“I hope so, ma’am.”

  We arrived at Nick’s outer office. We entered the command office in the middle of a samba tune. Nick stood to the side of the desk, absently bouncing to the beat. If we had been alone, I would’ve told him what a lousy dancer he is, even in one-quarter G. That’s a common jibe in our ongoing duels. But I would never disrespect an officer in his official capacity.

  The song soon ended, and Nick sat down. I pulled out the visitor chair for Mrs. Azevedo.

  Nick leaned on his desk. “Ah, Mrs. Azevedo. Much as I wish otherwise, I’m afraid I’ve opened an investigation into the tragic incident on your expedition. Some information has come to me about your equipment, and it’s very troubling.”

  Mrs. Azevedo started to speak, looking agitated; then she paused and regained her control. “Captain Aames, are we going to discuss this again?”

  “I have some concerns.”

  “Yes, Nick, I’m well aware of your concerns from before.”

  “And now you can see that I was right, and Paolo’s carelessness has gotten someone killed. At least it was him, not someone who trusted him.”

  “Nick!” I couldn’t help myself. That was over the line, even for Nick.

  But Mrs. Azevedo wasn’t disturbed. “No, Chief, he’s just trying to provoke me. I won’t let him do that. Yes, Captain, you predicted a disaster, and it happened. But none of your dire predictions came to pass. What happened was something you never foresaw, a freak cable accident and nothing more. I stand by my original decision that your fears were groundless, and you were afflicted with your usual excess of caution and your pathological need for control.”

  “And I stand by my original decision. I wanted nothing to do with your poorly planned vanity expedition. Only a fool would take your offer, and I’m no fool. But you found your fool in Gale, didn’t you?”

  “All right, Nick, if it makes you happy: I wish you had taken my offer. Maybe if you had been our Liaison…” She trailed off, but we all knew what went unspoken: maybe Nick could’ve gotten Azevedo safely back to shelter in time to save his life. Or maybe Nick would’ve prevented the accident in the first place.

  Nick’s face turned more serious. Perhaps his conscience was tweaking him just a bit. “I’m sorry, Margo, that would never happen. I can’t take a mission I don’t believe in.”

  “And so you took this instead?” Mrs. Azevedo leaned forward. “I know there are some in the Corps and in Mission Control who will never forgive you for the second Bradbury incident, even though the review board ratified your every decision. There were many who told me I was a fool for wanting you for Liaison for this expedition. I wanted you anyway. Okay, you turned me down, you explained your reasons. But then, to take this job … Nick, you’re throwing away your talents here. You’re better than this! You’re more than … more than a glorified subway conductor! If you didn’t want to be on my mission, you would’ve been invaluable in program management.”

  “And work with fools like Lee Klein? Not a chance.”

  “Judgmental as always, aren’t you? Everyone in your eyes is a loser or a fool.”

  “No, not everyone. There are fifteen billion people back there on those two worlds. They’re not all losers. Ninety percent of them are ordinary folks, minding their own business, going about their day, not causing me any trouble. And there’s maybe half a dozen people worth actually spending time with. But that leaves that 10 percent—one and a half billion—idiots, jerks, losers, and psychopaths.”

  “And so you’ll lock yourself up here with only a couple of dozen.”

  “Yep. A couple of dozen, and I’m smarter than all of ’em. And I’m in charge.”

  “All right. You’re the Captain, you’re in charge here. Are you happy now?”

  Nick paused. When he started again, his tone was lower and more reserved. Nick can be respectful when he chooses. “Margo, I know we clash. And I clashed with Paolo, too. It’s my nature, not anything to do with you. I call them like I see them, and sometimes I neglect how people might feel. So please accept my condolences. I didn’t agree with Paolo’s plans, but it wasn’t personal. He was a good man. I’m very sorry.”

  Mrs. Azevedo stared down at the floor, but she nodded. “Thank you, Nick. That means … a lot. Chief Carver says you have questions for me?”

  Nick hesitated again. “This will be … difficult, I’m afraid. But I need to hear about the trip to Chronius Mons.”

  Mrs. Azevedo’s tone was flat. “It’s in our reports.”

  “I know. It’s … important that I hear it in your own words.”

  She nodded; and then she started slowly retelling the story. She echoed Tracy’s version, but without Tracy’s critical judgments about mission protocols. In fact she made every effort to portray her husband in a positive light. On the subject of Terra Cimmeria, she saw the site selection as a great success: “Oh, we didn’t find evidence to decide among the competing theories, but we have radically improved on the precision of the orbital data. Now we know exactly where we should plan new expeditions to definitively rewrite the geological history of Mars. Paolo already submitted a paper on that before … the accident.” She similarly saw the carbonate data as eliminating a lot of possibilities, pointing the way to new research.

  And then she got to a crucial point: the reasons for the Chronius Mons trip. She saw it very differently than Tracy had. “That was in the back of Paolo’s mind all along. That was why he insisted on bringing Wells on the expedition in the first place: he wanted to show humanity the grandeur of Mars, the grand vistas and the sweep of the unknown. He wanted … He wanted to excite people, ignite their sense of adventure.”

  “Yes,” Nick agreed, “he was a visionary. Or that’s how he saw himself, which is visionary enough. That was what worried me about him: that vision blinded him to flaws in his plans. He had this sense that ‘destiny’ would see him past any problems.” Mrs. Azevedo didn’t answer, but her face turned down. “And he would tackle any obstacle, follow any path for that destiny. How fortunate for him that he married into enough money to fund his visions.”

  “Nick!” Again I was stunned that even Nick could be so callous; but before I could say more, Mrs. Azevedo held up a hand to stop me. She glared at Nick.

  “So that comes up again.” Her tone was bitter. “You said as much during expedition planning. You think he married me for money?”

  “Well, there are always many motivations that lead into a decision like that. You were young and attractive, and you bought into his vision. The money was just an added benefit; but as it happened, it was a crucial benefit in order for him to succeed.”

  She paused; and when she answered, she spoke slowly, restraining her emotions. “I know you’re a cynic, Nick. I know you would never understand what Paolo and I had. But to question it … now … I didn’t think even you could be that cruel.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “You call it cruel, I call it diligent. I have to get some answers.”

  “Fine, here are your answers. I love Paolo. He … loved me. We had problems, everyone does, but we shared so much more than just Mars plans.”

  Nick looked down at his desk. “So noted. My apologies, but I have to be thorough. Please, continue.”

  Mrs. Azevedo looked at Nick, considered, and then went on. Soon she got to the subject of supplying the expedition, and Nick again asked about the three tents. She seemed surprised by the question. “Why is that important?”

  “I can’t tell what’s important,” Nick explained. “Details matter. That’s what I tried to tell your husband: details matter, and you can’t guess which ones. So why three tents?”

  “Well, we had them to spare, so why not? Paolo and I had a tent for ourselves. The command tent, as it were. Besides, we were entitled to our privacy. Ivan and Gale shared another tent, and Wells slept in the third. We divided supplies among the three tents so that an accident with one wouldn’t affect other supplies. You should approve of precautions like that.”

  “Hmmm. Yes, I approve of precautions; but protocol here is entirely different. For a mission that size, two tents would have been proper: one for all of you to share, and one as a backup for that. It might be less comfortable to squeeze five into a tent, but it would’ve given adequate safety margins and less mass to transport.”

  “Yes, yes, I’ve read your recommendation. We decided we could handle the mass, and we wanted the comfort. And ultimately it had nothing to do with Paolo’s accident, so can we just drop it?”

  Nick didn’t answer. He had made his point, so he let her continue. He also didn’t comment when Mrs. Azevedo discussed their stops for the night; but even I could see that Tracy had been correct: the team had performed only perfunctory equipment inspections. Their uneventful time on Mars to that point had made them sloppy—or sloppier, as Nick would say.

  And there was something else: something about the expedition had distressed her, and she had difficulty discussing it. She drew out the discussion with a lot of trivialities, stopping and repeating points. It took her twice as long to describe the trip as it had Tracy, and yet she revealed less. Was she just postponing the discussion yet to come? Maybe; but I saw Nick eyeing her carefully as if he suspected something more.

  And then finally she discussed the climb; and then the fall and the attempted rescue. She started to choke up when she got to the surgery, tears flowing; and Nick showed unexpected kindness by stopping her there. “That’s enough, Margo. I only need to know what led to the incident. I have a clear picture of what came after. Carver, give her your handkerchief.” I did, and she dabbed her eyes.

  Nick was being uncharacteristically kind, but I knew it couldn’t last. Sooner or later, he would point out again how this was all Professor Azevedo’s fault. Before he could get the chance, I spoke up. “Captain, if we’re done, Mrs. Azevedo has had a long day. Can I escort her back to her cabin?”

  Nick seemed a little distant. “What?” Then he recovered. “Oh, yes, we’re done here. But I’ve summoned Bosun Smith. She can see to Margo. I have more duties for you.”

  Just then the office door opened, and Smith came in: a large, competent woman who I knew to also have a compassionate side when she needed it. Nick was right: Mrs. Azevedo might appreciate having a woman’s support after putting up with him. But he would never admit that was his motive.

  Bosun Smith stood at attention. Nick looked at her, a questioning look on his face. “Well?”

  Smith lifted her sleeve comp and pushed a file to Nick’s desk. “There’s my full report, Captain. A number of items are missing, as indicated, and the necessary maintenance reports haven’t been filed for much of the rest.”

  Nick nodded at Smith, and then rose. “Margo, again, I’m sorry. If I could’ve prevented this pain for you, I would’ve. We’ll talk again. Ms. Smith, please see Mrs. Azevedo to her cabin.” Smith saluted and then offered an arm. Mrs. Azevedo took it and leaned on Smith’s shoulder as they left the office.

  When the door closed, I turned back to Nick. My questions were the same as before. “I hate to repeat myself—”

  “Then don’t,” Nick interrupted. “Everything is going as I planned.”

  “This is a plan?” I couldn’t see how Nick could learn anything about the murder this way.

  “Yes. I’m learning what I need to know. Besides, didn’t you hear that undertone? There’s something she’s not saying, something she feels guilty about.”

  I hadn’t heard it. I mean, I’d heard something wrong, and noted it; but I hadn’t picked up on guilt. She was a grieving widow! I expected some distress. But Nick had always been better at reading people than I was. He himself might come across as a one-note scold and a control junkie, but he was excellent at ferreting out hidden motivations and secrets.

  “What would she have to feel guilty about?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve no idea. For that I need the help of an incurable gossip. And so I guess it’s time to speak with Horace Gale.”

  * * *

  I tracked down Lieutenant Gale in the Rec Lounge. As had been the norm on this trip, knots of expedition crew occupied the tables, and our off-duty crew hung near, each imagining what it must have been like to be down on Mars. But strangely, when I found Gale in the corner with Riggs they were discussing football, not Mars.

  “Yes sir, Lieutenant.” Riggs’s enthusiasm was all over his face. He was eager to talk about football leagues with a fellow Brit. “Absolutely it’s Manchester’s year. They’ve been rebuilding for five now. It’s their time!”

  “Well, Karl, I’m not so sure. Liverpool is looking pretty strong.”

  “Liverpool?” Riggs nearly exploded with laughter. “They’ll barely finish the season. They’re old and tired.”

  “You’re right, you’re right. Still, they have experience.”

  Riggs raised an eyebrow. “In football, sir, isn’t that just another word for ‘old’?”

  “All right, they’re old, I’ll admit it.” Gale laughed. “But just remember: in the Astronaut Corps, it’s not age, it’s seniority.” Riggs joined the laughter on that line, though I thought his sounded a bit forced.

  I cleared my throat, and Gale looked up. “Yes, Chief Carver?”

  “Lieutenant Gale, the Captain would like to see you, sir.”

  “Oh, Nick causing trouble again, eh?”

  “It’s not my place to comment on what trouble the Captain might cause, sir. If you’ll come with me, please.”

  “I suppose. I knew this was coming eventually. Well, Mr. Riggs, it has been a pleasure. See you at SP?”

  Riggs raised a glass to Gale. “Indeed, sir. Thank you!”

  We set off to the Captain’s cabin. As soon as we were alone, Gale turned to the subject I knew was coming. “So, Carver, have you had enough of Aames and this tin can yet?”

  I deflected. “The Aldrin is no ‘tin can’, sir. It’s a masterwork of engineering, and it gets better every cycle as we add rings and capacity.”

  But Gale wasn’t about to let up so easily. “Yes, yes, but it’s still a glorified transport ship. You’re a fine officer, Carver, you deserve better. If you had the Space Professionals behind you, you might get a better posting.”

  The SPs were something of an “astronauts’ guild”, though they never used that term. They advocated for more influence over mission planning. Ideally that would be something Nick would support. His feuds with Mission Control were legendary in the Corps. But Nick had laughingly rebuffed their efforts to recruit him, saying that they were more Politicals than Professionals. And that included Gale, who had a lot of influence in the movement. As Nick explained it to me: “It’s the only way a bumbler like Gale can hope to get work. Before long they’ll have work rules that say I can’t dismiss any crew member any damned time I please; and next thing you know someone’ll get killed because of those rules. Why would I be part of that?”

  Since they had failed to recruit Nick, the SPs had worked on me, hoping I might influence him; but I found Nick’s arguments to be irrefutable as usual. There were some good people in the SPs, but a lot of them were just looking for more money for less work. I was tempted to answer as bluntly as Nick would; but instead I simply said, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I can’t imagine a better posting than this, or a better commander than Captain Aames.”

  And with that, I opened the door to Nick’s office. We entered to the sounds of bossa nova, but this time Nick didn’t make us wait, turning off the music immediately. “Ah, Horace…” Nick exaggerated the name: “Horace.”

  “Hello, Nick. So this is where you say ‘I told you so’?”

  Nick waved his hand dismissively. “Waste of my time. We both know it.”

  “Yes, but I’m sure you’ve just been waiting for the chance.”

  “No, I’ve been avoiding the lot of you as best I can. I may have to transport you, but that doesn’t mean I have to sit here and listen to the mistakes I knew would happen.”

  Gale sat in the visitor chair while I remained standing. “So, Nick, what’s this about?”

  “Well, Horace, we do need some discussion regarding the fate of your ill-planned mission.”

  “Yes.” Gale sighed. “Get on with it.”

  “That final trip across the desert … It was just the five of you?”

  “Yes: me, Paolo, Margo, Ivan, and Tracy.”

  “So you had five people, and yet you had three Mars tents. Wasn’t that a little bit of excess weight to carry? You could’ve carried more consumables?”

  I was confused. Again with the tents? What did that have to do with the sabotage of Azevedo’s cable? But Gale didn’t seem to find the question unusual. “The Mars protocols—which you wrote—say we should have a backup for every piece of essential equipment. Mars isn’t Earth, where we might survive without a tent.”

  “Yes, so two tents would give you a backup. But three? Those tents will hold six.”

  “Yes…”

  “So why did you have three? You didn’t need them for storage.”

  “Well, we did store supplies separately in each tent. ‘No single point of failure,’ that’s in the protocols, too. If something happened to one supply cache, we would still have the others.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t even reserve them as backups? You deployed all three tents?” Nick already knew that from Tracy and Mrs. Azevedo. I could only assume he was feigning ignorance to keep Gale talking.

  “Yes. Paolo and Margo wanted their privacy, you know.” Nick looked up, but Gale shook his head. “No, not for sex, for fighting. They did an awful lot of arguing on the expedition … I’m sure Margo regrets it now.”