Saturn

Holly agreed with a nod.

“Yet we have no names for anything. Nothing but the engineers’ designations. We can’t go on calling our home towns ‘Village A’ and ‘Village B’ and so forth.”

“I click,” Holly murmured.

“The orchards should have names of their own. The hills and the woods — everything. Who wants to go shopping in ‘Retail Complex Three’?”

“Yeah, but how will we pick names for everything?”

“I won’t,” Eberly said. “And you won’t, either. This is a task that must be done by the residents of the habitat. The people themselves must choose the names they want.”

“But how—”

“A contest,” he answered before she could complete her question. “Or rather, a series of contests. The residents of each village will have a contest to name that village. The workers in a factory will have a contest to name their factory. It will engage everyone’s attention and keep them busy for months.”

“Cosmic,” Holly breathed.

“I need someone to work out the rules and organize each individual contest. Will you do this for me?”

“Absotively!”

Eberly allowed himself to chuckle at her enthusiasm. He went on, “Later, you’ll have to form committees to judge the names entered and count the votes.”

“Wow!” Holly was almost trembling with anticipation, he could see.

“Good. I want you to make this your top priority. But tell no one about this until we’re ready to a

“I’ll keep it to myself,” Holly promised.

“Fine.” Eberly leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Then he cocked an eye at her and said, “I notice that you called me several times. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Holly blinked as if suddenly shaken awake from a dream. “See you? Oh, yeah. It’s prob’ly nothing much. Just some details, not a big deal, really, I guess.”

Leaning slightly forward, Eberly thought that her persistent calls were merely a thinly-disguised attempt to get to see him. He rested his arms on his desk. “What is it, then?”

With a concerned knitting of her brows, Holly said, “Well… I was ru

“Discrepancies?”

She nodded vigorously. “References that don’t check out. Or in-completed forms.”

“Anything serious?” he asked.

“Ruth Morgenthau, for example. She’s only got one position filled in on the prior-experience section of her application.”

“Really?”

“It’s a wiz of a good one,” Holly admitted. “Chief of administrative services for the Amsterdam office of the Holy Disciples.”

Eberly smiled faintly. “That is rather impressive, don’t you think?”

“Uh-huh, but it’s only one and the form calls for at least three.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

She nodded. “Kay, no prob. But there’s one guy, he claims references from several universities but I can’t find any mention of him in any of their records.”

“False references?” Eberly felt a pang of alarm. “Who is this person?”

Holly pulled a palmcomp from her tunic pocket and pointed it at the wall opposite the one showing the habitat’s layout. She glanced at Eberly, silently asking permission. He nodded curtly.

A human resources dossier appeared on the wall. Eberly felt himself frowning as he saw the name and photo at its top: Sammi Vyborg.

Scrolling down to the references section of the dossier, Holly highlighted the names of five university professors.

“Far’s I can dig, he never attended any of those schools,” she said.

Eberly leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, hiding his intense displeasure, thinking furiously. “Have you contacted any of those professors?”

“Not yet. I wanted you to see this before I go any deeper.”

“Good. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“I can query each of the profs. But what do we do with Vyborg if they don’t back him?”

Eberly spread his hands. “Obviously we can’t let the man remain in the post he’s been assigned to. If he has falsified his references.”

“We can ship him back Earthside when we refuel at Jupiter, I guess,” Holly mused. “But what do we do with him till then? Put him to work in the farms or something?”

“Or something,” Eberly temporized.

“Kay. I’ll query the—”

“No,” he said sharply. “I will contact these professors. Each one of them. Myself.”

“But you’ve got so much to do.”

“It’s my responsibility, Holly. Besides, they’re much more likely to respond quickly to a query from the chief of human resources than from one of the chief’s assistants.”

Her face fell briefly, but she quickly brightened. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Besides, you’re going to be very busy arranging the contests.”

She gri

“I’ll take care of it myself,” Eberly repeated.

“Doesn’t seem fair,” she murmured. “I’m sorry I brought it to you. I should have done it without bothering you.”

“No, Holly. This is something that should have been brought to my attention. You did the right thing.”

“Kay,” she said, getting slowly to her feet. “If you say so. Still…”

“Thank you for bringing this to me,” Eberly said. “You’ve done a fine job.”

She beamed. “Thanks!”

“I’m sure it’s just a mistake or a misunderstanding somewhere along the line. I know Vyborg personally. He’s a good man.”

“Oh! I didn’t know—”

“All the more reason to check this out thoroughly,” Eberly said sternly. “There can be no personal favoritism here.”

“No, of course not.”

“Thank you, Holly,” he said again.

She went to the door, slowly, as if reluctant to leave his presence. He smiled at her and she finally left his office, sliding the door shut quietly.

Eberly stared at the dossier still on his wallscreen, the false references still highlighted.

Idiot! he fumed. There was no need for Vyborg to pad his dossier. He’s let his ego override his judgment.

Still, Eberly said to himself, a mistake like this gives me a little leverage over him. Something to make him more dependent on me. All to the good.

Now to correct his folder. And he began dictating to his computer the glowing references from each of the university professors that would be placed in Vyborg’s dossier.

DEPARTURE PLUS 28 DAYS

“Come on,” groused Manuel Gaeta, “there’s gotta be a way. There’s always a way, Fritz.”

Friederich Joha

Fritz’s burr-cut head barely rose to Gaeta’s shoulders. Standing beside the muscular stuntman, the technician looked almost like a ski

“Of course there is a way,” Fritz said, in precisely clipped English. “You get into the suit. We seal it up. Then we go through the sterilization procedure that Professor Wilmot and Dr. Urbain insist upon, including the gamma-ray bath. And then you die.”

Gaeta huffed mightily.

Fritz stood beside the empty suit, his arms folded implacably across his slim chest.

“Jesoo, Fritz,” Gaeta muttered, “those Astro Corp suits paid half a bill for me to be the first man to set foot on Titan. You know what they’ll do to me if I don’t do it? If I don’t even try ’cause some tightass scientists are worried about the bugs down there?”

“I would imagine they will want their half billion returned,” Fritz said calmly.