Lifeline

Magsaysay stared at his long fingernails, looking very tired. He rubbed his temples, avoiding Sandovaal’s gaze. “Luis, that is not the reason I am here.”

“I suspected as much.”

Magsaysay held out his hands, but said nothing. Sandovaal watched him, growing impatient. “Well, what is it?”

“Agpalo and Panay Barrera were your assistants, correct?” His voice trailed off.

Sandovaal frowned. “Yes. I hired them out of the Baguio barrio, back on the Islands. They were always trying to get ahead. Moonlighting, in fact—running a Sari-Sari store when I found them. They were much too bright for that. Are they giving you trouble?”

Magsaysay set his mouth. “They were killed this morning.”

“What?” Sandovaal sat and slumped back in his chair. His face fell slack. “But they were here not more than a few hours ago—”

“They were almost home when—”

“When what? What do you mean?”

“Some youngsters brought a fiberglass plate to the core. They tried to go skimming around the Sibuyan Sea, ride against the rotation. They lost control of the plate—”

Sandovaal sat up straight. “Idiots! If they flew into the rim—” he thought for a moment, calculating. “Why, they could impact at fifty kilometers an hour.”

“We found out,” Magsaysay said. “The children were unharmed. But the fiberglass plate flew into one of the walkways. The Barreras … I have already talked to their son, Ramis—the one who is here on Aguinaldo.”

Sandovaal looked up at him, feeling oddly quiet inside. “Why have you not done anything before this?”

“Luis, how are we going to stop children from sneaking out and playing in the core?”

“Toss them out the airlock if they get caught. That would stop the little terrors.”

“We do not have that kind of government, Luis.”

Sandovaal hit his hand with his fist. “It should never have happened. Panay and Agpalo did good work.” He stopped. “What will you do with their boy, uh—”

“Ramis. This is his home. He will stay with me.” Sandovaal lifted an eyebrow at the dato. President Magsaysay? he thought. With a boy to take care of? But establishing their colony as more than an experimental outpost was very dear to Magsaysay’s heart.

“I have not lived with anyone since Nada died. But I have plenty of room—and plenty of time, for that matter. In a country as small as the Aguinaldo, even the president is not kept too busy. Ramis has a brother back on Earth, but he may be better off staying here.” Magsaysay shrugged. “Besides, I feel responsible for what happened.”

Sandovaal still grumbled to himself. “Those idiots should have known better. Humans are supposed to be an intelligent species, remember?”

Magsaysay looked at the floor. “Luis, you cannot convince children what is good for them. You must have precautions and enough safety features to stop accidents. Perhaps we will have to set up a strict patrol, like policemen. No, like lifeguards.”

Sandovaal paced back to his desk, pondering. “They are children. They need sheepdogs, not lifeguards.” The laboratory seemed silent to him; the vat of maturing wall-kelp emitted a putrid smell.

Magsaysay stood up, brushing the palms of his hands over his barong. “I just needed someone to talk to, Luis. But I should be alone now. Or maybe I should be with Ramis. I will let you get back to your work.”

Sandovaal nodded distractedly and walked the dato to the door. But long after Magsaysay’s electric cart had trundled uphill along the curving rim, Sandovaal remained lost in thought, staring out at the enclosed world around him.

It was, after all, time to begin the new phase of trans-genetic research to follow up on his brilliant success of the wall-kelp. Take it one step farther. Like that sail-creature debacle he had pushed.

Sheepdogs.…

Chapter 8

ORBITECH 1—Day 8

The fountain jets in the Japanese garden looked like spurting diamonds. Karen Langelier watched with wonder as each droplet of water rose to its apex, hung there for a prolonged instant, then began its glide back down to the pool. She listened as the drops hit the surface, like a slow-motion rain shower. Her eyes glinted, and she smiled at the beauty that low gravity gave to the downpour.

Karen closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, smelling the air, the moisture, the plants. Relax, unwind. Then you can get back to work on the new weavewire process. She moved around the fountain to look at a burst of magenta, button-shaped blooms. The gardener, Hiro Kaitanabe, kept a variety of flowers in bloom, mixing the scents like a master tea blender.

She was glad Kaitanabe refused to label the plants with their scientific names. Karen was a polymer chemist, not a botanist, and had little grasp of Latin names for living species. Scientists loved to name and categorize things, but sometimes it became a little oppressive. She wanted this place to feel like a park, not a plant museum.