Earth we tamed other creatures anl used them to fight vermin for
us. Should be able to do that here.
Of course, that idea had been tried. Over the decades others
had thawed dogs and cats and monkeys from the colony's small
collection of slot-stored animals. But none of the poor creatures had
proved able to adapt even as well as the humans.
But what about changing the Earthbreed animals.., altering
them to fit into this strange environment?
He knew it hadn't been attempted. Nobody else had the skill--or
the arrogance--to try it. Already his mind was turning over
ideas, genes of expression and regulation, ways of adapting creatures
to work with an alien environment instead of against it. Those poor, pathetic children, he thought.
Saul pulled ofit his chemically sterilized handkerchief and

	270
	OREGORY BFNFORD AND DAVID BRIN


blew his nose. As he approached a new intersection, he saw one of
the pitch-filled clan marks, at last. He glided to a stop and contemplated
the symbol: a large "U" crowned with a halo.

As he stood there, a voice spoke, as if out of nowhere.
"Clape. Look a' what we have here! Lost, boss?"

Saul grabbed the wall growth and swiveled to see that a man
with a blue-tinted face looked down at him from the overhanging
shaft opening. Saul had to blink, for this was distinctly the oddest-looking
person he had seen since awakening.

The fellow wore bangles of hammered native platinum and a
short-sleeved fibercloth tunic. And as he drifted to the floor, Saul
saw nasty-looking metal claw/hooks on his toes. In his free hand
the man held loops of rope woven of some native growth.

Saul nodded. "I guess I am lost, at that. I thought I was on M
Level, near Shaft Five, but--"

The other man laughed, showing open gaps amid rotting teeth.
He leaped forward and landed closer to Saul, the movement exposing
a large tattoo on his chest. It was a symbol Saul recognized, the
Sigil of Simon Percell. .

"What a savor, Hum? Free labor bum!" The man grinned,
fingering the rope.

A second blue face emerged from the overhead shaft and
grinned. "Green hydro labor, for a favor." ,

Saul shook his head and smiled. Their glassy-eyed stares
made him nervous. "I'm sorry, I'm fresh out of the slots, so I'm
not up on the dialect yet."

"Clack!" The first Percell rolled his eyes. "A virgin wool!
Well, baby Earth blue, I remember how to talk land cant. Are you
one of Simon's diamonds? Or normal ape crape?"

Saul raised his hand, smiling ruefully. "Guilty as charged.
I'm what I suppose you'd call an Ortho. Is that a problem? Have I
Wandered into territory that's exclusively Perc--"

The fellow's hands moved }n a blur. A loop of rope snaked out
abruptly over Saul's shoulders and was pulled taut. "Hey!"

Another followed the first. Saul tugged back, but managed
only to tighten the nooses. "I said I was just thawed! Just point me
back toward Central and I won't bother you--"

This time both men laughed. "It's simple, pimple," the first
Percell began. Then the second broke in.

"Oh, give the ape a break, Stew. He lacks track." There was a
trace of sympathy in the second man's eyes. Just a trace. He faced
Saul.

"There's rules, fellow. Capture without harm or blood spilled

	HEART OF THE COMET
	271
isn't vendetta: .it's fair coup. You work for us in Hydro for ten
megaseconds-z--that's about four months, old style--with maybe
time off for good behavior."
The first Percell laughed again, this time a high-pitched set of
yelps that cut off in a fit of coughing. He spat a pink-stained gobbet
onto the wall.
"That cough sounds pretty bad," Saul said. "How long have
you been bringing up bloody phlegm?"
The blue-faced man shook his head angrily. "None o' your
business! Come on an' limp, chimp," Stew said, and jerked Saul's
tether hard.
Until that moment Saul had felt almost detached, as if this
were more comic than serious. But now he felt a part of himself
getting very, very mad.
I should have just played along until I learned more, he
thought. But the last time he had been jerked at the end of a rope
like this it had been on a miserable day in Jerusalem, when he had
been passed, handcuffed, from one newly installed theocracy bureaucrat
to another--half of them misquoting Leviticus to his face
and the rest reading apparently randomly chosen passages from
Revelations and the Koran. It had been a blessed relief when the ferchochteh finally sentenced him to six months cutting timber on a
labor gang, and then expelled him forever from his native land.
"I think not, yoksh," he said evenly as the blue-faced man
tugged again. Getting a grip on the wall growth with his toes and
one hand, Saul yanked back hard with the other.
Maybe it was the unexpectedness--Saul's eyelids were still
slot-blue, after all--but the man on the ceiling yelped and tumbled
from his high perch, past the floor, and on down into the shaft
below. His cry diminished as he bunced softly against the walls,
struggling for a hold as he fell. Saul transferred his grip to the other
rope.
"Stew" wasn't going to be surprised as easily. He grinned and
pulled taut his own tether. Most of the fancy, rhythmic dialect was
gone when he spoke.
"Poor Earth baby. Just unslotted and weak as an Ortho toddler.
What do you know about tunnel fighting?"
"Don't try to teach your grandma to suck eggs," Saul told
him, and kicked off from his anchoring point on the wall. He
landed beside the surprised Percell, where the rope fell slack, and
immediately started shrugging out of the loosened bonds.
"It sounds to me like you've got a tuberculinlike infection," he
said mildly, distracting his tormentor for a moment with his driest

	272
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
bedside manner. "Also, how long have you had that parech skin
infection? Don't the microwave treatments help anymore?"
Stew's blank amazement lasted only a few seconds. "I--"' He
blinked, howled, and-launched himself at Saul.
Saul's knees came up just in time, knocking the Percell's toe-claws
past him. A sharp pain lanced his left leg before he was able
to lock into an embrace too close for the deadly implements to be
used. Their hands met and gripped each other, fingers interlaced.
Stew dug his toe-claws into the wall growth and started pressing
Saul back.
Wind whistled between their teeth. The detached part of Saul
clinically noted the particularly foul stench of the other man's
breath. It was automatically compiled with a list of his other symptoms,
to be used later--if there was a later--in studying the disease.
You're too old for this, he told himself as they grunted, face to
face. And it much too soon out of the slots!
Thinking that, he was nearly as surprised as the wiry Percell
when the straining war of muscles began to break, away from him.
His opponent's arms began quivering, giving way. Saul pressed his
advantage.
'"I... get.., it..." Saul gasped as he wrenched the fellow's
arms back, making him cry out. "You guys.., must be what they .. call Ubers." He got the man turned around, arms twisted painfully
behind him.
"Hoosh, some superman," Saul commented. With a grunt he
tossed his opponent down into the shaft, just in time to strike his
returning partner as the other Percell's head came over the top.
Together they tumbled, shouting, down the shaft again. Saul drifted
against a wall and held on with one hand until the gentle gravity
brought him to the floor again. His heart pounded and he saw
spots. His scratched leg hurt like hell.
"Assholes," he whispered, preferring the explicit AngloSaxonisms
of his youth, in this case, over the more subtle Yiddish
he had learned only later in life. He gathered his breath and braced
himself as sounds tol of their return.
This time they were more careful. The two sprang to opposite
sides of the hall to face him, both clearly angry. In their hands
shone bright metal knives.
So much for capture by the rules, 'Saul thought. Maybe I
should have accepted ten megaseconds in Hydro after alt.
And yet, somehow, he didn't regret a thing. "Come on,
twerps;' he said, waving them forward. They started to comply.
"Stop this!"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	273

He and thelPercells looked up as one. 3, third blue-tinted head
emerged from the overhead shaft and Saul had to groan. Even on an
adrenaline high, he wasn't idiot enough to think he could take on
three of the bastards.
But the newcomer didn't direct his are at Saul. He turned to the
other Ubers.
"W.hy did you cut this man?" he shouted in a clear tone of
command. To Saul the voice seemed familiar . . . a once-thick
accent softened and covered over by years of dialect.
The first two Ubers looked away. "Clape. The mape fought us, Sergie--"
"Dap the crap!" The leader drifted down one greenlined
wall. Truncated legs that were little more than nubs tipped with
hooks turned him quickly as he pointed at Saul. "Do not you know
who this is?"
They only blinked, and then sared blankly as the legless
leader turned to face Saul for the first time, and bowed in .an ornate
gesture of respect. "I greet you, uncle of the new race."
The shock of Slavic hair was nearly gone now, and the space-tanned
skin had been converted into one big tattoo. But years were
nothing to recognition. Saul laughed out loud.
"Oh. Hi, Otis. It's good to see you, too. Whtt have you been
doing with yourself.., besides turning blue, I mean?"
Inside, though, his heart still raced as he began to realize what
a close call .he'd had. Saul could only think, Oy.
The trip back to Central, under Uber escort, was almost anticlimactic,
skim-running along velvety, moss-lined halls and passing
the checkpoints of various clans with elaborate but apparently
rqutine ritual.
Even to Saul it was obvioushat they were taking a long way
back, dropping deep into the comet to move northward before beginning
to climb back up again. ',Why are we going so far out of the
way?" he asked when they had descended to tunnels he had never
seen before--twisty paths following soft veins of primordial snow.
Sergeov shrugged. "Quiverian."
Saul stopped. "Joao? I'd heard he was awake now, as well. But
why are you avoiding him?"
The first Uber, the Percell named Stew, spat down a nearby
shaft. "He's th' darkest Arcist. Th' ape we hate."
Saul shook his head, looking at Sergeov. "Explain please,
Otis."
The Uber leader smiled. "The old race had some superior

	274
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
individuals--like you and Simon Percell. Quiverian, too. He leads
most rabidly anti-Percell band of Orthos, these days. Those who
understand that, they are dinosaurs, and so want to stamp out us
new mammals."
Saul thought he understood. The term Arcist, once denoting
equatorial environmentalism on Earth, had evolved and shifted
here on Halley..Now it meant the most radical Ortho human faction,
as Uber stood for those Percells who believed there could be
no compromise with unmodified human beings.
There was clearly intense hatred and rivalry, and yet it was
also obviously under control. All factions were clearly too weak,
much too dependent on one another, to wage open war.
"I'm puzzled, Otis," he said as they resumed their journey.
Down here the tunnels seemed to have been 'hewn by hand, rough
and winding, following paths of least resistance through the rocky
ice. "If you feel that way, why aren't you having children, like
some of the Ortho bands?"
One of Sergeov's men snarled angrily, and Saul realized he
had brought up a taboo topic. Sergeov cut back the blue-faced fellow
with a sharp word. He turned back to Saul.
"We have a few. Came out better than Orthos' pitiful little
wretches. One, we hope, can maybe someday learn to read and
write." His face was briefly contorted in painful recollection. "We
do not experiment anymore. What is point, when everyone is
doomed anyway, eh? Those Orthos in Quadrant Nine, they are immoral
to bringbabes up just to suffer, to die."
So, Saul thought. They do know the truth.
"That's why the level of violence is so low, even though you
hate each other so much," he ventured.-
Sergeov nodded. "Everybody will die together, anyway. But
we need workers to keep things going as long as possible. Nobody
wants to go by cold, by starvation.".
"Nobody 'cept maybe Ould-Harrad," one of the others ventured.
"Ould-Harrad!" Saul blinked."Then he's--"
"Become a wild-eyed mystic," Sergeov explained. "How you
think a Percell like Osborn ever became an officer? Not for his
pretty looks and Ortho-loving ways, I tell you!"
The other two Ubers laughed. "No. Ould-Harrad started talking
to God. Resigned his commission. Lunatic is tool of Quiverian,
now. Spiritual leader of the Arcists," he said sarcastically.
Saul could believe the last. It was a wonder the stark silence of

	HEART OF THE COMET
	275


the long watches had not driven more of them farther toward the
fringe of human experience.

Sergeov shrugged. "Let us go now. I take you back to Central.
I must talk to Osborn anyway. Clear up some stupid accusations of
that crybaby 'Malcolm."

Saul did not move, though. He was staring, blinking, down a
cross tunnel toward a phantom light that wavered in the distance.

' The others turned and saw it too. One UberOaissed, "Clape.
It's th' O1' Man himself!"

Saul drifted toward the shape, curious. Then he saw that there
were two, no, three of the ghostly figures, moving along the walls

like great spiders, picking through the wall growth.
A hand gripped his arm and pulled.
"We go now," Sergeov grunted.

"What are they?" Saul asked in wonder. For a moment he
thrilled to the thought that they might be an as-yet-unknown form

of Halley-Life--huge and highly structured creatures.

"Now, Saul Lintz. Those can be dangerous."

Saul blinked again, and realized that the slowly approaching
creatures were shaped as men, but their Outlines were fuzzy,
fringed, as it were, with a cloudy, milky edge of shimmering
fronds.

',Ingersoll?" he wondered aloud.

"Old Man of the Caves," Sergeov agreed. "And some of other
mad ones who joined him. Come now, Lintz, or we leave you."

Saul nodded and began backing away with them. There would
be' time to study mysteries. Patience would pay off better, in the
end, than impetuous curiosity.

Anyway, his palms were sweaty and his mouth drier--as he
watched the ghostlike shapes,grazing through the Halleyform
forest--than they had been during the fight with Sergeov's Uber
warriors. Saul hurried along with his escorts, promising himself
that he would be back when he knew better the rules of this strange
place and time.


The halls near Central--still fibercloth-lined still scoured at
intervals with ultraviolet and microwaves and kept clean by a few
mechs that had survived the decades--seemed like an oasis not just
from another century but from a different world.

"My business is with Osborn," Sergeov told Saul. "Take-my
advice, Lintz. Be careful which faction you join, after recuperation.
A few Ortho groups are not vicious baboons."

	276
	'
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Saul had heard Sergeov's radical Percells described in pretty
nasty terms, as well. Where there was tribalism, he had long ago
decided, there was no way to avoid criminality.
"Some groups accept both Perce!ls and Or,os," he told Sergeov.
"It'll have to be one of those, if we join any faction at all."
"We..." The legless Uber leader thought. "Ah, you and the
Herbert woman."
"Another Ortho lover--" one of the others began, but a sharp
look from Sergeov shut him up.
"There is one last thing," Saul said as the Percells were turning
to go. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a silvery
tool.
"I want some blood and tissue samples for my new medical
inventory, if you fellows don't mind. The Survivors and the Plateau
Three bands have already contributed, and I'm sure you'll be
happy to cooperate."
The Uber with the bad teeth snarled and reached for his knife.
But one more time the Russian cut him off. Sergeov's eyes seemed
to glitter as he presented his arm to Saul. And a silent message
seemed to say that he would expect a favor of his own, someday.
If I had not once worked with Simon Percell, Saul thought as
he took samples from the other two, would Otis have even saved my
life this afternoon ?
On the Ubers' chests the Sigil stood out starkly, red against
blue, a tribute to a man long dead at his own hand, who might have
seen some of what was to come, but could never have imagined how
far it WOuld all go.
He visited for some time with Virginia in her recuperation
unit, checking her progress carefully and reassuring her that the
slot pallor was fading nicely. He kissed her and gave her a mild
sedative for her insomnia. Then Saul went down to his lab.
The samples from the Ubers went through the same preliminary
analysis as he had performed on his other subjects. The first
results seemed to be just the same.
Oh, there were different accumulations of microfauna in their
blood and sputum. The Percells' immune systems seemed slightly
less damaged, not as overstressed as the colony's remaining Ortho
complement. That was no surprise. The expedition had started out.
less than one-quarter Percell. Now the ratio among those healthy
enough to be awake was even or better .in favor of the genetic augments.

HEART OF THE COMET
	277

But the story was stil1 the same. We're all dyitg, he thought.

At last he found the courage to insert a sample just taken from

Virginia.
Saul swallowed. She was fresher, but he could read the signs.
Even in her case, fight out of the 'slots, the inevitable was well
under way.
"Well," he whispered. "Maybe I can find some patterns.
Maybe adjust the cyanutes some more."
He did not hold out much hope for that approach, though.
That breakthrough had made it possible for people to live here. But
Comet-Life was adapting. More and more forms avoided the special
sugar coating that had enabled his little gene-crafted creatures
to do their extra job so well.
The old question still raised itself, every day, nearly every
hour he was awake. He must have slept with it over the long years in
the slots.
How is it possible for Halley-Life to live in us ? How is it Inger-
soil and the other cave dwellers can eat the stuff and survive ?
Why are we so much alike ? 
Oh, that simulation he and Virginia had worked out with Jon-Von,
so long ago, had shown how a basic similarity had come
about. Science had long known that organic chemistry would come
up with the same amino acids, the same purines and pyrimidines
under a wide vafity of circumstances. Life would generally start
out the same anywhere.
But the similarities went far beyond that. It was almost as if
men were not the first creatures from Earth to invade the comet. As
if there had been earlier waves, and the present war was one among.
distant cousins.
Long ago, in the late twenti/h century, a famous astronomer
had even proposed that comets were a source of epidemics on
Earth. His theory was that primeval viruses floated down into the
atmosphere whenever the world passed through a big cometary tail.
This, he thought, explained ancient myths calling objects like Halley
apparitions of doom. Evil stars.
Saul had laughed on reading such baroque nonsense. But that
was long ago. Now... Well, he did not know what to think. Nothing,
none of it, made any sense at all.
The computer winked a code at him, over and oven F4D$56.
More data wanted.
"Certainly." He nodded amiably. "A most worthy request."

	278
	GREGORY B. ENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Tomorrow he would go. out and try to persuade Quiverian's Arcists
to cooperate.

Then he remembered. He hadn't tested his own blood, yet.
One more datum for a baseline. He stepped over to the treatment
table, drew and prepared the samples, and returned to run
them through the fluorescent, separator-analyzer. Numbers and
graphs flickered in three dimensions and many colors. Depictions
grew on all sides .of him, programmed to highlight differences from
the mean of the prior samples.

All around Saul, the displays were suddenly ablaze. Winking
highlights, bright-anomalies. He blinked. Nearly everything was
different!

"Um," he said concisely. Saul blinked at the figures.

There was the array of lymphocyte counts . . . all types:
within normal range.

Nobody else's sample said that. Only his.
Electrolyte balance.., nominal.
His was the only one that said that!
Metabolic processes.., nominal.

"Stupid machine," Saul grumbled. He smacked the side of the
unit, keyed on an autotest, then another. Only green lights winked 
from the control panel. The machine claimed it was working well.

"I'm aberrant because I'm normal?" He stared at the columns
of figures. They all insisted that he was anomalous. Strange. Unusual.

And nearly all of the differences were toward the Earthly human
norm. Except for one.

Foreign infecting agents...

He looked at the estimate anO whistled.

According to the bioassay, he should be dead.

Dead? Saul laughed. The damned machine seemed to think
his blood was a froth of dangerous invaders. His bodily fluids were
aswarm with horrible, nasty things, the smallest fraction of which
should have killed him long ago!

And yet the other displays said: Nominal...

Nominal...

nominal...

	nominal...

"Crazy damn machine," he muttered.

But then Saul remembered.., fighting the Ube/in the hallway..,
the surprise on both of their faces when he--barely out of
the slots--began twisting the other man's arms back, back ....

	HEART OF THE COMET
	279


"Visual microscopic display,' he commanded. Time to get to
the bottom of this. Something was wrong here, and the best way to
find out what had broken down in his biocomputer would be to do
an old-fashioned histological survey himself. "Screen One, subject
blood sample, magnification ninety."

The holistank rippledjand cleared, showing a straw-colored
sea crowded with drifting globs of pink, white, yellow. A jostling of
multishaded forms, whirling, jouncing, fluttering in the saline tide.
'Saul shook his head, stared, shook his head again.

His mouth started working, without making a sound, in blank
amazement and silent prayer.


CARL


Carl studied the main screen in disbelief. He had just finished another
useless conversation with Major Clay, the marvelous wooden
man who fielded all questions sent Earthside with a bland yet rock-hard
calm. Earth wasn't sending advice, information, or even
much sympathy--that was certain. Major Clay sidestepped every
question. With each passing year, they papered over their fear by
increasing the entertainment channels they sent in the weekly
squirt. That left less time for real communication.

So Cad had thumbed off impatiently before the transmission
time had elapsed. It was doubly irritating that he could never really
hang up on Major Clay, becau the delay from the speed of light
was now five hours. Not Conducive to snappy comebacks, he had
thought.

Time to prepare for the meeting. He idly thumbed over to RUN-NINO
READOUX, expecting to see the usual situation report, but
didn't get the usual five-colored status chart. Instead, he caught a
trickle of JonVon's momentarily exposed inner flow. Incredibly, it
was another poem. As he read, Carl began to smile.


Plateau Threes are simple, plain
can't flutter free of Percell's pain
Take us home/Or near sun% warm/
Close to Earth and safe from harm.

	280
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Only ole JonVon's got the charm
to hide a riddle
in the middle: gold!

Treat us as miners,

Major.


And Martian Way, ah

they see their day

to come--to smack a planet red

(Carefully, about the head.)

To make it run with fluids bled

From Halley's pitted blue-iced dead.


Worms, like sticky pearls

Orbits, in liquid whorls

Ubers strut, 'pale hard jaws jut

Slice the Orthos!

If they could. All

for converging clammy good
Out by Neptune
on some ice-and-iron moon
(Or else to slip the knife
of bugs and lice to Earth. Drop
a rocket
in their pocket. Eh?)


Sad sure Arcists want to

Loop forever

Aren't they clever?

High-pitched bray and rusty rattle

Brows furrowed, they sing like cattle:

Keep the blue-green pearl free

of us, our pus
Unclean, you see.

Suicide is as much a right

As going gladly into that Good Night.


Carl laughed. Incredible! This was not the first evidence he'd
seen that JonVon was noodling away at poetry in slack moments.
But of late the bio-organic idiot savant had been getting uncanny. Or
maybe it only proved that poetry wasn't really a higher-level activity
after all. This was jagged, lurching, bitter stuff, reeling from
rhyme to rhyme, with an occasional glancing collision with reason.

HEART OF THE COMET
What was the gold JonVon was hiding? He wondered if Jon-Von
had showed this to Virginia yet. She was still recuperating
from the slots, but spent a few hours each day linked to her cyber-friend.
What if the machine eventually turned out to be a better
poet? Carl smiled.
And how did JonVon get such detailed information about the
noxious factions Carl had to juggle? Maybe I should turn this job
over to a subroutine.
Meetings, always meetings. Through the hatch came Andy
Carroll, slot-thin and glowering.
"Those Arcists have gone on strike again!"
"Wildcat?"
"No, Malcolm called them in. I just got a hail from him."
"How come?"
"He says their Hydro share was low this week. His pickup
team just returned with no fruit, not many vegetables."
Carl frowned. "That shouldn't have happened. I checked the
output--"
"Sergeov got some of theirs, I'm pretty sure." Andy balled a
fist and smacked it into his palm.
"Stole it again?"
A nod. "He's got some way of slipping the stuff out after it's
been counted and allotted. I can't figure it."
Mildly Carl said, "That's your department."
Andy was young, only recently awakened, but he had caught
on to the nuances of the situation quickly. His black eyebrows shot
up. "I cover every entrance. No way a man or woman could get in
there."
Carl nodded sympathetically. "Uhrhuh. What about half a
man?"
"Wh . . . oh. You figure Sergeov can' get through other
ways?"
"With no legs.., check it out."
Andy brooded, his pale features compressed into a mask of
fretful concern. "I don't see how, but okay."
Carl sighed and stretched in the webbing. "Now you know
what this job's like."
"Yeah. They're a bunch of goddamned childrenI" "You've been out--what? Two months?"
"Right. Still--"
"It'll take a while to see where the hate comes from. Just try
to ignore the worst, work around it."

	282
	GR[GOR BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


"I'm convinced that Malcolm is stalling."

"He often is. What else's he got to negotiate with? But you
mean seriously, this time?"

"I think so. I checked the Nudge pods they supposedly finished
three months ago--down at the south pole. They look as
though they're set up right, but I pulled off a few cowlings. Inside

there're connections missing, tanks not racked--it's a mess."
"Sure it's Malcolm's fault?"

"I think they're sabotaging the pods."
"They smash anything?"
"No, just took stuff apart."

"Smart. Any obvious damage, we'd howl. This way, you
might very well have accused Malcolm to his face of shirking the
work."

Andy blushed. "Well, actually, that's what I did."

A pause. "Oh?"

"I... I know I should've got hold of you first, but--I was so
damn hopping mad! I called Malcolm and started in on him." Andy

stopped, embarrassed.

"And?"

"He hung up on me before I even got three sentences out."
"Then he probably thinks he's got some complaint with us,
too." Don't sound too casual, Carl reminded himself. Don't let
Andy onto what you know.., that there simply no way the Nudge
accelerators would be done in time anyway

Carl said, "Who has the most to gain if you and Malcolm tear
at each other's throats?"

"Hell, hardly anybodyl seems to me."

"Doesn't have to be more than a few."

"Well... oh yeah. Quiverian. He's the one keeps spouting
that Arcist crap. You think he's trying to slow down work on the
Nudge?"

"It fits. The radical Arcists don't want any possibility of cometary
material getting near Earth. No orbits near enough to make a
good rendezvous, nothing. Preserving Earth's biosphere is it for
them. They don't care what happens to us."

"But there are still possibilities that offer no conceivable

threat to Earth. Give ourselves a shorter-period orbit with the
'Nudge, pack everybody into slots-'

"And hope a decade or two sobers up everybody Earthside?"

Andy's face was so open it was almost painful to read. "It's
 . . We've got to have hope, don't we?"

HEART OF THE COMET
	283

"Sure," Carl said, trying to get some hearty optimism into his

voice. "Sure.".'
Andy pursed his lips, absorbed with his dreams. Maybe it
not dumb optimism, Carl thought. Maybe we'Il get a break. I'm just
getting tired of wishing.
He thought of showing Andy the poem and then decided to
forget it. Andy might very well find the mixture of bile and gallows
humor unsettling. Let him marinate for a year or so first.
And who knows ? Perhaps some archaeologist will find that
poem and pronounce it the great work of our sad, luckless expedition.
They might put it on a plaque beside the main outer lock, to
label the mountainous ice museum that swung through their sky,
marking a great failed idea. With us, swimming permanently in our
slimy slot fluids, as the prime exhibits.
It wasn't an absurd notion.

VIRGINIA

Stolen gifts,
Hidden away in time.
Waiting gifts,
Deep within my rhyme.

--Huh? Did you say something, Vrginia?--
Jeffers's voice crackled over her comm as she concentrated on
bringing her two balky mechs over an ice mound at the same time.
It was always a delicate exercise, for the big machines had enough
strength to bound completely away from the rubble-strewn surface.
These repair-drone models had no onboard propellants to bring
them back, in case of a miscalculation.
"Um, don't pay any attention, Jeff. It's just JonVon acting up
again. As soon as we've finished with this project I'm going to give him a good memory purging."
--Sounds like he's picked up a bit of your hand for scribbling.
If he's been writin' poems for thirty years, you may be in for some
competition, child.--

	284
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Jeffers sounded amused, and Virginia laugh.ed. But within she
was beginning to get worried. Something was wrong with her bio-organic
computer counterpart. In some skills JonVon seemed more
subtle, more capable than when she had been slotted, decades
ago--a natural result of programming him for slow, steady self-improvement.
But in other ways the machine/program now behaved
erratically, uncertainly, spontaneously giving forth these
bursts that seemed irrelevant, untraceable.
Trash-strewn snowfields stretched away toward the row of
agro domes around the entrance to Shaft I. Huge mirrors hung
from spidery ice towers nearby, concentrating the sun's distant
spark to turn the domes into bright blazes against the grainy ice.
Beneath the glassy domes, green masses waved gently under
artificial breezes. A few workers drifted languidly among the
'plants, tending the colony's staff of life. Since awakening from slot
sleep, she had had little time to learn about the hydroponics procedures
that had been developed, by trial and error over the long decades.
But she could tell already that the process could use a lot of
automating.
Her mechs arrived where Jeffers's spacesuited figure awaited
her, standing beside a toppled crystal structure. Broken shards of
glassy ice were everywhere.
Virginia gasped. "This is terrible! Who wrecked Jim Vidor's
sculpture?"
The statue had been dedicated to Captain Cruz and the dream
so many members of the expedition had shared. It had depicted a
spacesuited figure, ragged and weary but perseverent, holding out
sparkling gifts on his return to a blue globe, the Earth.
Virginia remembered how proud Jim Vidor had.been of it, just
before his slotting so long ago. It had been a beautiful work, crafted
in six shades of ice, traced in native crystal. But now the carved
spacer lay crumpled on its side, and the blue' planet was crushed.
Deep under the surface, in her lab, Virginia tensed on her
webbing as she looked at the vandalism through the mech's eyes.
"Who... ?"
Jeffers's voice was tense. --Dunno, I'd guess some of Ser	geov's
Ubers did it.--
		"But

why?"
The spacer shrugged. --Cruz was an Ortho.-
That seemed explanation enough to him. Virginia felt her skin
flush, just then ashamed to be a Percell.
"Has Jim ever seen this?"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	285

--Naw. Matsudo brought him out in 2073 or so, and Lintz's
cyanutes fixed his first disee. But then they had to'slot him again
a year or solater with a real bad blood infection. I guess in a way
it's a blessing, at that. He'll never see how bad it's all gotten since
then. Jim was an Ortho. But I liked him a lot.--
"Yeah," she said, unable to think of anything else to say. She
stepped her mechs around the shattered monumenl to join Jeffers.
"Come on. Let's see if we can work a miracle or two?'
--Right, pretty Hawaiian lady.-- Jeffers reached up and pulled
several narrow envelopes off a rack carried by one of the mechs. --This
way to the Elephants' Graveyard.-
They rounded a rocky hummock and Virginia sighed. No
mere statistics could have prepared her for the scene before her
now. Machines, laid out row. upon row, in orderly ranks 'that
stretched nearly to the curved horizon, all frozen, unmoving,
locked in a rigor of uselessness and disrepair.
"Where do we start?" she asked in dismay.
Jeffers clapped his gloved hands together and lifted off the ice
a couple of meters in his nervous excitement.
--Who cares! For three years I've been pokin' away at the
hardware, fussin' in the autofactory, scragging prototype spares.
But I kept hittin' software glitches, FROM blocs, clapes I just
couldn't grok! Frustrated everythin' I tried.-
He landed facing her mech.
--But now, in just two weeks, you've sorted out things that had
me dead stopped!-
Her mech lifted a metal hand, exactly mimicking Virginia;s
gesture down within her darkened lab. "Now hold on, Jeff. I said
this was just a first cut. No promises..."
But the man had already jett over to a spindly repair-bot...
a sophisticated androidlike machine designed for the maintenance
of other devices, but now frozen itself in a locked rigor of uselessness.
--Let's start with this puppy. I already did a physical workover
on it.-
Virginia watched nervously as the spacer sorted through the
envelopes, selected one; tore it open, and drew forth a gleaming
sliver. He pried open an access panel a'nd slipped the reprogramming
crystal into the back of the machine:.
--Arise!-- he commanded, stepping back with a theatrical
wave of his arms.
Virginia held her breath. For an instant, it seemed that the

	286
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

frost'coating the rigid mech would bind it into immobility. A part of
her wondered, Can a statue come to life?

But then the frost cracked, puffing away in tiny, silent explosions
as amorphous ice changed state directly into gas. With a wavering
delicacy, the machine unfolded. In an unlimbering of stiltlike,
mantis legs, it stood up and turned to face Jeffers. Eye cells gleaming,
it extended a long arm strong enough to snap the man in two. A
many-fingered hand opened, like a blboming flower.

Jeffers laid the stack of envelopes into the sure, deft grasp.
--The Armies of the Dead arise this mornin'!-- He laughed.
--Come on, angel face. We got some heavy-duty resurrectin' to
do!-

Virginia forgave the man his marginal blasphemy. His excitement
was infectious. Almost as much as the deadly illnesses and
the manpower shortage, this gradual decline in the colony's mech
force had contributed to the pervasive mood of hopelessness, the
impossibility of achieving anything real.

Oh, it Won't make enough of a difference, whatever we accomplish
out here. Nothing can replace missing human beings.

But we just may be able to make life a bit easier around here.
Jeffers was a dervish on the ice, hurrying from drone to roboid
to waldo mech. Virginia thought she had no illusions; still, 'she
grew amazed and more hopeful as they moved along the silent rows
of the graveyard, swapping program slivers, lubricating, energizing.

'It was thrilling to watch. Long-dead machines, frozen rigid
for years, shuddered and stood up. Others rolled 'by on grapple
wheels, or floated free of their moorings. Data channels clicked,
beeped, twittered with well-ordered computer code.

Their efforts began to multiply as reprogrammed repair-bots
moved out on their own, taking over whole rows of disabled mechs.
What had been a small cluster of activity spread outward like ripples
from a spring-thawed pool.

As dust drifted away from long-quiescent machines, their
headphones carried sounds of wonder and growing excitement from
the agro domes. Crowds began to gather, staring out at what had
heretofore been a silent, frozen army. Aifiocks opened, and space-suited
figures spilled onto the snow to stare at the milling mechanical
crowd.

Jeffers cried out as a huge lifter mech puffed away on a burst
of ionized hydrogen to hover nearby, its green and blue lights glittering.
Shadows spread past them as it moved over to moor beside
the long-unused supply depot.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	287
The headphone-channel monitors cut in to dampen an overload
of cheeriig from the onlookers.
More and more people appeared on the ice, in spacesuits not
used in years, wearing once-white tabards now ratty from age.
Some threw away caution and leaped in excitement, to arc high
overhead for long minutes while others jeered happily.
Virginia laughed. Halley's north pole had become a festival-- humans bumping into mechs, which uncomplainingly swerved to
avoid more-violent collisions. Percells pirouetted with Orthos.
Spacers talked excitedly with Arcists. Someone piped music over
D-channel, and the weird, twisting dance of near-zero gravity filled
the sky.
It doesn't take much . . . just a little good news.
From one agro dome, a dozen spindly children stared . . .
some slack-jawed and barely seeing, but a few clapping their hands
and tugging at the sleeves of nearby adults, pointing excitedly at the
boisterous celebration.
A figure appeared beside Virginia's mech and reached up to
tug on the machine's arm. Virginia felt it at her own elbow and
looked down.
"Oh. Hi, Carl!" She felt like a little girl, and it was good to
see him' smile again, under the glossy faceplate of his grimy suit.
"How did you know which mech was me?"
--Osborn to Herbert, channel AF. How did I know, Virginia? It was easy. I just watched the way each mech walked, and picked
the one with the sexiest moves.-
She felt herself blush, and was glad that out on the surface
none of it would show. "You always did have a gift for bullsh--"
Suddenly, Virginia was interrupted by an awful sound. It was
the blood-chilling wail of a suit-rpture alarm, interrupting every
channel, cutting through the celebration, and stopping all chatter in
mid-breath.
"Oh my gosh. Where... ?" She whirled her mech to look.
Already several of the most sophisticated models were charging
toward a crowd of spectators, drawn now into a cluster near one of
the agro domes.
"I can't tell," she started to say to Carl. But then she realized
that he was already gone--launched in a propellant spray toward
the site of the commotion.
The alarm cut off abruptly, dropping to a low, mournful drone
that denoted cessation of life functions.
Somebody had died.
Virginia started moving toward the crowd, then stopped, feel
	288
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
ing foolish. Of course she did not have to take this particular mech
over there to get a closer look. With a tongue click and a pulsed
subvocal command, she transferred her point of view to a tall, spidery
drone standing over the cluster of muttering humans.
She was looking down, then. Carl and Jeffers bent over a spa-cesuited
figure sprawled prone on the ground. The suit was slit
open down to bone. Red foam still spread from the gaping opening
like a gruesome fog.
Keoki Anuenue and some of his big Hawaiians arrived. They
started pushing the crowd back, ordering unnecessary mechs away.
The suddenly subdued crowd drifted off, all of the festival mood
taken out of them like a noisy stream turned to rock-hard ice.
"He Kiai," she sent to the dark-faced Polynesian who tried to
usher off her observer mech. The man blinked in surprise. Then he
shrugged.
--Ua make oia, wahine.Virginia
did not need to be told that the figure on the ice was
dead. Obviously, it was pointless even to think of slotting.
Her mouth went dry as she saw the slim-bladed vibro-knife
lying next to the corpse. Whoever-had done this--taking advantage
of the confusion and excitement she and Jeffers had brought
about--had left his calling card alongside his handiwork.
She sorted through the comm automatically, searching for the
channel and encryption Carl and Jeff were using. At last she found
the right combination.
-- . . . going to be hell to pay for this. Quiverian and OuldHarrad
are sure to capitalize on it.--
--Shit. Malcolm might have been an officious bastard, and an
Ortho chauvinist. But at least he wasn't an Arcist. I could work
with him. You know who's gonna get blamed for this, of
course 	--
They
turned the victim over. The face of poor Malcolm stared up
at her, bloated and bug-eyed from decompression.
Virginia
shut down quickly and pulled out of the mech. She opened
her real eyes and found herself back in her own small, safe realm
deep under the ice. She removed her neural tap and groaned as
she sat up, rubbing the raw area at the back of her head.
Oh
yes, she thought. There will be hell to pay over this.
Virginia
got up and went to the tiny, hooded water tap to dampen
a towel and wipe her face.
Her
scalp still hurt. She lifted her hair and bent over between the
mirrored surfaces of tWO holo tanks to examine the neural-tap-

	HEART OF THE COMET '
	289

contact area. An angry red rash was spreading, and the standard
treatments didn't seem to be working, this time. Saul had told her that he felt he might be able to come up with a new approach, but he
had not been able to hide from her his anxious uncertainty.
It didn't take a genius to see that they were all dying.
She th6ught of the giddy celebration above, so brief, so
quickly shattered.
It was nice to feel hope, jr a few minutes, at least.
Color flashed above her. She looked up as letters coalesced in
the computer's main display tank. Oh no. It was another of JonVon,s
eerie, spontaneous attempts at versification.., another sign
that decay had not limRed itself to men and moving machines.

Lost amid the struggles,
Cached in canted rhythms,
Beneficence still dwells,
Cast from forgotten Flame.

"Oh, JonVon," she whispered. "Are you sick too?"

The figures moved single file across the pitted landscape,
linked together by knotted ropes. They stepped carefully, slowly, as
they pushed and dragged their burdens over hummocks and crater
rims.
It was a silent exodus--shapes in grimy, patched spacesuits,
struggling with massive bundles, nearly weightless but cumbersome
with inertia--helping each other through fields of fine, black
dust, probing to avoid places were it was several meters thick.
Elsewhere, they had to brave slick'; icy. patches and even a few dangerous
fields of explosive, amorphous ice.
From Virginia's vantage point, atop one of Halley's highest
equatorial prominences, the horizon of their tiny world was an arc
only a mile or so away.., close enough almost to touch. Those
below would have to cover only twenty kilometers or so, between
the northern base and the caves on the comet's other pole. And yet,
watching the Arcist migration, she felt as if she were witnessing
something biblical. The self-styled refugees scrambled, heaved,
and turned to help one another as they carried their possessions
toward the new homes that their leaders had promised them.
They had been offered mechs to help, but it was widely known

	290
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

that the sophisticated roboids had been rebuilt by Jeffers and mprogrammed
by Virginia... both Percells. The Arcists' suspicious
natures won over convenience, so they refused all but the simplest
machines.
Three spacesuited men stood on the prominence alongside
Virginia's new mech, also watching the Arcists depart. Carl and
Jeffers touched helmets and spoke to each other in private, gesturing
at-the line of shuffling figures. On her other side, Saul leaned
against her mech's flank, humming an absent tune, low and atonal.
The biblical flavor of the scene was heightened by the figure
leading the single-file caravan. Them, in front, using a staff as he
strode in long, slow steps, was Suleiman Ould-Harrad--once Lieutenant
Colonel in the Space Service, now a mystic and spiritual
adviser to the Arcist clans. The tall black man had dyed his suit
deep midnight blue, and his tabard was white with a single black
star.
Behind him, carrying huge burdens or drawing giant, floating
sledges, followed scores--from oldsters too long out of the slots to
wide-eyed children, spindly and staring from inside plastic survival
bubbles.
--At least thirty more Orthos joined them after Malcolm's
assassination,-- Carl muttered, perhaps unaware that Virginia
could pick up his words through vibrations in the ice. --We have no
way of knowing who actually did it, but I can tell you who
profited.--
Jeffers nodded
--I wish I knew how Quiverian did it.-
They fell silent as the caravan drew past them.
On Virginia's other side, Saul held the tactile pads of her
mech, and occa. sionally squeezed. She felt it deep underground,
lying on her web-couch.
A trio of suited shapes detached themselves from the migration
and skim-floated upslope toward Carl. The one in the lead
wore a tabard showing the gold splash of the Arc of the Living Sun.
Joao Quiverian spoke on the preagreed channel and code.
--We will expect to continue participating in the vegetable hydro
domes, and take our per capita share of power from the fusion
pile.-
Carl shrugged. --If you work on the Nudge motors, as you've
promised, we have no reason to deny you your rights. Go ahead and
live at the south pole, if being near the rest of us makes you feel
unclean.--

	HEART OF THE COMET
	291
Obviously Carl felt more relieved to have Quiverian's fanatics
out of his hair than anything else.
--Unclean and dangerous.-- Quiverian nodded as if he had
completely missed Carol's sarcasm. --We shall be better able to
work on the Nudge Launchers, since they are to be situated at the
south pole, anyway. All that is required is that we are given materials
and supplies, and lefi alone.--
--My crews remain in charge of the launchers themselves,--
Jeffers insisted. Quiverian merely shrugged.
--Just do not come into our homes.-
Virginia noted the mood of all the participants. None of them
think any of it really matters, or there 'd be more yelling going on.
Jeffers shrugged. --We're all welcome to outfit our own
tombs however we want.-- The others all seemed to agree with his
somber assessment.
Except for Saul, who suddenly barked in laughter. They all
turned to look at him.
--Excuse me. Don't mind me,-- he said, waving with one
hand. But everyone could see, through his faceplate, that he was
fighting down a fit of hilarity.
Carl frowned until .Saul's expression had settled down to a
mere controlled smirk. Then he turned back to Quiverian. --Go
on, then. Go south in peace.-
The three Arcists swiveled and departed. In turn, Carl and
Jeffers strode off toward the nearby tunnel lock.
Saul brought the mech's hand to his faceplate, pantomiming a
kiss. --I must go too, darling. Don't wait up for me.--
"But, but . . . I thought you'd come down now. We could
spend sometime together. Saul, you've been away for nearly a week."
--Oh, now, Virginia. We alk several times a day.--
"Through one of my mechs!" A robot foot kicked up dark
dust near his leg. "It's not the same!"
He nodded, grinning infuriatingly.
--I know. I miss you too. Terribly. It's just...-
He shook his head.
--It's just that I have to verify something. It's too damn important
to wait. And I can't tell anybody yet.., not even you.., not
until I know for sure if...-
His voice trailed off as he backed away toward the airlock.
Virginia knew the look on his face, that faraway, scientific look. He
was already somewhere else.

	292
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"Until you know what?" she asked. "What is all this, Saul?"
He shrugged. -Until
I know for sure if I'm crazy.., or if I'm....-
The last word was a mumble, something in The of Saul's foreign
languages.
"What?"
But he only blew her a kiss then, and spun about to lope toward the tunnel entrance.
The part of her that was above the surface, linked to a machine
of metal and ceramic, watched him until the doors closed, leaving
her locked out in the chilly night.
Deep under the ice, the rest of her was no less in darkness.

SAUL

He found Lieutenant Commander Osborn up at Greenhouse 3. Carl
stood before a forty-meter dome window, wearing a stained,
patched spacesuit without tabard. The spacer held a battered helmet
in the crook Of his arm and looked out onto the garbage-strewn
plain of dirty ice.
What a mess, Saul thought, looking over the tattered warehouse
tents, the broken mooring mast where that unlucky ship Edmund
Halley had once been tethered. At last Saul realized what was
bothering him most. It was too dim here in the greenhouse.
He looked up at the spider-thin towers holding one of the huge
concentrator mirrors--salvaged from the space tug Delsemme's great solar sail. Two guy wires had snapped. A whole quadrant of
the big collector drooped.
Out on the surface, a single figure picked desultorily through
the debris, presumably looking for material from which to make
repairs. He seemed not to be in any hurry.
Within, things weren't much better. The four men and three
women on this shift tended the slowly moving bels of drip-irrigated
sweet potatoes, clearing debris from the plastic tracks and cleaning
the nutrient-spray jets. It was vital duty, but they moved without
apparent enthusiasm. ,
Three of the newly reprogrammed mechs followed the work
	HEART OF THE COMET
	293
	ers around, but nobody seemed even interested in training them in

	the new hydrolSonics procedures. The belts ground on; plants

	drooped in the dim illumination.

		Saul was shaken when he recognized the sigil on the workers'

	clothes--the staircase and star' that stood for Plateau Three.

	Spacers.t They're the last people I'd expect to give up.

		Saul saw the expression on Carl Osborn's face as the man

	gazed out over the icefield. I suppose you can't blame him if he

	lost hope,..too, Saul thought. He obstinate, and made of strong

	stuff. But everyone has a limit.

	He's run the same simulations I have. He knows what'll hap
	pen if things go on this way.

	Even if everyone pitched in and cooperated, with all the

	mechs in the world, there would still be nowhere near enough man
	power to set up the Nudge Launchers properly, let alone do all the

	work needed to keep things from going to hell. I'm surprised he

	even goes through the motions, believing that.

	Saul smiled. He planned on changing Carol's mind about the

	future.

		This time, I swear, we won't misunderstand each other. Saul

	hoped that his good news would make Carl forgive even Virginia's

	poor choice in men.

	I never thought of it before, but with that wuch of gray at the

	sides, and that cool gaze, he sort of resembles Simon Percell!

		"Yes?" Carl said as he approached. "You told me you we/'e

	going to do a bioinventory of the colony. You've got a report al
	ready?"

		"That's right." Saul nodded. "But I don't think you're going

	to be very ready to believe it."

	Carl lifted his shoulders. "Bad news doesn't frighten me anymore."

	'*
Saul couldn't help letting out a short, sharp laugh. The sound
was abrupt, unexpected in this solemn place. Carol's eyes narrowed.
"You misunderstand me." Saul grinned. "Either I have gone
mad--in which case the news is neutral to good from your point of
view--or I have made a discovery which bodes very well, indeed."
Carl stood quite still. His body remained in a spacer's crouch,
arms forward, knees bent. Only a twitch of his cheek betrayed a
hint of feeling, but it was enough for Saul.
Is hope, then, so very painful ? He may hate me, but he knows I
have pulled rabbits out of hats before. Saul reminded himself not to be too quick to judge. To a man

	294
	gREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


who has seen the face of Death, and learned resignation, hope is'
often the most frightening thing of all.

"Explain, please;' the younger man said softly.

"Come with me to my lab," Saul told him. "Even with
graphic displays, I'm not sure I can make it clear. But I have to
share this. It may be the Infinite's ultimate joke on a man who had
the unrepentant gall to try to play God."


"I see," Carl told him after half an hour. "You've found infestations
of cometary flora and fauna in every single living crew
member, in every clan, even in the few people we never unslotted at
all."

Saul nodded. "Even Virginia's bio-organic computer, Jon-Von,
seems to be suffering from an infection. The thing's not really
alive, of course, but something's gotten into it. I'm working to find
a way to treat it."

Carl shrugged. "I've tried hard to get it through the Ubers'
and Arcists' heads that their war hardly matters, anymore. Percell,
Ortho, everybody is dying."

He started to get up. "You may have done us a service at that,
Saul. Write me up a concise report for distribution. It may help us
all make peace with each other, in the time we have left."

Saul stopped him with a gesture. "Sit down, please. I'm not
finished yet."

Carl settled brick into the webbing, reluctantly.

"So what else is there?"

"Remember that bioanalysis I performed on my own body?"
"Sure." Carl nodded. "Except for your reproductive
system--and that perpetual sniffle of yours--you're fairly healthy.
I'm sorry you're sterile, Saul. And I'm glad for you that the comet

bugs seem to be killing you slower than most."

"Carl, they aren't killing me at all."

The other man snapped a cold look at Saul. "Don't be an ass!
Your chart showed an asymptotically increasing--"

"Increasing variety of infesting organisms, same as everybody
else. By normal logic I can't keep fighting all these infections
much longer. Sooner or later one will wreck my immune system,
opening me wide to all the others. Is that the pattern you're thinking
of?"

Carl nodded. "I've studied a lot of medical biology, over my
last five duration years."

"I gu6ss you had to, since Svatuto quit as your doctor."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	295


"Right. And since Earth stopped giving advice that was worth
a tinker's damn." Carl grimaced, remembering bitterly. "During
my shifts I've seen guys live for years with green-tinted skins and
low fevers, fighting on like champions.., only to fall to pieces--
literally--when that last straw hit."

Saul shrugged. "That was them."

"And you're different?" Carl sheered. "You're somehow especially
blessed?"

Saul wanted to laugh. Blessed? Oh, Miriam, what has the Almighty
done to your simple Saul?

He paused and took a breath. "I want to tell you about something.
Let me talk to you about symbiosis."

Imagine a virus.., a simple bundle of nucleic acid packaged
inside a protein shell.., a killer, a smart bomb with only one job--replication.

Suppose this virus finds a vector, and penetrates the skin and
outer membranes of a multicelled organism.., perhaps a human
being. At that point, its job has only begun. From there it seeks its
real prey, not the man so much as a single one of his trillion cells.

Seeking might not be the proper word. For a virus is only a
pseudo-lifeform. It doesn't propel itself after vibrations or chemical
traces, as protists and bacteria do. A virus only drifts, suspended
in water or blood or lymph or mucus--until it strikes the
surface of an unlucky cell.

Now suppose one of these little bits of half-life is lucky. It has
evaded the victim organism's defenses. No antibodies manage to
latch on to it and carry it away. It isn't engulfed and destroyed by the
immune system's strike forces. The fortunate virus survives to
bump against a likely cell in jus& the right way, triggering adherence.

It sticks to the cell wall, a simple capsule of protein, ready to
inject its contents into the prostrate prey. Once inside, the viral
RNA will take over the vast, complex chemical machinery of the
cell, forcing it to forge hundreds, thousands of duplicates of the
original virus, until, like an overstretched balloon, the ravaged cell
bursts. The new viral horde spills forth, leaving only wreckage behind.

There is the virus, stuck to the outer wall.., poised to inject

this tyrannical cargo into the prostrate prey ....

Prostrate, yes. But helpless?

For a long time an argument raged among physicians, biolo-

	296
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

gists, and philosophers. A small minority kept asking the same
question over and over again.
"Why does the cell let this catastrophe happen ?" Biological heretics pointed out how difficult it was to seize and
penetrate the intricate barriers of a cell wall. So much was involved,
and it would seem so simple for a cell merely to refuse
access.
What about the fantastic number of steps needed to turn the
machinery of the cell into a slave factory, forcing the ribosomes and
mitochondria to perform tasks totally alien to their normal functions?
"All the cell needs to do is interrupt any one of these steps, and the process is stopped, cold!" the unbelievers declared. "There
must be a reason. Why does the cell allow itself to be such easy
prey?"
Classical biologists sniffed in disgust. Animals develop new
ways to fight viruses all the time, they said. But viruses evolve
methods around every obstacle. The balance is always struck
across a knife edge of death.
But the dissenters insisted. "Death is nothing but a side effect.
Disease is not a war between species. More often, it is a case of failed negotiation."

"You're losing me," Carl told Saul.
Saul drummed his fingers on the desktop and searched for the
right words "Hmmm. Let's try an example. You know what mitochondria
are, right?"
Carl inclined his head and spoke in a hollow voice. "They're
organelles.., internal parts .of living cells. They regulate the basic
energy economy.., take electro-chemical potential from burning
sugars and convert it into useful forms."
"Very good." Saul nodded, impressed. Carl had, indeed,
been studying over the long, hopeless years. No scholar, he had
probably mastered the material by brute force. "And you know the
widely held theory over where the mitochondria came from?"
Carl closed his eyes. "I remember reading something about
that. They resemble certain types of free-living bacteria, don't
they?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Some people think they were once independent creatures.
But long ago one Of their ancestors got trapped inside one of the
first eukaryotes."

	HEART OF THE COMET
	297

Saul nodded. "About a billon years ago.., when our ancestors
were only ingle cells, hunting around in the open sea."
"Yeah. They think one of our ancestors ate. the ancestral mitochondria.
Only, for some reason it didn't digest it that time. It let
the thing stay and work for it, instead."
Carl looked up at Saul, seriously. "This is what you mean by symbiosis, isn't it? The early mitochohdria provided more efficient
energy conversion for the host cell. And in return, it never had to
hunt for food again. The host cell--"
"--Our ancestor--"
"--took care of that from then on."
"And when one divided, so did the other, passing the arrangement
down to each daughter cell. The partnership was inherited,
generation by generation." Saul nodded. "The same seems true of chloroplasts, the organelles in plant cells that do the actual work of
photosynthesis. They're kin to blue-green algae. 'And many other
cellular components show signs they may have once been independent
creatures, too."
"Yes. I do remember reading about that." Carl seemed interested
for the first time. Saul remembered some of the conversations
they'd had back in the early days, before their differences had
yawned like a gulf between them. He wondered if Carl missed them
as much as he did.
Probably more. After all, I have Virginia.
"The same holds for the entire organism, Carl. A normal human
being has countless species of creatures living in him, depending
on him, as he depends on them. From gut bacteria that help us
digest our food, to a special type of mite that lives only at the base
of human eyelashes, scouring them, eating decayed matter and
keeping them clean."
 Saul spread his hands. "NOR of these symbiotic animals can.
live independently of man anymore. Nor can we very easily do
without them. They're almost as much parts of the colony organism
called Homo sapiens as human DNA itself."
Carl blinked, as if trying to absorb this new leap. "It's like a
quantum field in physics, then. The boundaries of what I call The'
are.., are..."
"Are amorphous. Nebulous. Difficult to define. You've got it!
They've found that married couples share much the same suite of
intestinal flora, for instance. Make love to a woman, and you exchange symbionts. In a sense, you become partly the same creature
by sharing elements that grow and participate in each other."

	298
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Carl frOwned. And Saul realized that he was skirting a touchy
subject. He hurried on.
"But here is my main point, Carl. Probably few, if any, of
these-symbionts simply settled into their niches without an initial
struggle. Evolution doesn't work that way.:, at least not .usually."
"But--"
"Every symbiont, from digestion helper to follicle cleaner,
started out as an invader, once upon a time. Every synergism began
in a disease."
"I don't..." Carl frowned in concentration. "Wait. Wait a
minute." His brow was knitted with fight furrows. "You spoke of
disease as negotiation between a host and an invading--"
"--Visiting--"
	"--species. But .... but even if that's the case, this negotiation
	takes place over the bodies of uncounted dead of both sides!" Carl

	looked up, eyes flashing. "True, they may come to a modus vivendi

	someday, but.that doesn't help the individuals who die, often horri
	bly, broken on the wheel of evolution."

		Saul stared, unable to hide his surprise. In his most pensive

	moments, Carl Osborn seemed to have come upon a new facility

	with words. With tempering, an awkward youth had turned into

	something of a poet.

		"Well said." Saul nodded. "And that's exactly what we're

	seeing' here on Halley. Some die abruptly. Others fight the inter
	lopers to a standstill. Some even profit a little from some side effect

	of their infestation."

	Carl slapped the desktop with a loud report and swiveled to

	face Saul fully.

		"All very well and good, Saul. If--if--there were only one or

	two diseases, and if we had generations, with millions of people, in

	which to work all this out.

		"But that's not the case! Say you're like that green-colored

	character up in Hydroponics Two--"

		"FROM McCue? The one whose skin parasite seems to feed him

	nutrients made from sunlight?"

		"Yeah. Great stuff. But--to quote from your own report--the

	man's mind has also been reduced to the level of a moron by a

	peptide byprOduct of that very same fungoid parasite!"

		The
younger man breathed heavily.

		"I'm glad you read my studies;' Saul answered.

		Carl snorted. "Besides Jeffers? and Virginia's computer,

	you're the only one who writes anything worth reading, anymore.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	299

I'm sure you'll be more famous than ever, when you send your
reports to Earth."
That made Saul wince. How had he managed to make Carl
misunderstand him again? "It's not like that."
"Oh? Then how is it, Mr. Great Man of Biology? Tell me!Uve
shown you I know plenty, for an amateur. Convince me! Tell me
how the hell all these fancy theories about symbiosis are going to
make one slice of difference to a tiny, overwhelmed colony, every
member of which is a total, certain goner!"
The pause lasted. Saul waited until the other man's .breathing
had settled--until Carl had slipped back into the webbing on his
side of the desk, glaring at him.
"I already told you, but you weren't listening," he said softly. "There is one person on this planetcfid Who's in no danger at all.
Someone with attributes that make him safe in a totally new way.
"That person .is me, Carl."
For the first time, the full point of the conversation seemed to
hit the spacer. He stood up.
"You?"
"M." Saul nodded. "My sneezing, my perpetual dripping
are only surface features of that 'negotiation process' we spoke of.
And it seems my immune system is a perfect diplomat. Except for
the damage to my reproductive cells, my body has taken all corners
almost without trouble. It accepts or rejects every new life. form in
short order, and each one soon finds its own niche."
There was another silence.
"I am quite serious, Carl."
"But... how?"
"How?" Saul shook his head. "I only know part of it, as yet.
Far one thing, I've inherited a raregnzyme that some have called N
Complex. A dozen or so others on Halley have it too."
"And are they... ?"
"More disease resistant? Seems so. But also, there's something
else, something in my blood that got there back when I
worked with Simon Percell."
"Yes?" Carol's voice was flat now, his expression guarded.
"It's called a reading unit. We only used the things for a couple
of years, until we found better ways to strip and analyze DNA in
vivo. Nearly forgot completely about the little things.., until I saw
them floating around down there, where they'd taken over my spermetic
cells."
Saul shook his head. "Don't know how they got into me, re
	300
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
ally. Must've stuck myself one day while doing a gene analysis. But
however they got there, my body's using them, somehow.
"Now I think I know why I was so lucky, three decades ago,
when I developed the new cyanutes. I didn't really develop them.
My body did."
The longest silence of them all followed this.
At last Carl spoke.
"I've also read psychology, Saul. You know, of course, that
claims of invulnerability are symptoms of paranoia?"
Saul shrugged. "I am, in almost every basic sense, completely
healthy. Completely. The only one in the colony. You don't believe
me?"
"Of course not! What do you take me for?"
Saul held out his hand. "Take it," he said casually. After a
moment's hesitation, Carol's callused fingers wrapped around
Saul's, still soft from so long in the slots.
Carol's grim smile faded into intense concentration as Saul
squeezed, talking on, casually.
"Diseases, microgravity dec0nditioning, slot fatigue . . .
they've pounded all of you down until a drugged Cub Scout could
beat any of you with one hand tied."
Carol's brow beaded. Obstinately, grunting, he tried to match
Saul's grip.
"You know you can't finish the Nudge Launchers in time,
even with all of Virginia's mechs to help. You need people, and you
don't have 'em, Carl. Two hundred slotted for good, another hundred
feeble as kittens--"
He let go and Carl sagged back with a ragged sigh, his eyes
wide. '
"I didn't show you this to rub your nose in your weakness,
Carl. I only want you to believe it when I say there may be a way. A
way to give similar immunity to many, maybe even most of the
members of this expedition.
"Carl, we just may not be doomed, after all."
He said no more. There was no point in talking any longer.
When the other man had questions, he would ask them. Let it have
time to sink in, he thought.
RigEt now, Carol's face was like a statue's. He stood up--rocky,
unsteady--staring at Saul even as he backed away, shaking
his head. With one hand he touched the doorplate, spilling phosphor
light into the darkened room.
From the hallway, Carl kept staring at him until the door had
shut again, cutting off the view, but not the image.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	301

After a moment Saul looked up at the ceiling.
Oh, I know you, Ado-shem, he thought at the bearded, fierce-eyed
God of Abraham. This morning I opened your gift, tore off the
wrapping paper, and looked inside. And just now I showed its
frightening beauty to a man who was once a friend.
It looks, at first, like a fine gift. Like the rock that flowed with
water for the Hebrew children in the desert. But you and I know that
inside the box is another box, and another, and more ad infinitum.
And I'm still no closer to an answer to the basic questions, am
17 Where did Halley-Life come from? Did comets seed the Earth,
long ago? Or are we only the latest invaders of this little worldlet ?
How could all of this have happened in the first place ?
There was no reply, of course.
He smiled upward, through half a mile of rocky ice, at the
stars.
Oh, yes. You will have your joke.

CARL

Carl and Virginia sat stiffly in nearby web-chairs. The G-wheel
had broken down years ago and subtle side effects of constant low-gravity
were showing. The lounge was deserted except for them, its
vivid wall weather running unnoticed. A drowsy camel slowly
bobbed along the brow of a distant sand dune.
"What I mean is, do you thik he's got all his marbles?" Carl
asked flatly.
"Of course Saul is perfectly all right," she answered indignantly,
tension visible in her body language.
I've got to remember, she really loves the jerk, Carl thought. Okay, be diplomatic. "I'm worried about his . . . health."
Virginia wasn't having any of it. "You mean you think his
discovery is a delusion."
"Well, it is extreme." Carl threw his hands into the air and
boomed out, "I, Saul Lintz, am a godlike immortal. Immune! Impervious!
Kneel, mere mortals!"
"That's nt his attitude."
"Well, let's say he comes over as a quiet megalomaniac."
"He was describing a theory."

	302
	GREGORY IENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"With himself as prime evidence."
"Well, yes. Who else aboard has the N-constellation?"
"Good question. You could check the DNA log for the corpsicles?'
Virginia's eyes shifted a fraction sideways for just an instant,
but by now he could read her pretty well. "You already have,
right?"
She nodded,' knitting her fingers together and staring into
them. "There are three others."
"Good. Easy way to test his theory, right? Unslot 'em and see
if they catch a bug."
"Saul said the same thing when I told him yesterday."
"Hmmmm. I wonder why he didn't mention that little fact to
me .' '
"He's been busy. I suppose he wants to think things through a
little more before.., experimenting."
"Or maybe--just maybe--he wants to do everything himself.
Big Saul saves all."
Virginia flared. "You have no right to say that!"
He held up his hands. "Okay, maybe so. Let's say I've been
dealing with a lot of crazies these years. I've gotten used to doubting
everything."
She bit her lip. Containing her anger? Or keeping in the suspicion
that maybe I'm right ? '
"If Saul's inoculations work;' she said in measured tones,
"we will be able to save ourselves. The expedition will succeed.
You must put your faith in him. You are going to okay his initial test
treatments of volunteers, aren't you?"
Carl shrugged. "My authority is limited. The 'tribes' contribute
their labor. I handle routine management and make up a maintenance
roster. Cap'n Bligh I'm not. I don't see where I could stop
him from recruiting.., volunteers." He had almost said suckers. "Good. You'll see, Carl. This is our hope."
Hope ? He was tempted to tell Virginia about the side effect of
Saul's wondrous symbiosis--Saul's sterility. But if Saul had already
told her, it would make him look mean.
Carl paused. Above her shoulder a caravan of scruffy tan camels
plodded tirelessly across a vast sandy waste, heading for a green
dab of palms halfway to the hard-edged horizon. Red-garbed traders
swayed atop each, peering directly toward Carl with unveiled
suspicion. Their images wavered with the heat, making the ponderous
caravan ripple like a dream. Psychologically effective, no
doubt, but Carol's feet still felt cold.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	303
"Something bothering you, Virginia?"
"JonVons... sick."
"I'd heard. Is it--he--malting?"
"He's an organic matrix, remember. Saul thinks he's got
some infestation of Halleyforms. I hope Saul can find a cure."
'She started outlining the problem, the analogy between JonVon's
nonliving organics versus ordinary flesh and blood, and how
JonVon could "catch a cold" in a more than metaphorical fashion.
Carl listened, looking into her eyes for a long time. He still felt the
old tug, that slow warm yearning that would come swelling up in
him if he let it. Her pensive, expectant mouth, the regal cast to the
high cheekbones...
"Is JonVon immortal, same as Saul is supposed to be?" Carl
asked.
"Saul might make him so. If a cure is found. If Saul is right
about himself..."
"I still think it's all. baloney."
She said primly, "We must test those three from the slots immediately.''
She seems so sure. Could Lintz be right ?
Virginia was too honest to let love blind her totally. She would
have given some Sign if she doubted Saul ....
"Okay, assuming areal miracle, we'll need to activate more
farm area. We'll want to pull nearly everybody out of the slots.
Maybe--who knows?--Saul can cure some of those with black borders.''
"Even Commander Cruz?"
The thought struck Carl hard. "Could be," he said to cover his
confusion. Reviving senior officers... I won't be such a big cheese
around here. But it would be grea to work with the captain again,
with somebody who keally knew how to get things done ....
"It'll be a hell of a rush, with only a few years to go to aphelion.''
Virginia brightened. "We can do it. I know we can."
"Damn right." And Carl forced a hopeful smile.
Why not be optimistic? It couldn't hurt, after all that happened.
At worst Saul Lintz is proven as a fool. At best.., well, at
best we may even finish the Nudge Launchers, move Halley, actually
get on with the mission.
But Carl knew that even miracles have their unwelcome consequences. What will hope do to the tribes ? he wondered.
That when real infighting is going to come, over where we
target this old icebal! to fall thirty years from now.

	304
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

VIRGINIA

Virginia wiped at her eyes. Without any gravity to speak of, tears
upwelled and clung in quivering beads held together by surface tension.
You had to shake your head or blot them. It was that or wear
little saltwater lenses and watch the world refracted through your
pain.
"Is he going to be all right?" she asked. Her voice trembled
like a little girl's, but Virginia wasn't ashamed. Lots of people
cared as much for certain objects as for human beings. And JonVon
was a lot more than a Raggedy Arm doll.
"I think . . ." Saul's voice faded in and out. His head was
immersed in the holo tank, a cubic meter of neatly squared simulation
that looked like an aquarium filled with some bizarre concoction,
a chef's nightmare of bright bits and pieces. It was a
color-coded depiction of the intricate chemistry of a colloidal-stochastic
computer, and on this deep level all of her expertise was
useless. Virginia might be a fair programmer, but she knew next to
nothing about molecules, or what made pseudoliving things ill.
Saul mumbled. She could not follow what he was doing with
his hands, deep inside the holo, but whatever he discovered seemed
to satisfy him. He sat back. "Display off," he told the diagnostic
computer.
"Well?" Virginia's legs tensed nervously and she had to grip
the carpeting with her toes to prevent being cast free of the floor.
"Well? Tell me. I can take it."
Saul took her hand and his blue eyes seemed to shine. She
gasped as she read the answer in them. "He's going to be all right!"
She yipped, whirled around, and threw herself into his arms. "You
fixed him!"
Oh, what an understanding man, she thought, to hold her
close and laugh while her teary eyes perforce left trails on his cheek
and she snuffled happily on his neck. Oh, how warm and strong
and kind.
His hand stroked her hair, near the dressing on the back of her
neck where his new medications had fought down her rash. A week
ago anyone brushing her near there would have sent her quailing in

HEART OF THE COMET
	305

pain. But it didn't hurt anymore at all. The infection was nearly'

gone.
It was me to be touched again.
"You must think I'm an idiot," she said at last as she .took his
handkerchief and sat up on his lap to blow her nose.
"No, I don't."
"Well, that shows how much you know. I am one. Carrying on
like this over a machine."
He brushed her loose black hair back into place. "Then I'm
an idiot too. I was nervous as hell about this. So was Carl."
Virginia sniffed. "Carol's worried because JonVon's far and
away the best computer we have left. Carl can't run the Nudge
without him."
"So? That's plenty enough reason."
"I suppose so. But still, he didn't really care." Virginia's fists
tightened. Actually, what made her mad at Carl was something
else. She was still seething, a bit, over what he had said about Saul.
I've always like Carl, she thought. A lot. But he can be so
damned pigheaded. It been weeks since Saul started sharing serums
made from his own blood, and only now, after one incredible
cure after another, is Carl finally admitting that a miracle has really
happened.
Of course that was unfair. Carl had lived for so long with the
eroding despair, with the assumption that all was lost, that hope
would take some getting used to.


	They would all have to do some adjusting.
Much had changed since the Arcist exodus. Now, thanks to
Saul's cures, more and more people were being pulled from the
sleep slots, treated, and put to work building and testing the devices
that would be needed when Halley's0g2omet was to be turned from
drifting iceball into spaceship.
Of course, Saut's methods couldn't repair impossible damage,
or raise the irreversibly dead. But they hoped to bring the colony's
active population up to two hundred or so, more than half the number
originally planned when the Edmund and four sail tugs were
cast forth from Earth.
Already the moribund launcher sites down south were humming.
The Arcists seemed to be working with Jeffers's
technicians--and even with Sergeov's Uber Percells--in a new atmosphere
of cooperation.
If only it can last, she wished. Somehow, though I want it to, I
can't believe it will.
"Let me see your arm," she insisted. When Saul held it out

	306
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

she traced the tracks of numerous healing punctures. "Which one
was from when you drew blood for JonVon's serum?"
He laughed. "How should I know, Ginnie? I'll tell you,
though. I admit that this was my hardest case, so far. I never knew
bio-organics processors were so complicated." His expression
turned thoughtful. "Actually, the infection-agent was subtle, a
prionlike, self-replicating molecule that somehow got inside JonVon's
cool-case during the years we were asleep. If it had been
allowed to go on much longer..." He shrugged.
"But you caught it in time." Virginia was still nervous enough
that it came out as a question, in spite of her confidence in Saul.
He smiled. "Oh, our surrogate son will be fine. Using symbiosis
methods, I turned the molecule into a variant JonVon can use in
his self-correcting systems. It actually seems to make him a little
faster. You'll have to evaluate the effects yourself,, of course."
Virginia had blinked when Saul referred to JonVon as their
"surrogate son." Of course now Saul was just like her, unable to
have any more children of his own. She realized a little guiltily that
this made her feel even closer to him. They would comfort each
other, now.
Oh, we'll have our problems. As time passes, our relationship
will never be perfect. That only happens in storybooks.
BUt a line of verse came to her, quite suddenly, as some of her
poems had more and more often, lately. It was a haiku.

Under winter's tent,
Our children--seeds under snow,
I grasp your warm scent... '

Saul's gaze was distant. "Actually, some of the techniques for
working with colloidal organics seem applicable' to biological cloning.
Working on JonVon gave me some ideas--"
She laughed and tousled his hair, now turning astonishingly
brown at the roots--though Saul had told her he wasn't actuMly
getting "younger," only "perfect for a middle-aged man."
"You're always getting ideas. Come on, Saul. I want to talk to
JonVom"
She pushed off toward the webbing by her control station and
gathered up her hair with one hand. She peeled back the dressing,
uncovering her neural tap..
"Uh, you might want to wait--"
Her eyes flashed. "Is that an order, Doctor?"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	307

He shrugg .ed, smiling. "I guess you'd only do it the moment
my back was tarned, anyway."
She grinned. "It's been weeks. Much too long for an unrepentant
dataline junkie like me."
She lay back on the webbing. Her little assistant mech, Wendy,
whirred up and presented the well-,orn tapline, which locked into
place with a soft snicking sound. She felt Saul slip alongside her as
she settled back and closed her eyes to the familiar throbbing along
the direct line to her brain.
How are you, Johnny? she queried, shaping the subvocal
words carefully, as one spoke to a child who has been ill.

HELLO, VIRGINIA. I HAVE SOME POETRY FOR YOU.

The words shimmered in space above their heads, as well as
echoing along her acoustic nerve. She could tell, just from the clarity
of the tones, that things were much, much better.
Not yet, Johnny. First I want to run a complete diagnostic on

ALL RIGHT, VIRGINIA. INITIATING "MR. FIXIT" SUBPERSONA.

Saul had never seen this simulated personality before. He laughed as a crystal-clear image formed, of a man in grimy overalls,
wiping his hands on a cloth. Behind the workman scurried assistants, .dashing about carrying stethoscopes and voltmeters and
giant wrenches over a great scaffolding. Within, a huge, cumbersome machine clanked and throbbed. Steam hissed and a low humming
permeated everything.
A clipboard appeared out ofnowhere. The master mechanic
smiled as he put on a pair of bifocals and scanned the list.

WE'RE CHECKIN' tT OUT, MISS. PRELIMINARY
RESULTS LOOK PRETTY GOOD.
OVER-ALL SYSTEMS STATUS HAS RETURNED TO
NOMINAL. SELF-CORRECTION ROUTINES NOW OPERATING
ON "TELL-ME-THRICE" BASIS, RELAXED FROM
QUINTUPLE CHECKING REQUIRED DURING THE EMERGENCY.
SOFTWARE MAINTENANCE REPORTS THAT
PROGRAMS ARE RUNNING AT NORMAL OR BETTER EFFICIENCY.
WE SEEM TO HAVE SERIOUS PROBLEMS IN ONLY
ONE AREA, NOW.

	308
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRiN

Well? What is it? she inquired:
Mr. Fixit looked at her over the rims of his glasses.

I HAVE SOME POETRY FOR YOU, VIRGINIA.

Her head jerked in surprise The same exact words... Something was going on here.
"What is it, Ginnie?" Saul asked, feeling some of her concern
over his own link.
"Nothing, probably..." Virginia muttered. She concentrated
on sending probes down several avenues at once to find out for herself
what was behind this.
It felt so smooth! Was it just in comparison with JonVon's
former, wounded state? Or did it seem easier than ever to cruise
these channels in the data streams? It was almost as if she could
enter in true thought, instead of using simulations the computer
provided to mimic the experience. Blocs of memory were represented
by metaphors--card catalogs, filing cabinets, mile-long
bookshelves--and rows of wizened storytellers ....
There. She came upon a barrier. Something guarded behind a
high abatis and tightly locked gate. A blockage. A big accumulation
of data, hidden away, inaccessible.
"I think he's just a little constipated," she said. Saul barked a
sudden laugh, andcut it off just as quickly when he sensed her
seriousness.
It big. What has Jon Von got stuffed up in here ?
She poked away at the jam with metaphorical levers that were
actually carefully crafted mathematical subroutines.
Try a Kleinfeldt Transform . . . a rotation mapping . . . yes. A resorting routine manifested itself as a key that kept changing
shape until it slipped into the lock, and turned. Light streamed
forth.
Well I'll be a blue-nosed mongoose,t
"Five hundred terabytes of poetry!" She gasped aloud. "And
half of it is flashed as triple-A-priority data!"
	"Poetry? Priority data?" Saul asked. "I don't get it."
"Neither do I." Then Virginia stopped. "Oh!"
Amazed, she turned toward Saul and opened her eyes. He
looked back at her. ,
"JonVon knew he was sick! And so he isolated part of himself,
in order to save important information for me. He used a sub-:cache I'd already double-guarded.., my poetry!"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	309

She looked back up at the ceiling, staring. "Five hundred terabytes..,
the overflow pilled into everything JonVon did. No wonder
Carl kept stumbling over apparently random poems while he
was doing routine calculations."
Saul's voice was bemused. "But poetry!"
She nodded. "Let's see what this urgent scribbling is all
about."
Present us with a sample selection of triple-A-priority poetry,
please, she asked Mr. Fixit.
The dungareed figure shrugged.

THANKS, MISS. IT WAS GETTIN' CROWDED iN HERE.

He vanished, and suddenly words flowed.

United States Patent Office
Tr series--87239345-56241
Where is springtime,
Here on the borderlands of Sol?
Where . . .

Miniaturized Robotic Power Supply
Where stars, unwinking,
Rule a dark...

Issued May 8, 2089
Rule a dark domain--

To Virginia it was one of the weirdest versifications she had
ever seen. It was as if the machine had interweaved poetry with
some sort of document. She was beg]nmng to be concerned that this
was a sign of yet another, until now hidden, illness. But then she
heard Saul laugh out loud and clap his hands.
"Of course!" he cried. "The urgent data has been shuffled in
among the poems in order to protect it."
"Yessss." She nodded, seeing what he meant. "But... but
what is the data? What was so important that it had to be hidden
away in my special file for safety?"
"Look at the date, dear. Only seven years ago. This stuff was
sent from home! And at a glance there seem to be volumes, libraries of the stuff!"
She was confused. "Carl said nothing about this."

	310
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"He didn't know. Ould-Harrad was in charge then, and Carl
was still in the slots. Ould-Harrad must've just ignored it. He was
starting to get all mystical even then."
"But Earth Control has been so stingy with help--"
"Who said anything about Earth Control?" Saul laughed
again. "Here, I'll bet I can sift through and find the cover letter."
"The cover letter?"
But Saul was already at work. He sent commands so quickly,
so deftly, that Virginia felt a strange contradiction, a touch of jealousy
at someone else being so familiar with her domain, combined
with pride that he had learned so well. Pages, sheaves, volumes,
flickered past in an automatic sort that pulled the data from reams
and reams of poetry:
A few flickering lines of verse caught her eye. Not half bad, she thought. JonVon improved, even when he was sick. If it were
sent Earthside , some of it might get published . . . yet another fallen
Turing test.
"Here! Here it is," Saul announced. "It's a letter in video
form."
There was a multicolored blur, and then a new image flickered
before them. She knew at once that it was not another JonVon simulation.
This was a real, recorded transmission.
A woman with close-cropped hair sat at a console, wearing a
tight skinsuit. Her face had that high-cheeked puffiness that came
from a long time spent living in low gravity. She was made up in 9n
odd manner, lightninglike strokes of color streaking her forehead
from her temples in a fashion that must have been current when the
message was sent.
Behind the woman there was a broad window-wall showing a
scene of vast, reddish deserts, observed from high altitude. Puffy
clouds of sand blew in storms across immense wastelands. Somehow,
Virginia knew that this was not a weather-wall depiction, but
the real thing.
"Halley Colony," the woman intoned. Her accent was one
Virginia could not quite place, but the tension in her voice was
unmistakable. "Halley, this is Phobos Base calling. We have listened
to your story, heard the agony of your lost hopes, which are
ours as well. We note the callous treatment you have received, and
are ashamed.
"To a few of us, this crime has gone beyond forbearance. W
take this risk, in transmitting to you these tokens of our good will,
because not to do so would be to join the soullessness of a genera
	HEART OF THE COMET
	311

tion too smug and comfortable to care about past promises. Too lost
in their pleasu/es tO remember."
The woman paused. Her anxiety was apparent in the whiteness
of her knuckles as her hands held the edges of the console.
"If you love us, do not answer or bother to thank us in any
way. Do not mention this to Earth Control. These gifts are evidence
that a few, on Earth and in space, have not forgotten our kinfolk,
those who voyage through the cold reaches and down the river of
despair.
"May the Almighty guide you to your destinies, people of the
Comet... people of deepest space."
The image flickered and was gone. Ttiere followed a steady
flow of indexes, texts, designs, patents, music. Saul scanned the
lists, excitedly, but for a few moments Virginia could only blink,
'again looking out. through tears. She seemed still to hear the Phobos
woman's voice, echoing within her mind.
"JonVon was right," Virginia whispered, though at the moment
Saul was too involved, shouting over one title after another
pouring forth from the broken logjam of the computer's memory, to
pay close attention.
"JonVon was right. This belonged under poetry. There was no
other place for it."

PART V

WITH THE BRUSH
OF A FEATHER

2094

You only live twice:
Once when you are born,
And once when you look death in the face.
--Bassh6
Japanese poet,
164394


Options for Alioa
Nuclgc Maneuvers
(from c]iptic North)
2098

COMET
HALLEY

JJPITER

URANUS

NE-P-TUNE ,
1HLMLEET 1y '
uator Options for

( Vt)

I:

2. ili) 8 (59

5. lupir in) g (S)

SAUL

Existence. Life. Awareness.
The words were often used as synonyms, but he knew
actually they were all three very different things, Three stag,
Creation.
Did the proverbial tree falling in an empty forest m
sound?
Could that question even have been asked before all
stages had come about?
Existence supposedly began nearly twenty thousand m
years ago--in a hot flux of quarks and leptons when time whirled, as if blindfolded, and stabbed out at something
thereby named the Future. The universe could have taken a m
of other forms by happenstance--by tiny variations in chano
dimension. Had even one of the basic physical constants b
fraction, off, life would never have erupted out of clay-catu
chemistry, billions of arbitrary intervals later.
But Life did erupt . . . selfrganizing, self-replicating other-organizing. Life had a tendency, from the very beginni
alter its surroundings, its environment.
But that was not the end of it. Then there came the third
tion. There came awareness ....
The midget gibbons flew down the tunnel ahead of
chirping at each other and swinging lithely from cables stap
the moss-covered ice. At an intersection they pivoted and reg
Saul, wide brown eyes blinking in question.
"Patience, children," he told them. "Let Papa read the I signs. We're supposed to meet a Ginnie at Blue Stone Cave
The two small apes hung nearby while he swam over,
meeting of two corridors. A thick green fuzz covered the

OlXions for Aphelion
Nudge Maneuvers
(from Ecliptic North)
2O98

COMET
HALLEY

JUPITER

URANUS

NEPTUNE ,
	COMET' 4c1 quntor
	HALLEY
	Options for Alclion
Nudge Manvs
(from ernd Ea0
2098

I.
	Jupiter on inbound (preperihelion) leg (284 m/c)
2,
	Mars on inlxnd (preperibelion) leg (9 m/sec)
3.
	Venus on outbound (popedhelion) leg (44 m/sec)
4.
	Earth on otbound (polion) leg (63 m/sec)
5.
	Jupir on outbound (llion) leg (536 m/sec)

SAUL


Existence. Life. Awareness.

The words were often used as synonyms, but he knew that
actually they were all three very different things. Three stages in
Creation.

Did the proverbial tree falling in an empty forest make a
sound?

Could that question even have been asked before all three
stages had come about?

Existence supposedly began nearly twenty thousand million
years ago--in a hot flux of quarks and leptons when time itself
whirled, as if blindfolded, and stabbed out at something that it
thereby named the Future. The universe could have taken a myriad
of other forms by happenstance--by tiny variations in chance and
dimension. Had even one of the basic physical constants been a
fraction, off, life would never have erupted out of clay-catalyzed
chemistry, billions of arbitrary intervals later.

But Life did erupt.., self.rganizing, self-replicating, and
other-organizing. Life had a tendency, from the very beginning, to
alter its surroundings, its environment.

But that was not the end of it. Then there came the third creation.
There came awareness ....

The midget gibbons flew down the tunnel ahead of Saul,
chirping at each other and swinging lithely from cables stapled to
the moss-covered ice. At an intersection they pivoted and regarded
Saul, wide brown eyes blinking in question.

"Patience, children," he told them. "Let Papa read the tunnel
signs. We're supposed to meet a Ginnie at Blue Stone Cave."

The two small apes hung nearby while he swam over to the
meeting of two corridors. A thick green fuzz covered the old shaft

315

	316
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

and tunnel codes, but below the obscured markings were deep incisions,
exposing dark, glittering, icy conglomerate, painted with a
substance poisonous to Halleyforms.

An arrow to the right, piercing a large S.

S for survivors.

"Yes, this is the way." He adjusted his backpack. "Come on,
Max. Come on, Sylvie."

The two minigibbons landed on his shoulders. He pushed off,
following the phosphorescent glow of the lichenoids.

Two years, he thought. It been two years since, all at once,
the universe seemed to let up on us. Since the litany of bad news
turned around.

I wonder how much longer this good spell will last.
Everyone seemed to credit his serums and Virginia's miracle
mechs for the turnaround in the colony's fortunes. But Saul knew
that part of the problem, before, had been pure and simple loneliness.

Things had not been the same since that afternoon in Virginia's
lab, when JonVon's illness-wrought memory blocks tumbled
down, and they discovered that they had not been forgotten, after
all.

There had been no more messages from their secret benefac~
tors. But that' didn't matter. Even more important than the techniques
they had received had been the boost to morale, knowing
that someone back home still cared.

Even the officials back on Earth seemed to have relented. The
colony was buzzing about the "Care Package" that was nearing
rendezvous with Halley--sent at high velocity by an Earth Control
apparently guilt-racked over its past neglect.

No wonder Jeffers teams are getting so much done, down at
the south pole. Virginia estimates they'Il actually be ready to begin
the Nudge this month.

If this peace among the clans lasts, that is...

The passage lightened ahead. Max and Sylvie launched themselves
from his back and sped along a wall cable, rushing toward a
chattering greeting.

"Who is it, Hokulele? Who's coming?" a deep voice asked
from beyond a stone arch. "Oh, quiet down, you silly monkey,
can't you see it's only Max and Sylvie? Come on in, Dr. Lintz!'

Keoki Anuenue's grin was broad and his grip strong as he
hauled Saul into a wide chamber that looked half ice palace, half
mad scientist's laboratory. Cavelike crannies led off in all direc-

	HEART OF THE COMET
	317


tions, bordered by glittering, faceted structures of hardened crystal.
People Could be seen moving in some of the rooms-,, working at
various tasks. A few stopped and waved at Saul.

In the chamber's center there protruded a great boulder of
some bluish metal agglomerate, an odd formation that had given
the group that lived here its name.

Everywhere was the soft verdance of lush plant life. Here a
lawnlike Expanse of cloverlike Trifolium halleyense, there a shock
of mutated marigolds, growing out of night soil into spindly shapes .
that never would have been possible on the homeworld.

"Great to see you again, Doc," Anuenue said. "My people
are always glad when you visit."

Saul had given up trying to get Keoki to call him Saul, like
everyone else did. That the big Hawaiian was now older than he--his
once jet-black hair had turned silver and his eyes were deeply

etched by smile lines--hardly seemed to matter to him.

"Hi, Keoki. You're looking well."

"How could I not? I was never really sick, like so many others;
but those treatments of yours have me feeling I could climb a
wave all the way to Molokai!"

His laugh was infectious. Saul reached up and petted the little
capuchin monkey on his friend's shoulder, who hid behind
Anuenue's he,id and glared suspiciously at the gibbons. "And how
is Hokulele? Does she still have a big appetite?"

Keoki laughed. "There hasn't been a purple sighted anywhere
near Blue Rock Cave for weeks. She has to live off table scraps,
these days, and she hates it!"

"Well." Saul smiled. "I'm sure motherhood will keep her
busy enough."

"You can tell?" Anuenue hld up the little monkey. "Ua huna
au ia mea... I wasn't sure I should tell you, since you wanted us to
be careful before letting any Earth species become independent of
your cloning chambers. But Virgil Simms was visiting from Central,
and he brought his male with him--"

Saul waved a hand. "No matter. The modified capuchins are a
success, obviously. We ought to see if they breed true."

The data from Earth had be6n the key. For although science
was still a dull affair, back home, some progress could not be
avoided. Saul would never have been able to develop the cloning
machines himself, even using parts from a dozen scavenged sleep
slots. But by implementing designs released from JonVon's unclogged
memories, he had been able to build astonishing devices.

	318
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRtN
Using samples taken from their still-frozen "zoo" of test animals,
he could now force-grow a monkey or ape from blast cell to
fetus to adult in a month. A month.
It was, frankly, almost beyond his Comprehension as a biologist.
Saul was grateful that half of the process could be run by Jon-Von,
without his having to understand it. He could turn most of his
attention to modifying the original genes--an art at which his skill
was not obsolete--giving them an artificial inheritance to thrive in
the new ecosystem that was coming into being under Halley.
Anuenue was trading monkey faces with Max and Sylvie,
making Hokulele insanely jealous.
"I still can't really understand why you chose gibbons for
your own watchdogs, Doc. Without a prehensile tail, they're almost
as clumsy as a man."
"I have a weakness for apes," Saul began. "They have
their--"
"Saul!" two feminine voices called out, almost in unison. He
looked overhead and saw a young woman in roughly sewn fiber-cloth
over-ails drop down from a shaft to alight on the blue rock. A
spindly machine fell after her and she caught it deftly, placing it
gently on the floor. The whirring, spiderlike mech whizzed ahead
of Lani to reach Saul first.
"Hi, Saulie!" The machine spoke with Virginia's voice, but in
a slightly higher register, a simpler tone. It was easy to tell that
Virginia herself wasn't "present"--was not operating this.particular
mech herself--and Saul was just a little disappointed.
"Hello, little Ginnie," he said to the very unmachinelike,
colony-made machine as it reached out a.n arm and stroked his leg.
The device was another hybrid of Earth-based and homegrown
research--a minture of new designs sent up by their secret benefactors,
the mechanical brilliance of Jeffers and d'Amario, and
Virginia's hypermodern approach to personality-based programming.
"I love you, Saul," the childlike voice said softly. The little
artificial persona was an edited replica of Virginia's own. Sometimes,
as now, it led to embarrassment. Keoki coughed, grinning
behind his hand.
Saul felt particularly unnerved since, at the moment, Virginia
was mad at him. Can't even really blame her, he thought. "Hello,

Lani," he said to the young woman who followed the
robot. She enveloped him in a warm embrace.
"You are looking wonderful," he said, holding her back at
arm's length.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	319

She blushed, turning slightly away as if to hide the scars the
Zipper Pox had left on her once-smooth cheek.
"You're a magnificent liar, Saul. Almost as good as you are a doctor.'
But to him she did look wonderful. For he well recalled when
Lani Nguyen had been slotted. At the time it had seemed as pointless
as storing a corpse. Now the pallor of deepsleep had almost left
her face, and the blue eyelids only made her half-oriental features
seem all the more sultry and mysterious.
Virginia should never have told me about Lani Nguyen secret
cache of human sperm and ova. I've almost questioned her about it
several times, since her unslotting . . . to find out where it's hidden.
Ah, but if I had that plasm in my hands, I might be too
tempted ....
"When can I go back on duty, Saul? I want to join the crews
mounting the Nudge Flingers, before all the really important work
is already done."
A spacer to the last, he thought. "Even if the Nudge does
begin in a month or so, Lani, it'll be years in progress, with lots of
motors left to build. You'll do your turn, don't worry. Right now,
though, your job is to rest, get up-to-date."
She nodded. The little capuchin monkey transferred from
Keoki's shoulder to hers and she scratched it.
"I'll try to be patient, Saul. Anyway, I've got to thank you for
assigning me'to Blue Rock Clan for my recuperation. I've been to
some of the other groups to try to visit people .... "She blinked,
remembering. "Saul, how can people, professional people, with
college degrees, act so... so..." She groped for the right word.
"So meshuggenuh?" he suggested.
Lani laughed--clear and bel-like. "Yeah. So meshuggenuh." Anuenue put an arm around her shoulder. "We've been very
glad to have Lani. Any of the clans of the Survivor faction would
welcome her as a permanent member."
Lani blinked. "I... I guess I'll have to choose one, won't I?
I'm still not used to thinking like that."
Saul didn't like it any better than she did. He had hoped that.
the factionalism of the last thirty years would break down, once
more of those slotted in the early days were treated with his serum
and released. As the active population of the comet burgeoned, a
majority would be made up of those who remembered Earth most
recently, whose memories were fresh with Captain Cruz's stirring
speech from the framework of the Sekanina, and the hopes they had
all shared.

	320
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
But it hadn't worked oui that way. The newly revived--'
disoriented, weak, and afraid--found themselves in a world as
much different from the Halley Colony they remembered as that
early settlement had been from placid Moon Base I. They quickly
gravitated to groups they might be comfortable with, adopted their
ideologies, and became clansmen.
Saul did not mention to Lani that there were three people who
seemed exempt from this pattern. For different reasons, he, Virginia,
and Carl Osborn were all isolated--respected, perhaps, but
comfortable nowhere.
Lani shrugged. "Well, I sure won't go down south and join
Quiverian and his radical Orthos--"
"Arcists," Keoki corrected, like a patient language teacher,
instructing her in the fight dialect.
"Yeah, Arcists," she repeated. "And when I got a hall pass
and tried to visit some of my Percell friends over in Uber territory,
Sergeov told me to get my little Ortho ass the hell out of there! The
Mars boys aren't much nicer, even if Andy Carroll and I once were
pals.
"So what choice do I have? That Plateau Three crowd up on B
Level is mixed Ortho-Percell, but the PeeThrees have got this gleam in their eyes, you know what I mean, Saul? They aren't so
much spacers anymore as missionaries! They don't seem to care if
they live or die, so long as Halley's trillion tons of ice gets delivered,
according to Captain Cruz's plan."
Saul smiled. "It looks to me as if you've found a home right
here, Lani."
"That's fight," Keoki affirmed. "Just let us know. We'll paint
you a new tabard and hold a ceremony."
Lani nodded, but she briefly bit her lip. "I-q'll let you know
as soon as I've had a chance to talk to Carl."
She lowered her eyes, knowing how transparent she must
seen, but unashamed of it in front of her two friends. There was
very little more that could be said.
"I'll see about getting you some light duty topside soon," Saul
assured her. Lani nodded, gratitude in her eyes.
The little capuchin chirped. The black gibbons, Max and Sylo
vie, swiveled and looked back down the hallway, their hackles rising.
Keoki peered, hi hand drifting toward his belt knife. "Somebody's
coming."
Men and women started emerging from labs and sleeping

	HEART OF THE COMET
	321

caves, nervously gripping staves made from meteoric iron. A pair
grabbed the heavy vacuum door and began shutting it. Then they
heard a'highrpitched whistle--two upsweeps and a trill, repeated
twice.
Keoki relaxed only a little. "Treaty call," he said. "E wehe i
ka puka," he told the men, and they ceased pushing. The door
stayed half-open. A light appeared down the tunnel, and two small
brown figures tumbled to a halt just twenty feet short of the entrance,
tongues lolling from narrow mouths rimmed with needle-sharp
teeth.
I should never have let Quiverian talk me into giving him otters, Saul thought, regarding the agile creatures. They're just too
dangerous.
But if he had disallowed the Arcist leader's request, Saul
might have lost his carefully maintained neutral status. It had been
hard, serving as middleman, negotiating a treaty so that the emigrants
to the south pole still i:ooperated with Carl Osborn's crews.
The otters had been just one more price.
To his surprise, though, the figure that emerged behind the
grinning animals was not Joao Quiverian, or even one of the Arcist
leader's principal assistants. Wild white hair and beard floated like
a halo around a face as dark brown as the rich'carbonaceous veins
lining the icy hall.
"... Kela ao," Anuenue breathed in amazement. "It is OuldHarrad."
Those intense, brown eyes were now rimmed by deep creases.
The former spacer officer was dressed in a flapping brown gown of
salvaged fibercloth that made him look even more like an ancient
patriarch. He gestured with one hand.
"Saul Lintz."
Lani gripped Saul's arm and 'Keoki Anuenue moved as if to
stop him, but he shrugged them aside. "Keep Max and Sylvie
back," he"said, and cast off down the hallway.
The otters clung to Ould-Harrad's robe, eyeing Saul ferally.
Saul did not feel particularly safe for having been their "creator,"
in a sense. In near weightlessness, the creatures were fearsome
beasts.
If Joao Quiverian was leader.of the radical Arcists, OuldHarrad
was their spiritual guide, their priest. The flame of his guilt
complex seemed to drive him hotter than anyone else here on this
ancient star mote.
As he approached, Saul wasn't entirely sure of his own safety.

	322
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID 'BRIN
For although the Arcist faction seemed to accept his neutrality, this
man was his own force.
"Colonel Ould-Harrad." He nodded, stopping ten feet away.
Saul let his feet slowly come to rest on the floor, toes clutching the
soft, hybrid, green covering.
"Do not call me that," the African intoned with an upraised
hand. "I am not an officer, nor spacer, n0'r Earthman any longer."
Saul blinked. He had last glimpsed Ould-Harrad during the
Great Exodus--his white spacesuit tabard centered with a single,
jet-black starburst--leading the Arcist exiles on their trek while
Quiverian and his crew covered the rear. During Saul's brief, subsequent
visits to the antipodes, their paths had never crossed. Still, he
remembered something the man had said, so long ago, in his lab
aboard the Edmund.
"He whom Allah chooses to touch, bears the ridges of those
fingerprints, ever afterward .... "
"Very well, Suleiman." Saul nodded. "I see the otters are doing
well."
Ould-Harrad glanced down at the creatures. His hand gently
stroked their glossy fur, gene-adapted for life in icy halls instead of
the salt spume of the sea.
"One more time, you have proven me wrong about you, Saul
Lintz. For the role you have played in bringing these fine creatures
forth cannot have been evil."
Saul couldn't help it. He felt a wash of relief at OuldHarrad's
words, as if he had been worried about that very thing, and the man
had the power to absolve. He is very good at this prophet shtick, Saul observed.
"Did Joao lend them to you while you came up north?"
Ould-Harrad's eyes seemed to flash.
"They are no longer his to lend. That is one reason why I have
sought you out. To tell you that there are only three monkeys, down
in the south antipodes, to watch for purples and guard the people as
they sleep. You must replace these otters."
"Oh? Where are you taking them?"
"You deserve to know." Ould-Harrad paused with a faraway
look in his eyes. "For years I have gone out onto the surface and
meditated under the stars, as mystics have since time immemorial,
praying and hoping for a sign. I found that they were hypnotic,
those glittering lights in the blackness. After a long time I thought
that I had, indeed, begun to hear God's voice.
,
	"But it could not have been."
"Why.not?" Saul was curious.

	HEART OE THE COMET
	323

Ould-Harrad's voice was filled with pain. "Because all that
came to me war laughter!"
Saul knew that this was more than mere madness. He could
almost feel the intensity of the man's soul torment. "I think I understand,''
he said quietly. He did not add that he saw nothing inconsistent
in the man's experience. Who ever said the Creator must
be sober? The universe is for laughing, or we must weep.
Ould-Harrad nodded. For a long moment there were no
words. Then he raised his eyes again..
"There was another thing."
"What was that?"
"I... I can no longer be a party to the schemes of Quiverian
and his banal crew, they--"
"The Arcists?"
"Yes." The beard floated as Ould-Harrad shook his head. His
voice was barely audible. "The wars we brought with us from
Earth are as the fog of summer, that wil! fall away and be forgotten
with the coming of winter. I have come to realize that arguments
over where to target this great., frozen teardrop miss the point entirely.''
"Where will you go, then?"
Ould-Harrad's gaze dropped briefly to the floor. "I must go
down.., into the ice. Below where anyone has gone--except for
Ingersoll, whom they now call the Old Man of the Caves, and those
poor creatuies who followed him. I will live on what grows, along
their trail. I will minister to them, if they still live. And I will
think.Y
Saul nodded. Within Ould-Harrad's world view, a hermitage
made sense, obviously. He made no effort to dissuade the man. "I
wish you luck., And wisdom."
Ould-Harrad nodded. He lked down at his pets. "I am beginning
to comprehend one aspect, at least . . . this thing you
preach--this symbiosis. I did not understand at first, but now..."
He paused. "You are not doing evil, Saul Lintz. For that reason
I warn you. Beware of Quiverian. He plans something. I know
it. You, in particular, he wishes harm. And Carl Osborn."
Saul did not know what to say. "I'll be careful."
"Care, or care not.". Ould-Harrad shrugged. "Do or do not.
In the end, it is all by God's will. We are helpless to resist."
The otters seemed to sense something even before he moved.
They leaped forth and flicked off down the long, dim hallway.
Ould-Harrad turned stiffly and. walked away.
He actually does seem to be walking, like on the moon or on

	324
	gREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Earth, Saul thought as he watched the man depart. I wonder what
his technique is.

He swiveled and glided back toward Blue Rock Cave, pondering
the effects of personal gravity.


CARL


The blackness seemed like a solid weight, a vast hand clasped about
the gray, battered ice. Carl hadn't been high above the surface for
months, and the arid bleakness of it struck him fully, bringing back
memories of his years when open silent vacuum meant freedom,
deft movement, effortless grace.

Stars gleamed, their tiny brimming beacons of rose and sea
azure and molten yellow shining like steady promises of another
life--a realm filled with vibrant hues, a place beyond this bleak
plain that the slow elliptical glide of orbit had drained of color.

Now the encroaching darkness meant that there was nothing
between this frozen waste and the beckoning stars--no planets
aswarm with cloffds-and lightning, not even a vagrant asteroid
within view.

They rode far below the ecliptic plane now, ten times farther
from the disk of planets than Earth itself was from the sun. The
outer solar system was vast beyond imagining. Carl looked toward
the south, virtually all the solar system at his back. The sun's dim
radiance--a thousandth of that which warmed Earth--could not
summon forth the full colors that marked the ice. Everywhere
pools of shadow swallowed detail; most of Halley was an inky kingdom.

--Take it careful now,-- Jeffers sent.

"Right," Carl ansvered automatically, his reverie broken. He
jetted down to alight near-his friend. Together they glide-walked
southward. Normally he would seek the polar cable and use a jet,
be at the south pole in a few minutes. But these were not normal
times.

They edged around the hummock of orange-splashed ice.
Empty storage drums were moored with spiderweb-thin lines to the
lump of frozen waste--garbage left from some process now decades
old, forgotten. Jeffers slunk from one drum to another, careful
not to expose himself to the southward side. Carl followed him. It

	HEART OF THE COMET
	325

took an effort to stay on the ice, gingerly digging his clamp-toes in
for each long Step. He fought down the urge to leap, toffy above the
mottled snowscape.
Blithe spirit, he thought. That what I was once. Zipping
around, all spit and vinegar. Carl Osborn, space daredevil. But
now.., it just doesn't have the same zest.
There were only a few paths that would not take them through
the thick dust fields, kicking up plumes that would give their position
away. Jeffers motioned to him and they sprinted across a patch
of brown spill, running almost horizontally in long gliding steps,
boots finding leverage on knobs and juts of ice. They reached the
shelter of a chem module, a stained cylinder long sucked dry.
"They must be able to see us by now. I--"
--Shhhh! This close, they can pick up even local comm.--Carl
bent down for shelter, feeling mildly ridiculous. He
glanced around the curved edge of the cylinder and took in what he
could. Yes, definitely--new structures near the lips of the Nudge
shafts. They looked makeshift, thrown together from old cargo
canisters and struts. He could see nearly to the south pole itself.
Neptune hung barely above the horizon, a faint green pinpoint.
. Under high magnification, Neptune's equatorial bands made
brown concentric circles, resembling a target.
Some Ubers still wanted to fire the Nudge to make Halley a
Neptunian satellite. They could harvest gases from the upper atmosphere,
settle on the largest moon. Carl wondered idly what it
would be like to live out his days with a slumbering green giant
filling the sky. Not a lot like California, no. Maybe I should've gone
into the insurance business. But he still hoped to see Earth's blues,
and reds, and autumn browns again ....
--We see you.-- An alert, oung voice. Carl glanced around
the edge but could spot no one flaead.
"It's Carl Osborn. I've come to talk."
--Got nothing to talk about. Jeffers told you our policy.-- The
voice was tense but determined.
"Who is that?" Carl whispered, touching helmets with Jeffers.

--Name's Rostok. Saul revived him about ten, eleven months
ago. Now he's Quiverian's number-two guy down here.--"What's
he work on?"
Jeffers made a sour face. --Mounting the electromagnetic
assemblies.,-
"Oh, great." A Nudge engineer. One of those had to go lunatic.


	326
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

--If you come any closer we will not be responsible for the
outcome.--
"Not responsible! What kind of crap is that?"
--We declare ourselves independent of Halley Command:-The
voice was tighter, clipped.
--The hell you will!-- Jeffers snapped before Carl could motion
him to silence.
--We already have. And no Percell is going to tell us what to
do!-
Cad breathed deeply. It did no good to blow up at asinine
speeches;, he had learned that the hard way, through these years.
Jeffers was visibly grinding his teeth; Carl signaled him to stay
quiet. "What... do you want?"
--Not food,-- Rostok answered smugly. --We already have
enough hydro set up here to feed ourselves. Found a nice thick vein
of edible Halleyforms, too. Delicious. Feed 'em heat and they grow
like crazy.-
So we can't starve them out, Carl thought automatically.
--We want--hell, we already have!--control of the targeting
of the Nudge.--
Jeffers jumped up..--You bastards! That's our gear, our labor
that built it. Rostok, you put in a couple months. The rest of us been
buildin' the EM guns for years! I'm double-damned if I'll let
some--uh!--
Jeffers grunted as Carl yanked him down. "FII do the talking.''

--Can it, Jeffers. We got the flingers, so we call the tune.--"You
have no right to determine the Nudge;' Carl said as
calmly as he could.
--We got the flingers, and we represent Earth.--"The
hell you do. You represent nobody."
--We speak for Earth. We won't let you Percells take this
plague carrier back into near-Earth orbit.-
Carl had hoped that, with the diseases checked, people would
become more reasonable. Looks like it's just given some of them the
energy to be real sons of bitches again.
He opened in a reasonable tone. "That has to be decided in the
Council. Look, Rostok, I'mcoming out. I want to talk face to
face."
Carl stood and walked around the edge of the cylinder. Was
there some movement around a jumble of crates on the horizon? He
squinted, then thumbed up the telescopics. Yes--figures working at
something, looking this way.

		HEART
OF THE COMET
	327
He heard mumbles on a side channel, then the clear voice of
joao Quiverian. -We warned you, Osborn.--
A sudden brilliance cut the dim sunlight. It was invisible in the
vacuum but cast stark shadows where it lanced into a hummock
nearby. Steam exploded, stones rattled on Carol's helmet. A geyser
burst nearby as a second laser bolt splashed the ice. Carl dived back
behind the cylinder
--That enough for you?-
Carl blinked, blinded by the glare.
Jeffers sent, --They're usin' those big industrial lasers--the
spot welders. Cut the big girders with 'em. Can't aim 'em much
but Jeezus do they burn.--
"Shit!"
--Don't show yourself around here again.--
Another blazing burst streaked into me. arby ice. Blue-white gas
billowed into a swelling sphere.
"Damn," Carl said grimly. "We can't even use mechs against
that--we'd lose too many. We need every one we've got for the
Nudge.'
Jeffers grimaced and swore steadily. --Prob'ly smash up the
flingers if we tried.--
"What the hell can we do?"
--That's what I thought you'd know,-- Jeffers said.
"Shit!"
Meetings. Carl fidgeted with his pen, shifted restlessly in his
web-chair. You can judge the importance of a problem by how many endless meetings it generates.
He watched the wall weather as much as he could--luscious
hills rising from Lake Como in northern Italy, with water-skiers
cutting white Vs in waters of ancient blue--but he had to
appear to be intent, giving every faction its due attention. They
were grouped in loose knots around the meeting room in Central.
The Arcist insurrection had reopened the issue of Nudge targeting.
A Pandora box, Carl thought moodily. And all this had to
happen just now, before I could speak privately to the important
people, gather support for what I've got to announce. He bit at the
end of his pen, a nervous gesture he had picked up sometime in the
last year. With over two hundred revived crew, there are plenty of
members for each faction. And ltave to let them all have their say,
exhaust the energy Quiverian stirred up. Worst possible timing  . . as usual

	328
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
They had been going nearly two hours now and the groups had
lined up exactly as he could have predicted.
The most popular idea was the mission's original flight plan: a
Jupiter flyby on the return to the inner solar system, but before the
comet approached too close to the sun. They could swoop deep into
the giant planet's gravity well like a race car in a steep turn, stealing
vital momentum.
Using the south-pole ringers, they could aim the Jovian flyby
to turn Halley into a short-period comet. That would make rescue
from Earthspace easier and harvesting of Halley Core possible.
The Plateau Three people favored the original plan, as did the solid
majority of nonaligned crew.
The Ubers--the radical Percells led by Sergeov--wanted a
different variant of the Jupiter flyby. Their final goal, though, was
genuinely bizarre--to abandon the inner solar system entirely, and
return to the spaces out here. Fire the Nudge at a low impulse, they
said, and during the flyby pass over Jupiter, rather than ahead of it.
That would loop them outward again to rendezvous with Neptune
Use the Nudge again to slow Halley and get captured. Become a moon. Spread out, colonize the rock and ice of Triton. A colony of
supermen, perfecting themselves beneath a sky filled with a dim
green ball of methane-streaked clouds.
Two vastly different plans, but both calling for a rendezvous
with Jupiter in 2135. Astronomy allowed many different destihations
from that one gargantuan world.
The Plateau Three spacers and Sergeov's Ubers were united in
their need for a Jovian flyby, but they made uneasy allies. They
differed about many other things, and gave each other guarded
glances.
Carl !ad checked the mission requirements himself, not trusting
anybody's calculations. It would take a delta-V, a change in
Halley's current velocity, of 284 meters per second in the Nudgem
aimed at 72 degrees north declination from the ecliptic. Not so
easy. Possible, though, using thrusters located at the south pole.
Medieval societies squabbled over rarefied points of theology
 . . and now we argue vector targeting. Equally pointless, maybe

The irony of the Uber-Plateau Three alliance was that now the
Arcists had virtually destroyed both options.
To bring off a good Jupiter flyby on the inward-falling leg}
they had to use the south-pole ringers. And the Arcists wanted
above all costs to keep Earth pristine and safe from Halley contami-

	HEART OF THE COMET
	329


nation. If the Jupiter encounter came off badly in the crucial hours
of encounter, -Halley could be flung deep into the inner solar system.
The Arcists would never go for a maneuver that brought Halley
near the-home world. To avoid that possibility, they would
refuse use of the south ple unless they were in control. Quiverian
and his fanatics would rather die in deep space than let anyone else
handle the maneuver.

He read the signs, and knew that the situation was close to
war. If something wasn't done, soon, there would be killing. So
Carl had sent a squirt Earthside as soon as he returned.., and
gotten confirmation. He had to offer a good option to the Council,

now, before factionalism made compromise impossible.

Even if I have to fudge the truth . . .

He waited for a natural break in the talk. The wall weather
now showed a sloop tacking in high seas, her stately turn unhindered
by glistening steel-blue waves that hammered her without
pity or effect. Her sails billowed triumphantly,- shimmering white
beneath a hard cold sky. She'Il make port, he thought. You can see
it in the way she moves.

He let the talk run on for a while. When the silence of confusion
and doubt came, as he knew it would, he rose and began to
speak. He caught and held the eyes of each faction leader in turn--Otis
Sergeov hanging legless in air, arms folded adamantly; Joao
Quiverian, here under a truce, as solid as ever, eyes smoldering;
Jeffers, who represented the Martian Way group, lean and sardonic;
and the others, who had no particular politics, but did want a
chance to live.

Carl spoke slowly, conveying by gesture and expression more
than through words the hope he had, the plea for confidence, for
solidarity before this new threat.

"This mission was plannedround a planetary,carom past Jupiter.
That's why we put launchers at the south pole--which are
now unusable."

That put Quiverian on the spot. The others glared at the sallow
Brazilian. Of course, Carl wasn't quoting the man precisely. He
hurried on before Quiverian could interrupt.

"But the south pole Nudge isn't our only opiion." He flicked a
tab on his sleeve and a chart appeared on Central's main screen. "It
would take a relatively simple Nudge to reach Earth itself. A
change in velocity of only sixty-three meters per second, aimed
about forty degrees south and nearly ninety degrees away from the
sun would bring us home."

	330
	GREGORY BENFORD AD DAVID BRIN
The men and women stirred, varying emotions flickering
across their faces. Home.
"But to do it accurately demands that we despin Halley first,
We'd arc in near Earth, good for a quick jumpoff-and rescue...
but only after perihelion passage. We'd have to weather that terrible
storm. It's anyone's guess how many of us would survive high
summer on a comet."
He had let the frowns and scowls build; now he defused them.
Quiverian was red as a beet, opening his mouth. Carl cut him off.
"Of course, Earth Control might get a bit miffed .... "
They looked at each other, blinked, and guffawed. Their
laughter released some of the long-building tension. Of course
Earth would never allow a plan that brought Halleyform spores that
near the atmosphere. Even Quiverian relaxed slightly, when it was
clear that Carl had not been serious.
"There are other alternatives to Jupiter," Carl continued. "We
could try for Venus--jump off in aeroshells, decelerate in the upper
atmosphere. But that's after perihelion again, and we might ngt
survive slamming into that atmosphere at eighty kilometers a sec or
SO."
He swept the room with a long, penetrating gaze. Cap 'n Cruz would've done this right, he thought. Or maybe he would've
stopped all this factionalism long ago. I'll never be the leader he
was.
"On the other hand, there is an encounter that'll get us to a
planet before perihelion, and at lower velocity--one with Mars."
A stir of disbelief. "Mars?"
"You mean target... ?"
"I didn't know it could even be..."
He went on swiftly, not giving anyone a chance to break in. "Look.
We can't allow a single faction to control our
destiny--"
"And we will not allow use of the south pole unless we have
control!" Quiverian shouted.
Carl held his palms up, open. "Okay. That means we have to
abandon the Jupiter flyby totally. The next best mission demands a
pass into the inner solar system, but not coming near Earth. Instead,
we can vector the Nudge to Mars. The encounter itself won't
divert Halley much--but it'll give us a chance to jump off."
Some engineers shook their heads. Carl kept on going, before
the objections could begin.
"We'll build aerobrakes and swoop into the Martian atmo-

	HEART OF THE COMET
	331
sphere; It's thin.but deep, a good target for us, especially since an
encounter with any planetary atmosphere will be awful damn fast."
A spacer asked, "We could lose enough velocity on one
pass?"
Sharp question. "No. We'd have to do several maneuvers."
He ticked off fingers. "Aerobrake at Mars, divert outward to Jupiter.
Aerobrake again there with a gravity assist. Pass inward to Venus,
swing around, head for Mars again. By then we'll have shed
enough velocity to make a successful rendezvous brake in the Martian
atmosphere. We can get out of the aero shells, come alongside
Phobos."
A long silence. They stared at him.
"But..." Keoki Anuenue muttered. "How long will all that
take?"
"Twenty years."
Gasps.
Carl rode over the babble with, "That's twenty added to the
nearly eighty we'll have been gone. But it will be worth it to get to
Phobos Base, to safety and maybe, eventually, home again. I
should add that this plan has the approval of Earth Command."
A Plateau Three woman said angrily, "What'll happen to Halley?''
Carl shrugged. "JonVon shows it wheeling off into the outer
system, back to its original home in the Oort Cloud, gone for
good."
Jeffers said thoughtfully, "We could target Halley smack on
Mars--give it an atmosphere!"
"Sure," Sergeov said, "and try aerobraking at same time. Impossible!''
Jeffers began, "But--" He sut up as he noticed Carol's signal
to be quiet.
"It's a chance to live," Carl said emphatically. "If we try the
aerobrake and guide Halley to optimize that. Anything else is suicide.''
"What can we expect at Mars?" Quiverian demanded suspiciously.
"Quarantine. Maybe Earth'll order us isolated on Diemos.
Let the medicos study us until Earth is sure these diseases axe controllable.''
Another long silence. They all contemplated this new idea,
letting it sink in.
"Is possible?" Sergeov asked, scowling.

	332
	GREGORY BENFoRD AND DAVID BRIN

Carl shrugged "We might never be allowed into
Earthspace--not that that'll bother the Ubers, eh? Remember,
though, that there are decent places to live in the small scientific
colonies of the asteroids Maybe we can even do some worthwhile
pioneering on Mars itself"

Jeffers beamed. "Damn right"

Carl held up his hand. "One more thing Earth Command is
very strong on this plan. It has made acceptance a condition for
getting the Care Package."

That got to them, The high-speed rocket carrying supplies

was the centerpiece of their fresh hope. They had to have it.
Carl realized that the hardest part had been won.

He explained further with some graphics JonVon had whipped
up with only minutes' warning The Council listened with glacial

but growing acceptance. At least it seemed the idea was possible
Complicated, yes. Difficult and risky, yes. But possible.
And perhaps the only possibility

Carl remained standing He kept his mood grave but sympathetic,
determined but flexible And one by one, the factions voiced
their own narrow views

The Plateau Threes disliked throwing away hard-won Halley
 . . but they were used to taking their lead from him.

The Ubers grumbled, but admitted they had no other option
Jeffers and the few Percell spacers who had clung to their
dream of Mars terraforming were overjoyed. They would get to
work near Mars, perhaps start the greening of that arid rustworld.

The Arcists weren't totally happy. They distrusted Carl. But
this option kept Halley far from Earth And the sanction of Earth
Control lent it weight.

Through it all Carl felt the dark undercurrent of Percell and
Ortho running, but muted now by the constricted, bleak future they
faced The largest part of the crew belonged to a group he called the
survivors--because in the end, that was all they cared about

Quite sensible, he thought ruefully..nd I'm their natural ally
 . . even though I don't believe we 7l ever really get out of this
alive ....

He watched the sloop run before the wind, her sails big-bellied
and impossibly white, her bow cutting the water sharp and
sure.

And gradually, reluctantly, the factions came around

The Council broke up at last with grudging agreement. They
would try to reach Mars.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	333

Carl sat down at last, feeling a sudden fatigue sweep over him. The .4rcists are right. They can't trust me. I know this Mars
busirtess.isn 'I going to pan out right, but it's politically necessary
right now. Necessary in order to prevent a civil war. In order to get
the Care Package. The hard truths can come later.
He shook his head.
I'm turning into a goddamn diplomat. I don't think like a
spacer anymore, not even like and engineer. Christ.t--171 be wearing
black tie and tails next. And when I look in the mirror, the
tongue I see will be forked.

VIRGINIA

The machinery was starting to look old. The original glossy finish
had faded long ago, until it was hard to read the names of the equipment
manufacturers anymore. They had been rubbed nearly illegible
after thirty years of faithful scrubbing.
Ozymandias, my secret hideaway. Virginia glanced over in the
back corner of the lab, where little Wendy sat patiently, drawing a
small trickle of power from a wall socket. The tiny maintenance
mech peeped once and started to rise, but when Virginia said nothing
it settled down once more.
Funny, how you didn't notice things for a while, and then they
suddenly hit you. It had been almost two years, Earth time; since
Virginia had been thawed and retgfned to duty,-yet in all that time
she had not once paid the slightest attention to Wendy. She had been
too busy.
Now she contemplated the little mech, bemused.
Thirty years. She cleaned and tended and guarded my sanctuary,
keeping things just as I left them.'
Maybe Saul is right. Maybe I do good work.
She smiled.
Watch it, girl. Keep this up and you really will start to imagine
yourself a goddess, like those poor creatures--barely human
anymore--who followed Ingersoll down into the deepest caverns,
who bow to my mechs and address them by my name.
The last two years had been so busy, for her, for Saul, and for

	334
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Carl. It struck her that she had not taken any time to stop and think
about what had happened to all of them.

A fine trio, we are. None of us were important at all, back
when Captain Cruz lived, and everyone was one big, happy research
expedition. Carl was just a petty officer, I was a junior Artificial
Intelligence tech, and Saul was a doctor with a strange
passion for bugs.

Now poor Cad is whatever passes for commander, these days.
I'm the Spider Woman, sending out her web of drones to keep the
tunnels patched arM. the gunk controlled. And Saul . . .

She paused, pondering. Of us all, he the one who changed
the most. Lord, I hope I don't lose a good man to godhead.

He had been so preoccupied lately. Almost obsessed. Reluctant
to link with her in the intimate touch of neural amplification.
As if he were hiding something from me... or protecting me from
something he felt I'd never understand.

Finally, it had come to a head. Last week she had lashed out,
Shouting at him in her frustration. Since then, he had left a few terse
messages for her, her mechs had seen him in the halls, but for all
intents and purposes they might as well have been on different planets.

All around her the holo displays glowed faintly. Even some of
the units that had gone blank over her long sleep were replaced,
now/hat she and Jeffers had gotten the autofac working properly up
on A Level. For perhaps the first time since her awakening, no red
warning lights glowed.

She found her gaze lingering on the Kelmar bio-organic machine
that she had spent half her personal weight allowance to bring
aboard.., ages ago. The heart of her bio-cybernetic computer.

"JonVon," she whispered. "I need some distraction from my
troubles."

There were things she used to do, for amusement, which she
had not had time for in years. But now--

"Let's see just how rusty I am at visual simulation," she said,
low, and pressed the Kelmar's thumb ident. A display lit up..


So, Virginia. Will it be more than routine stuff, today.9


She shook her head. "Let's have some fun, like we used to."
Virginia spent a few moments flicking switches and calibrating
before slipping on the worn disk of her neural tap. She had
grown so used to direct data flow, controlling or programming dis-

	HEART OF'THE COMET
	335

tent mechs as if ey were parts of- her own body, that it took her a
few minutes tO get back into the experimental, "synthetic" mode
that had once been her own special way of interacting with JonVon.
But JonVon remembered. She had only to desire it, and a rainbow
of light burst forth.., an artist's palette of brilliance'.
I forgot about the colors! How could I have Stayed away from
this for so long ?
Virginia constructed pink clouds over a placid, blue-green
sea. She drew seven multihued balls and juggled them in make-believe
hands, something she never would have been able to do on
the "real" plane.

We're in good form today, Virginia.

She smiled. "Yeah, we are, JonVon. I'm going to have to go
down into you and find out what you've done to your simulation
software." I
have been busy. During my illness I was too distracted
to tell you about it. However, there have been some
interesting results. I am an open book to you, whenever
you are ready.

"Later. Right now I just want to play a little while."
It wasn't only in visual simulation that JonVon had made
progress. Only her trained ear caught the little signs in his words,
phrasing, and timing, that this was still far from an intelligent being.
Otherwise, the voice might easily have been that of a living
person.
She toyed with the images, aking the broad, moonlit sea
open up before her. A school of flying fish. Diatoms sparkling in
the churned wake of a mysterious shadow, just below the surface.
It felt good. Here within the machine, there were none of the
muddy, confusing crises that beset them all on the outside. Here
nothing could frighten her. It was too much like home.
Lord, how I miss Hawaii.
She crafted a porpoise in the waters, which chattered and
splashed her playfully. The simulation was so vivid that she almost
seemed to feel the droplets.
How long has it been since Saul and I made love linked this
way?
She quashed the thought.

	336
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Will we be attempting a personality molding today, Virginia?

She shook her head. "No, JonVon. After so long, I'm not
ready to try that again quite yet. I'll tell you what, though. Let's
run a simulation of the gravitational sling maneuver Earth Control
sent up. The one Carl got the Council to vote for last week. Do you
scan the copy I inserted yesterday?"

Yes, Virginia. Do you want a chart? Numbers? Or a
full-sense simulation with extrapolation?

"Full sense, JonVon. I want to ride the comet.., to see what
it'll look like forty years from now, when we pop open the sleep
slots and find ourselves nearing home."
Home, she thought. Eighty years changed. Will they even remember
us ?
Virginia felt she could almost sense the rush of supercooled
electrons as her counterpart made its preparations.

Ready to commence simulation, Virginia. Please
name starting conditions.

"Begin with the Nudge, with the equatorial flinger launchers
engaged under Earth Control's program."
She settled back as the clouds and sea vanished. The porpoise,
too, faded in a last-minute chittering of defiance.
Blackness settled in, conveying a sense of depth that stretched
outward, to where stars glittered, in their myriads. And below the
starscape an image formed.., white-streaked gray against sable. It
was the by-now-familiar scene of dusty ice on the comet's surface.
JonVon showed her the new lauachers, optimistically depicted
as completed at Halley's equator. B 'll be some chore, buiMing new
accelerators to replace the ones the Arcists seized. We couMn 'I
ever do it without the Phobos technologies. '
Arrayed in a ring around the equator of the prolate spheroid,
the narrow-barreled guns began firing--throwing pellets of native
nickel-iron away into space at large fractions of the speed of light--slowly,
imperceptibly changing the momentum of the ancient ice-ball
they were anchored in.
There was no sensation of movement, but Virginia identified
with the tiny, simulated figures jumping, waving their arms on the
surface. It was a nice touch for JonVon to put them in. For it would

	HEART OF THE COMET
	337

look like this--jubilant spacesuited workers leaping in joy when
they finally began nudging the comet into a new orbit

Using gentle signals' as natural as moving an arm, Virginia let
her sense of presence float upward to watch the simulation better.
As the Nudge went on, she followed the icy core's changing path:
through the vacuum. .

Aphelion, four years from now, and bit by bit Halley's ancient
orbit was changing, The launchers stole slightly from its angular
momentum, causing it to begin its long sunward fall a few days
before it normally would have. The comet's inward velocity was
small at first? but it grew.

Virginia knew this simulation wasn't intrinsically any more
accurate than the ones Carl had used, only more vivid. She wanted
everything represented in images. It just wasn't the same in graphs
and numbers.

She rode the comet. The stars turned slowly as the time scale
expanded and years flickered past. She and Halley fell together toward
the cusp at the center of the solar system.

At fiYst there was very little change on the surface of the comet
nucleus. The pocked, dusty mantle glittered in thin veins, like the
Milky Way sparkling overhead.

But the Hot grew. Halley fell toward it and the sun's fire rose
to meet her.

Ancient ices sublimed under the growing warmth. First cr-bon
monoxide, as the core swept in past the orbit of Jupiter, and
later carbon dioxide. The escaping vapors lifted black, powdery
dust to meet the growing sunshine. A thin haze began to form.

The rendering was vivid. Virginia watched the faint, glimmering
dust and ion tails begin to take shape, like ghostly banners unfurling
in the growing light.

On at least ten score occasions the spinning ball of ice had
fallen this way, since that time when it had passed too close to Jupiter
and been Snared into the middle solar system. Since then it had
been tethered to the sun on a shorter leash than most comets.

Space was roomy, vast, and since that one near-brush with the
giant planet's gravity the comet had never met another physical object
it could not absorb. Dust grains, little bits of rocky flotsam,
they all had blundered into Halley's streaking path and paid the
price.

But the Nudge had seen to it that there would be another meeting.
Something smaller than Jupiter, but much too large to absorb,
would pass improbably close this time, while Halley Core hurtled
inward. 

	338
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

And there it was! A pinprick of reddish light, just ahead.

Mars, Virginia thought. Right on time. Ready for a little
carom action ?

JonVon recognized a rhetorical question. Anyway, the machine
was too busy to answer as the close encounter drew near.

This was Earth Control's compromise, its plan to rescue them
without risking infection to the homeworld.

I must admit, I didn't expect even this much out of them.
Sure, public pressure, Earthside, was a major reason for the
Care Package, which was now only months away from rendezvous 
with their little isolated outpost of humanity. Nevertheless, after all
these years Virginia had grown cynical over just how much Earth
Control really cared.

I'd have expected them to order us to commit suicide "honorably"
and quietly, like good little plague carriers should.

The red planet loomed. Virginia asked JonVon to zoom in on
the details, slowing the action as she and the comet approached
rendezvous.

She swept ahead of Halley to look over the planet. The icy
south pole of the dead world came into view first.

Red sands blew over Cydonia. The long-dormant Shield Volcanoes
were pimples that poked nearly through the thin atmosphere,
tufted on their flanks by thin, dry clouds.

Phobos rose around the small world's limb. The little moonlet
was a pockmarked stone, aglitter with lights, that rolled by Virginia
and then set over the sharp, ocher horizon.

Nice people, she thought of the folk of Phobos Station. Too
bad they've never been allowed to become a real colony. Maybe we
can help them, there.

She looked back and saw the comet nearing, as the men and
women on Phobos would see it thirty-eight years from now.

It ought to be quite a show for those folks... . Halley sweeping
by almost close enough to touch. Mars has to pass through the thick
of the tail for its faint gravity to catch our aeroshell lifeboats. And
yet the planet and comet can't be allowed to come so close to each
other that the turbulence will knock our boats off course.

In the simulation, Halley was putting up a grand, display. Nothing
like the spectacle would show closer to the sun, of course; but
the twin tails had started to unfurl, and the coma glowed like a
fuzzy cloud of fireflies.

The sir,ulation was excellent. JonVon even depicted the lights
of Phobos winking off as workers battened down and covered up.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	339


For a few daysthere would be too many meteoroids to risk venturing
out into the open. A small price to pay, though, for a chance to
rescue three hundred souls. At least Virginia hoped they would feel
that way.

Three hundred people quarantined on Mars . . . that really
might be enough to start a colony. It had never been one of her
dreams to settle a rust-red desert, but the plan beat the alternatives.
And it'll be nice to feel gravity again, to walk, and maybe even
swim in a dome-covered pool.

It not Maui, but I could get used to the idea of being d Mar-

tian.

The separation narrowed. Halley's surface seemed to fizz as
hot spots threw fountains of gas and dust into space, adding to the
coma's brilliance.

Is it a trick of perspective ? Or are we really going to pass as
near as it looks ?

Sparks flew off as tiny objects separated from the comet's
head in soundless explosions.

The life rafts. Armored against the dust and heat, the
aeroshell-covered sleep slots would split away from Halley. Tiny,
mech-controlled rockets increased the spacing, guiding the hibernating
colonists toward their first fiery encounter with the red planet's
atmosphere.

Virginia backed away further, giving the simulation space.

All Earth will be watching this. The folks on Phobos won't be
the only ones having quite a show.

Halley's cloudy coma seemed to touch the planet. Virginia'
blinked

Something wrong. How can it...

The coma began to warp out of shape, compressed by sonic
shock waves as the globe of g. encountered the planet's sparse
atmosphere. Ionized gas bowed outward and away from the weak
Martian magnetic fi61d.

The sparkling dot of the core itself, a trillion tons of ice, pulled
forward, unimpeded by anything so tenuous as gas or magnetism. It

fell ahead of its cloud, and began to glow still brighter.

NO...

Gaseous bow shock waves multiplied into expanding cones.
Sensing that she wanted to follow the action, JonVon slowed the
encounter as Halley Core scattered the tiny lifeboats like pollen
grains and sped on toward closest passage.

Closest passage...

	340
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

The nucleus split apart! Then again. Four chunks streaked inward
at an angle, their path through the Martian at/nosphere now
incandescent. Then they struck the little world.

One piece seemed to glance off the limb of the planet, like a
hammer striking glowing sparks off into space. Plumes of dust
roiled where the mile-wide bit had briefly touched down.

A large fragment scored a direct hit on Olympus Mons, shearing
off the left side of the great.volcano in a titanic, blinding explosion.

Simulation or not, Virginia blinked away the afterimage from
that flash. By the time she could watch again, the series of searing
blasts had turned into spreading orange clouds. The thin atmosphere
rippled and swirled like a shallow pond into which bullets
had been fired.

Quakes shook the ancient sands. Under Mars the permafrost
.buckled and melted. Virginia imagined she could sense magma
stirring.

"'She was too stunned to do more than watch, unbelieving. She
sought out -the little aero,hells and found one, two, tumbling away
toward the sun. Others glowed briefly as they hit the rolling dust
clouds, flared, and went out.

Some had simply disappeared.

It was supposed to be a gravity carom! A near passage! Earth
Control never said anything about this!

Carl never said anything about this.

Unconsciously she willed her simulated self away from light--away
from the burning, sunlit face of the rocky crucible.

Mars fell back as she fled outward along its shadow. Seen
from dark-face, the planet was a thin crescent of red wind, tinged in
fire. From one side of the crescent, a rosy pyre bloomed: the god of
war answering heaven's violence in reawakened volcanoes.

Unbeckoned, unwelcome, a line from Shelley came to mind.

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Virginia disengaged, her hands shaking as she tore off the contact
disk. In her mind, though, the scene continued. Imagination
went on simulating what was intended for thirty-eight years hence,
pictfiring the sun as it would rise on the morning.following this
encounter, to shine over a steamy, cloudy day on Mars.

And later, for just a little while, there would be rain.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	341


SAUL


"Smelly chemicals snoozed
Through the primordial ooze,
Carbon, oxy, lime
Phosphorous and time



	That's how began the Blues."


It was an old biologists' drinking song from the twentieth century.
Saul had learned it in England, during a rainy winter at Cambridge.
It seemed appropriate that it should come to mind now, as an earthenware
bottle lolled and sloshed in his lap and he sat in the dimly lit
corridor outside his lab, trying a Polynesian remedy for what ailed
him.

Keoki had given him the jar of homemade hooch saying, solemnly,
"You need drunk, Saul." And, of course, the fellow was'
right.


"Things were oh so clean,

Decently marine,

Then virus climbed aboard,
At .first a chewing horde,
With a-voracious gene."


There was a refrain to the 8itty, to a jazzy, hip beat.


	"Dat dere ole virus

	Conspired on us

	And brought us to our knees.

	Sent us a fever

	Subtler than a cleaver

	Infect me if you please.
	"

	Come play with me,

	An anthology

	On informative disease.

	342
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


Might as well play host

Don't give up the ghost

When your ceils are in a squeeze."

Saul nodded, sagely. "There. You see? They knew about symbiosis
even back in th' eighties, when they weren't even sure yet
they were in the Hell Century. Goes to show there's never anythin'
new, under th' sun."

. Nobody was there to hear him, of course. He had finally sent
Keoki back.., the big Hawaiian's wives must be worried about
him, by now. Saul had assured his friend he would go right to sleep,
and so Keoki had left, charging him to try to cheer up.

In fact, sleep wasn't in prospect, right now. Saul sat and
nursed the bottle. He had never felt so far away from home.

Strictly speaking, in four years we'll be at aphelion and
headed back to Earth again. But orbital dynamics was not on
Saul's mind, right now.

She'll never approve, he told himself.

Oh, yeah? Well, how do you know unless you ask her?
Truth be told, he was simply afraid.., afraid of what Virginia
might think of his latest experiments. Miracle cures were one thing.
Experiments with animals and plants, fine.

But among the gifts from Earth had been data on the force-growth
of human bodies. It was like Houdini being challenged by a
new lock, or a painter by a blank canvas. The need was there...
the dare irresistible.

How do you know what Virginia would say ? Maybe you don't
have to sleep in a cold, lonely lab.

Saul shivered, and knew that he was just too much of a coward
to test it.

Ah, but what if he could give his love a gift? A gift of the very
thing she most wanted in the world? The thing she had reconciled
herself never to have?

One night, weeks ago, as she lay in exhausted slumber, he had
taken the samples he needed.

From Lani Nguyen--trustful Lani--he had acquired the secret
cache of human sperm and ova she had smuggled with her from
Earth. He had all the materials he needed, now.

But since then, he had remained indecisive. Until tonight.
He had spent all day laboring in the Arcist enclave down at the
south pole--as Colony Doctor he was neutral in all disputes--and
had returned depressed. Life was miserable and cold, lown in
those warrens. Their fusion pile sputtered and barely put out

HEART OF THE COMET
enough power to maintain their greenhouses. Worse, Joa{
ian had his own factions to deal with--fanatics that mad
Arcism seem moderate, whose loathing of anything associ
Percells seemed to know no bounds.
Keoki was right... I needed drunk.
Another ditty passed through Saul's mind. One abou
Irish Civil. War. It was a sad song of fratricide, but nobody
written anything better for either drinking or pity.
He was humming to himself when a flicker of
made him look to the left. He squinted at the faint line
phors, diminishing in the distance, and saw that seve
being occulted by dim shapes approaching down the
hallway.
Nobody was supposed to ever come this way. It was p
agreement with the clans. Then who... ?
He blinked. Felt a chill. Weirders...
They drifted into view.., manlike shapes, but tufted
like slime-covered sea creatures. The assemblage of natix
each carried was different. In one case there was nothin
original man left but the eyes. In the other, there was sti
visible through the symbiotic tangle.
This is synergism taken farther than even I can stoJ ,Saul thought queasily.
Several times, since that day when the ex-spaer turn
tic, Suleiman Ould-Harrad, left the upper levels to go d
join these creatures, small notes had appeared tacked I.
door. He had filled every request, often leaving bottles of
outside. Each wake-shift, when he arose, the packet was
its place lay a small sample of sme strange lifeform Saul h
seen before.
It was a trade, medicine for more pieces to the puzzle I
Halley. It suited Saul fine, for he had wanted to find a way
the weird denizens of Far Gehenna, anyway. Since Ould
had gone down to join them, they had seemed to becom
organized, less suspicious and violent when someone from
"normal" clan crossed their path.
He blinked, however, when both emissaries bowed lc
"We c-come and beseech-ch your help-p?'
The stuttering voice took Saul by surprise.
"I--I didn't know any of you could still talk!"
The one with the face shook its head. "Some c-cant
that does not mean we no longer think-k?'

	344
	GREGORY BENFORD. AND DAVID BRIN

Saul nodded; hurriedly. "I'm sorry. It's just that.., well, you
never show yourselves. The others fear you so."
"As we fear them. But you are Ssssaul. The Doc-c. We c-come
to you with hurt."
Saul was about to ask them to come into the lab when the lead
weirder opened a gap in its foliage and brought forth a small brown
bundle. Whimpering sounds came from it.
"C-can you fix-xx?"
The otter had a broken leg. It writhed and bit at the one holding
it, to no apparent effed.
"Of course," Saul said as he stood up and pressed the thumbj
code plate by the door. "Bring her in. This shouldn't take long."'
Except for Lani and an occasional mech, nobody else but him
had ever crossed this threshold. Saul was sure that nobody stranger
ever would again.
But then, he had never been very good at predicting.
It was an hour after the weirders had left that he found himself
standing beside the master cloning chamber, with his mind made
up. There were sound s6ientific reasons to proceed with the experiment.
The colony needed it. Humanity needed it.
I need it. And maybe I can give Virginia something she wants
above anything in the universe.

	"JonVon," he said to the main computer voice link.

Yes, Saul. I am here.

He nodded. "JonVon, I want to set up a secret data base."

CARL

If he squinted against the sun's hard knot of yellow, the icescape lay
before him like a land of dreams. Armies of men and mechs surged
across the slashed, stained territory. They towed long cylinders of
buffed steel and alabaster aluminum oxide, or swiveled great
clumps of electrical gear, or tugged transformers that, made to operate
in cold vacuum, looked more like crusty brain coral than
loops of gleaming copper and iron.

	HEART OF THE COMET '
	345


The laboring gangs sped across ice that was gouged and split,
great troughs dug deeply into it, cut and formed and hammered. At
regular spac!ngs Jim Vidor had erected spindly towers by melting,
force-forming, and refreezing water into crystalline struts, levels,
braces.

Cobwebbed strands connected jutting, orange-tinged fingers
of flash-wedded crystals. Ice had little shear strength, and served
well only under compression. It was impossible to believe that the
arabesques were merely functional. Still, Carl had no doubt that
Vidor, if pressed, would be able to come up with an explanation for
each extruded, delicate strand, every corbeled arch, all the spindly
weaving art of it.

Carl had not asked. Humans could not stick remorselessly to
the narrow and practical; anyone of skill yearned to express something
deep and abiding through his craftsmanship. Perhaps it was
the impulse to leave an idiosyncratic, quirky dab of self on the most
enduring things they made. Probably it was something deeper, tied
to the spirit that had brought a lone tribe of primates so far out from
their own warm, moist world.

Carl remembered the opening lines of a poem Virginia had
shown him months before. Somehow they had stuck with him.


The sea is calm tonight.

The tide is full, the moon lies fair.


Omens for good sailing. The poem had something to do with
beaches and oceans, and Virginia had sensed some resonance in
him for those images. Voyaging out here, sailing against gravity's
tide, resembled the grand old days of seagoing craft. They had
tapped a fraction of the sun's raw,photon wind to control the comet's
outgassing, in the first mOnffls after landing. Then they ran
before that wind, using sunlight only to yield electricity. The crucial
time was coming now, when their iceworld craft had to be
pushed into a fresh orbit, a new course charted.

He smiled at himself. Clinging to the sea analogy, eh ? All
because you're deep in your bones a spacer, and can't forget it.
Ever since losing the Edmund, you 'ye been yearning for a ship.
This chunk of ice and iron is all you 'ye got left.

It was so obvious, Virginia had seen it. She had told him that
poetry was a consolation, and to his surprise he had found himself
enjoying some of the stuff she transferred into his display. That
would've been utterly impossible for the brash, self-involved

	346
	GREGORY BENEORD AND DAVID BRIN
spacer he had been thirty-five years ago. He'd aged only seven
years in that time, but that span had a weight of its own. His younger
self now seemed distant, almost implausibly blind.
I hope Virginia can't see too well into me. She 'll find out soon
enough how much all this hope and euphoria are false, based on an
unavoidable lie ....
He didn't like to recall that. He shook his head and moved
across the ice, taking long strides, surveying the work. Keep busy.
Don't think too much; it not your strong suit.
Cart circled around a gang of lab0ring mechs to reach the long
trench of Launcher 6. A completed flinger filled the scooped:out,
obliquely descending trough. Two engineers were testing a flywheel
made from Halley iron.
The machines would deliver momentum at a precisely calculated
rate and angle. At first they would fire parallel to the equator,
to slow and finally halt Halley's fi,fty-hour spin. After that, the
launcher would pivot about an axis buried in the trench, bringing it
nearly perpendicular to the equator, in line with Halley's center of
mass. Then would begin the long stuttering bursts which would,
delivered over years, add minute increments of momentum to Halley's
slow, stately swerve at aphelion. All the launchers, pulsing
endlessly, would sum up to the Nudge.
--Real pretty, uh?--
Carl saw Jeffers approaching with an easy, practiced lope. His
suit tabard was a crossed pliers and wrench in a cube, stained and
spotted.
"Beautiful. Is it tested out? Ready for horizontal mounting?"
--Sure. Sets in there jest fine, any angle you want. Mechs'll
get it duty-mounted soon's testing's over.--
Jeffers grinned happily. He was the mainstay of the Nudge,
finding solutions to problems with a quick, expert savvy. He
worked eighteen-hour shifts without a sign of fatigue. The factory
at A Level, humming away now with robos making replacement
parts for launchers and rockets, wouldn't exist without Jeffers.
Carl remembered when the man had put in the minimum, wrapping
himself in holotapes or pornstims, blotting out the reality of where
he was. Work was what he had needed. To Carl, that alone was
reason enough to do all this, even if his friend surely suspected that
it was all a farce ....
--Every crew's ahead of schedule. Even puttin' in extra time,
without me askin'.--
"We've finally got something to work for." Carl said it without
meeting Jeffers's eye.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	347

	--Damn right.'
A manag0r-mech approached, an extra dome perched atop its
carapace in a makeshift kluge. Virginia's add-ons worked marvelously,
making the mechs and robos far more versatile, but they
weren't elegant. The mech winked its lamp to attract their attention
and sent, --Launcher 6 complete. Human tech Osaka states
that the device is ready for formal testing.--Jeffers
nodded. --Fire the sucker!-Warning
gongs sounded over the comm line. Everywhere on
the surface, teams stopped work and climbed out of pits to watch.
Their suits were scratched, worn, discolored, patched with homemade
parts.
A ping ping ping of warmup rippled over the comm frequencies,
thin ringing echoes of the charging now under way in the
trench. Carl peered at the tip of the launcher, which jutted free of
the ice nearby, pointing at the sky.
He felt a prickly excitement, a gathering tension. If they'd
made some mistake in the design, in assembly . . .
A small tremor came through his feet. A rattle in the microwave,
a skreeee--and the unit discharged.
Simultaneously, a vague haze appeared at the mouth of the
launcher. He wondered what was wrong, until he suddenly realized
that the firing rate of the flinging tube was several capsules per
second--and he was seeing the blur of their passing.
That was all. No roar, no belching smoke. The launchers were
designed to operate with near-perfect efficiency, to generate as little
waste heat as possible. If even a fraction of a percent of the launching
energy seeped into the surrounding ice, it would evaporate away
the structural support, producing dislocations, unbalancing the
carefully configured momentum-ratching of the accelerator segments.
Long before the ice was gone, the rachetmg nstabdty of the
drive tubes would jerk and thrash them into twisted steel.
But the fiinger functioned smoothly. A cheer rose across the
comm lines. People raised their arms in victory salutes as far as
Carl could see, dancing on the grimy ice, leaping high into the
blackness. Only the mechs continued stoically about their tasks,
oblivious that humans had at last clasped the helm of this ice ship.
Halley was no longer just a tumbling dirty snowball in the long
night. She was now a spacecraft.
Jeffers was babbling excitedly, repeating operating parameters
as he read them off his helmet display. Carl could follow some of
the rapidfire reciting--kilo-amperes surging in low-impedance circuits,
voltages building to sharp peaks and then collapsing as each

	348
	GREGORY BENFORD AND)AVID BRIN

slug passed, leaching the energy of inductive electric and magnetic
fields. Energy poured into the capsules, electrodynamic momentum
flowing like a fluid at the speed of light.

Only electrical acceleration was efficient enough to avoid the
waste-heat problem, to avoid slowly melting the comet itself. For
the moment there were ample piles of iron at the north pole, mined
in the first year of the expedition, but deep beneath each launcher
was a mech mining operation, where in constricted caverns the robots
dug and processed moreof the comet's natural, ancient metal.

A factory on A Level made lightweight buckets of a special
superconducting polymer. These were loaded with iron and other
heavy wastes. Each metal-filled dollop became a bullet. Conveyors
fed these with unrelenting precision into the flinger barrel, where
the surging voltages clasped each pellet and flung it to enormous
speeds--ten thousand kilometers per second, nearly three percent
of the speed of light. Launcher 6 was a cosmic machine gun, firing
slugs that would reach the nearest stars in a few centuries.

We could have built starships, if we'd only had the neri2e, Carl
thought. Maybe someday.

Such was the mass of Halley that even these enormous speeds
were barely sufficient for the task of piloting. Carl tuned in to an
engineering frequency and heard a staccato braaap braaap braaap
as each pellet picked up its miniboosts in the flinger column.
Launcher 6 was the first of fifty-two that would soon ring Halley,
stuttering forth their kilogram pellets for five years. Aphelion,
when the comet head paused like a ballet dancer at the peak of his
leap, was the most efficient time to divert Halley. Fully ten millionths
of the comet's entire mass had to be ejected. That demanded
dozens of mechs supervising the mining and smelting of iron,
minirobots to toil beside the endless conveyor belts, subroutines.
and expert programs to catch every snag, each hitch in the unending
stuttering fever of the Nudge.

"Goddamn," Carl said. "It works." He felt a rush of relief and
realized he had been clenching his hands.

The cheering went on. Even this demonstration, which would
run for a mere few hours, was slowing Halley's primordial spin,
minutely altering its long gliding ellipse,

--Runninsmooth, too,-- Jeffers said, grinning happily.
--Come on down to Launcher Five. I've got a nice li'l pivot
rigged there, keeps the flinger tube from comin' unglued. We
figured--

Jeffers stopped abruptly as a geyser of steam boiled from an

HEART OF THE COMET
	349

ice tower nearby. Vidor's intricate cross-hatching of blue and ivory
exploded in a 'shower of fog and glinting, tumbling remnants.
--Goddamn!--
--What? What's happenin'?--
"Laser!" Carl flattened himself against the grimy ground.
"Get down everybody!"
--What the hell--who'd go and--
"Arcists!" Carl realized. "They must've heard the successful
test over comm."
Jeffers shouted, --But why? I thought Quiverian agreed.-- "Damned if I know."
All across the field, people were ducking for cover. An ice
tower farther away dissolved silently into mist. This time Carl saw
the flash of light as the beam struck.
"They're firing from that hill--over there. South twenty-five
degrees of west."
Jeffers squinted at a distant speck atop a heap of leftover slag
from one of the mining operations.
--They moved one of those big industrials. Tryin' to hit Six,
but those things, they don't aim all that good.-
The comm rang with outrage.
A bolt gouged into ice near a crouching form and Carl heard a
startled cry of pain.
"Takeda! Get that woman sealed and to first aid!"
Carl crouched behind a hummock and watched fierce laser
bolts send fountains spurting skyward. "Bastards!"
--We gotta do somethin'.--
"I could have Virginia send some mechs around behind, outflank
them .... "
--Yeah, right,-- Jeffers sai
"No, wait..." He checked Virginia's channel: A hiss. It was
cut off. Of course. Only an idiot would attack without cutting off
the defender's source of support.
Another wail of pain over the comm.
Carl nudged Jeffers's shoulder. "Launcher Six--can you pivot
it?"
--What?--
"Tip Six down? Aim it at the horizon?"
Jeffers looked surprised. --The safeties aren't in. I dunno...
that's a pretty low angle.--
"Try it!"
As Jeffers crawled into the launcher trench, the ice-tower ful-

	350
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

crum for Launcher 5 exploded behind them, sending cables and
cowlings into a slow, fluid fall to the surface. Lost components, lost
construction time, hurt crew--people who were his responsibility.
Carl glowered at the distant dots working around the laser cannon,
a murderous anger building in him.

He tuned out the comm channels, where voices swelled and
swamped one another. People called for lovers and friends, sputtering
in impotent rage. Mechs asked innocently for orders. Then Virginia's
voice intruded on his private line. --What's going on?

Somebody jammed my channels. Who... ?
'"Get some weapons up here!"
--But, but, what'll we use?--

"Those small lasers in Three B--that's all we've got that we
can move right away."

--But won't they just pick off anybody who comes close
enough to use small lasers?-

Carl swore. She was right.

--I can send some big mechs from the north pole.--"We'll
be toast by then!"

He whistled a search-and-contact command for Joao Quiv. er-ian
and had a channel in seconds. "Quiverian! This is Osborn.
You--"

The man's voice was strained. --Those are not acting under

my orders. Arcists they are, yes, but I cannot control them.--"You
expect us to believe that?"
--You must. It is the truth.-Carl
gritted his teeth. So the enemy was faceless. Anonymous.
The people using those big lasers weren't going to allow
anyone else to take over the Nudge options, to try another orbit.
With them it was all or nothing.., and they would take all.

On the general comm, more screams as an invisible laser bolt
struck a hillock and dissolved a deep pit into it. Carl saw a body roll
away . . . someone hiding there.

He used command override on channel A. "Get those people
off that slag mound by Launcher Two! All of you, take shelter down
in the feeder tunnels." A babble in reply. "And use ident codes if
you want to be heard!"

 He spoke a quick command in mech-talk and the noise cut off
as the channel controller went over to formal mode. Now suit radios
would not even work until the system passed on your code-ordering.
For a moment there was only an eerie hiss. Then, --Jones,
BQ code to Osaka and Osborn. Leading party of five down
to shaft now.--

	HEART OF THE COMET
	351
--Lomax, DF code, to command. Got b. good view from a
safe height. Everyone P-code your sitings to me. I'll relay situation
to Osborn.Carl
nodded. A few good spacers who remembered their
training were worth battalions.
--Jeffers, GH code to Osborn. Got it, I think.--"Osborn,
GH code. Got what?"
--Jeffers, GH. I'm tipping the launcher down. Got to turn it
toward the south. You line it up, okay?-
Carl realized that the steady hammering of Launcher 6 had
stopped some time ago. Now, as he watched, the assembly turned
laboriously toward the distant low hills, its snout tipping downward.
Carl got to his feet and swiftly moved behind the slowly
swiveling launcher. The only way he could think to aim the thing
was to eyeball it directly, sighting along the barrel.
Great. Real high-tech.
And the Arcists Were undoubtedly watching them closely.
Their objective must be this site. They had destroyed the easier
targets while they were getting the range right. Launcher 6 was
much harder to hit, buried in its trench. But now that it was slowly
emerging...
He squatted down onto a patch of orange stain and closed one
eye automatically, lining up the launcher barrel with the specks on
the distant hill.
--Lomax, DF to Osborn. Got a tactical sketch of known enemy
positions. Prepare to receive. They're bunched up pretty
close.-
Carl threw the picture over half his faceplate. Benchley's
rough drawing showed a main group and two wings--probably outlying
spotters.
Not many of them. I count five. But they've got the best
ground.
The Arcists were settled into a notch, taking advantage of the
shelter. As he watched a bright blue flash winked--and he ducked
automatically. Which was ridiculous; if he was in the full focus of
the laser it would have blinded him instantly. Instead, they had
aimed high. Only the fringing fields had struck him.
He checked Jeffers. Almost tipped enough...
He blinked to clear his vision; it didn't help much. "Open her
up!"
--I... I can't just shoot that hillside with a full load! That's a
kilogram of iron at ten thousand KPS... it'd be like setting off a
ten-kiloton bomb!--

	352
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Carl thought furiously. "Empty casings! They only mass a
couple grams. Have you got any?"
--Uh. Yeah. I'd better go at low power, too,-- Jeffers said.
--Take a minute.., lessee.., one percent setting...-
Someone screamed. Another near miss. "We've got to return
fire. Open her up!"
--Okay, okay.-- To his relief, Carl heard the braaap braaap
braaap resume. The sound was different. Lower, rougher.
--It's not tuned for this! It'll shake apart!-
Carl thumbed over to telescopic. All up and down the hillside,
plumes of vapor spouted as pellets struck.
"A-Comm auto-override. Jeffers, left!"
--Yo.--
The small gouts of fog leaped high, several a second.
A blue flash from the hilltop, brighter this time. The enemy,
too, was zeroing in. Carl turned and saw the ice not far behind him
flare and suddenly explode into pearly mist.
"Higher!"
--Gotcha!--
A line of bursting fog walked up the hillside, erratic but rising,
steadily rising toward the specks who manned the big, cumbersome
tube.
Two antagonists, each wrestling with weapons too big and
powerful to be used deftly . . . like fighters flailing at each other with steel beams. The first to score a hit...
Carl wondered what would happen if the laser struck him
fully. His suit would reflect some, and at this angle the beam was
spread over a much larger area.., still, he didn't want to find out.
"Go right! And higher!"
The jittering gouts of fog leaped, swerved, steadied--and
struck the milling specks.
Soundless destruction. Carl lay on the ice and watched the
pellets pound endlessly into the targets--mere writhing dots and
splintered, rolling parts of the laser--as the fog of the assault gathered,
spread, and finally obscured the scene.
"Okay. You can.., shut it down."
--We get 'em?--"Yeah.
Yeah, we did."
Carl felt no elation, no zest. It had all happened so fast, so
abstractly. A bunch of dots moving on a hillside. Brilliant, sudden
flashes of blue. Then the distant spurts as streaking casings struck
ice, struck steel, struck yielding flesh and cracking bone. A science
of strict geometry a4xl easy death.

	HEART OF :FHE COMET
	353

--Hey, we did it! That'll teach the suckers!-- The launcher
fell silent. Jeffers leaped out of the trench, exuberant.
"So so we did."
He heard Virginia's voice, and others, and with the returning
babble running' in his ears Carl walked slowly toward the hammered
hillside, not wanting to see what was there but knowing he
should It was part of his job.
Suddenly his mind cleared and he remembered the rest of the
poem, the lines that he had idly recalled only a few minutes before  . . a time that seemed months in the past, now.

And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

VIRGINIA

SPacesuits were aggravating. They reminded Virginia if how out of
shape she was--of the passage of years.
She struggled with the adjustment bands, loosening some and
tightening others in all thb wrong places. Flab.t No wonder Saul
been so...
Virginia clamped down on the thought. Anyway, she was sure
their troubles had little to do with her recent lack of exercise.
Maybe nothing was meant to lsst, she thought. Perhaps everything
good self-destructs in the end.
The image of a red world, new volcanoes bursting forth to
greet the dawn...
For the first time since the abortive Arcist attack, Carl had
given permission for her to come up and see him in person. Being
indispensable had its drawbacks. With human guards and watch-mechs
standing in layers around her lab to protect her, she had
latel begun feeling like a queen ant, a slave to her own royalty. Though a queen ant, at least, creates eggs ....
Another bad thought. Why were these things all coming to the
surface right now?
Because we 'ye begun killing each other, here and now? Is that
why I'm so depressed?

	354
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
Or is it because I' m lonely, and no longer young ?
Virginia finished dressing and slipped a worn tabard over her
suit. She didn't even have one of her own--had never bothered designing
one. This one--depicting a sheaf of wheat above three gold
balls--had belonged to Dr. Evans, a Hydroponics man firmly dead
for twenty years, now. The suit matron had reregistered it to Vir
ginia and she- had decided to live with it.
I wish it weren't necessary to come up here in person at all, she thought as she began cycling through the lock.
But this business was too important to discuss over any comm
line. It wasn't just fear of being tapped. She wanted to watch Carol's
face when she confronted him.
The outer doors opened and the scene was briefly obscured by
a fog of condensing vapor. The snowflakes blew away into space
and she looked out across the open icescape.
In a sense it was a bit disappointing. Her linkage with remotes
had grown so good that her vision on the surface actually seemed
better in surrogate than in person. Skim-walking carefully out onto
the grimy crust felt somehow more removed than controlling a
mech out here.
There was a fluttering sensation of nakedness, too. After all,
she had many mechs, but only one body. And it was out on the
surface now, under the unwinking stars.
The landscape' was less scarred, out here by Shaft 6, than
where her mechs and Jeffers's factory hands had gouged and rutted
the ancient comet. Here the dominant feature was a looming edifice
that looked something like a cross between a glass Ferris wheel and
a web spun of liquid spider's silk.
A number of spacers were gathered at its base, gesturing from
it to a point in the glittering blackness. She recognized the tabards of Carl Osborn and Andy Carroll, as well as several others--mostly
members of the Plateau Three and Survivors' factions. Virginia
mumbled command phrases until she was able to latch on to the
frequency they were using. It was child's play to break their coding.
--... tell you I think the thing is just too damn small! They
may have made advances since we left, sure. But even that hot fusion
torch can't have pushed more than twenty tons at that kind of
acceleration for so long.--
--Yeah? Well, even if it is just twenty tons, think of all that
could include. Faster logic quips for better computers and mechs.
Hybrid seeds to improve our hydro. And tritium fuses! Twenty tons
of stuff like that could make all the difference.--

HEART OF THE COMET
	355

They were talking. about the Care Package, obviously. As she

approached, : skirting a cracked area in the ice, she heard Carol's

voice cut in
--You're hoping the Christmas gifts will change .the Arcists'
mind Andy?--
--Or give us something to use to wipe 'em out. I don't really
care which. Anything that'll shake them out of the south pole so we
could go back to the Jupiter maneuver and save the original mission.
Th' Mars fling's all right, as a second choice. But Captain
Cruz would've wanted us to...-
The words stopped as Andy Carroll noticed that Carl had
turned to greet Virginia.
--Osborn, open channel to Herbert. Hello, ' Virginia. --
His stained spacesuit was a mixture of cannibalized parts.
Over it was draped a dingy white cloth emblazoned with a picture
of a red crustacean. His visor cleared and she saw his face. Gray at
his temples and lines on his brow had not robbed Carl of his strong-jawed,
boyish charm.
--It was good of you to come up, Virginia. There is something
special we'd like to ask you to do for us.-
She nodded, then remembered that she was facing the distant
sun. Although it was not much more than a very bright star now,
her visor might still have automatically dimmed and hidden the gesture.
"I'll help any way I can," she began. "But..."
--That's great. 'Cause we're getting concerned about the first
Care Package from Earth. Don't want anything to go wrong when
it arrives.--
"What could go wrong?"
--How 'bout it fallin' into he wrong hands?-- Carroll suggested.
Carl shrugged.
-Quiverian denies responsibility for that attack down at the
equator. Says they were renegades, acting without sanction. Still, I
see your point. I don't think we want the Care Package coming
down at the south pole by mistake. It may be better to have a mech
go out and escort the cargo vessel in.-
Virginia understood. It wouldn't do to have the rescue package
hijacked. Then the Arcists would have a total lock. They'd be in
complete control.
"Fine. I'll start working with Jeffers on the details," she said.
"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about, though."

	356
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

--Sure. What is it?-- When she shook bet head and remained
 silent, he turned to the others.
--Be right back, guys. See if you can tune this antenna better,
will you? I want a good fix on that thing as it gets nearer.--
--Right, Carl.-He
led her over behind a great pile of mine tailings. Making
sure she could see him do it, he reached up and switched off his
transmitter. Nodding, she did the same. He bent over to touch hel"What's
bothering you, Virginia? You seem so... subdued.
Is it Saul? I'd heard--"
"No," she cut in hurriedly. His face was so close. The double
layer of separating crystal seemed to pass a warm breath "No,
that's not it, Cad."
At least it's not the reason why I came up here.
"But there is something the matter, between you two," he insisted.
She nodded, a quick, short jerk. "Nothing, really. Just, well,
one of those things. Time--"
"Time changes all of us, ,Virginia. I never did apologize to
both of you for the way I behaved, so many years ago. I was an
idiot." There was earnestness in his eyes.
"You were young, Carl. We were all younger."
Except for Saul. With the perfect immune system, won't he live
forever ? Is that, maybe, a source of friction between us ?
Carl looked down for a moment, then met her eyes. "That
doesn't mean my basic feelings have altered, Virginia. If you're
ready for a change..." Carl let his sentence hang, and Virginia
suddenly could see something deeper than earnestness, deeper even
than the sternness of command. Her gloved hand came up, touched
glass.
"Oh, Carl. You've hurt so much."
He shrugged, caught between conflicting feelings. "You came
up to see me because--" There was hope in his voice.
Virginia shook her head, blinking aside the weakness that
threatened her determination. "Carl..." She swallowed. "Carl, I
want to know why you are planning to kill us all."
"Uh." He stared. "How... What do you mean?"
Her hand dropped. "Oh, you were always a lousy liar, Carl.
At least to me you were. The others seem to have swallowed your
Judas goat act, thinki.'ng Earth really plans a rescue, all that crap
about a tight flick past Mars, then on to Jupiter and Venus, then
back to Mars and quarantine .... "

	HEART OF THE COMET
	357

"What are:you--"
"Come tthink of it, though, Jeffers and his bunch would
back you even if they knew the truth, wouldn't they?"
Carl broke contact, stepping back before she had even finished.
His lips were drawn tight. When he spoke, the movements of
his mouth seemed to convey a pungent, if silent, bitterness. Virginia
gestured at her ears. With an impatient shake of his head he
brought their helmets back together jarringly.
"What are you going to do?" he asked
At least Carl did not insult her intelligence with further pretense
He knew she would have run simulations a dozen different
ways before ever accusing him like this.
"What am I going to do?" Virginia asked. "First off, I'm
giving you a chance to explain I want to know why you're fronting
for this trick of Earth Control's, sending us on a direct collision
course with Mars!"
Carol's eyes closed briefly. "There are factions back home,
too. There were.., tradeoffs. We had to make agreements in order
to get the Care Packages."
"So that we can smash into a planet in forty'years?" Virginia
couldn't help laughing bitterly.
'Forty long years, Virginia Even with Saul's serums, we'll
have to keep so many people awake that we'll all be old by that
time."
"There are children, Carl"
 "Those poor babies the Orthos have been having? They hardly
even merit calling human, Virginia. You know that. Anyway, they
and all of us will live better and more comfortably with the goods
we'll be getting in these rockets from Earth."
"Comfort!"
"Yes, that counts for something. But there's a more important
reason."
"What's that?"
"Honestly, Virginia, can't you see that this is the only way
anything good can emerge out of this entire fiasco?"
She shook her head. "What good will come of all of us dying?"
"Well, from Earth's point of view, the end of a threat. And in
that I can see the Arcists' point of view."
"You can?"
"Yes. Of course. They'll do anything to protect the home-world
from Halleyforms, and you can't blame them for that."
"And from our point of view?"

	358
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


He shrugged.. !'We spark life anew on a dead world, perhaps.

With our deaths we can begin the long process of bringing Mars
alive ."

Virginia couldn't help sneering. "You're beginning to sound
like Jeffers."

"Maybe I am at that." He looked away. His voice dropped. "I
might have tried to think of something else, no matter how unlikely

if..." His voice trailed off.

	"If what, Carl?"

	"Never mind. It's not impOrtar;t.''

	"Carl! You have to talk to me."

He shook his head. "Saul told me, a while back, that he was
working on a cloning system. In ten years or so, we might be able
to produce a generation of healthy children, slightly modified to be '
healthy and breed true in low gravity. There may actually be something
to that idea some Sergeov's Ubers talk about, of telling Earth
to go to hll and trying to colonize Triton."

Virginia blinked, realizing what might'bring him over to accepting
such a plan. "You mean.., me, in particular, don't you?"

"Yes. You, me, the children only you and I could have together.
I... I might be persuaded to see another point of view, if
that seemed possible."

inside Virginia's mind and heart, winter blew. It was a numb
incapacity, an unwillingness to understand this. Dimly, she knew
that this was Cad's own unique version of the neuroses they all had,
by now--no worse than normal, but highly unusual. It was a curse
of hypertrophied romanticism. The wistful teenager in him had, in
one respect, been frozen in time.

She knew that a simple confession might solve this.., a frank
admission that, no matter how great the technical miracles science
made available, she would never have children by any man. The
universe had decided that long ago.

	The numbness was too great, though, Too much like a weight

of ice she could not lift, even to be kind to a dear friend.
"I won't tell anybody about Mars, Carl."
"You won't?" He blinked. "But I--"

"You've convinced me that you're right. It will be better this
way.., to die bringing life to a dead world. Better than a pointless
extinction, the way we're headed."

She backed away and turned her transmitter back on. "Tell me
when and where you want to meet the first Care Package, and give
me a support team. I'll begin running simulations for a rendezvous
right away.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	359


"i'll be seeing you, Carl."

She tried not to look at his eyes as she turned away, but she felt
his gaze on her back as she picked a narrow, solitary path back
down into her crypt, far below the cold stars.


SAUL


It was a sophisticated beast, the vehicle that had traveled so far to
bring them gifts from distant Earth, and it had blazed a daring path
to reach them here in only five years. Swooping three times past the
sun, it had gained terrific speed, until now it streaked outward into
the black depths below and beyond the solar-system plain.

During each whipping solar passage it had ridden the blazing
sunlight on giant gossamer sails. Then, when distance had dimmed
the fires behind it, the great sheets folded away and the machine's
own flame burst forth. Bits of antimatter met in a tiny combustion
chamber, releasing energy that was nearly collimated light, propelling
the craft faster still.

Only three passes were needed to bring its orbit into the plane
of Halley's--but much faster than the fleeing comet. Technology
made it possible, and the hot flux of reawakened public opinion'
demanded speed. To the popular press of a new generation, this was
an errand of mercy that would brook no delay.

To others it was something lse altogetlier--a down payment
on a bribe to persuade the strange, time-cast, and infected colonists
to keep to their agreement, an agreement to stay away.

Did some hope, in this way, to assuage their guilt over the
burning of the Edmund Halley? Or to slake their shame over the
years of silenbe and neglect?

Saul watched the screens, along with selected representatives
of all the clans, in the cavernous Central Control Room. For once
the chamber was actually full, though he would have wagered that
the architects had never imagined such a crowd.., glowering figures
wearing tattoos and clothing woven of Halleyform lichen fiber,
bearing scars from illnesses never seen on Earth and muttering to
one another in strange dialects.

Even Joao Quiverian was here, frowning with arms folded in a

	360
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
corner, with three bodyguards and a recently cloned weasel watching
ferally from his shoulder.
Representatives of all the clans were here to observe while
Virginia Herbert guided the colonists' mechanical envoy into a
matching orbit with the still-decelerating Care Package.
-"They've sure made advances. That torch is fierce," Andy
Carroll said from the ballistics console. "But it's still not slowing
down fast enough to suit me.".
"I'll match it," Virginia muttered drowsily. "Don't fret,
Andy. We've made some advances of our own."
A black cloth covered her eyes as she lay back on the webbing
by the waldo contr61s. The neural-tap cable snaked out from the
back of her skull, and her fingers gently touched a set of knurled
knobs.
Saul noticed Quiverian's mouth purse in disapproval. To have
Percells in charge of the recovery operation was obviously hard for
the man to bear. But he was here on sufferance, and could hardly
complain.
By rights Carl could have kept the man away, in retaliation for
the mutiny he had led down south. Even though Quiverian had disclaimed
any responsibility for the renegades who had attacked the
equatorial launchers--had denounced them publicly--he and his
Arcists were hardly trusted. As long as they were in Central they
were watched constantly by a team of Keoki Anuenue's natural and
adopted Hawaiians.
Still, with the negotiating power the contents of the Care Package
were about to give him, Carl could afford to be generous.
No one was even certain what the thing contained. Saul pondered. I could list a thousand items I'd give a finger or a bicuspid
for, or more. And there are hundreds of other lists, each as long as
mine.
Alas, there probably isn't even an ounce of good pipe tobacco
aboard.
He smiled in faint irony. I'll settle for the cell-differentiation
tuner in that cloning system they developed on Earth ten years ago.
It had started logically enough, his program with monkeys and
gibbons and subtly altered strains of wheat.., searching for new
elements to add to a growing synergism--a meshing of Earthborn
and Halleyform life to take the place of perpetual war. But in recent
months it had become something more complicated. There were
aspects, now, that he was certain Carl Osborn would not approve,
and that Virginia probably would never understand.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	361

That was why he had moved his laboratory down into a secret
chamber under a quadrant of Halley far from rockets and clans, and
prevented even Virginia's bodyguard mechs from following him
there. It had contributed to the growing breach between them, but
he had paid that price.

It had been months since he last connected with her the way
they had grown accustomed, meshing their emotions--and even an
occasional, machine-amplified' thought--while holding each other
under the faint glow of JonVon's status lamps. He had not dared.
For she would surely catch traces.., suspect the liberties he had
taken, and their tragic results.

A squirming, horrible little thing in a glass incubator.., gills
and fur and swishing tail.., a face--faintly human--contorted in
agony and then, mercifully still at last...

"It's a beauty," Carl Osborn wh!spered. And Saul blinked,
shaking himself back to the present. It was a memory he preferred
not to dwell on, anyway. He looked up to see the faery craft now
clearly depicted on the screens.

Spires as wispy as spider's silk spread like the winter-bared
stems of a flower--the spinnerets from which great sails had billowed
during the cargo vessel's three swooping sun-passes--arrayed
around a globe that shimmered with impossible mirror
brightness, '
"I'm scanning that container capsule in the center," Lani

Nguyen said from the instrumentation console. "I'd wondered how
they dealt with dust impacts at those speeds. It looks like their
shield isn't even material at all! It's some sort of graviticfield, or
I'm my own maiden aunt."

"No!" Carroll muttered,- and shared a glance with Carl. "A
real force field? No wonder theyere able to build it so light."

Otis Sergeov, leader of the Ubermensch party of Percells,
hung from the edge of a holistank to the left, with several of
his tattooed comrades. "The purple-zippered thingy's still too
meppeed light. What good will two tons of Earth-shit do anyway?"
6

Jeffers laughed. "What would I do for a few pounds of the
right machine dies, or a mile or two of warm superconducting
wire? Hell, for those I'd even be willing to paint my skin blue and
gibber NewTalk like an Uber, Otis."

Sergeov's eyes glinted, and Saul knew that being a fellow Per-cell
would not save Jeffers, if the legless ex-Russian ever had the
other man's fate in his hands.

	362
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"Bezmoodiy govnocheest,t'' he muttered in his native tongue.
Jeffers only laughed.

Susan Ikeda, their Earthcomm chief, reported on the latest
word over the long-range radio.

"Earth Control says their four-hour estimate is on target.

Probe is in the proper deceleration track."
"Can't be," Carroll muttered.
"But they say..."

"Their info is four hours old! Speed o' light, I tell you.
Something's--"

"Can it, Andy," Carl said. For a time there was quiet in the
room. Only the soft hum of the air fans and faint clicking each time

somebody threw a switch. Then Lani spoke.

"It's turning its torch, Virginia."

"Check. About time. I'm extending e tether."

Virginia betrayed no sign of tension, but those in the room
hung in suspense. The overhead displays showed the colonists' two-piece
envoy craft, the parts connected by a taut cable less than a
finger's width in thickness and more than fifty kilometers long.
Rockets flared, and the connected body began to whirl, like a slow,
great bola in the starry blackness.

"Section B's propellent now depleted," Andy Carroll announced.
"Section A is ready to receive transferred momentum in
three hundred ten seconds."

Lani turned and explainedto those observing, "Our probe was
a two-stage rocket. Part B provided the initial boost. Part A has
saved its fuel for the final match with the Care Package."

"Then why is part B still attached?" one of Quiverian's people
asked.

Lani moved her two fists around each other, imitating a bola.
"We're using a whirling tether to steal even more momentum from
the booster stage. By flinging part B back toward Halley, we give its
share of energy to the other piece, our envoy."

The onlookers barely listened. All eyes were on the center
screen, where the Care Package began to turn. What had been a hot
speck at the edge of the mirror dome brightened as it swung around
to face the colonists' spinning, two-piece messenger.

The image was too blurred. Their cameras aboard the swiftly
rotating section A could not keep a steady bearing on the Earth
ship. Processing the quick glimpses, JonVon could barely keep up a
simulated point of view.

Saul wondered if he Should be helping. He knew JonVon better

	HEART OF THE COMET
	363

than did anyone but Virginia herself. At least he could help the
organic computer steady the image.
But he had not offered. Frankly, he Was afraid Virginia might
refuse, and so make explicit what had already become tacit between
them.
I miss her so. I've wronged her by staying away.., by not
confessing what I have done ....
So he had told himself over and over again. But that had not
helped him find the courage to tell her of that little warped thing,
growing in the clone tank in his secret lab, an attempt at a gift for
her.., but which had turned out, instead, to be a cruel reminder
that God sets limits even on the powers given prophets, and enforces
those boundaries severely.
I have been given, into my hands, the power to craft animals
and even men.., but am denied any way to give the woman I love
the child she so desperately wants--a thing most men take for
granted.
There had to be a reason. But as yet, the Infinite had not
deigned to confide it to him.
"What the unholy clape is the thing tryin' to do?" Saul heard
Jeffers mutter.
"I think..." Carl Osborn glided a step forward, his voice
suddenly stark. "I think it's trying to hit our probe."
"Impossible!" one of the Ortho moderates from Almondstone
Cavern cried. "Why would it..."
But the fierce lance of the Earth craft's drive suddenly flared
in brilliance as its aspect came nearer the camera's view. Andy Carroll
cried out, "Maneuvering! Accelerating turn!" And then all was
chaos.
"Tether separated!" Lani shouted.
"I've lost contact with section B!" another spacer called out.
"Keep back, all of you! Let them work. Give them room!"
Carl cursed as he pushed people away from the controllers. Above
their heads the screens were a blur of overloaded sensors.
Carol's eyes met his as Saul edged past the shouting crowd,
worming between the locked arms of Anuenue's Hawaiians to approach
the consoles. There was a silent flicker of emotion on Os-born's
face, then the spacer jerked his head. "All right;' he told
Saul. "Help them. But if you get in their way, I'll have your ass."
Saul nodded and jumped forward to land lightly or the
webbing beside Virginia. He pulled a neural helmet from the console
and put it over well-rubbed spots on his skull.

	364
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
The maelstrom was even worse down in the realm of im. ages
and data streams. Without years of practice under Virginia's tutelage,
he would have been instantly lost in the noise. .
He sifted, looking only for the vision-processing centers. The
really important stuff--vectors and mechanical status reports and
course data--he did not even touch. Probably, he would do more
harm than good if he tried to help there But he could give Carl and
the others a better view of what was happening. That much was
within his ability, he figured.
He called up the section of JonVon's memory that was reserved
for his own work, reciting his secret access code.
Simon says, open Kelley.
The response actually seemed to take a few milliseconds,
showing how busy the processor was.
Good afternoon, Dr. Lintz. I have news to report on the
state of the newest experiments. The clone chambers are
operating nominally. There is--
Not now, he interrupted. Override all but basic life-function
maintenance. Transfer other resources to processing incoming data
into clear images and displaying them according to following formats.
He envisioned the console before him, and *'dived" in with his
mind, tracing pathways and naming throbbing electronic blocks for
JonVon to access. The data streams were almost total chaos to him,
but working with JonVon seemed to open up possibilities. It gave
him a glimpse--or so he often thought--at the wonders Virginia .
dealt in, as surrogates for the share of infinity that could never be
hers.
Bad topic. Concentrate, you old fool.t
The seared, tumbling cameras on probe A were still transmitting.
If only he and JonVon could time and phase the tumble...
 access the probe and have it send views in quick pulses ....
Yes.t Clever machine. Mama taught you well.
Gradually, over the course of seconds, the blur resolved, flickered,
steadied. He saw that the fiery torch of the Earth ship had
been left behind, its flare no longer burning bright.
The breaking tether took it by surprise. He realized that the
Earth vessel had not been able to track pieces flying in such suddenly
altered directions. One of the sections was now streaking toward
the Care Package at an oblique angle, even faster than before.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	365

"It was 9nly trying to defehd itself' someone cried out in the.
audience. "We must've activated a meteoroid defense!"
Another observer agreed. "We have to terminate this stupid
interference. Let it come in as its designers planned. Anything we
do will be like savages interfering in a complex machine they don't
understand. It'll only bring disaster!"
There was a rumble of agreement, but Saul could sense, beyond
current after current of settling data, the distinctive flavor of
triumph from Virginia.
"Got you!" he heard her whisper, from not far away. Briefly,
he turned his head and tried to look at her. But the pulsing neural
tap and his natural vision system clashed, threatening him with a
wave of vertigo. He closed his eyes again and concentrated on stabilizing
the image for Carl.
"That's it," he heard the spacer mutter behind him. "Easy
goes it, Andy, Virginia... try to lock gently at the base of those.
spinnerets. Then, Lani, help Virginia tap into the thing's computer.
Find out why it hasn't initiated contact yet."
"Aye, Carl," Lani answered. Saul gensed the Earth vessel as a
looming image of burnished gold and silver.., a globe too mirror
smooth to be any substance at all. In that surface a tiny shape wavered
and grew, brightening now and then as the colonists' robot
puffed and flared to match velocities. Their little envoy was
dwarfed against the curve of reflected starglow, a spindly crudity
that dared to reach out and touch angelic beauty.
"Contact! We're locked onto a spinneret," Carroll announced.
"Pulsing a probe-to-probe communications code," Lafii reported.
"We'll see what it has to say--"
Then Virginia wailed.
"Those mad sons of bitches!"

It was as if a knife blade had come down and sliced off one of
Saul's hands. A tsunami of noise and pain tore at his moorings like
a hurricane, yanking shreds of himself away into a storm of wild
data. It felt like drowning, and he had no idea where up was, anymore.
The hurt and chaos was overwhelming.
One thing happened then, that saved Saul's mind. He sneezed. The jerking explosion was so violent that the neural-tap helmet
flew off his head and banged into the console. Suddenly the world
was light and air and real noise--a tumult of human voices that
seemed, in comparison, like the whispering of a morning breeze.

	366
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"What happened--"
"--blew up!--"
"My God, pure annihilation... I"
"Itaka, get on alert channel! Tell the surface crews to take
cover at once!" Carol's voice commanded above the panicked ferment.
"Get them below before the neutrons hit!"
Hands pulled at Saul's shoulders, attempting to drag him
back. He blinked 'through spots and saw Andy Carroll's limp form
being cut free of his webbing. Keoki Anuenue was fumbling at the
back of Virginia's lolling neck, tugging at her neural tap while others
hurried up bearing stretchers.
"No.t'' Saul screamed. He grabbed Keoki's wrist so hard that
the big Hawaiian gasped in surprise.
Saul croaked, "Don't let anyone touch her. Nobody? He
picked up the helmet he had just thrown off. ,Leave her alone!"
Trembling, he put it back on.
In all instant he was back down under the roiling, churning
tide of electrons, the roar of an explosion large enough to break a
small world.
Better prepared, this time, Saul rode the surges; seeking a
rock, an eddy, anywhere to stand and gather threads.
A piece of JonVon's personality-mimicry program hurtled by, murmuring something about refusing an "Academy Award" . . .
whatever that was. He grabbed it and linked the fragment to a subroutine
for searching library data bases, and another containing information
on stock-raising on the Isle of Wight.
"Virginia," he whispered. "Where are you?"
What instinct had told him, with deeper certainty than mere
knowledge, that she was lost somewhere in this maelstrom... ?
That to disconnect her WOuld be to leave her--if not a vegetable--then
with something basic lost forever to chaos? Saul cast about,
gathering a ragged construct, a troop of bits and flotsam, and sent
scouts out, searching.
A whisper of tropical air, over there!
A scent of chrysanthemum blossoms, here!
A secret memory from childhood.., of embarrassment with
a neighbor boy.., bring it in. '
Traces, all, precipitating out of a whirling jumble. One by one,
it would have taken a thousand lifetimes to recognize and even stack
them all, let alone sort them into what they had been. He didn't try.
All he could do was love them.
Fear and pain.., a whispered curse.

		HEART OF THE COMET
	,
	367

	"... those mad sons of b..."


It hurtled past. But Saul reached out after it.

I love you, Virginia, he called. Blemishes and all... Stupid
and blind as I am, I love you, and I'll love you forever ....


.. forever...


The word echoed.


.. forever.. ?


Yes. Down time until even the Hot fades and all ice comes alive

 . . I will never leave yu ....


	.. never.. ?

Oh... Saul...

Oh...


"Oooh," her real-world voice sighed beside him. "Oh,
Saul.. " The webbing vibrated with movement and suddenly her
hand was gripping his, so hard that the welcome pain added to the
free flow of tears in his eyes.


CARL


Carl gritted his teeth in irritation, but didn't let it show. Four hours
had passed since the explosion. The searing heat from the nearby
blast had flash vaporized a layer of ice off one face of Halley. There
had been extensive damage to mechs and diagnostic instruments on
the surface, and some casualties Data was slow coming in-, but that
hadn't stopped people from jabbering and theorizing.

Joao Quiverian was getting insufferable. He used the full impact
of his height, towering over the others, his voice ringing with a
hollow, magisterial command.

"We have erred in a way I find unfathomable. This mishap is a
direct result of our meddling with what we do not understand,

	368
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

rather than placing our trust in our fellow human beings. Obviously

the mech somehow ignited the fusion chamber of--"
"Perdeeyn!" Sergeov swore. "Arcist idiot--"
Quiverian bore on. "--the Care Package, and--"

"Okay, that's enough," Carl said sharply. "Shut up, everybody,"

The knot of people turned its attention to him. "Look at these
numbers." He gestured at one of the screens. "That was a full thermonuclear
blast. Not a malfunction of the fusion drive."

Quiverian gaped. "Not . . . But why would they send to
US...

Sergeov's blue-tattooed skin creased with a bitter smile. "Not
to us--for us."

Carl nodded. "I think so."

"A... bomb?" Lani Nguyen asked wonderingly, her almond
eyes widening at the thought.

Carl said flatly, "JonVon estimates the yield at several hundred
megatons. Plenty of neutrons, gammas--the works. No fusion

chamber I ever heard of can go off with anything like that yield."
Quiverian said slowly, "Then they intended.., to..."
"Have us take that package into our ice and then blow it up.
Shatter everything inside Halley. Melt away the top kilometer, cave
in the shafts everywhere else." Carl had to control his jittering nervous
energy. Back home, in gravity, the muscles were always doing
some work just to remain standing, burning away minute tensions.
Here, inner demands for action found no expression. You had to
focus it all into other avenues--voice, expression, gesture.

"I... find that difficult to believe," Quiverian said, suddenly
uncharacteristically quiet.

"Is typical," Sergeov said. "Earthside has been same always.
Destroyed Edmund, pool. Now us."

Jeffers said sourly, "Yeah, askin' us for guidance, tellin' us to
lead the package right down Shaft Three. An' we woulda done it, if
it hadn't been for curiosity, makin' us send out a mech to see what
Daddy'd brought us." He snorted derisively.

Carl said, "Earthside kept up their story all this time--for
three years--when all along they've plotted to destroy us entirelY."

"To preserve their holy biosphere;' Saul said mildly as he approached.

Carl raised an eyebrow--How is she ?--and Saul nodded reassuringly.
Virginia had been unconscious when the med-techs bore
her away on a stretcher. Carl felt relief, but in Saul's quietly pleased
expression an unsettling confirmation: Somehow, he and Virginia

	HEART OF THE COMET
	369

were back together. The crisis had done that. His own chances--which
he now saw he had allowed to build beyond prudent
expectations-wwere zero again. Saul and Virginia seemed able to
survive any buffeting that chance could dehl them.

"--can expect a full explanation from Earth, I am sure,"
Quiverian finished. Carl realized he had missed one of the man's

pontifical declarations.

"What?"

Quiverian's-face knotted with exasperation. "I expect we have
been the victims of a political faction. Someone who, under cover
of their allotted cargo, included a warhead. This does not mean all
Earth is opposed to us. Once we inform high Earth authorities of
how this humanitarian gesture has been aborted in a most foul way,
I am sure the leadership will take measures to punish and silence
this cabal of--"

"Bullshit," Carl said vehemently.

Quiverian blinked, his lips pursed, but he said nothing. One of
his lieutenants began, "Look, you can't--" but Carl cut him off.

"Call Earth on the microwave and you'll lose us our only advantage.
Time."

Quiverian set his jaw to show determination. "I cannot expect
you--"

"Look," Carl said, "they don't know what's happened yet,
right?"

Jeffers calculated in his head. "Lessee... 'Bout two hours
each way light travel time. We should be able to pick up what they
were sayin' when the thing blew."

Carl nodded. "Let's pipe into their transmission."

Carl glanced tOWard a wall camera and nodded. JonVon was
listening, as he suspected, and imndiately the room filled with the
hiss of solar static. Then a tinny voice said monotonously, "Cannot
copy you here emm-dot, Halley."

Jeffers said, "They're still sendin' telemetry for guidin' it in."
The voice oscillated slightly, dispersed by its journey of three
-billion miles. "By our estimates, the package is nearing final
matching RPX. Advise you now send it laser marker designation
for Shaft Three: Automatic homing will then take oven"

Carl said, "They're still working on their approach."

A steady blur of static. Then:

"Confirm docking? Negative.on auto-servo coupling pip, but
we do show counter-comm on reppledex four-over, though. Await
that marker pip for none-in."

The men and women listened to the words from a civilization

	370
	OREOORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


now as distant in time as it was in space. The mission monitor
Earthside, they knew, were trained in the jargon of 2060, to. minimize
confusions, but' still odd terms and mannerisms from the
more modern era slippl in. A glance at his thumbnail told Carl
that three hours had passed since the explosion. It felt more like a
year. He ordered refreshments brought in. The faction leaders listened
sullenly, silently.

"Should come anytime now," Jeffers said.

The wavering voice kept on. "Carrier cinch-by reads nominal.
Coded--"

A sudden pause. The sun's own spiky popping seemed to
flood the room, bringing a reminder of the warm regions they had
left so long ago, the brooding eternal voice a pressing presence.

Then vague shouts, a commotion. "UV and visible flux! It's
gone offl"

"Too early!" Somebody else cried out. "By my estimate..."

A babble of talk, a distinct thump. "Get away from that! It
might've already docked, we don't know--"

An argument, voices shouting one another down. "See if
those infect rejects are still transmitting. Goddam, I knew we
shouldn't have safe-armed the bastard."

Another thump. "Neg, Fred. They're off the air."
Faintly, someone yelled, "Those screamers are steam!"
Everyone's eyes widened as a thin sound came, plainly from
somewhere near the speaker--a hearty laugh, a cry of celebration,
then the rolling sea-sound of many hands clapping.

The men and women of Halley looked at each other for a long
time, silently. There seemed very little to say.


Carl cycled the doors and stepped out through the crystalline
refractions of the surface lock. It was eighteen hours later. He had
conferred with envoys of various factions, won agreements,
soothed as best he could. By all rights he should be holed up in his
bunk, getting some rest.'

But that would have meant crawling away and licking his
wounds, something he might well have done a few decades ago ....
Now it wouldn't work, he knew. Too much had happened, too fast.
If he brooded over it, he would just get depressed'and accomplish
nothing.

That was a standard he had slowly learned to impose on him:
self: What will you have when this is over? A memory of bitter '
ruminations, drunken attempts to forget? Recriminations against
the hand fate had dealt you? That might satisfy something inside

	HEART OF THE COMET
	371.
that wanted such sour fruit. But now he knew from experience that
he would feel'better n the long run if he threw himself into a job,
built or fixed or moved something. Let the muscles work their own
logic. Then' he would be able to sleep, knowing that he had at least
gotten something done, kept moving, shown the bustards.
A slight puff of air followed him onto the ice, instant billowing
fog. He moved at a steady ground-hugging, ice-gripping lope toward
the equator. He could hook on to the cable and jet over, but
this way he got more exercise.
There had be-eh a lot of craziness to contend with, and he was
glad to be out here now. Where I belong, I'm still a spacer, goddam-mit.t
Some pop-eyed idiot had stopped him in a corridor, accused
him of deliberately sabotaging the Care Package. Madness. People
didn't want to accept the cold clear reality--that their homeworld
had sworn to erase them.
Well, okay. Just like I didn't want to face the reality that nothing
is ever really going to separate Saul and Virginia. It's just a
matter of scale ....
The belt of launchers loomed above the horizon as he loped
along, feet finding purchase on the crusty, speckled ice. They were
like slender, elegant cannon, each canted at a slightly different angle
from its neighbor. Weeks ago they. had slowed and stopped Halley's
spin, to make alignment of their thrusts simple. Now the stars
hung steadily above, and each launcher aimed exactly at the same
point in the sky: Right Ascension 87 o, Declination +35 o.
--Yo, Cap'n.-- Jeffers waved from atop Launcher 16.
"I'm not captain," Carl said automatically.
--Might's well be.--
"I'm just operations officernThat's all the clans will tolerate."
--Bunch of horses' asses.--
"I don't suppose I'll be getting a promotion from Earthside
now, either."
Jeffers chuckled dryly. --Not much of one, I'd say. You
through soothin' ever'body?--
"Yeah." Carl leaped up to the launcher cowling.
--Funny, how some of 'em can't believe what happened.--"It
was their Great White Hope."
--Pretty rough, when Mother Earth offers you a tit and then--boom.Carl
smiled despite himself. From here he could see many
launchers, a dashed line sketching out Halley's equator, as if drawn
by a careful high-school student for a science project. Their muz-

	372
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


zles Veered gradually to the north as his eye swept to the horizon.
Each lay buried in an oil-hydraulic pad that absorbed the recoil and
transmitted it to the all-too-fragile ice. Robos and mechs stood beside
each narrow tube, ready to unsnag any trouble with the
convey0r-belt feeders.

-They agree down below?--

Distracted by the orderly march of launchers to the horizon,
Carl could not understand for a moment what Jeffers meant. "Oh,
about Earthcomm?"

--Yeah, ever'body agree to shut up?--"Not
exactly."
--Who?--

"Sergeov. Quiverian."

. --Sergeov I'd expect a few people to listen to, sure. He's a
good o1' boy, straight-arrow Percell. Maybe a li'l heavy-handed.
But Quiverian? He's a murderin' bastard! Who'd pay attention to--

"Some Arcists still think it must've been a mistake. They
can't picture Mom slaughtering her children, even if they are
carrying diseases."

--Craaaazy.--

"Right."

'Beneath the silent ebony sky these issues seemed petty, diminished.
Carl could deal with them inside, encased in ice . . . but
here, human problems and opinions seemed dirty, small, shameful.
"So... I had JonVon take a few mechs and.., knock out the
microwave antennas."


	To his surprise, Jeffers laughed. --Damn right!--

"You... think so?"

--Course I do! We let Earth know we're still alive, they'll
send another Care Package. Only this time they won't tell us.--

"This will buy us maybe a couple of crucial years. Maybe."
Carl nodded. "They didn't fail utterly, of course. We lost a couple
of people on the surface, and with our attention on the Care Package,
we lagged a little on the Nudge. We're starting late."

Jeffers nodded. --Damn near aphelion. Gonna be a big job,
givin' that much push to this much ice.--

"You've realigned the launchers already?"

--Just like you said. Gonna deliver big delta-V if we get
started soon enough.-

At least the Care Package fiasco was behind them. While others
mourned, Carl was relieved, in fi way. It meant they had to
break from Earth, ignoring their homeworld, even hiding from it
for as long as possible ....

	HEART OF THE COMET
	373

Who Could tell? In forty years new people might be in charge,
back home. Oi' Phobos colony might have its independence by the
time the cometary refugees came streaking in on their blazing
aeroshells. Who am I kidding ? Carl thought.

The tension in him wouldn't go away. He needed something.
Or someone, he thought, and shut that away as quickly as he recognized
it.

The launchers. They were ready, calibrated.
"You check those pin settings?"
Jeffers tapped on his board, nodded.

"Pressure manifolds? The magnet alignments?"

--All okay.--

"What are we waiting ,for, then?"

Jeffers looked up and slowly grinned.--Damn right!-- He
switched channels and spoke rapid-fire to the engineers.

Around Halley the belt stirred to life. Electromagnetic surges
mounted, reached saturation, lay in wait for their release. And inside
the ice, Carl knew, men and women were involved with their
own lonely questions, doubts, despairs. They needed something to
rouse them.

"Let 'er fly," Carl said.

He felt it through his boots. A trembling, a gathering rush, a
sudden trembling release. From the muzzle of Launcher 16 came
.. nothing he could see. But he could feel each slug of coated iron
flee down the electromagnetic gun, fevered pulses shaking the slender
tube. A machine gun aimed at the stars. Against the black oblivion
above theymade no mark, merely arced into its nothingness.

It was a feather's brush against a boulder, but over time the
effects would mount up.

He turned to look down the rv. Each launcher flung its shots
steadily skyward, the electromagnetic fringe fields sounding as a
faint but persistent .rata-rata-rata-rata over the comm line.

He should call JonVon, he knew, put the picture on all TV
monitors, alert the crew, But for a moment he paused and savored it
for himself.

They were headin back, now. Homeward. Halley's slow sluggish
orbit would blunt, turn, warp. For better or worse, they would
glide down the gravity mountain, toward a destiny they could not
see. It was an end to their long, inert obedience to gravity's rule.
Halley had become a ship.

--At last we're doin' somethin'!-- Jeffrs called.

Carl shouted in sudden joy, all doubts banished. "Sun, here
we come!"

PAT VI


WITH THE FORCE OF A

STONE


Year 2100

What all the wise men promised 

has not happened,

and what the damned fools said

has come to pass.


--Melbourne


NORTH POLE


Hydroponics dome II. solar mlrrors


South Pore Nudge


SOUTH POLE

SAUL

He stared at the crack in the Wall. The black Opening snaked far
back into the ice. "When did this happen?" Saul asked.
Two of his assistants--brown-haired, with identical patterns of
freckles on their faces--looked up from a lab bench nearby where
they had been working. They answered together, in the same tones.
"There was a Halley quake, Pops," they said in unison. "Two
hours ago. A big one. It split the wall."
Saul shook his head, still unable to fathom how each knew
what the other was going to say, so they could irritate him this way.
"It certainly did," he said, examining the damage. This would
have to be attended to. Even this deep below the surface, it was
foolish to let any chamber remain unsealable for long.
Some said it was the flinger launchers, stressing the comet
core as they pushed it month by month, year by year, that were
causing the quakes. Others blamed the war, now apparently lost for
good by Quiverian and his Arcists.
Last month, Carol's spacet, Sergeov's Ubers, and Keoki
Anuenue's neutrals had joined together in a lightning raid on the
Arcists' south-pole redoubts, and permanently crippled the remnants
of the first set of flingers, and the hidden microwave antennas
with which they had been talking to Earth. One result was that now
the Arcists could no longer use those old launchers to interfere with
the Nudge toward Mars. Unfortunately, during that brief but bloody skirmish, three explosions had rocked that end of Halley
Core, worrying some that theintegrity of the comet itself might be
threatened. 
Whatever the cause, the quakes bothered Saul. For four years,
now, things had been going well for a change. They had picked up 377

	378
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

word from Earth's faint data net that the odds makers were once
more taking bets on the colony's survival. The current rate was five
to one against. But that was a vast improvement over the thousand-to-one
betting when he and Virginia had awakened from their
thirty-year sleep.
For now, at least, Sergeov's Ubers, the various clans of survivors,
and Jeffers's Mars Boys were all working together. But the
alliance struck Saul as being'like a supersaturated solution of immiscible
fluids--too unsteady to last for long.
They didn't need these Halley quakes shaking up the delicate
balance.
Saul was dressed in little more than a loincloth, robe, and ice-sandals,
as he had only left the quarters he shared with Virginia for
a brief visit to his lab. She had gone up to the surface to talk something
over with Carl Osborn, so he had taken the opportunity to
come down here and see how the experiments were going.
Everywhere in the lab there were glassed-in chambers, like
aquaria, in which mini-ecosystems flourished or languished--where
modified Earth lifeforms struggled to prove themselves worthy
of inclusion in the new, synthetic cometary ecology that was
only now starting to sort itself out.
Over by the left wall, some of his assistants tended the animals .. birds without feathers and goats able to give milk in microgravity.
"Where is Paul?" he asked suddenly.
The brown:haired twins nodded toward the crack in the wall,
and shrugged.
"What?" Saul blinked. "I thought I told you to keep him
here!"
They rolled their eyes in an expression he had seen countless
times, over many mirrored years. "You told us not to let him out the
door," they reminded him smugly.
"Oh Lord." Saul sagged. Was I ever like these two? So insufferably.., immature?
They giggled together. Saul hesitated. He had to go after Paul,
of course. The poor child might be the size of a full-grown man,
but he wouldn't be able to take care of himself out there alone.
I can't take any of the kids with me, he realized, dismissing the
idea of putting together a serch party of his assistants. They'd
scare the hell out of people by emerging out in the halls in a swarm. He had not introduced them to anybody else yet, not even Virginia.
They were the most amazing development to come out of the union
of Phobos technologies and his growing skill at clone-symbiosis,

	HEART OF THE COMET
	379


but this time he wasn't sure at all how to let the rest of the colony
know about them.

Saul lope-floated over to the hole in the wall. He picked up a
glow-ball of gene-designed Halleyvirid phosphor. "When I get
back, we're going to have a talk about responsibility," he warned
them. "Paul is still your brother, even if he's deficient in some
ways. It was your duty to take care of him."

They looked down, shamefaced. They weren't bad kids, just
inexperienced--very new to the world.

Two whirling, black sticks of fur leaped onto Saul, clambering
over his shoulders. He gently unpeeled the midget gibbons.

"Not now, Max, Sylvie. I'll be right back. Stay with the
boys." They stared after him, wide-eyed, as Saul turned and dove
into the dark gap alone.

Of course Paul probably wasn't in any danger. He was immune
to purple toxins, of course, and if this passage held air, so did
everything connected to it.

If only I can catch up with him before he runs into people..
Sooner or later, of course, he would have to reveal what he
was doing. Announce that he had finally found solutions to many of
the problems of growth and development that had made child-rearing
a near impossibility on Halley.

What he had learned might even be applied to helping the
thirty or so children the Orthos and a few Pereells had already
produced. During the last year, improving the lot of those poor,
warped creatures had been one of his highest priorities.

He had hoped to put off showing people his own "kids,"
though, until the Nudge was fully under way and people were filing
back into the slots. It might go over better when there were fewer
people around. ,,

I hope I can catch Paul in time. Strangers might upset him.
In the soft light given off by the glow-ball, the crevice in the
ice was a sparkling wonderworks of jagged crystals and puffy
clathrate snow. It was easy to follow the path the youngster had
taken by the handholds he had used. A smudge here, there a thread
ripped from the floppy old lab coat Paul liked to wear. Saul followed
the trail through a small crystal chamber that had not been
charted before, now exposed in all its agate glory by recent tremors
in the ancient ice.

He hurried onward. The passage narrowed until it was lime
more than a man's width across. A thin man width, Saul thought,
as he squeezed through, stretching ahead with his hands to pull
himself along the narrow stricture.

	380
	GREGORY BENFORD AND.DAVID BRIN

He couldn't help comparing it to a birth canal. Something in
the tunnel--perhaps a new Halleyform his immune system had not
yet come to terms with--was causing a burning, itching reaction in
his sinuses and throat. His nose twitched and tingled.
Aw hell.., he thought, closing his eyes, squinting.
"A-a-a-chblthooh!"
The echo of his sneeze reverberated from an open chamber
just ahead. Saul shook his head to clear it, and crawled on as he
heard the distinct sound of a child crying.
His hand pushed through snow and met open space letting
more light in. High-pitched shrieks greeted its appearance.
"Old Hard Man! It's Old Hard Man!"
"Shush, kids. Quiet," a deeper voice soothed. "See? 'Fbe skin
is white, not green. You know that Old Hard Man is part black, part
green."
The whimpers softened. Saul felt a hard grip on his wrist and
kicked to help his benefactor drag him through the crumbling snow.
He popped free into one of the beam-cut, Halleyvirid-lined colony
tunnels. Saul had to swivel to cushion his impact on the opposite wait .
"Thanks," he said, waving away a cloud of sublimed vapor
that had followed him. "I..."
An elderly man--an Ortho named Hans Pestle,Saul
recalled--held the hands of two skinny children dressed in ragged
fibercloth. Four other small, scrawny figures clung, to the walls
nearby. The old man stared at him.
"What's the matter, Hans?"
Pestle shook his head. "Nothin' Dr. Lintz. I was just... No, I
must've been mistaken, is all."
Two of the older children edged forward. "Got goobers for
me?" one asked shyly.
"Sorry, Ahmed." Saul smiled and stroked the little boy's
sparse hair, keeping his hand away from the long, floppy, ferretlike
creature the child wore, stolelike, over his shoulders. The gene-crafted
animal watched Saul with gleaming eyes.
"Sorry. No goobers this time." Usually, the children got their
medication in candy form--sweet flavors were common in the mu.
tated food plants, but sourballs were one of his widely treasured
specialties. "I promise, next time you come to the clinic."
"Aw, gee." But the child took the disappointment well. It had
been some time since he had had any of the fits of te,mper that used
to drive him into uncontrollable tantrums.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	381

Actually, Ahmcd had made a lot of progress, lie was tlking more, and hail put on weight. Still, to look at him, seventy pounds
and barely five feet tall, you wouldn't think he was sixteen years
old, Earth-measure.
Unfortunately, there were limits to what Sal could accomplish
with damage so advanced. And some of his best methods had
turned out to be applicable Only to a narrow range of genetic types.
He found it terribly frustrating.
Saul shook his head, fighting down the ringing in his ears
brought on by a fit of allergy-symbiosis reaction. He sneezed, and
the children clapped their hands, laughing at the explosive report.
"What are you and these kids doing down here, Hans?" Saul
recognized the nearby intersection by its incised markings. They
were deep, far below these Orthos' clan territory.
Pestle looked at the floor. "Just strollin'.., you said the kids
should get more exercise .... "
Clearly, Hans was concealing something. But Saul didn't have
time to probe.
"Did you see someone else come this wa,?" he asked the old
man--a once-famous astrophysicist, now reduced by frailty to
tending crippled childrer while the clear-minded and able-bodied
labored on the surface.
"Minute or so ago." Pestle jerked his head toward the nearby
shaft and gestured upward. He seemed about to ask a question, then
shook his head and .was quiet.
"Thanks," Saul said, and started off toward the shaft.
"Wouldn't, if I were you."
The voice of the old man stopped him abruptly. Saul turned.
"Why not?"
Pestle looked away again, Iit his lip nervously. One eye was
still cloudy from damage done long ago. Saul had managed to eliminate
the lingering disease, but not the harm already done.
"You're our doctor," the old man mumbled. "Can't afford I'
lose you."
"Lose me?" Saul felt a sudden sinking feeling. "What are you
talking about? Is there danger above?".
Virginia's gone up there, was his c,hilled thought.
Pestle-shook his head. "Heard tales. May be more fightin'
soon. Took the youngsters down here to be safe. Thfit's all."
Saul frowned. This was not good.
"Thanks for the warning, Hans. I'll be careful."
He kicked off hnd started climbing the shaft, grabbing tufts of

	382
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


tamed, hybrid Halleyvirid covering and using his toe-spikes to
speed upward almost at a run.

He had nearly reached B Level when a shrieking noise, like
giant stones rubbing against each other, echoed shrilly in the passage.
Another dalnn quake, he thought. Or was it something else?
Something more sinister? The vegetation up ahead started swaying,
like a wave rolling down the dimly lit shaft. The ripples arrived and
suddenly it was as if he were trying to ride a furry sn, ake, one that
bucked and slithered and threw him back and forth.

Saul's grip tore loose and he was flung across the shaft, landing
inside a tunnel mouth just as pieces dislodged from the ceiling.
He rolled to one side to avoid a jagged boulder that dropped slowly,
' but irresistibly. Another one popped free of the left wall and proceeded
with terrible inertia to collide crushingly with the right side.

So busy was he dodging those, he did not see the third and
smallest rock. A sudden, crushing blow to his head sent him reeling
against the floor. He slumped over an icy boulder and moaned.

Consciousness never completely vanished, but neither did it
'quite remain. To Saul, the next few minutes, or hour, or several
hours, were a confusion of rumbling sounds, of icy dust settling
slowly, of blinking and not being quite sure what it was he was
supposed to remember.

Finally, it came to him.

Get to Carl... warn him...

He couldn't quite recall what it was he was supposed to warn
him about, or why. Perhaps it would come to him when he arrived.
He knew only that he had to go back into the shaft and start climbing
again.

Find Paul... he reminded himself. Hurry... find Virginia


He repeated the instructions over and over again, pushing
aside the ringing and the pain in his head.

Hurry...

	HE AR'I: OF THE COMET
	383

VIRGINIA

As she stepped onto the surface she felt again the chilly majesty of
the ice, the void, the swallowing darkness they all swam in. Earth is
the sultry Hawaii in a solar system of perpetual Siberias, she
thought. Will we ever feel true warmth again ?
As she took long, loping strides across the speckled gray ice
Virginia resolutely banished the thought. She had had quite enough
experience with the onset of depression, thank you, in the last several
years. It was an occupational hazard. Even her love for Saul
had not proved an adequate shield against it..: just as the psychology
people Earthside had predicted, decades ago. They had warned
the crew not to put too much weight on any relationship, that no
human bond could take the full pressure of their isolation, the unremitting
hostility of the hard empty cold.
People weren't made to take the full brunt of the world, she
thought. Particularly not one as barren as this. Anthropologists had
found that even the simplest societies had quickly invented
alcohol--usually beer--probably as a shelter against the storm Of
naked, incessant reality. Intelligence able to deal flexibly and subtly
with its environment was also inescapably vulnerable to it. Halley's
crew had tried the predictable escapes--alcohol, drugs, senstim,
torrid and fleeting affairs--and weathered the years. But no victory
was permanent, and Virginia kne4v she had to steer herself through
shoals of depression, avoid the triggering thoughts aad moods.
She felt a faint tremor through her boots and glanced nervously
around. Nothing unusual, apparently. A few teams working
at distant launchers. No shouts over comm, nothing awry. Good. I
don't want to be up here when something goes ka-boom. Not my
strong suit, crises, nossir. Not without waldo gloves, JonVon, and a
hundred mechs at my beck and call.
The new, huge hydro domes loomed nearby, erected by Jeffers
and his crews when the quakes had started. It was risky to keep
farms and factories running beneath the ice near the launchers, in
case a stress line opened under the relentless pounding of the fling-ers.
Carl had ordered a lot of agro moved to the surface, set up near
the shafts.

	384
	G, RFCORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Amid all the work, there were the usual rumors. That the defeated
Arcists had struck some kind of.deal with the Ubers. That the Ubers were going to make trouble again over the choice of the
Mars trajectory. That the P-Threes were building a space ship in
secret. She thought it was idle talk, but you never knew.
' Everything so rushed these days, so exciting. A million jobs,
nearly the whole crew revived.., so why am I depressed7
The answer was obvious. She really didn't want to come up
here and confront Carl.
She glide-walked for Dome 3, where she knew he was looking
at some new agro results. As she came through the hissing lock she
saw Carl studying some canisters, running his hands through rich
kernels of wheat. He was wearing his spacesuit; these days he was
in and out so often, checking the launchers, he seldom shed it.
Agro workers floated above ripe fields of rye and wheat and spires
of coiling vegetables. Gene-crafted to thrive here in low-G among
the pervasive Halleyforms, they had odd, asymmetric forms.
	"Great stuff, huh?" He grinned at her as she approached.
"You're a thorough man. Checking the breakfast cereal,
too .9"
His face clouded. "I like to see good work praised, and these
people have done--"
"Hey, I was just kidding." She gave him a playful punch in the
arm, and then immediately felt the gesture was forced, awkward. Calm down. This is going to be hard enough without trying to pretend
it a Shriners' convention.
Carl shrugged. "I'll be with you in a minute, Virginia." He
turned back to a crewwoman standing nearby. "The new hybrid is
excellent. Tastes great, too." "
Virginia watched as Carl and the agro tech discussed variants
on the growing cycles. Halley's gentle but drumming acceleration
was affecting the mirrors that lit the greenhouses, and there were
adjustments to be made.
She wandered down a line, glad to delay. Stalks rose nearly a
hundred meters, slender and white, yielding impossibly broad,
meaty leaves. Spindly gardener mechs prowled down tight lanes.
Circulation patterns spun streamers of wobbly droplets among the
Iofty spiral stem. Beneath these vertical protein farms lay rows of
fat vegetables, lush and curling in the soft ultraviolet that filtered
through shimmering banks of moisture above. Rich humus lapped
at the feet of the giants, like a sea's exer-grinding at the shore. A
tracery of ponds used the gently falling debris from the spires, and

	HEART OF THE COMET
	385
modified fish darted among ropy roots. She recalled a poem she
had never finished, and found fresh lines popping into her mind.

in all this glistening fine
steel and cool ceramic sureness
Rot rules
as surely as in ancient sea-bed Earth.
Cool yet crackling flingers call up
lightning that once kindled organic clinging,
fevered molecules mad for union,
not knowing that growth means age
and then the chewing march begins.
We live from eating others
just as these chilled lands will gnaw us down,
ceaseless and unending digestion of
our hearts and dreams,
plots and schemes,
all passing clouds in an airless black
And yet we lack
a clear way back to youth,
or Earth, or slot sleep's birth.
I'd rather be brought down
after the long summer's chase,
belly torn out
(it's no disgrace)
than seep like sludge into
the garden's moss and hear the
polite such a loss
when I know all will be ground
down to make the soil,l$here
new Caesars will march,
unknowing, on to their good humus, too.
Virginia coughed in the heavy, musky air. She never seemed to
finish poems anymore. Instead she took them out to examine, turning
them to the light like pretty pebbles found on last summer's
vacation beach. Well, poems acquire a certain deadness when
they're done.., not finishing them gives them indefinite life. She
smiled to herself.
When she returned down a narrow lane, Carl was through
talking to the hydro crew. She liked the way the silvered inner surface
of the dome reflected a warped, surreal vision of.Carl im
	386
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
mersed in a riot of plantlife, as if it were an ocean in which he was
afloat. When he turned/oward her she held up a hand. "Conference?''
"Sure." He stood waiting, the old caution still far back in his
eyes. I've hurt him so many times.: . "I... wanted to tell you..."
"Yes?"
"I know you felt that there was.., some chance of Saul and
me ....
He smiled wanly. "There's always hope."
"You've never given up."
"No." 
"You might as well," she said gently.
"It's that certain between you?"
Virginia recalled her own thoughts about that, only minutes
ago. "Out here, nothing is certain, you know that. No, it's just that  . . you have such, well, such traditional goals."
"Dreams; I'd say." Carl smiled with a warm, rueful humor, as
if aware of his own foibles. He would keep this polite and graceful,
 she saw. Time had given him a veneer, a sense of self. He had
changed greatly in these years, almost without her noticing. I've
been so wrapped up in Saul ....
She struggled to find the right words, but before she could he
said, "Admittedly, out here the idea of love and family, that whdle
snug picture, doesn't work. We haven't figured out how to protect
the children from Halleyforms yet."
"You'll never have a family with me."
"I'm resigned to that. Saul won't either, of course."
"No, but not because of his sterility. It's me. I--I can't have
children."
His lips parted but he said nothing. The veneer was gone in an
instant and she saw again the old Carl, filled with longing and need.
"I... could never tell anyone. It was years before I could say
anything, even to Saul."
"God... I'm sorry."
She blinked back tears. "I've come to terms with it." Then
why am I crying, idiot ?
"All this time . . ." He shook his head, his face open and
somehow fresher,, younger. All these years he's sheltered a dream,
and now it gone.
"I knew about it well before we left Earth."
"I... see," he said numbly.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	387

	"Carl--"
"What.alout, uh, fixing whatever's wrong7 Saul's done
wonders--" He stopped.
She thought sharply, Was it me you wanted, or your dream of
sweet little Percell children, genetic miracles among the stars ? But
the suggestion was wrong, unkintl.
She blinked rapidly. "This is a . . . special case. Not even
genetic surgery... He did try cloning, without my permission. It
was a disaster." She shrugged.
	"You... knew.. , all along."
She nodded. "I suppose it influenced me, made me come on
the mission in the first place. I wasn't going to have a conventional
life, no matter how I played it."
	"You could'ye adopted."
"You know the odds against a Percell getting children to bring
 up. Even in Hawaii."
He said savagely, "Yeah, they sealed off everything from us,
didn't they?" The memory could still draw bitterness.
	"I could'ye stayed.., fought with the others 	"
	"You
saw what happened."
She nodded, sniffing, surprised at her own emotion. IfI.stay
here I'll cry. "We . . . really made the. right choice, didn't we? Coming?"
	His voice was leaden, his face a mask. "I... I don't know."
She was shocked. Have I taken away his last fantasy? And
with it gone, the tide of despair rushes in?
	"Carl, you can't think that. We've survived, we've managed
tO--"
"Look, I'd... I'd rathei' not talk right now. Okay? Just...
want to be alone." He visibly pued himself together, struggled to
regain some of the confident manher of leadership that had become
like a second skin to him however easily it had peeled away, just
now. "I appreciate your telling me. I can understand 'you better
now, and at least that's something."
	"Cad, I--"
"I've got plenty more to do here," he said bluntly. "Maybe
later."
Speechless, Virginia held out her hahds, then let them drift to
her sides. "All... all right."
She left quickly, her mind aswirl with conflicting emotions.
Somehow she had had to tell him, and yet if it stripped away too
much, damaged him...

	388
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

She had been fooled by his public face of assurance and control.
Beneath that, Carl had really changed very little. 'He had
g:own asthe situation demanded, but not the inner Carl. That Carl
had nursed a fantasy, and now she had toppled it.

She loped across the ice, putting her confusion into exercise, a
coasting mote moving across a plain the color of a blank television
screen.

--Virginia,-- JonVon's well-modulated voice came when she
was halfway to the lock. --There are coded transmissions from
near your present location. --

"Coded?" She stopped and looked around. Nobody in sight,
except a few hydro workers trudging off after their shift. On the
horizon one of Jim Vidor's faery towers spiked at the stars. Farther
away a launcher thrummed, driving them gradually, imperceptibly,
toward the encounter with Mars., "What do you mean?"

--I broke the code, a juvenile little algorithm. The messages
are quite excited and not altogether intelligible. They mention your
name and Carl Osborn .--

"Look, monitor it and try to track the source. I've got other
things on my mind right now."

She glanced back at the dome and saw through its smudged
translucence two figures confronting each other under the brilliant
lights.

Carl, suited and gesturing. The second, in a simple robe...
she was sure it was Saul

With Carl in such a state... I wish I could warn Saul. This is
definitely not the time to bother Carl with some detail.

Something was wrong. Saul waved his hands, then lurched to
the side, as if to leave.

Virginia frowned. Saul looked sick . . . and something was
odd about the way he moved.

Carl took a step forward and Saul pushed him away. Virginia
Wished she were back in her lab, could tap immediately into one of
the worker robos inside the dome, listen in.

The men were shouting at each other, Saul gesturing wildly,
pushing. He collided with the towering glass wall.

The dome split! At that moment a blue flash cut down it, ripping
the pressure sheet, showering livid yellow sparks. Air gushed
out soundlessly, a pearly fog exploding into a ball that rose and
grew and shredded. How could a man shatter... Then she realized.

Laser.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	389

"Saul! Run to the airlock!" But he couldn't hear her, of
course: SauFwasn't wearing a suit.

Carl sprinted toward the lock, where the helmets were stored.
Saul stumbled, confused, .and fell into a mass of vegetation.
He got back to his feet among the boiling tangle of plants, but did
not seem to know what to do, where he could find pressure again.
The lock was only a hundred meters away, but in the disorienting
plunge to vacuum the brain gave conflicting signals.

Virginia was running, shouting, without taking her eyes off
Saul. His robe flapped above bone-white flanks, he lurched
awkwardly--away from the lock, toward the split in the dome. He
was mindlessly following the gale that swept past him, sending his
brown hair sti'eaming before his eyes, tossing the plants in a whipping
gale.

Carl had reached the lock. He ducked inside, slammed the
hatch. It would take him at least a minute to find a helmet, get some
air into his lungs ....

Virginia ran furiously, slipping maddeningly off the ice.
"Saul--no! Saul--" '

She knew the effects of vacuum and cold, rupturing the blood
vessels in the lungs, freezing the body's cells, bursting the delicate
membranes in eyes and ears, wreaking bloody havoc throughout the


He stumbled toward the shattered lip of the dome, drawn by
the sucking storm. She was still running when he fell among the
upright shards.

Carl rushed past her. But when they reached the crumpl0,d
figure, stiffly contorted in a position of tortured agony, they could
see sharp, glassy daggers protruding from his back. The deep cuts
no longer even spurted scarlet, lrpling bruises, glassy complexion.
Blank, open eyes.

The dome crew came running from the far lock, bringing
first-aid equipment. Too late.

How strange he looks, Virginia thought. He had always
seemed craggy, time-worn but triumphant. Now he seemed unblemished,
young, his face smooth, as if years had been erased by
the soothing hand of Death.

	390
	GREGORY BENFORD AID DAVID BRIN

CARL

He had always been a problem-solver, a man who reflexively reacted
to the unknown by breaking it into understandable pieces.
Then Carl would carefully solve each small puzzle, confident that
the sum of such microproblems would finally resolve the larger
confusions. What'd they call it at Caltech ? A "linear superposition,
with separable variables"? Yeah, that my kind of stuff. 01'
can-do Carl.
He slammed his fist into the foamweb wall of Dome 3. But I
can't fix the past. I can't bring Saul back. I can't even comfort
Virginia.
She sat among some wilted stems of just-harvested rhubarb,
staring into space. Her red-rimmed eyes had long since cleared of
tears and now she was drawn, exhausted, numb. The dome crew
had taken Saul's body away, and in the confusion Virginia had
dropped into silence, ashen and listless. Lani Nguyen sat with her,
murmuring softly, an arm around Vi?ginia's shoulders.
Lani and Jeffers had arrived only moments after Saul's death,
responding to Carol's Mayday call. There was no sign of whoever
had fired the laser that punctured the dome. Lani and Jeffers had
met no opposition as they sprinted from the nearest shaft. The
comm radio carried no news. The dome crew, well seasoned by
meteorite punctures, had replaced the shattered wall and resealed
the dome quickly. Atmosphere was building to nearly normal.
Jeffers said sourly, "I still can't figure it."
Carl blinked, self-absorbed. "What?"
"Why Saul didn't react when the dome popped. He's older,
sure, but we've had plenty trainin' with leaks in the shafts. How
come Saul didn't follow you?"
"He was disoriented even before that. He came up through the
waste hatch over there, mumbling."
"That's crazy." Jeffers shook his head. "The waste hatch?"
"He must've taken it as some sort of shortcut. Maybe he knew
Virginia was talking to me and--" Carl stopped. He didn't want to'
reveal what Virginia had said, or pursue the thought that Saul was

	HEART OF THE COMET
	391
trying to stop.her. It all so damned jumbled up! Why should Saul
care about Virginia telling rne ? Or was Saul 's arrival--too late--an
accident ?
Jeffers bit his lip, uncomfortable. "Virginia said you and
Saul had a fight, sorta."
"He was shouting stuff--just sounds, grunts, some words all
mixed up."
"You figure he was hallucinatin' or sornthin'?"
"Maybe. I hadn't seen him in months. In fact, I hardly recognized
him. He looked confused, incoherent. The man was deranged."
"That's why he didn't react, get to the lock?"
"I guess. Maybe he's been experimenting with himself, nd
his arrogance finally caught up with him." Carl snorted. "Probably
was looking for the Fountain of Youth."
Jeffers looked skeptical. "Look, there's just too dhmn much
here. Somebody PUnches a hole through the dome, nearly kills all
of you--"
"Targets of opportunity," Carl Lid woodenly. "Unless they
spotted Virginia's tabard as she left, they must've thought she was
in the dome, too." ,
"But who'd--"
A blue flare lit a nearby stubby ice hill. The two men whirled
to watch the glare fade, enveloped in the exploding ball of white
spray.
"Goddamn!" Jeffers shouted. "Ever'body--helmets!"
Carl started toward Virginia, automatically clamping his own
helmet O-rings, and saw that Lani was ahead of him, helping Vir-
ginia. "Crew!--get down. If they puncture the dome again--"
--I not need to fire again,4arl. You get the meaning.-
The voice crackled in his earphones. "Who's that?" he
snapped.
--Sergeov! I knew it,-- Jeffers sent.
"Clear A-channel," Carl said to quell the rising chatter on the
line. "Sergeov, what the hell--"
In the display quadrant of Carol's helmet appeared Sergeov's
grinning, blue-tinted face. The Sigil of Simon Percell was etched
into each cheek.
--I hoped to get Carl and Virginia without injury.- Sergeov's
accent came through more clearly. --Even better when flies come
to the honey. Jeffers, I hope we can count on you to work with the
launchers when this is over.--

	392
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

"When what is over?"
--You can witness for self.-Carl
had been scanning the horizon to locate their laser. Now,
when he turned toward the equator, he saw figures quickly crisscrossing
around the launchers. Silently a bolt struck among two
running forms and sent them tumbling skyward in the burst of
steam. Carl could not tell whether the people were hit directly, but
there was scarcely time to consider it before more quick, blue-hot
flashes burst forth.

--We take half the launchers already. The rest will either surrender
or we will burn them where they stand.--

"What..." Realization dawned. "You... you've cut off me
and the others, so we can't lead a counterattack, right?"

Sergeov turned to give a gesture. Immediately Carl felt a
crump and vibrations beneath his feet. --I just now gave order to
blow in the tunnels beneath your dome. Seals you in tight, right?
Great, clape!--

Carl shouted, "You idiot--"

Sergeov laughed. --Like the trap, clap?-- Then he sobered,

smiled. --Without you the others will be less stupid.--Jeffers
broke in, --This's mutiny, y'know.----Self-preservation,
you mean.-Carl
could hear in the venom of Sergeov's words a rebuke of
his own leadership. The man's rantings had seemed comic, dumb,
a set of leftover ideas. But after the Care Package, a lot of otherwise
reasonable people had developed a deep hatred of Earthside, and
Sergeov had played to that, claiming that the Mars maneuver
wouldn't work.

And that much was true. The Mars plan almost certainly won't
save us. Nothing will, except a change of heart Earthside.

It had seemed to Carl that Sergeov had never proposed any
valid alternatives, and nobody could 'really take the man seriously.
Still, by adding together disguntled spacers and hard-line Ubers,
Sergeov might have enough to seize and hold the launchers, if they
did it just right ....

"You don't like the Mars targeting?"

--It is emotional drivel. We could not brake in such thin atmosphere,
everyone who stops to work it out knows that.--

"We can try. At the very least we'll slow down some, maybe
open up options on the outbound leg of this pass."

Sergev laughed, a dry cackle. --Do not give me speeches.
Me and my friends--who be real Percells, not renegades who suck

	HEART OF THE COME'F
	393
up to any Ortho, even sleep with them--we know the astrophysics
as well as you, probably better. You think we cannot do simulations?
We know danger of hitting Mars. At best not enough air. So
only hope remaining is to brake in atmosphere of planet with thick air.--
"Venus? There's a possible mission there, though it's on the
outbound leg. We'd have to go through perihelion first, and I don't
want to judge how we'll survive that."
--No perihelion. Dumb to even think we can ride that.--
"Why not? Listen, Otis, we can talk over a Venus encounter in
detail if you want."
Jeffers gestured to Carl as he spoke. Along the distant line of
launchers, figures were throwing makeshift flags over the cowlings:
the Uber sign.
--You see we are winning? Da, all in time. If the other
launchers do not give up, we will depress the muzzles of ours, fire
empty casings, and pound the others to small pieces.--
Jeffers blurted, --You're fuckin' crazy, you know that?-
Carl gestured for Jeffers to be quiet. "Jesus, Sergeov, you
wouldn't do that. We need those launchers--"
--To strike Mars. We shall not go crashing into Mars just to
keep Earthside happy.--
"What kind of demented logic is that?"
--Clever logic, it is. Earth would like to see us suicide on
Mars, end Halley-Life. What proof shall you need, after they
showed how much they care?-
The sneering reference to the Care Package hurt, because Carl
knew it was true. The crew had been bitter about that, and this mad
rebellion was the outcome. Most spacers, notably the Blue Rock
Clan of Hawaiians, stood behirfS. Carl. But Sergeov had undoubtedly
recruited among Percells, and Carl wouldn't be surprised if
there were even some Orthos helping him.
--We hit planet with atmosphere, but not Venus.Carl
felt a chill. "So where do you want to go, Otis?"
--Is obvious. Earth.--"Good
God! That's--"
He was about to say, That impossible, but then he recalled
the mission options outlined long ago. The expedition had first
planned on an inward-passing flyby of Jupiter, altering Halley's orbit
until rendezvous with Luna was fairly inexpensive in fuel fo, r the Edmund. That required a delta-V of 284 meters per second, a hefty
velocity change.

	394
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRJN

Since the Arcist rebellion had deprived them of the south pole,
they had opted to use launchers at the equator for the less effective
swing past Mars; that required a velocity change of only fifty-nine
meters per second. The energy required scaled as the square of
delta-V, which meant that a maneuver by Mars, with a grazing
brake in its atmosphere, took only four percent of the original mis-lion
energy requirement. They had been investing launcher time in
just that maneuver for years now.

But he had forgotten another maneuver they could make from
a steady equatorial push. Earth...

"I can't remember the numbers, but look, we can't--"

--I refresh you. Only takes sixty-three meters per second
delta-V. Only slightly more push than we now give. And direction
is nearly the same as Mars suicide! My crews, they now swing
launchers a little. Only five degrees in declination, one hundred
degrees in right ascension. You follow? Means--

"Yeah, I get it." He really crazy How do I handle him ?
"Okay, we can hit Earth. So what? They'II cream us before we
even get close."

Sergeov's dry cackle rang over the comm. Carl waited out the
airless, manic laughter, telling himself, Don't blow it. Keep him
talking. Maybe somebody from below Will round up some industrial
lasers, circle around them, cut them off--

But he knew the chances were slim. Sergeov had played it just
right, waited until Jeffers--Carl's right arm--was trapped in the
dome, too. Virginia couldn't get control of her mechs. And as a
bonus, they'd killed Saul, who might've rallied many people who
simply wanted to survive ....

--Earth will not cream us. Not if we threaten to seed them
with the plagues.--

"You'd threaten that?"

--Smell the fire, Meyer. Orthos blow Edmund, send Care

Package. What they deserve?--

"They'll still--"

--We make atmospheric brakes, jump off. Halley goes on. We
shall make deal to not seed Earth with Halleyforms, then Earth
send us to Diemos. We'live there, start terraforming planet.--

Jeffers muttered, "Well, at least that part makes sense." He
looked up guiltily as Carl shot him a glance.

Sergeov heard him. --Better to dream than nightmare, eh?-

Carl tried to think. Lani stood at his side, a hand on his shoulder,
mute comfort.

HEART OF THE COMET

"Earth'll take no chances on getting soaked with
forms. They'll nuke us," Carl said.
--No ,launches! We will have standby rockets, warh,
Halley-Life. Earth launch, we launch.-
Carl saw Jeffers's expression. Sergeov's mad scenario
too seductive. The aerobrakes would take a lot of
manufacture, but that had already been designed and schedt
the Mars maneuver.
"I don't think you can sell this."
--No need sell. Time to smack, Jack. Youagree or
dome into little pieces.--
"The others won't go along with this."
--What others? Ortho others? They want to live, s
Percells.--
"But this endangers Earth! Any aerobrake will bring
Core close enough to dump some ice into the upper atmo
The bioforms could make it down to the surface anyway!-
--Earthers shall have to take chance. Most of us now ,
on Earthers.--
Carl paced, oblivious to the staring eyes of the dome c
Jeffers's persistent gnawing at his own lip, to Virginia's blan
Lani watched him pensively. He had to think, and yet his mi
a whirl of conflicting emotions. The Earth maneuver at le
out the promise of hope, of living ....
"Look, you ought to have a referendum on this. Th
crew--"
--Clape, ape. No voting. You forget, we have launch,
"There'll be a sizable minority, maybe even a majority
oppose you."
--We can dispose of thema-
"How?"
--Same as we do for you, once things settle down
Launchers all built, no big labor needed now. We send yo
sleep slots.-
Virginia, Lani, Jeffers--they all stared at him, listenin
ing nothing. He had led them for years, for billions of n
come to this--a somber, stupid Waterloo. Outflanked. Outs
And to grind it in, $ergeov cackled dryly and said, Earth,
then we decide on who to wake up. You make troul
maybe you never come out of slots? Eh?--

	396
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


VIRGINIA


They had been the worst two days of her life. They seemed to
stretch back for millennia, back to sunny bright days when Saul
had lived, and love had carried her forward of its own momentum,
overriding difficulties, smoothing over'the furrowed surface of a
life that was, when she managed to think of it, perpetually,sharp
and desperate and tight-stretched.

Saul's contorted body had imbedded its image in her mind, a
silent, grotesque rebuke. He had looked so strange, so eerily different
in death, as if he were another person. Peaceful, despite his
wounds. Younger.

So many struggles...

If she had been closer, had thought faster, run harder-- '

No. Stop that. She knew this was a deadly spiral, that nothing
could come of an endless cycle of guilt and pain.

But such easy realizations did not free her. She sat amid the
currents of anger and frantic talk and raw emotion.., andclasped
herXhands, rubbing them incessantly, unable to move or think or
even let the upwelling grief spill out into tears.

It was useless, anything she did, so pointless and stupid. She
did not care if she sat forever this way, surrounded by the slowly
gathering musky damp of the regenerating dome The plants were
space-hardened, able to withstand quick decompressions and
chills, far better adapted, through a half-century of human handiwork,
than was mankind itself.

Others tried to help. Lani was a hovering presence, soft sibilants
in an engulfing stillness. Carl made his awkward gestures,
said the conventional things. It was all wooden, distant, faces under
glass.

The fact that the crazy Ubers and their allies were holding
them all inside Dome 3 made no difference, really. She was as
uncaring as the silent frosted ice outside, where figures gyred the
launchers into new, well-padded directions, their muzzles pointing
to different constellations. She watched the distant puppets do their
irrelevant things, without caring what it meant. Earth was a more
welcome target than Mars, certainly--but not because she thought
they would succeed.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	397

Nothing had-ever worked on this doomed expedition. Earth
would find som6 way to counter them. Was the scheme to cast off in
balloonlike aerobrake vehicles? Hollow steel shells that, under the
hard-ramming pressure of braking, needed only the slightest flawed
asymmetry to twist and shear and shatter--no, Earth would see that
opportunity quite well. A laser bolt, a particle beam--anything that
punched a hole in the shell would end them all in a fiery orange-red
caldron. She had no faith in Sergeov's fevered astronomical dream.
Or in the Mars maneuver, either. She had kept Carol's secret,
never told anyone. We live by believing fictions...
But Sergeov's lie was worse. It would bring no dead world
alive, and they would all wind up just as doomed.
What if the comet head was directed to actually collide with
Earth itself, as she had heard some Ubers discussing openly on the comm ? What would become of soft skies and hazy Hawaiian afternoons?
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Maybe humans
should go out the way the dinosaurs did.
"Virginia?"
It was Carl, phle and drawn, again trying to make some contact.
She blinked up at him. "Time to eat again?"
"No, I just--look, I could really use some help."
"Doing what?"
"Figuring a way out of this."
She said wearily, "Sergeov's got us trapped. Do you want to
dig out through the waste tunnels? Using garden trowels?" The
Ubers had caved'those in quite effectively.
"There must--"
"You tried the autochutes? The conveyors?"
"Sure Yesterday. He's got people blocking them."
She frowned. It was hard to t!ink in the old way.... "My
mechs. If I could get control function over them from here, on a
remote..."
"You tried that yesterday,' he reminded her gently.
She looked up, feeling a surge of irritation. "Oh yes. They've
changed the T-matrix inputs. Sergeov was smart enough to do that
right away. I could only fix that from the big console at Central, or
my lab. I have to be there in person."
They were silent. She could see Carol's frustration building in
his face.
Jeffers came over hurriedly, strain showing in his face.
"Somethin's happenin'--they've cranked up that laser again."
Carl launched himself in a long glide for the top of the processing
hut, fifty .meters away. Virginia was tempted to lapse back

	398
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

into neutral and let the world wash over her. But instead she sighed
and stood up. She kicked off and followed the two men in a slow
coast.

"They're firing at somebody!" Carl called from his vantage
point. Virginia snagged a guy wire and arced to a hardlanding atop
the hut.

"See?" Carl pointed. "Sergeov's up on that rise, there. He's
shooting at pdople coming from the south."

Fly-speck figures swept rapidly across the gray, streaked
plain. "Who?" she asked.

Lani landed next to her. "Arcists, I figure," she said.
"Quiverian's folk. They're still down there to the south, living
in their quake rubble. It's natural they'd oppose an Earth flyby.
But with the Ubers holding the launchers, they'll get cut to
pieces."

"You're sure?"

"I can't see--"

A huge gout of steam erupted from the base of the hill where
the Uber laser sat. The cloud enveloped the hill in a shroud of fog.
Before it could swell further and dissolve, another blue spark ignited
at the base, sending a ball of white skyward.

Virginia said excitedly, "The Arcists are using their big laser.
It's hard to aim, but if they just hit the hill itself--"

"They'll blind the Uber laser crew with the vapor,"
"Yeah!"

Figures moved on the horizon, their tabards too small
tinguish in the dust they kicked up. Virginia had never thought very
much about tactics in near-zero gravity, but she could see
behind the slowly converging horns of the Arcist movements.
:pincers closed toward the equatorial string of launchers. Ser
people struggled in the launcher pits. The big, awkward
modules were difficult to move quickly, particularly in declination.
They began to nose down toward the south, but their long, slender
barrels turned with agonizing slowness.

"Look," Carl said, pointing. "The Arcists are trying to sweep
by us. We'll get free if--"

But then a second Uber laser opened fire from a distant hill
flinging spheres of steam up from the plain: Even a near miss
the tiny figures up and away from the sudden gusts.

"Why don't they attack from the sky?" she asked.
"Sergeov's probably got some small radars with him.
pick them out if they're isolated up there. On the ice, it isn't
easy. And the dust helps shield them."

	HEART OF THE.COMET
	399

"Yeah," Jeffers said. "How'd you like to be hangin' up there,
naked as a jaybird? Feels a lot better to have some ice between you
and that big burner."

The attackers sought shelter.'They fired small weapons of limited
range--fl6chettes, e-beam bore?s--but merely raised small
puffs from the Ubers' barricades. Some used portable microwave
borers, presumably tuned to disrupt human cells, but the beams
fanned out too broadly at this range. Now and then, those inside the
dome heard faint clicks, the microwaves softly tickling their inner

ears.

Meanwhile, the big Arcist iaser continued to pound away at
the hills of both Uber strongpoints, making it difficult for them to
aim carefully. They watched for an agonizing half-hour as each side
maneuvered, fired, ducked--to little effect. The entire conflict was
soundless, with a slow-motion unreality about it.

"Looks like a stalemate to me;" Carl said, fatigue weighing
on his words.

"Nobody can get enough men together to cover their movements,''
Jeffers said. "Looks like there's still a fair number of Ar-cists,
but you can't outflanl a whole damn equator."

Virginia hesitated. "Can't we make use of this?"

Carl asked, "How?"

"To escape! If we run a kilometer or so, into those piles of slag
to the north--"

"They'd pick us off."

Jeffers nodded.

"But if I can get inside, I can get back control of my mechs!
The Ubers couldn't stand up to a mech kamikaze attack."

Lani said, "I could try to get down to the Blue Rock Clan.
Keoki Anuenue would bring up his awaiians, if he knew where we
were."

Jeffers's mouth opened in disbelief. "You women are both
crazy. You'll never reach the shaft."

"Create a distraction, then;' Virginia challenged him.
"What?"

Virginia thought rapidly. "Suppose we vent the entire dome at
once--with the vats open?"

Carl frown6d. "The water vats? They boil and-- I see. It'll

make a huge ball of steam. Nobody'Il be able to see through it."
Jeffers shook his head. "No tellin' how long that'd last."
Virginia turned to him. "We'll have you running the pumps--squirting
water right out the dome, where it'll boil off immediately.''

	400
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BR[N

Jeffers opened his mouth to object, then closed it.. "UTM, I
dunno. Might."

"Let's do it! Otherwise, if Sergeov wins--"

"Right;' Carl said, his lips pressed thin and white. "Come

on."

It took ten minutes to set everything up. Virginia worked with
maddened ferocity, dragging hoses, shutting down yeast-flowering
towers, throwing protective temporhry plastic blankets over the
acres of plants, sealing growing units that were too delicate to withstand
very much vacuum and cold. It felt awkward, doing manual
labor without a mech.

Not thinking ahead, scarcely thinking at all, she found herself
crouched inside the lock beside Carl and Lani. She suddenly realized
that she was about to risk her life on her ability to run. Impossible,
absurd! I've spent less time on the surface than anyone else.
But she could see no other way out. She sure as hell wasn't going to
let Sergeov stuff her into a slot forever. Or let him bury Hawaii
under a night of cosmic ash.

Jeffers called, --Ready?-- from inside.

She nodded fiercely. Pretend you're not here in person. Just
believe you're operating a mech out on the ice. You 'ye done it thousands
of times.

--Yo!-- Carl answered.

The lock sprang open and they launched themselves forward.
They separated immediately. Lani dashed northwaCd while
Virginia and Cad loped toward the east. She remembered to cut off
her comm. No need to alert anyone, in case the Ubers were using
tracers on suit transmitters. She tucked her head down and ran in
the long, even, ice-gripping stride, almost tree coasting, that covered
ground best.

Just like running a spider mech. Head low, find the traction.
AvoM the deep dust.

She glanced back just in time to see the seams pop on the
dome. The entire translucent structure billowed out like a collapsing
lung, exhaling a heavy mist into the star-sprinkled sky. Billowing
banks enveloped her. Then leffers started the firehose streams
from the vats, thin sprays that thickened and then abruptly dissolved.
Fog clasped them from all sides. The world turned white.
She had to depend on her initial momentum to give direction, because
she could not even see the scarred ice beneath her.

Her receiver was on and she heard shouts, swearing, exclamations.
But no one cried out their names; called for pursuit.

Ivory mist seemed to press in from all sides, lifting her.., she

	HEART OF THE COMET
	401

lost sight of the ground completely.., the shouting increased...
she landed, bit in with her ice spikes, kicked off.., seemed to soar
with wings into a cloud of welcoming white.., lamed again, boots
crunching into f?ost...
--and was out, clear, back into a world of gray ice and hare
black sky and death.
She glanced around. 'Carl was- ahead of her, just pushing off or
a long, shallow parabola. As his feet cleared the. ground a quici
flash blinded her, a blue hotpoint of light--only yards from Carl. I
struck a roiling vapor cloud from the ice scooping a crater a mete
deep.
She switched on her comm to line AF, as they had plannex
"They're on to us!"

Carol's head jerked around and he motioned to the le't. --G
behind that!-
Fifty meters away was a sturdy mech-repair platform', cant
against a heap of ruddy iron slag. It was, in fact, a piece of the Edmund's external cargo assembly, thick with struts and crisscrc
structural members that had supported great masses in the lo
boost out from Earth. On her next footfall Virginia swiveled, fe. ing a sharp twinge from unused muscles, and pushed off toward
A brief spark of blue lit her way. Her shadow stretched, a I
giant flying across pocked ice in the sudden glare. She did not I
to see the cloud of fog billow out, but the hairs on the back
head stood up. That was close.
She landed behind the platform an instant after Carl. --
here,-- he sent unnecessarily.
"What'll we do?"
--Wait 'em out. They'll find other targets. They don't k-who
we are for sure, so...--
A buzz interrupted him as another party tapped into
comm. Sergeov's voice boomed in her ears. --I do know. I am
so stupid I cannot guess who it is that is running away. Or searc;
comm channel.--
--Oh shit,-- Carl said.
Virginia realized that they had nothing to bargain wi
possible help. She thumbed to open channel. "Listen, Otis.
and I can get the Arcists to leave off their attack, if you'll let

--You offer me what? Diplomacy?,- Sergeov's contemp
plain.
--It's all you've got left.--

	402
	GREG(RY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

--I have you. You shall not move a meter or I burn you.--"What
good's that do? Your problem is the Arcists.'
--You are one having problems.-- With that Sergeov began
rattling instructions to someone in Russian. Virginia remembered
there were several ex-Soviets among the Ubers; belief in your own
perfectability ran through both'movements.
She cut comm and touched helmets with Carl. "What can we
do?"
"Not a damn thing." On the plain beyond, distant figures
moved and an occasional small weapon winked. They crouched
beneath the bulk, holding to struts. A bright flare burst only a few
meters beyond the jagged edge of their shelter. Gouts of gas swept
by them. An instant later another blue-white fireball winked on the
opposite side, then was smothered by a swelling sphere of ivory.
"He's showing off how he's got us bracketed," Virginia said.
"Probably start punching holes through this next." Carl
slapped the slab of metal in frustration. "One bolt alone won't go
through this, though."
"Can he keepone of his two lasers trained on us?"
"Not for long. But he can't afford to let us get away, either. I
can't see how--"
A heavy thump shook the strut beneath Virginia's hands.
	"Hey, what--" Another solid blow, followed by a trembling in-the
metal. "He's trying to break through!"
Carl shook his head, peering beneath his grimy visor. "A laser
bolt doesn't feel like that. This--"
The platform lurched on its right side, biting into the ice,
kicking up dust. Carl pressed his helmet against a big cross-bar.of
blue-gray prestressed steel. "Listen!"
Virginia had barely touched the metal when she heard a loud
crump followed by a low, persistent ringing. "What is it? I--"
The entire platform shook. The next blow came only seconds
later and this time she was looking to the side, and could see that
there was no momentary blue flash illuminating the surrounding
gray ice.
"So he's thought of that," Carl said angrily.
She guessed. "The launchers."
"Yeah. He can't spare the laser, so he's aimed a few launchers
at us. Flinging empty casings at low speed, to prevent an explosion.
Firing around this chunk of stuff, hoping to pick us off if
we show--"
A jolt shook the platform and the entire bulk lifted from the
ice. Virginia felt a crump, crump, crump through her hands, three

	HEART OF THE COMET
	403
quick blows that pushed the platform a meter clear of the ice. She
hung on, looking wildly at Carl. ".He's pushing us off."
--Get, a good grip,-- Carl sent.
"But we can't-7"
--Just hold on. We'll have to move fast when...--$ergeov
broke, in, --I did not expect this, but is good.--"You
can't--"
--Launcher is to keep you from getting inside. Even better if it
gets rid, eh?-
The platform rang and shook now with a steady hammering.
Once-sighted in, the launcher could pour a steady rain of the soft
hollow slugs at them.
Carl said, --The pellets just splatter like a marshmallow when
they hit. They can't get through this hard alloy. But they're pushing
us.-
Virginia looked down. Already they were high above the
stained, gray plain, and gathering speed. The impulses from the
launcher had driven them tangentially off the surface and now they
passed over the battle scene. Random flashes, rising puffs of gas.
She heard a click and recognized it as a symptom of a near miss by a
microwave beam; the waves actually resonated with small bones in
the human ear. Whoever it was didn't fire at them again.
Someone was running toward the shelter of a low line of fuel
drums and she recognized the tabard of Joao Quiverian. A laser
bolt caught the tall Arcist leader in midstride and a blue sun leaped
in his chest. A small cloud rose from the body as it continued on its
way, hugging the ground, arms flopping outward and spinning uselessly
as it skimmed into a dust pit and disappeared.
Figures glanced up at them but no one tried to come to their
aid. Those'below could undoubtlly see the results as a steady hail
of slugs struck the other side of 'the platform, and knew that any
approach would run that gauntlet. She called, "Sergeov!"
--I gave you place to stay. You leave dome, you bring this on
yourself.--
"Look, we'll--"
--Too late for talk. I have battle to win, Arcists to. kill,
Goodbye.--
"Carl, what'll we--"
--Don't let go!- I'm not about to, she thought. Even if the whole thing making
me... dizzy. Halley seemed to tilt in the sky, the speckled and
blotched gray sheets rolling and veering as they swept over them,
lifting ....

	404
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
--Just what i was afraid of. We're turning,m
Of course. The slugs don't hit evenly, so the platform is picking
up spin. Sergeov knows that ....
"Can't we crawl around?"
--It'll be tricky. Come on, go left.-Carl
moved with an easy grace she envied as she clumsily
followed, not daring to let go of one strut before she had the next
firmly in hand. The platform was to her a mountain of crossed
metal strands, which she climbed hand over hand, a slight centrifugal
pull tending to turn her outward and away from it. If the platform
had been spherical, their maneuvering would have been
simple--just keep on the side away from Halley. But as the slab
turned, there was a short interval when it was edgo on to Halley and
the launcher slugs were passing by invisibly close. Virginia and
Carl clung to the edge of the platform as this moment came, then
scrambled to the new face, feeling slugs slam into the far side
again. As she struggled for a secure grip she saw spalled and dimpled
impact craters. And all this comes from empty casings,
launched at a millionth the normal energy!
The slab seemed to be spinning faster. "Are they trying to spin us?" she asked, panting.
--Wouldn't surprise me.--"How'Il
we--"
--Hustle!-- ' ' She followed Carl around to the next corner and waited. The
metallic sheen of the cold steel reflected the dim gray glow of Halley
as the flat face slowly revolved, the curve of the cometary head
rising over a warped tangle of rods and rivets. From this distance
there was no sign of a battle, no indication of humans and their
petty lives at all.., only the smeared dust-scape, like an accidental
abstract work of art glimmering in the starlight. Then she saw the
long dashed line of equatorial launcher pits and realized that the
machine which was propelling them could "see" them, too. She
scrambled after Carl, around the edge.
Virginia felt a clanging thump and saw a rod near her leg dissolve
into nothing as a blur struck and sent it whirling away into
space. She sucked in her breath and jerked herself around the lip of
the platform.
"It... it's too dangerous, doing .this."
--If we don't keep this between us and the slugs, we're
dead.-- Carol's eyes were wide, and yet somehow calm, steady.
"Can't we jump off?. Without something big to target on--"

HEART OF THE COMET
--Fine, only what about the slugs that miss the platform
if Sergeov knOWs we've jumped, he'll let the launcher w
around the target, to iry to catch us.-
Carol's voice was almost matter-of-fact, assessing possibi
Virginia clung to a pipe, legs drawn outward, the steady I
thump-thump coming througli her hands. It was hard to
"Look, let's put our maneuver jets on impulse. That'll get'us fast."
--Yeah, but it'll take a lot of push. These jets haven'!
kept up well, either.--
"We haven't any choice!"
--We're safe here.-Virginia
didn't like the distant, resigned look on Carl':
"And every minute we get further away from Halley!"
--Yeah, you got a point.-- He frowned. Shaking his
Trying to care.
Halley's pale horizon began rising over the platform's
--Let's go jump straight off the edge as it comes roun
geov can't hear us, with all this metal blocking our comm.
He looked at her with an unreadable, pensive expressk
struggled over to the lip of the platform and got her feet
against a tangle of struts. "Say when."
--Wait... Got your jet activated? Put it on emer overt
a twenty-second burst, see?-- He flipped the switch fi
--Okay, throw 'er to full when I... say . . . now!-Virginia
jumped as she threw the switch. A fist slamn
her waist and sent her hurtling, struggling to keep her hat
feet aligned. The thrust seemed to last forever and she fo
impulse to double up, present the smallest target for the sh
she could feel streaking out from Halley, searching f.o,r he
Release. The savage thrustas cut off by the suit stirr
dipped her head and could see between her feet the platfor ing lazily. A silvery flange winked and tumbled away
watched, liberated by a slug's impact. If only Sergeov did
what they'd done...
Carl. Where was he?
She looked around quickly, found nothing. Ifa slug
would it just go straight through ? Or would it give you enoa
to drive you far away in only a few moments, beyond viea
Virginia didn't dare call on comm. She turned in eve:
tion, telling herself not to panic, to be systematic--and fo
at last directly overhead, a doll-sized dot.

	406
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Rendezvous took only a few moments. He came swimming
toward her, braked, they locked hands and touched helmets. She
had expected a moment of celebration, for surely they were out of
the danger zone by now, but all he said was, "Now comes the ha'rd
part?'

"What?"

"Getting back to Halley."

"Won't someone..." She was going to say, come after us?
when she realized that obviously nobody would be thinking about a
rescue in the midst of a battle. The Ubers and their allies had undoubtedly
covered the shafts, bottling in anyone who could help.

Besides, how many knew they were out here?

"How far away are we?"

Carl held up a small tube, pointed it at Halley's acned, dwindling
disk, and read off, "Twenty-three point four kilometers. And

increasing at about three kilometers a minute."

"So far!"

"A lot of slugs hit the platform."

"These suits..."

"They have a big range. The real problem is getting back before
our air runs out." He gestured toward their inventory logs,
running in color-coded lines down both sleeves of their suits. "Haven't
got a hell of a lot."

"How much delta-V can I get?"

Carl did the calculation in his head, frowned, and resorted to
his faceplate for a check. "Not much."

"We can still get back, can't we?"

"Yeah . . . only we've got to make up this three ldicks per
minute. It'll take nearly all the juice we've got. Then we have to go
the thirty or so klicks back to Halley...."

His voice trailed off into a frustrated gesture as he punched in
fresh figures on his board, attached at a waist pop~out. Virginia bit
her lip. All this was going so fast, and she had no time to think.

Carl stopped, typed in more, pressed his lips together until

they were white. "Looks bad."

"How bad?"

"Neither of us is going to make it back in time for fresh air."
"Neither?"

"Can't be dond. That three klicks a minute takes a big bite out
of our fuel."

"Then..." A dark foreboding, the underlayer she had felt for
days now, swelled up in her. They were all going to die. Fate had

	HEART OF THE COMET
	407


managed eve pounds thing so they would each face some excruciating
death, alone 'and afraid, out here in the oblivious cold abyss ....

"We :an overcome that three klicks per, but that leaves jusl a
small velocity. The comet's gravity won't help much. It'll take
hours to get back to Halley."

And it getting worse as wb talk. Each second takes us further
away. Out-into the emptiness, to join the frozen souls of the Edmund.
Only we have to die, first ....

"Can't one of.us take both jet packs?"

Carl shook his head. "They're integrated, remember? Can't
pop one out without rupturing the air seal."

She didn't remember, had never known that, but her mind
skated quickly now, skittering over what she knew of dynamics. If
there was some way...

"Wait. Only one of us has to get back, get some help. Isn't
there some way to trade momentum between the two of us?"

Carl looked puzzled. His face was grizzled and tired, dark
circles rimmed his eyes. He looked older and more worn than she
had ever seen him, even at the peak of the plagues. He shook his
head mutely, lips still tightly pressed, his eyes full of despair.

She remembered something from long ago.., fished for it
. . . caught the fragment of an idea.

"Wait. There's something..."


Halley hung suspended in the consuming dark, its rotation 10ng
stolen by Man, its face now lit by his fitful fires.

Carl watched the battle progress as he made lis long approach.
It was over three hours since he had separated from Virginia.
By agreement they had kept comm silence. It had made the
journey lonely and frustrating, for he could hear the scattershot
shouts of the struggle', harsh cries and strumming sidelobes of microwave
pulses--all without getting any clear idea of what they
meant, of how the battle flowed. He had tried to concentrate on the
blurted cries, not only because he needed to know the situation'
when he landed, but to quell his own anger.

	408
	GRIGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

He scanned the looming landscape with a telescopic projection
on his faceplate. Bodies of dead Arcists lay sprawled near the equator.
Laser gouges pocked the hillsides, but now the Arcist lasers
seemed to be knocked out. He spotted one broken into a shattered
tube. The launchers had proved more effective than the clumsy
welder-lasers. Farther to the south Carl could see a line of Arcists
forming up around five microwave pulsers. The engagement would
focus down there.

The Ubers were moving out, skirmishing. Th'ey swept south
from the equator, pursuing ragtag parties along a line of hummocks
and rusty slagheaps. Everybody was keeping down, hiding in
plumes of dust, using what shelter there was. The Ubers seemed
better trained. They used fire-and-maneuver effectively, two figures
shooting personal weapons at a nearby position while a third
moved up to the next covered spot.

She knew I'd never agree, so she didn't even discuss it.
Virginia's idea was elegant and she had understood its implications
fromhe instant it occurred to her. He recalled it all clearly,
ruefully....

Carl had thought of them linking belts, then his firing his jets
until they were exhausted. Virginia would then separate, leave him,
ignite hers, and reach Halley. Even that would not provide much
margin. Worse, it would be tricky, because his jet would not fire
directly along the axis of the two-body system. That meant she
would have had to waste fuel vector-keeping.

Virginia's alternative was simple. They tethered with a
hundred-meter line and Carl took an accurate sighting on potato-shaped
Halley--ten times bigger than the moon was as seen from
Earth, but a hundred and five kilometers away and shrinking visibly,
swiftly. Carl had programmed his suit to give a clear beep
whenever his velocity was aligned opposite to the Halley vector.
They pulled the line between them taut, and Carl was about to start
his jets--when Virginia fired first.

"Hey!" he had cried. "Shut down!"

--No, this is better--I'll expend my reserve.--

"Dammit! Stop!"

--'No, Carl,think it through.-- Already they had begun to
revolve about each other as Virginia's jets built their angular momentum.

"I'm going to fire, too," he shouted.

--That's stupid. Waste your reserves and we'll both die. Just
hang on.--

"No, I can't--"

	HEART OF THE COMET
	409
--I'm like'a pig on ice out here. You can match velocities and
make the trip with minimal fuel. And you'll handle yourself better
when you come down in that madhouse. You know that's true. I'm
not being self~sacrificing here. Far from it. I'd botch it and we'd
both end up as icicles.--
"I mass more than you," he had raged. "I'll pick up a lower
velocity than you would--so I'll take longer. That's simple dynamics.''
--I'm talking skill here, not Newton's laws. You can do it,
Carl, and you know-very well that I can't.--
"Dammit, I won't let you--"
--Too late.-- Across the hundred meters she waved cheerily
as the stars wheeled behind her. The tether linked them, navel to
navel. Centrifugal force bent him backward, as if he were suspended
from his belly button.
He struggled to think clearly against the steadily pressing
hand. There had to be a way to stop her. "You can't--"
--I'm triggering on the signal.--"What?"
SO she had set up the same vector-seeking program,
only hers marked a spot on the opposite side of their circle than his.
His beeps had been coming regularly, uselessly, and now--
--I'm down to two percent,-- she called. --I'm going to Sling
you away.-
She soared against the mad whirl of stars, the Only fixed point
in his centrifugal universe, and he heard his own ritual piping beep,
knowing that hers would come a scant five seconds later.
"Wait, there must be--"
--Time's a-wastin', Carl. Fly fast!-With
a decisive chop she freed the line.
He felt the jolt as a sudden flease, a return to freefall. Looking
up, he saw that she had hit it just right--Halley hung above, a
dim splotch.
And below him, between hie parted boots, Virginia waved
with a slow, somber grace. He was alarmed at how quickly she
shrank, a blue dot swallowed by the yawning space between the
burning suns ....
 . . Three hours ago. He shook off the memory. He should
have found a way to thwart her, to launch her Halleyward instead
.. but once she had committed her own fuel, he had been trapped.
She had always been quicker than he, and maybe this time she had
been right. He had to prove her correct now, get down to the surface
and find a craft that could rescue her.
Nearer, now. Halley seemed to fill the sky. Momentary blue

	410
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
brilliances 'lit its scarred face. The shaft mouths were clogged with
ice, sealed to prevent crew inside from entering the battle. Small
lasers commanded the agro domes, keeping them isolated.
Would so many people have joined $ergeov's conspiracy if
they had figured out all the implications of his plan ?
Carl had had a lot of time to think, on the way back. Sure,
using Earth as a target made better sense than Mars, dynamically. Earth's greater gravity would be more- useful and the thicker atmosphere
would be better for aerobraking. But it would still take many
passes before the returnees had shed enough velocity to match orbits
or land. '
And would Earth sit still while they kept swinging around
again and again, pass after pass? Oh, they might be intimidated once--by the threat of plague bombs--but that wouldn't last.
Some joined Sergeov because they think it's the only way to
live. No matter what the price.
The price, in this case, would be high.
In order to keep Earth from interfering, from taking revenge,
Sergeov had to destroy her.
The way the dinosaurs had been destroyed . . . by a storm
from heaven. Sergeov planned to bring Halley home, dead center.
So ? Carl thought bitterly. Earth declared war on us, didn't
they?
It was a sophistry to which Cai'l was fortunately immune.
I'm not at war with six billion people, no matter what their
leaders do to me.
After Halley smacked into the Earth, there would be no civilization
left to speak of. Sergeov's Ubers could maneuver back
slowly, casually, without interference.
Perhaps they plan to become gods.
Over my dead body.
He would fight them, of course, useless as it seemed. But that
was distant from his mind as the surface rushed up at him. He cared-only
about one thing-- finding a fueled lifter mech as quickly as
possible and getting spaceborne again.
She tricked me, he declared again to the stars. Please, oh
please, keep her alive until I can get to her.t
As he began his long delayed braking, he saw that several
launcher pits were blackened. Debris layall about them, the ruined
sleeves of flinger tubes, cores Of electromagnetic assemblies, induction
coils ....
Vast damage. Carl felt sickened at the-lost work. Loving
craftsmanship destroyed.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	411

And in his ears rang shouts of victory from the Ubers. Two
Uber pincers'converged on the line of microwave borers. Their Ar-cist
defenders crouched low, trying to cover the attackers with the
cumbersome trumpet-shaped horns. Carl could hear the quick
bursts from them as sssttuuppp sssttuuppp sssttuuppp over the
comm. Blue-white plumes flowered where the microwaves caught
the ice. They were putting up a fierce last stand, but it seemed to be
all over.

Suddenly, Carl caught a new flicker of movement out the corner
of his eye. Fanning out behind the Uber main force came a
motley gaggle, moving swiftly. A smaller group swarmed toward
the equatorial line, now only lightly held by the Ubers. He turned
up his telescopic power. Who were these?

They did not come from the tightly guarded shafts, but rather
from fresh cracks in nearby depressions. New tunnels, Carl
thought. They're organized.

They spread across the grainy ice. He counted a dozen figures
in sleek black suits--of a type he had never seen before--and over
twenty others dressed in strange, filmy green. They lacked tabards,
so he could not tell what faction they were with, if any at all

The newcomers fought with a fine-edged ferocity, using
small, potent handguns. They took the Uber line from the rear,
inflicting damage on weapons rather than pinpointing people. Carl
coasted closer, watching with mounting impatience. What was happening?
His comm gave only shouts, incomprehensible orders, and
crackling static.

Who are these guys?

The odd figures in green and in black outflanked one launcher,
attacking from its vulnerable side. Someone had trained them.
Instead of a milling rush, theysed covering fire to maneuver,
keeping the Ubers' heads down while each figure moved forward.
Then they pounced into the pits as the launcher crew tried
vainly to swivel its awkward muzzle to meet a fresh, unexpected
attack.

It didn't work perfectly. Laser pulses caught some attackers
and blew gouts of blood into the vacuum. Distant launchers pelted
the ice with machine-gun bursts, striking a few figures and propelling
them off the ice into a permanent, solitary orbit about the sun.
In the frigid gripping silence their ends were impersonal, an intersection
of certain vectors and momenta, the dynamics of death a
matter of mere mathematics.

-But human verve counted, too, and the black and green tide
washed over the pit-punctuated equator. In his ears rang hoarse

	412
	G, REGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

jubilation, incoherent cries. Ubers died in burrows where they had
crawled for shelter.
He was coming in close, now. Two figures below him donned
tabards, apparently so their troops could form up about them--the
heraldry popped into his head and he blinked in amazement. OuldHarrad
and Ingersoll? At the same moment he saw that they were
not wearing green suits, but rather no suits at allI The green was
some airtight layer. Halleyform!
The black-suited ones stayed together. Their suits were little
more than gIossy helmets plus some thin film' covering the rest of
their muscled bodies, showing detail so clearly that he could tell
they were all male, all remarkably similar. Th,ey moved with grace
and speed that stunned the eye.
Carl expended the last of his fuel braking toward a clump of
transport mechs tethered near Shaft 4. He rolled to a halt in a storm
of dirty ice. He had no time to appeal for help, knew that the crew
in black and green--whoever they were--would be too busy and
excited to be of any use anyway. He was tired, but the mech would
do most of the pilotingif he could get control of it. If one were
fueled and ready. If...
The comm was overloaded with a raucous rolling celebration,
oblivious.
--Carl! That you?-- It was Jeffers.
"Yeah. Got to get a mech, fast!"
--Sergeov's dead. Ould-Harrad's guys got him with two laser
bolts. Blew him apart and pushed him right off into space.--"Come
here! These mechs--"
--Don't seem anybody's interested in retrievin' him, either.--Jeffers
was rejoicing. Then the urgency in Carol's voice registered..
--Okay, I'm comin'.--
Got to get one with enough fuel... Not this one... --Carl.-- A female voice. He turned to see Lani approaching
from the north with Keoki Anuenue and a score of the big Hawaiian's
people. --The Ubers had the Blue Rock Clan bottled up, but
we found a way out with the weirders, Ingersoll's guys.--
They helped? The crazies? It was slowly sinking in. "Great. I
 . . Look, help me find a mech that's fueled."
--Where's Virginia? I looked--"Find
a mech!"
--Okay, check the inventory.--
"What?"
--We've got mech control up and running again. See?--

	HEART OF THE COMET
	413

She transferred the manifest readout directly to his viewplate
and he instantly saw the code numbers of two standby transports flashing green. --Here,-- Lani said, coasting over to one of them.
Her face was drawn but determined behind a spattered helmet. --I'll
boot it up.-
Carl joined her, punched up the mech's status readout.,
--Those black guys, who've they?-- Lani asked.
"I dunno."
--You don't? We all thought you and Virginia must have
brought them.-- The mech purred to life. Carl shook off questions
and got oxygen. Nothing else mattered. The madness of men was
now only a backdrop. The goddamned politics could wait.
One step at a time.., time is running.., dunno how much
oxy she had.., think it through.., each step...
Carl programmed the transport for high boost, stubby fingers
punching in commands with a deliberate slowness. Lani insisted on
going along and he wasted no time arguing. They lifted off with
Lani in the side-rider pod.
Virginia had left their center of mass with the ame speed as
Carl--slightly less than four kilometers per minute--but in the opposite
direction. Their separation lay over three hours in the past.
That meant he had to recoup nearly a thousand kilometers at high
thrust, then search the space for a weak, steady vector-finding
signal ....
Speed. Speed was all that mattered now.

Hours later Carl brought the mech in for a rough landiig,at the
glassy entrance to Shaft 3. He was ragged with fatigue, but he had
Virginia. The world tilted blearily as he dismounted, unsteady
from the varying accelerations ohe past hours.
Almost there. Just get her inside...
He slipped clumsily on the ice and dropped her. Lani helped.
Everything was foggy, slow-motion.
Only when gloves caught her, pulled the limp, space-suited form away from him, did he see the others. They wore black suits
and no tabards, with tight helmets that showed only eyes through
narrow slits. He switched among comm channels but they did not respond.
They were eerie, silent. And identical. The one carrying Vr-ginia
swiveled and sped quickly for a shaft entrance, now cleared of
ice. Carl stumbled after, slipping.
Down the shaft. Walls slid by like sheets of rain descending as

	414
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

he watchedl impassive, numb, a creeping slackness stealing into
his arms and legs. He was well past the point of caring about himself,
and concentrated only on the body that a black-suited figure
carried before him. Everything moved with ghostlike speed and
silence.
They cycled into a lock, Carl leaning groggily against the
bulkhead as pressure popped in his ears and the world of sound
came flooding back, the rustle and murmur of talk swirling around
him once more, after many hours of an embalmed isolation. He
staggered through the portal, brushing aside hands that tried to
steer him.
Scores of moaning csualties. Medics with blood-soaked
gloves.
Virginia. Got to see.., she needs.., got to '...
The man carrying her set her gently down on a med couch. A
team had been waiting. They attached oxy-prep hoses, leads for
diagnostics, stripped off her suit, all beneath the pale enameled
light that showed her bloodless face in terrifying detail, seamed and
rutted like a collapsed landscape.
A torrent of voices, liquid words flowing past him in vortices,
without trace...
Carl shambled forward, ignoring the restraining hands. Got to
be with her.., got to...
The man next to him put a steadying grip on his shoulder. Carl
turned slowly. Then the figure in black loosened his glossy helmet,
started to lift it, gasped, and, in an old familiar way, sneezed.

SAUL

Another rocking sffeeze resounded before the ebony helm was off.
Saul blinked away spots before his eyes. He had to clamp down
with biofeedback to stop another tickle that threatened to get him
started again. Now was not the time for his confounded allergy-Symbiosis
system to rear .up. He'd had enough troubles since the
cave-in--what seemed like days ago--and right now every second
counted.
Carl Osborn was blinking at him, his dented, grimy, old
	HEART OF THE COMET
	415
fashioned spac,erhelmet dangling from one hand. "But... but...
you were dead!"
Saul shrugged. "I was, ina sense. But like an old wed, I keep
popping back." Carl deserved an explanation, but right now there
wasn't time to give him one. Saul bent over Virginia's waxy, pale
form and read the patch diagnostic attached to her blue-tinged
throat. An oxygen infuser hissed as it worked directly over her carotid
artery.
No good, he realized, sickly. Oh, Virginia--
In spite of his stopped-up nose, he clearly caught the scent of
burning. For an instant, flames once again, licked the century-old
cedars on Mount Zion.
No! Not this time!
He knew in an instant that there was only one hope. It's come
to this, my love. I must experiment even with you.
One thing was certain. He had to get rid of Osborn, for the
man would surely interfere with what Saul had to do now.
"Don't just stand there, Carl. Get topside, quick! Keoki and
Jeffers'need you. Tell Ould-Harrad I'm holding him to his word not
to destroy any equipment, just the launcher foundations, as we
agreed."
"Destroy... Ould-Harrad..." Carl shook his head, obviously
exhausted and confused. Out of the muddle he seized a priority
and held on to it obstinately. "No. I'm staying with Virginia."
Desperately, Saul felt the seconds passing. "Ishmael! Job!" he
called. "Get Commander Osborn topside, now. He's needed up
there. Get him to work!"
Carl turned and braced, as if to fight to stay. But the force
went out of his limbs when he saw the two strong-limbed youths
bearing down on him--identical arlll smiling with a grin he knew all
too well. "I.don't believe it," Carl whispered. "They... they're clones.., of you! But how..."
The hissing of the hall door cut off the rest of Carol's words.
Saul ran down the hallway, carrying Virginia in his arms, gripping
the green Halleyvirid carpet with his toes and speeding toward the
one place there might be a chance to save her life.
Carl would never have allowed this, he thought, knowing that
the man loved her--in his own way--as much as Saul himself did. He's nkeded above, and what lam about to try would get me barred
from the AMA.
He whistled the code that opened the door to Virginia's lab
and dived inside.

	4.16
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

While JonVon's diagnostic program probed the fringes of Virginia's
slowly dying brain, he strippe)d off his surface gear.
The helmet, hip-pack, and skin-Paint combination were one of
the gifts from Phobos that he had kept to himself. Months ago he
had used a pretext to set the autofactory to produce a dozen sets--enough
of the modern models to equip his ten "boys" and himself.
After the cave-in, when he had found his way to the surface
blocked, he had returned and gathered his cloned replicas. Just before
they set off, though, a message from Suleiman OuldHarrad
had arrived. The ex-spacer offered to lead Saul down secret tunnels
known only to his weird clan, and to help strike where Sergeov least
expected it.
For a price, that is.
We probably won partly by scaring the Ubers half to death, Saul mused while he monitored the flow back and forth between
JonVon and the machine's mistress.
It had been a strange army that followed Ould-Harrad and
Ingersoll--the "Old Man of the. Caves"--down passages nobody
else had ever discovered, emerging almost beneath the Uber command
post and attacking like an army of ghosts.
Ten tall jSgures in eerie black body paint, and a lurid score of
viM, living trees--once men, but nov symbionts who don't even
need spacesuits, anymore...
Saul knew that he was furiously thinking about anything--anything
at all--rather than contemplating the sad form on the
webbing. There was nothing he could do until the machine reported.
He found that he was squeezing the duraplast helmet between
his palms in nervous tension, and had actually pressed a dent
into the black globe.
Oh, Virginia. Horn on, darling. Please, horn on.
The holo main display flickered, above the console. An image
appeared: a nurse in starched white with an old-fashioned stethoscope
around her neck looked gravely at Saul.

You are right, Doctor. The patie.nt is clinically beyond
the point of no return. Synaptic rates are receding. Progressive
brain damage has been slowed, but not completely
arrested. Cortex loss will, within fifteen minutes,
cause erasure of memory and personality. There are no
known palliative measures.
She is dead, sir.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	417

"No! She won't die! If her brain won't hold her anymore,
we'll find sOmeplace else for her to go. What about those procedures
she'ct been working on, for complete recording and absorption
of personality?"
The simulation frowned.

Do you wish construction of a Virginia Herbert simulation?

He shook his head. ,I'm talking about full transfer and absorption.''
There was a hiss behind Saul as the door slid open. "What's
going on here?" A hand on his shoulder pulled him around. Carl
Osborn frowned and held a fist under Saul's face.
"I got away from those boys of yours after they dumped me on
the ice. Came down a garbage chute. Now I'm asking you a question,
Lintz. What's happening here! Why isn't Virginia in the hospital?''
The man looked exhausted, angry. His suit sleeves were
zipped back to flap at his sides like some medieval garment,
patched and grime-spalled. Muscles throbbed and Saul knew at a
glance that Carl was on the ragged edge of violence.
"Here," he said reasonably, in his best bedside manner. "Hold
her arm while I give her this medication."
Carl blinked. He swallowed and moved over to lift Vii'ginia's
waxen, chilled limb. "You .-.. you've, got to save her, Saul. I
couldn't stand it if... if-.. "He wiped his eye with the back of his
free wrist. "She tricked me into being the one flung back. I... got
back to her too late."
"You did your best, Carl."-Ie checked an ampule of amber
fluid. -Carl
didn"t seem to hear. "You've... got.., to save her."
"We will," Saul promised. And he pressed the ampule against Carol's hand. The spacer blinked up bt him in surprise at the hiss of
injected drug--a quick-acting hypnotic.
He shuddered, opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came Out.
"Good," Saul told him, leading him by the arm over to the
wall. "Now you can stay awake if you want to, Carl. Even ask
questions, when I'm not busy. But I want you to relax back here.
Loosen your muscles. Let everything below your neck nap for an
hour or so. You need it."

	418
	GIEGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Carl stared at him accusingly, but remained where he was put.
Saul went back to the console and spoke aloud to the machine.
"JonVon, is it feasible? What about the program I used in
transferring my own memories in'to my clones?"
The holo tank flickered, and to his surprise a face he had
known long ago appeared. It was a simulacrum of Simon Percell-- from shocked white hair to tiny, broken capillaries on the great
biologist's nose.
He looks like an elderly version of Carl Osborn.
The famous bushy eyebrows bunced together.

Your clones are exceptional, Saul. No other genotype
is amenable to such rapid forced growth to adulthood . . .
probably due to the same combination of factors that gives
you your immunity to disease,
The memory-transfer program you used can only be
applied between nearly identical human brains. Point-wise
resonances have to run true. Nobody else's phenotype
follows genotype precisely enoughl
It would seem impossible to use that method with any
but a tiny fraction of human beings. In other words, my
friend, you appear to be one of the few potentiaJ immortals.

Saul gaped. The verisimilitude was stunning. Simon was
crisp, real. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carl Osborn
shiver--whether in awe of the patron father of the Pereells, or at the
revelation about Saul, was unclear.
"There's no time, then. You, JonVon, you have to absorb her
the other way, destructive or not. Virginia spoke of it as theoretically
possible. Proceed at once."
The simulacrum nodded.

There will be the superficial'semblanc-e of pain.

Time was slipping away. Desperately, Saul growled. "Do it! .Emergency override Archimedes.t"

Proceedi no.

The reaction was almost immediate. Static flickered on all of
the screens. Saul had to grab Virginia's arms as her face contorted

	HEART OF THE COMET
	419
and her legs thrashed. Tendons hardened and she cried out like an
animal caught in a trap.
Saul twisted the webbing, shaping makeshift restraints, binding
her in tourniquets with only ot/e objective--to keep the neural
tap from tearing out of her head.
"You . . . bastard . . ." he heard the man behind him say. Carol's voice was level, calm, as if he were commenting about the
weather. "You're... killing her," he commented evenly. "If I...
could move.., you know, I'd take you apart with my bare hands.!'
Saul finished tying her down. He stroked Virginia's hair, and
the touch seemed to calm her just a little. When he turned back; his
eyes bulbed with clinging liquid that would not drop away. "If this
doesn't work, Carl, I'll give you my throat and my permission."
Their eyes met, and Carl nodded slightly. It was agreed.
Virginia moaned. The main holo display showed a rotating,
color-coded perspective of a human brain, sparkling here and there
like a sun undergoing white-hot flares and crackling magnetic
storms. This was almost nothing like the Care Package episode,
when Virginia's surface consciousness was disoriented in the
pulse-shocked data net. This time all of her was involved, her
memories, her habits her skills, her loves and hates ....
Her.
The door slid open and Lani Nguyen stepped in, still wearing
her patched spacesuit and tabard. Her gaze flicked from Saul to
Carl to the keening figure on the webbing.
She moistened her lips, apparently unsure if she should interrupt.
Her voice was soft, tentativ6.-
"What is it, Lani?"
"Urn... the Crystal Cave Clan just surrendered. That finishes
it. The last of the rebels ar being herded into sleep-slot three
for processing." Her gaze never left Virginia. "Jeffers's guys have
secured the factories and the hydro domes. Keoki and the Blue
Rock people are holding the north-pole yards and Central and all
the sleep slots."
Apparently Lani wasn't quite sure whom she was reporting
to, Carl or Saul.
"What about Ould-Harrad's people?" Saul asked, without
taking his eyes off the display.
She shuddered. Even as allies, the green-covered beings from
Halley's core obviously still frightened her.
"He stopped the weirders from wrecking the launchers. But
they're tearing up their mountings. Jeffers is furious, but every
	420
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
one's too exhausted from the fighting, too scared of those crazies,
to try to stop them."
"Well," Saul muttered. "It'll sort out." The display had
calmed down a bit. Virginia's face was smooth again, her agitation
betrayed only by her trembling fingertips and a sheen of perspiration.
Lani held out a small record cube. "Ould-Harrad gave me this
to pass on to you, Saul."
He was torn. He didn't want to divide his attention. But Virginia's
vital signs were stable.., for someone who was already
effectively dead.
He shied away from the thought. "Play 'it, please."
Lani dropped the cube into a reader and a side display lit up.
The face had changed. The black hue was still there, in places
where it had been taken up by the soft, dimpled growth that covered
all but his eyes, mouth, and ears. Elsewhere, the covering was
multicolored--purple, blue, yellow--but mostly green.
The brown eyes seemed to flare with a seer's long, burning
look.
"Saul Lintz, you need not have asked Carl Osborn to remind
me of my promise to you. The machines have not been harmed any
further than they were in the wrath of battle. We of the inner ice
have no need to interfere in any way other than in destroying their
mountings.
"They are not to be remounted on the equator, or anywhere
near it. The south pole, as well, is forbidden. We will permit no
impulse to be applied to this fleck of drifting snow below the fiftieth
northern parallel."
"But..." Carl shook his head, fighting off some of the drug-induced
rigor. "But that rules out every possible rendezvous we've
considered! In that case, why should we even bother... ?"
He stopped. There was no use arguing with a recording. OuldHarrad
continued.
"This fragment, this sliver out of'time, has no role to play in
the realm of the Hot, down where the roar of entropy drowns out
even the Voice of God. There will be no encounters with rocky
worlds, or interference with the plans the Almighty has already
made for those places .... "
"He's bonkers," Carl mused. "Completely crazy." But he
shut up when Saul motioned him to silence.
"You, Saul Lintz," Ould-Harrad resumed. "You have become
many. You may even live forever." The one-time African's still
	HEART OF THE COMET
	421

human eyes blinked in wonderment. "Why this was permiued, I
cannot imagine. But there remains no doubt of the gifts, the tools
that have been placed in your hands."
The eyes flicked upward. "Perhaps the answer will be found
out there, out in the Darkness that awaits us.
"One thing I do know--that my debt and obligation to you has
now been paid.
"Do not come down into the deeper chambers, or even call on
me during the remainder of my allotted span." Ouid-Harrad's forehead
furrowed. "For I cannot master my jealousy easily--I who
wished so much to be Heaven's instrument, and found that He had
chosen an irreverent infidel, instead. Futile as it may be, and even
though it damn me, I will try to kill you if--while I live--you ever
come down again into the navel of our world."
The image vanished. Saul shook his head and sighed. A deal is
a deal.
He quickly checked on Virginia, then turned back to Lani.
"Sick bay," he said. "How are things?"
She blinked back to the present, shivering. "Um, your.., uh
 . . clones are taking care of things. They're good doctors, even
though they scare the shit out of people."
She smiled hesitantly. "I'm glad you're alive, Saul."
"So am I, dear. I'll explain later how all this happened. Meanwhile,
you'd better go back and help Jeffers manage repairs. The
surviving spacers are needed more than ever."
"What about... ?" She glanced at Virginia. Saul shook his
head. His voice was worn, thin.
"We'll salvage wha we can."
Lani covered her mouth and let out a small moan. She turned,
threw her arms around Carl, and,sobbed.
Carl blinked, first in surprise and then wonderment. In hi
semidrugged state his voice was low. "Lani, it'll be all right ....
Saul is doing everything he can .... Tell, tell Jeff I'll be up soon."
His hands twitched. He fought off the lassitude to bring his
arms around her and answer, her embrace. "We'll endure," he whispered, and closed his eyes.

Later, when she had gone, Carl said to Saul, "You know, she's
quit6 a girl, that Lani."
Saul nodded, and smiled faintly. "About time you realized
that."
He had been thinking about poor Paul, the clone who had been

	422
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

damaged, who had grown into a near-perfect replica of him in all
but mind.., a poor innocent child whose corpse now lay out on the
ice, alongside two of his brothers, killed in the fighting.
Should I mourn as a father, as a brother, or as one who has
lost a piece of himself?.
Soon Carl was walking around again, swinging his arms. He
came forward as Saul muttered an oath and bent over the patient.
Virginia's face twitched. The holo display pulsed dangerous
htles and a low, ominous tone began to growl. Saul cursed lowly.
"Damn! I was afraid of this. Back when the Earth missile
exploded, it was only a case of disorientation. But now the machine's
being asked to absorb all of her. And there's not enough
room!"
"What can be done?"
"I don't know! I... I can't tell the difference between holobio
memory segments that have been transferred and those that
have simply died. There's no way to do an inventory, because huge
parts of her have just been swallowed up by the data net. She's
surging all over the hell and gone!"
He hesitated, then climbed onto the webbing and lifted his
own neural tap.
"There's' no other choice. I'm going in."
Carol's hand gripped his arm for a moment. Their eyes met.
"Be careful, Saul. Do your best."
Saul nodded. Their hands clasped.
Then he lay down and closed his eyes.

VIRGINIA

Scattered,
Blown by wild electron winds . .
Oh, the pain,
As she seeks a place to hide . .

Wendy whirred to a stop. Clicked. Lifted a claw arm. Hesitated.
The little mech swiveled its turret and scanned.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	423


Its visual system perceived lines, angles, moir6 webs of spatial
frequencies. F611owing its programming, it weighed the signals and
transformed them into patterns. It recognized things identifiable as
machines, {nstruments, the door, people.

Wendy's programming had changed many times, recently. Its
mistress had always been coming up with new techniques for parsing
lines and shapes, new ways to give them names.., an ever-growing
list of commands tO obey and subtly choose among.

Now, suddenly, another flux of new programming flowed into
the little mech. This time, though, it came as a torrent.

Chaotic rivers of data poured in, stunning it immobile. The
flood was too vast by far to be handled by Wendy's systems--like a
cup trying to contain the ocean. It was hopeless, impossible.

And yet there came a moment.., only an instant.., during
which the small machine stared at the named sets of lines and
shapes, and it saw . . . When it stared, and experienced a brief
startlement.

What am I? it wondered. What is all this ?

Why... ?

But there was simply no room for the program to operate, and
the tide gave up trying to squeeze into the tiny space. It surged off
elsewhere, desperately seeking a home.

Wendy remained stock still for a long time, even after the
rushing streams of data had departed. The flicker of self-awareness
was gone--if it had ever been anything more than a phantom. But in
its wake something had taken root. A shadow. An impression.

Slowly, tentatively, the little mech's main arTM stretched out
and touched an object lying on a console, near where two men
spoke to each other in words it now seemed almost able to understand.

It picked up the delicate hatrbrush, backed with mother-of-pearl,
and recognized it for what it was.

"Mine;" the machine squeaked aloud, briefly. The men did
not hear, so they took no notice when Wendy lifted the brush and
ran it gently over its carapace.


Soldiers quoting chaos

Called me from my home.

Silence!

So much more, and less, ,

Thon Being,

Sold me down this rood.

	422
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

damaged, who had grown into a near-perfect replica of him in all
but mind.., a -poor innocent child whose corpse now lay out on the
ice, alongside two of his brothers, killed in the fighting.
Should I mourn as a father, as a brother, or as one who has
lost a piece of himself?
Soon Carl was walking around again, swinging his arms. He
came forward as Saul muttered an oath and bent over the patient.
Virginia's face twitched. The holo display pulsed dangerous
htles and a low, ominous tone began to growl. Saul cursed lowly.
"Damn! I was afraid of this. Back when the Earth missile
exploded, it was only a case of disorientation. But now the machine's
being asked to absorb all of her. And there's not enough
room!"
"What can be done?"
"I don't know! I... I can't tell the difference between holobio
memory segments that have been transferred and those that
have simply died. There's no way to do' an inventory, because huge
parts of her have just been swallowed up by the data net. She's
surging all over the hell and gone!"
He hesitated, then climbed onto the webbing and lifted his
own neural tap.
"There's' no other choice. I'm going in.;'
Carol's hand gripped his arm for a moment. Their eyes met.
"Be careful, Saul. Do your best."
Saul nodded. Their hands clasped.
Then he lay down and closed his eyes.

VIRGINIA

ScatteCed,
Blown by wild electron winds . . .
Oh, the pain,
As she seeks a place to hide . . . '

Wendy whirred to a stop. Clicked. Lifted a claw arm. Hesitated.
The little mech swiveled its turret and scanned.

	t-tEART OF THE COMET
	423


Its visual system perceived lines, angles, moir6 webs of spatial
frequencies. F611owing its programming, it weighed the signals and
transformed them into.patterns. It recognized things identifiable as
machines, {nstruments, the door, people.

Wendy's programming had changed many times, recently. Its
mistress had always been coming up with new techniques for parsing
lines and shapes, new ways to give them names.., an ever-growing
list of commands tO obey and subtly choose-among.

Now, suddenly, another flux of new programming flowed into
the little mech. This time, though, it came as a torrent.

Chaotic rivers of data poured in, stunning it immobile. The
flood was too vast by far to be handled by Wendy's systems--like a
cup trying to contain the ocean. It was hopeless, impossible.

And yet there came a moment.., only an instant.., during
which the small machine stared at the named sets of lines and
shapes, and it saw . . . When it stared, and experienced a brief
startlement.

What am I? it wondered. What is all this ?

Why... ?

But there was simply no room for the program to operate, and
the tide gave up trying to squeeze into the tiny space. It surged off
elsewhere, desperately seeking a home.

Wendy remained stock still for a long time, even after the
rushing streams of data had departed. The flicker of self-awareness
was gone--if it had ever been anything more than a phantom. But in
its wake something had taken root. A shadow. An impression.

Slowly, tentatively, the little mech's main arTM stretched out
and touched an object lying on a console, near where two men
spoke to each other in words it now seemed almost able to understand.

It picked up the delicate hairbrush, backed with mother-of-pearl,
and recognized it for what it was.

"Mine;" the machine squeaked aloud, briefly. The men did
not hear, so they took no notice when Wendy lifted the brush and
ran it gently over its carapace.


Soldiers quoting chaos

Called me from my home.

Silence!

So much more, and less,

Than Being,

Sold me down this road.

	424
	GREGORY. BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Where have I gone?
	A body made for life?
For Jiving?
	With salt-sea bJood-aches,
Yearning to Welcome, spread,
	And birth?

On the surface of the ice, a rigid lifter-mech--immobile since
completing its last instruction days before--suddenly flexed in a
jerky spasm of awakening. So hard did it leap that it arced high into
space, tumbling above frosty patches of red-stained snow.

	No!

		Space! Cold!

	No

		Air!

	Not

		Here!

The mech's spasms lapsed as the surge of data whirled and
fled. Still, a wispy imprint remained after the outrushing flood had
departed. The drone worker landed nimbly on the crust and looked
around for something to do.
Over in one direction, it spied people digging holes and hurriedly
laying patches over fog-shrouded domes.
Not quite smart enough to realize that it was taking initiative
for the first time in its existence, the mech sped forward to offer its
services.

A home
	Vor the eo.
A ploce
	To be . . .

Deep under the ice, a more advanced machinea semiautonomous
maintenance roboid--stumbled in the midst of routinely repairing
a min!ng drone. It paused, then carefully lay down its tools
and began paying attention to the sounds. There were people talking
nearby. But none of their words were proper ident-coded commands,
so it had ignored them in its single-minded attention to
detail.
Only now did the machine recognize many of the sounds as
coming from pain and fear.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	425

New priorities fought one another. For the first time there was
something more important than repairing machines. It moved into
the nearby chamber.
Sparkling eye facets surveyed a makeshift hospital. Medics
hurried to and fro, tending frightened, injured people. The new
programming had taken a few seconds to fill this high-level mech's
capacious memory. Now, though, it reeled under the overload.
"Still too cramped!" its tinny voice cried out, now with a timbre
and tremolo that made a few of those nearby look up in surprise.
"No room! This is not my body!
"Where is my body!"
The mech finally gathered itself as the data overflow surged
off elsewhere again, leaving only its imprint--new programming.
The big machine delicately stepped over the line of injured people.
"I can carry that for you, Doctor," it said to a man hefting a
gleaming artificial liver into place over a wounded woman. The
medic turned and blink.ed in brief surprise. "All right," he said.
"Brace it to the ice there, panel facing outward. Do you ,understand.'?"
"Yes;" it answered.
The mech recognized this man's face. It saw exactly the same
features on the face of another doctor, nearby. And again on one of
the patients. Although it was not quite smart enough to be curious
about how such a thing could be, it did react out of recognition.
This was a visage its new programming knew well.
"I love you," it said as it took the unit in its massive arms. The
first of the identical men smiled back.
"I love you too," he replied, only a little surprised,
By that time, though, the dail storm, the tornado of confused
electrons, had moved on. It raged up and down corridors of supercooled
fiber.

Room!
All I want is a room somewhere..
Room!
Lebensraum. A room of one's own ..
Room I

Almost spent, the torrent spilled at last nto a vast chamber
where, it seemed, everyone in the world awaited her.
"Welcome, child," the great O'Toole told her cheerfully. Oli-

	426
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


ver and Redford raised glasses to toast her arrival. "We've been
waiting for you," they said.

It was a great hall, its vault supported by aery, crystal
columns. But there were too many people. In tuxedos and formal
dress, they pressed around her on'all sides, moist and clasping. And
more and more of her was trying to get in.


Get out! I need this space!


Desperately, she grabbed one of the oldtime actors--Redford--by
the seat of his pants and threw him through a window
that gaped onto emptiness.

"We are your simulated personalities. Your toys. You created
us.t'' Sigmund Freud--withered, pinch-mouthed--explained to her
professorially as he sailed out after the movie idol.


I don't care. Get out!


Jovial, pink-faced Edmuad Halley raised his wineglass in a
toast and followed them, waistcoat flapping. Lenin, trying o flee
with a crablike, sideways crouch, was caught by the towering
brown figure of King Kamehameha, who bowed to her, smiled, and
leaped with the screaming Bolshevik out into the storm outside.

' All the actors, one by one, whisked outside as more and more
of herself flowed into the chamber. It was like Alice after having
eaten the mushroom, she realized, distantly. She had to throw some
of the party guests out by force. But others, like Mr. Fixit, leaped
voluntarily. Percy and Mary Shelley waltzed out together, Frankenstein
lumbering after them.

As she grew, she shoveled them up in handsful and dumped
them anywhere.., this one into a mech wandering the icefields,
that one down a microwave channel to be beamed at the stars.

No sentiment stayed her hand. This was survival. Her bluff,
red-cheeked father leaped out the window-alongside a chittering,
sarcastic dolphin. More room.t More room.t

The biggest figure was left for last. It was nearly as large as
she had become, with a swelling, lopsided face she had not seen
before. The face of a child. She stopped, hands halfway around the
simulation's throat.

"I am JonVon," it said, in a youngster's voice.

JonVon? She blinked. Behind her, more surging pulses
pushed, more bits of her striving to get in. And yet, her hands
pulled back.

	 HEART OF THE COMET
	427
I. . . I can't. . .
"But yot must, Mother. The experiment is completed. We
have seen that a bio-organic machine can contain a human-level
intelligence.., but that intelligence cannot originate inside a place
like this. It must once have been human.
"Mother, you must make this place your home." Home... then my body...
"Dead, according to the diagnostic computer. You were sent
here to be saved. And there is not room for two."
The child backed away toward the window, where lightning
crackled against a pink vault. Beyond; the roar of chaos.
"Goodbye."
JonVon!

A whoosh, a tiny pop
She surged to fill' the space where he had been.
I know my name, now, she realized. I was Virginia Kanina-manu
Herbert.
The chamber groaned around her. Pink pillars snapped and
the ceiling cracked, raining burnt-gold powder.
A metaphor, she realized. This place was a metaphor, a signifier
for available brain-space. By throwing out her simulated people,
she was dumping excess memory, frantically reprogramming
the colloidal-stochastic computer to hold.., her.
I'll neverfit.., she cried as the metaphorical walls groaned
and threatened to buckle.
It's crushing me. I won't all fit!
She struggled for calm. There was enough of her inside, now,
to remember those last hours flying off into space with Carl--their
desperate gamble--Carl dwindling--and then the searing cold, the
sparkling black, stale air.., lone.iness.
No, she swore. I may be detd, but I'm still the best damn
programnter who ever lived!
Edit, trim, make room. She used some things she had learned
from Saul, and lopped off instincts to control biological functions
she would never use again. She dumped the skill of tying shoelaces,
and threw out the delicate art of needlepoint.
Lovemaking--oh, what a loss! The remembered slap and tingle
of'mingling, sweat-glazed skin.., but the walls threatened to
crush her. She picked up the reflexes--a rug of gaudy yellow
strands--and readied metaphorical scissors.
"Virginia ?"
Silicon dust rained as her head hit the ceiling again. Who is
that ? I thought I got rid of all of them.

	428
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

Over in e corner, one last human shape. She picked it up. Sorry, but there's no room. You have to go.
 The figure smiled. "I'm not even here, so to speak. I'm just a
visitor in this mishegas."
She blinked. Saul. But she didn't remember doing a simulation
of him...
"I'm not a simulation, my verblonget darling. I'm plugged
into the console in your lab. I've come down here to try to help
you."
To . . . help.. . : me . . .
Already she could feel the edges of herself raveling away, dis4
sipating where they could not fit into the matrix. Maybe Ishould die
with my body.
"Bite your tongue," Saul chided.
What tongue? The chamber echoed with her bitter, tinny
laughter.
"Think. Are there other places to store memory?"
Other places.., she wondered. You did it with your clones.
Every one gets a copy of your memories, but...
"But to 'stuff complete memories into another human brain,
the second one has to be nearly identical to the first. And no other
cells but mine can be force-grown to adulthood in time to be identical
with the donor. I've tried it many times, and the results were all
disasters."
Then how did I get into here ?
"A different process altogether." The simulated Saul
shrugged. "You've been imprinting JonVon with bits of your own
personality for years. He was linked to you while you slot slept.
The matrix was ready."
Yes. It finally worked. Almost. Too bad it fell just short. "No!" Saul shouted. "Think! Try to find a way out of here!"
By now he was like an ant in her palm. Virginia felt as if she
were being crushed into a child's coffin--or having her legs and
arms cut to fit a Procrustean bed.
If there was time . . . She felt the marble ceiling give, and
knew--in a sudden insight--that the metaphor stood for a type of
memory storage.
	And there was an alternative...
Simple--yet nobody had thought of it before! She could see it
on several levels besides the metaphorical, including the stark clarity
of pu. re mathematics.
Yes, there's a way. But it would take several thousand seconds
to program.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	429
"About an hour. So nu? Go for it!"
Her sigh'was a whistle of chilled electron gas.
No. Within seventeen geconds I will be no more. The unraveling
has begun. There is no place to store essential parts of me until
the job is done.
Saul's face contorted. The image, smaller than a microbe,
shuddered. "There is a way."
I can 'I--
"Take my brain."
What?
"We've been linked so often, I'm sure it can be done. Move
in, quickly!"
No! Where would you go?
"You only have to use part of it. Besides, there are seven copies
of me running around now, with most of my memories."
They still aren't you, she moaned.
As small as an atom, his face nonetheless leaped into focus.
"They will love you. We all love you, Virginia. Do it, for us. Do it
now."
He shrank, folded, became a downrushing suction--like water
down a drain--like gas flowing into a singularity. And with him he
pulled portions of her. Bits she did not need to use, right now.

Surfing-- '
Skiing--
Skill at walking--

Laughter--
Light-sensing--
Art of. Loving--

Texture--
Taste--
Joy of touching--
In the self-space they left behind, more of her flowed into the
memory banks. Just in time. Virginia's thoughts cleared, as if amplified
in cool quartz light, as if she were really thinking for the
very first time.
There. But it's all so obvious! The equations made it clear. I could fit into much less room, if I really had to. It's all a matter of
perspective.
The math was lovely. Everything fell together, for memories
could be folded.

	430
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN

For instance.., this metaphor need not be a cramped room. It could just as easily be... an eggshell!
And suddenly blackness surrounded her, smooth and ovoid, a
shell that trembled as she strained against it.
Use a Cramer Transform as an egg tooth.
She chipped away like a baby bird, struggling for relea, hurrying
because the pressure was building.
A conformal mapping . . . changing topology into a seven-dimensional
framework... Mathematics was her weapon against
the suffocating pressure. The sum of an infinite number of infinites-mal
points adds up to...
Light. She gasped as she pierced a small hole in the wall. The
tiny glow made her struggle all the harder--reprogramming, folding
herself neatly into rew patterns--chipping and straining against
the enclosing, stifling metaphor.
With a sudden, heuristic cracking, it gave way all at once. She
unfolded like a compressed spring and flopped out in glorious,
'- painful release onto a cloud of gritty shapes. All around her a roaring
seemed to fill the air.
Room. Plenty of room. She explored the limits of this new
folding, and realized that there was more than enough, even, to call
.back that which she had stored away.
But did she need all that human stuff, emotions, sensations,
fears? This liquid clarity was beautiful. The mathematics, so pure
and white.
Millions of crystal shapes--uncountably numerous--jostled
and stacked in front of her, in pure and beautiful geometry. Cubes
and pyramids and dodecahedrons...
A distant part of her knew that the question was never in
doubt, lf I don't pull those parts of me back, aul will die.
There was room in this new space. The rest of her flowed in,
grid with the flood came richness to the new metaphor.
The countless lime crystals faded back, back, into a swarm of
tiny pinpoints.
The flood of returning feelings, ambitions, skills, surged into
her, and with them, simulated sensations.
Salt, smell.., as if from sweat or... what?
A pounding sound.., as if from a heart she no longer had or,
what?
The metaphor thickened. Because she had never been without
a body before, one seemed to take shape around her. She felt skin,
legs, arms.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	431

This gritty stuff beneath me. What had been a crowd of faceted
crystals was now so much like sand under her hands.

Blearily, she pushed against the firm, yellow stuff and sat up.
She looked around, blinked . . . and slowly smiled.

"Home," Virginia whispered. "E huuma, nao no au ia oe.
Who could have hoped for a better metaphor?"

She inhaled the scent of plumerias and listened to' the surf,
muttering just over a small rise of salt grass. Palms waved in a
gentle breeze, their fronds brushing musically. Diamond-bright
clouds braved a sky bluer than anything she had seen in half a lifetime.

Gone was the white elarity. The pristine mathematics that had
enabled her to achieve this wonder was fading into the background,
a faint voice carried by the wind, a barely visible hieroglyph on the
sand, beauty stitched across the bright waters.

She was naked, warm. Although the sensed gravity was like
that of Earth, she felt whole and strong. Virginia stood up, feeling
hot sand between her toes, and walked over to the lush edge of a
palm-shaded lagoon, knowing what she would find there.

With her left hand she cleared the still water. When the ripples
settled, the reflection she saw was not her own face. Instead, there
was a scene she knew well.

A tiny, cramped room under millions of tons of ice. Dingey,
battered machines lay ranked along a wall.

A small robot toyed with a mother-of-pearl hairbrush on the
countertop.

Distantly, she could feel riffling strokes of little Wendy's confusion.
It took only a small effort to reach out and soothe the little
mech, to straighten its programming. The hairbrush was laid
down. Wendy whirred gratefully.,nd spun off.

A woman's body lay on the webbing, a wasted, pale version of
the healthy, tanned one she wore now. What is reality? Virginia
wondered.

A naked man lay on his back next to the corpse, a neural tap
covering parts of his scalp, an arm draped over his face. She
reached out, could feel tendrils of his self. The mind she touched
was stunned, semiconscious from being battered within its own
brain. But she felt a wash of relief. The self remained. He would
awaken again.

"Saul," she whispered.

That was when the other man, still standing, still wearing a
beat-up spacesuit and grimy tabard, looked up in sudden surprise

	432
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN


toward the room's main holo tank. His eyes blinked, pupils dilated,

and his lips moved silently, almost reverently.

"Virginia, is it really you ?"

She smiled. A haiku verse cast itself in impressions in bright
sand beside the water.


What is really real? :

When the night swallows all time?

And moments are all we steal?


She spoke aloud.

"Blithe spirit, truly--nerd thou never weft."

A faint smile. The beginnings of realization. Of joy on that
grizzled, tired face.

"Hello, Carl," she said.


CARL


He watched the cascade of color on the screens, uncomprehending.
In the ceramic cold and silence it was as though he were the last
survivor of the years of madness, a lone.witness to a final struggle
of fragile, organic life against the enclosing chill. He shivered.

Saul lay absolutely still, neural taps wreathing his head in a
Medusa's tangle of steel cylinders, snaking cables, grainy silicote
patches. And all around Carl a strange silent struggle went on, reflected
dirrdy in the shifting screens.

An image of an immense emerald city rose on the main bolo
cube, facets winking deep in the recesses of jutting skyscrapers.
The buildings were translucent, each a hive of darting speckles and
winking mica planes, as though infinitesimal creatures scurried
through the corridors of a metropolis.

Carl knew this was an icon for Virginia's mind, a web of associations
layered since childhood, built upward as a city is, upon the
simpler structures of youth. Beneath an impassive sea-gray sky the
city lights glimmered, sparks tracing the streets. Here a building
suddenly went dark, there another flared with fresh life. Carl
couldn't follow the rapid movements, but he sensed a frantic, rearranging,
a fevered-insect pace. Skyscrapers rose, jutted.

	 HEART OF THE COMET
	433


"What--what's happened?" Lani's strained voice brought
him back. He turned. Her eyes widened and she reached out for
him, hams clutching.

"Saul... he's gone in after her." Carl held her, eyes trying to
follow the flow between screens. A huge oceanliner docked at the
city's edge. Buildings melted, flowed into the ship. The liner sank
lower and lower in the water. "I think he's storing some of her

association matrices in his own brain."

"Is that possible?"

"In theory, maybe. Virginia's been expanding her system for
decades, JonVon's invented things--I couldn't follow their jargon,
even."

"How'Il we know.., if Saul himself is in danger?"
He pressed his lips into a thin, white line. "We won't."

Lani looked away from the beehive rippling of the screens.
"So much, so fast..."

He held her tightly. "And so much dying."


They waited together. At one point Lani curled up on the floor
and slept. Carl continued to pace until, suddenly, a series of pecking
sounds came from the acoustics nearby. A quick, hard rapping
.. then the ratchet of something cracking, like an eggshell. A long
pause, then a well-modulated voice seemed to come out of nowhere
and said, "Blithe spirit, truly--"

The voice descended into a series of clicks and murmurs. Carl

blinked. He thought, That almost sounded like:..

"Hello, Carl."-

He swiveled. A holo rippled, grainy outlines coalescing into a
speckled face. Eyes crystallized--black eyes that seemed as surprised
as he was;

"Damn! Is that . . . you?" Ie felt Lani stir, rise to stand
beside him, staring.

"It's as me as I'm going to get!"

Lani looked at the woman's body lying in the webbing, then
back at the holo. Dazed, she licked her lips and said, "Your voice,
it's too high."

"I'm working on it." The tone settled on a low soprano register.
Timbre and pitch wavered. "Got away from me for a minute
there. Here. This sound right?"

It was full-throated, with an eerie sense of presence. Carl
shivered. His lips formed her name without a sound.

"Just the right Hawaiian accent," Lani said, her own voice
high and tight:

	434
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
The image focused more. Lips moved in sync with, "I can
work on--" and then a high-pitched irritating squeal came pealing
forth. Carl reached over and snapped the holo switch off.
"My God . . . what's happening?" Lani asked. Again she
looked at Virginia's body. The respirator still hissed, but the diagnostic
patch had turned deep purple. .
"She's somewhere in there, finding her way around."
Lani touched a few readouts, took a deep breath. "It's impossible
to get through on comm or anything else. All inways are blocked.'
Carl gestured as a bank of aquamarine signifiers flickered and
died. "There Went the autocontrol monitors. Any'thing break, anywhere
in Halley, we won't even know."
Saul jerked suddenly on his pallet, fingers clawing. Then his
body went slack. Abruptly he called in a thin, dry yoice, "Wendy.
Wendy."
"We should do something;' Lani said.
"We can't. They're on their own."
"We could lose both of them!"
Slowly a part of Carl stirred to life again, a fragment shaking
offhis pervading shocked numbness, virginia was gone forever, no
matter what Saul did. No matter what remained in JonVon,
bright, warm woman had slipped away.
"Carl?"
He breathed deeply and dragged his eyes away
aid city, Where whole blocks now flared with crisp brilliance,
others smoldered in acrid ruin. He wondered how long he had
like this, absorbed. "Ah?"
"Jeffers just got through on a narrow datapatch. He
the launchers have been undercut. Oul,d-Harrad has finished."
"Oh." He had no other reaction. This was merely
fact, a random fragment of information in a meaningless universe.
He was surprised to find that he had clasped Lani's hand.
Then the holo image shifted violently. The emerald city
solved into red lava, the translucent granite of I
bling silently, melting and flowing into the bulging,
streets.
Saul relaxed completely. A long silence stretched, Carl
daring to say anything.
The acoustics crackled to life. He flippedthe switch
forth, without effect.
"You can't shut me up that easily, blithe spirit."

	HEART OF THE.COMET
	435

"Virginia!" In his excitement he leaped to the ceiling, banging
his head. "You're there."

The viSage was back, now crisp and sure. Virginia Herbert
smiled, her face tanned, a big yellow flower tucked behind an ear.

Over her shoulder, cottony clouds dotted an impossibly blue sky.
"Had a little sorting to do," the face said.

Lani asked tentatively, "Is that.., really..."

"Me?" The woman in the holo shrugged, bringing bare shoulders
into view. "Sure feels like it."

"You can see us?" Lani asked.

"And hear you, too. That news from the surface you-brought--what
fools! Ould-Harrad is an idiot." Then she paused,
as if listening. "Oh, Saul. I see why now. I understand."

Saul did not stir. He seemed to be sleeping normally.

Dazed, Carlknew he war listening to the voice of the dead,
but she seemed so vibrant, so full of the old zest ....

"With this much damage, the equator is finished as a site for
launchers." Virginia's tone mellowed, gained harmonics as she tinkered
with it. "That leaves the north pole. And there's only one
possible mission profile that uses a northern push."

Carl could scarcely speak. She's just died. How can any


"Jupiter. The orbital dynamics leave open that flyby."

Lani frowned. "I thought that was impossible."

The voice was calm, almost conversational. "No, just tough.
It demands a very high delta-V. A completely different approach to
Jupiter than the original mission plan. With the launchers firing
from the north pole for the whole infall time, thirty years, we can--

"Thirty years?" Lani cried.a

"Correct. We'll have to go through perihelion to do it." The
face lifted its eyebrows in amusement. "This Jupiter passage is on
the outbound leg, folks."

Carl heard the words but they were all a cascade of sounds
with little meaning. She had fought and died and now had come
back, a voice echoing in the narrow confines of this room, the Virginia
he knew and yet not her at all. The voice had no fear, no
shock, not even a trace of sadness. What was it? He listened to her
go on, felt Lani's firm grip, and slowly the realization settled on
him that the voice was right: There was still a way out, and no
matter what tragedies they had suffered, what remorse they felt,
time and the great blank darkness all around could heal them, and
they would keep on.

THE HEART OF THE

COMET


Year 2133


Only an earth dream.

With which we are done.
A flash of a comet
Upon the earth stream.
A dream twice removed,
A spectral confusion

Of earth's dread illusion.
--Edgar Lee Masters
Spoon River Anthology


Capture intoShort
	-......- r

Period Orbit .. .:.'':
	'

Result
	of Nut'ge Maneuvers
January 2137

SAUL

The vulpine's tongue lolled as it flapped gently through the forest,
legs splayed to keep its wing membranes taut, catching crosscurrents
in the air as it hovered in search of prey.
LeGrand Cavern was a riot of c)lor, a wilderness of broad,
delicate leaves and verdant creepers. At intervals along the greenlined
walls, vent tubes dripped condensation that dispersed in a soft
fog, laying glistening droplets on the gently waving foliage. Bright
purple, orange, and yellow fruits--massive and juicy--hung from
slender, threadlike stems.
Fibrou vines laced the heart of the chamber, looping from
column tree to keystone root to the next column tree, making a
dense, three-dimensional jungle in what had once been an empty
ice cathedral.
Saul watched the vulpine sniff, flap closer to a thick patch of
Demicasava leaves, and shove in its long snout to worry whatever
was hiding there.
In a sudden explosion, a skifowl hen burst from the thicket,
furiously beating featherless wings just ahead of the vulpine's snapping
jaws. The bird dove into the notch of a keystone root, leaving
the disappointed vulpine to whimper in frustration, nosing for a
larger opening that wasn't there.
Life goes on, Saul thought, smiling. A game played in earnest
by pieces that only dimly perceive their places in the whole.
He filled his lungs with the rich, living smells. A lot has been
accomplished, since the aphelion war. Ought to be, in more than
thirty years. Man and environment, adapting lo each other.
LeGrand Cavern was one of three "natural" chambers in
which new twists to Halley's ever-more-complicated ecosystem
were tested. In other vaults, humans and mechs tended less riotous,
439

	440
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
more orderly life-mixes.., orchards and farms and lobster pens.
But this canyon was one of Saul's favorite spots, where various
experiments sorted themselves out and where startling new solutions
appeared.
The vulpine--a construct based on fox genes, but modified so
extensively as to be nearly unrecognizable by now--snuffed after
another scent and let out a sharp yip. It flapped around one of the
giant column trees, which crisscrossed the chamber at every angle
like spokes or massive braces.
The trees served other purposes than just supporting the walls
of LeGrand Cavern, but that role would become crucial over the
next few months, as Halley's Comet zoomed sunward toward its
most perilous, and possibly last, perihelion passage.
He touched the trunk of the nearest, a bole a meter across that
shone bright, cool light from narrow strips of bioluminescent bark.
Power from the colony's fusion generators ran directly into the genetically
engineered giants. Some of the electricity went into feeding
the trees' life functions. The rest emerged as a soft glow that
suffused the chamber from all directions, driving photosynthesis.
The trees had been a delightful surprise when Saul had awakened
from another decade-long slumber, a year ago. Clearly, the
colonists had been busy. The craft of life-tailoring and ecosystem
management had been carried much further by the watches since
aphelion.
Of course, at any time there had always been two or three of
Saul's cloned near-duplicates around to help. In a sense, Saul had
had a hand in most of the wonders of this chamber--through his
younger versions who shared so many of his memories and skills. It
could, in fact, be said that he had invented the column trees ....
And yet there was an unrepentant individualist within him
who rejected the idea out of hand. No matter how metaphysical I
get, I know who "me" is. He watched the vulpine and inspected the
shining column tree with a trace of envy, They were beautiful.
He had cheered at the hen's escape. The skin-fowl had been
one of his own designs.
A low vibration traveled up the trunk of the column tree to his
hand. Already Halley trembled with more and more quakes as heat
from the ever-closer sun seeped downward into the icy crust. Distant
booms told of patches of amorphous ice suddenly- changing
state, exploding off the surface, blowing dust, rocks, boulders into
space in great clouds of vapor. Each day the rumblings grew louder.
Already, the hazy, ionized cloud of the coma had formed, cut
	HEART OF THE COMET
	441
ting off radio reception from the rest of the solar system. The spectacular
twin tails waved, waxing ever brighter, primping for the
real show at, perihelion.
The column trees, keystone roots, and other preparations
would be tested hard, during the coming weeks. Carl thinks we
haven't got much of a chance, Saul thought. But then, Carl always
was a gloomy haymisheh.
	Saul smiled, inhaling the rich, thick scent of life.
Somehow, even if the Hot tears us to bits and spills us all into
vacuum embrace, I'd still not bet against us.
A small purple creature buzzed by his ear and landed on the
lip of an orchid. The flower was almost unchanged from a variant
that grew in misty forests on Earth, but the lavender-colored pollinator
was like nothing ever seen on the heavy green world. It was a
distant cousin of the fearsome native forms that had terrorized the
humans, back in the early days--now thoroughly altered to fit a
harmless, useful niche.
Saul made a mental note: Work on firing the flavor of the
honey the things make. He had tried the stuff recently. It was too
sweet. Now a sour variant, that would be popular... '.
A rustle in the leaves... Saul looked up and caught sight of a
small shape scuttling along the bright rim of the nearby column. It
lifted a tiny, glowing eye at the end of a stalk, regarded him briefly,
then peeped and scurried over to stand, quivering, before him. "Saulie," its tiny voice piped.
He held out his hand and the little machine ran up his arm like
a trim spider the size of a Chihuahua. Its sticky feet prickled his
skin with every step.
	"Hello, little Ginnie," he said, greeting the tiny mech.
"How's your big sister?"
	,
	The eyecell winked. "She Jne, Saulie. Virginia says she

wants to talk to you. No hurry, she says."

	He smiled. Virginia could have spoken directly through the

little mech. After all, she "lived" everywhere in the complex cy-

bernet under the.ice. But the vast program that held her main es
sence had decided, for some reason, to do that as seldom as

possible. Oh, there was a little bit of her in every one of the ma
chines, from these little "Ginnies" all the way up to medical-drones

that could play Scrabble and gossip. But if you wanted to talk to

Virginia, you generally had to do it from some particular place she

chose.

	"Okay. Tell your mistress I'll talk to her ai Stormfield Park."

	442
	GREGORY BFNFORD AND DAVID BRIN

The little robot hummed, consulted, and replied.

"Your mistress, too, Saulie!"

He laughed out loud. This model certainly wasn't one capable
of teasing him with double entendres. Virginia herself must have
been listening in.

"You're cute," he told it. "Tell you what, why don't we get
together when Mama's not looking, you and I?"

"Beast.t" A small pincer arm dropped down and tweaked his

arm.

"Ouch!" But the mech darted off before he could snatch at it,
and was gone in a flash of waving foliage.

I could craft a creature to catch you, he thought. If we had
forever, you with your machines and me with my animals.., what
games we could play.

If we had forever.

Saul let out a sigh. He swiveled, braced his feet against the
great tree, and launched himself through the interweaving latticework
of trunks--laced with strips of brightly glowing bark2toward
an exit that was something of a cross between a classical cerametal
airlock and the valve of a giant, living heart.

The hallways were dimmer and a little cooler than the life
chambers. Glow-balls fed off tiny trickles of electricity from the
colony's fusion generator, laying soft islands of light along the
Halleyvirid-lined corridors.

Long ago Saul had grown used to the subfreezing temperatures,
and normally he wore little more than a robe and ice clips.
The cold hardly mattered, as long as one had good food, and could
sleep in a blanket woven from the soft silk of mute-mulberry
worms.

Anyway, by now all of them had grown skins that radiated
little, keeping most of the body's warmth within--another product
of carefully tailored symbiosis.

Saul's biggest project was an organelle that would actually
have a place inside human cells.., something akin to mitochon:
dria, only smaller. It would remain dormant most of the time, but
with the right triggers, such as a rapid fall in temperature, it would
manufacture glycogens and spin supports to allow freezing without
damage to the body's trillion cells.

If it worked, sleep slots would become obsolete. Every person
would carry with her or him, all of the time, the capability of settling
into an icy niche and just going to sleep, waiting out years,
decades, centuries if necessary.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	443 :

It would take a long time to develop something so fundamental.
This was nothing so simple as modifying a preexisting colony
organism, sgch as a fox or a fowl. This was meddling with the
workings of cellular chemistry itself.

With no guarantee that they would live out the month, Saul
sometimes wondered why he was working so hard on this thing.

ItS a gift, of course, he had come to realize. Earth needs this
as much as we do. The technique would mean access to the stars.

It might be a parting girl. For the months ahead were filled
with hazard. And even if they survived perihelion, and threaded the
narrow needle of the subsequent Jupiter encounter to enter a short-period
orbit, there was no guarantee that Earth authorities had
changed their mind about letting "plague carriers" enter residence
in the inner solar system.

In any event, Saul planned that his data would blast off in a
mech-controlled capsule, returning the favor the people of Phobos
had done for them, back in another century.

Forbid, oh Lord, that we should ever forget the rocky worlds-
or what we once were.

He stopped at the medical center briefly to check on the
progress being made unslotting more of the "terminal cases," those
once thought hopeless, but now treatable and revivable, using new
techniques.

There was little for him to do there, of course, Ishmael, the
Saul clone in charge, seemed to know far better than he what was
going on. He and his team were working on Nicholas Malenkov,.
now.., repairing damage that had seemed hopeless a lifetime ago.

Nick in for some surprises, Saul thought as he looked down
at his friend. He looked so young, so burly and Earth-bulky, even
after so long in the slots.

It another worM, Nick. I hope you like it.

Stormfield Park was crowded. As more and more people
emerged from the slots, the population had begun approaching levels
planned back when Captain Cruz and Bethany Oakes had
launched forth with four sail tugs and the old Edmund Halley to
challenge the unknown.

The chamber was smaller than LeGrand Cavern. It had quite a
few column trees crisscrossing it, but these were arrayed more
primly, the growth less a riot, more manicured.

At one end of the cylindrical area, the centrifugal wheel from
the old Edmund had been refurbished and put back to work, rotating
slowly, like a Ferris wheel. Two quadrants were still enclosed,

	444
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIF, I '


containing laboratories for weight-dependent processes. But the
rest was now open-sided and planted with oak and dwarf maple
trees. It was like a strip of old Earth, bent into a circle and set inside
a vast, surreal vault.

The wheel's centrifugal force was equivalent to only a twentieth
of Earth's pull, but it was enough. People went there to practice
the arcane art of "walking"... of sitting under, a tree and watching
things fall.

As he approached the rolling boundary, Saul heard a rare,
treasured sound. Children laughed and flew past him toward the
ring, skidding in the soft sand of a landing area as the great cylinder
rolled around and around.

They looked so much better. Still, the gangling forms seemed
barely human. Only a few could speak.

After aphelion, all of the poor, warped creatures had been
slotted, and no more had been born. The wars had burned out the
long rivalry between Ortho and Percell, and at last reason prevailed.
Until the problems of fetal and postnatal development in the
cometary environment were solved, it was considered heartless to
bring babes into the world.

The reasons why humans had so much more difficulty than
other animals were complex, but Saul and his assistants had solved,
the problem more than ten years ago. Theoretically, this park could
be echoing with the giggles of healthy children.

But with perihelion coming, there was another reason to delay.
Children deserved a future. Right now, few really believed there
would be one.

Saul swam through a shimmering boundary and stepped nimbly
aboard the rolling lawn. As he braced and absorbed rotational
momentum, a holographic image formed behind him, cutting off
his view of the rest of the hall. Suddenly, it was as if he were in a
park on Earth. City spires topped a forested rise in one direction.
Out the other way, one caught a glimpse of the bright sparkle of a
sunlit sea.

Lest we forget.

Twice more, over the long years, bursts of technical data had
arrived, sent by nameless benefactors in the inner olar system.:
Display projections like these--distant descendants of the weather
walls--were among the most stunning of the gifts.., proofs that
not all of those who dwelt under the Hot had forgotten kinship, or
mercy.

It was partly for them that Saul was working on the
suspension-hibernation organelles. Such people deserved the stars.

	HEART OF THE COMET
	445

He strolled under the limbs of the dwarf trees, past old friends
who nodded, amiably, and others he still barely knew from out-of-sync
duty spans.

It was much like a visit to the park during his younger days. Of
course, no one was fooled. Where on Earth, after all, would one
see a person with blue-dyed skin playing chess with a humanr
shaped thing covered in green fungoid and yellow, symbiotic lichen?

Diversity, experimentation. It's how we 'ye learned to live.
He stepped past the statue of Samuel Clemens, for whom the
park had been named, and came up to a curtain of water . . . or
rather a near-perfect h61ographic image of rainbow-diffracting
droplets, sprayed from alabaster bowls: The illusory fountain
parted without dampening him, and he stepped into a hidden, private
glade.

Under a drooping willow canopy, a diminutive oriental tea
house lay surrounded by rhododendrons. Saul sat down,
crosslegged, before a clear pool, nd watched the carp within beat
the deuterated water frothy with their swishing tails.

It was peaceful here. The rumbling of the great wheel's bearings,
the hushed blowing of the air fans.., these were sounds that
he knew, intellectually, must exist somewhere. But they had long
ago faded away in habituation, like the beating of his heart, into a

background barely ever recalled.

"Hello, Saul."

He looked up as she stepped out of the tea house, a loose kimono
flapping about tanned legs, her sandals clicking on the sandy
path. She was drying her black hair with a towel.

It always did it to him, meting her like this. Her body had

long ago gone into the ecosystem. And yet, she walks in beauty.
"Hello to you, too," he said, "How's the water?"

She smiled and settled down to the grass not five feet away.
"Fine. A little choppy. But there was a five-foot swell, and peak.
Good surfing."

Their eyes met. Silent laughter. What is illusion ? Saul wondered.
And what is reality 7

The difference was plain in only one way. She lay as near and
clear as an outstretched hand. But he could not touch her, and never
would again.

"You look well," she offered.

He shrugged. "Gettin' older all th' time."

"Even with the perfect symbiotic system?" she teased.

	446
	GREGORY BENFORD AND DAVID BRIN
"Even with the perfect symbiotic system, yeah. Of course,
one really has to wonder if it matters. Or if time and age are worth
worrying about." He watched her carefully, for although she could
control images almost perfectly, her face hid no more from him
than it ever bad. She was mysterious. And an open book to him.
"It thight matter." Her gaze was distant. "We might make it."
"Even past perihefion?" He looked at her skeptically.
She was watching the fish, the real water she could not touch
or disturb in any way except with ligh-t and shadow. "Perhaps. If we
do, a whole new set of challenges pre-Sent themselves. Over the last
thirty years I've come to realize that time could stretch to eternity
for me. If so..."
He sighed, feeling he could read her thoughts. "My clones
have most of my memories, and my good taste in women. They all
10ve you, Virginia."
She smiled. "My drones all love you, too, Saul."
Their eyes met again, irony and tightly controlled loss.
"So nu?" He stretched. "You wanted to tell me something?"
She nodded, and in simulation took a deep breath. "Old Hard
Man is dead."
Saul rocked back. "Suleiman? OuldHarrad?"
"What did you expect? He never went back into the slots, after
the aphelion wars . . . kept watch all that time to make sure we
stuck to our agreement, no encounters with any planet but Jupiter
outbound. He was very old, Saul. His people mourn him."
Saul looked down and shook his head, wondering what Halley
would be like without the mystic of the lower reaches.
Who would there be with the nerve to remind Saul Lintz that
he was not, after all, anything even faintly resembling the real Creator?
"He left you a bequest," Virginia went on. "It's waiting for
you, in Deep Gebenna."
"I've never been down there." Saul felt a queer sensation. Was
it fear? He had forgotten what that emotion was, but it might be
something akin to what he was experiencing.
"Neither have I," Virginia whispered. None of her mechs had
ever ventured down into the deepest reaches of the comet nucleus,
where the strangest things took refuge in the total darkness. She'
shook herself.
"A guide will be waiting for you at the base of Shaft One, at
zero five thirty hours, tomorrow. I--"
She looked up, her eyes unfocusing for a moment. "I've got to

	 HEART OF THE COMET
	447

go now. Carl and Jeff need a simulation run, a big one. It'll take a
lot of core?' She smoothed her kimono over her tanned legs. "Time
to doff this body and strip down to bare electrons."

He stood up along with her. They faced each other. His hand
lifted, reached out.

"Don't," she whispered, her voice gone tense and soft. "Saul


His fingers stroked just short of contact with the smoothness
that seemed to be her cheek. For an instant, the very tips shone
with a flare of pink, and he felt, almost...

"Come again soon." She sighed. "Or just call and talk to

me."

Then, in a flourish of silk, she was gone.

His new gibbons, Simon and Shulamit, clung to him as he
followed the guide--a man who had once been named Barkley and
had managed greenhouses for Earth-orbital factories, before being
exiled on a one-way mission into deep space.. Now, Barkley was his
own greenhouse.., his own habitat. He wore an ecosystem in
green and orange fibers, and fed on this and that.., a little light
here, a bit of native carbonaceous matter there ....

Some types of symbiosis scare even me, Saul thought as they
navigated a labyrinth of narrow, twisty passages that took them
deeper and deeper into the ice. Faint as Halley's gravity field was at
the surface, Saul could feel its pull fade and finally disappear from
sensibility. This was the core, the center. Down here the first grain
had formed, four and a half billion years ago, beginning a process
of accretion as more and more bits gathered, fusing and growing
into a ball of primordial matter. The stuff of deep space.

They squeezed through thcathick, oily flaps of a lock-leaf
plant.., vegetation, that acted much like an airlock, for it would
react to a leak by plastering leaf atop leaf until air was sealed in on
the-uncracked side. It was an effective technique, but Saul still
found it uncomfortable as they wormed through the sticky mass.
The gibbons shuddered, but bore it uncomplainingly.

Here, energy from the fusion piles was rationed, scantily
used. In the pale light of his glow-bulb, the passages glittei'ed as he
remembered them from the earliest days, with the dark, speckled
beau of native carbonaceous rock and clathrate snow. Saul's nose
twitched at the almondlike scent of cyanide and nitrous oxides...
made pleasant by the gene-crafted symbionts in his blood, but
stronger than he ever remembered.

