Mercury

identity. Once they find that he’s Mance they’ll send him back to the Belt, back to exile.

Can I do that to him? He said Victor stole me from him, said that he still loves me and wants me. Can I reward him by sending him back into exile? She wanted to cry. It would be such a relief to simply dissolve into tears and wait for someone else to solve this problem for her.

But there is no one else, she told herself. Except Victor, Jr. That made her sit up straighter. Her son. Hers and Victor’s. He has a stake in this, too. I can’t allow McFergusen or Mance or anyone else to ruin little Victor’s future. He needs my protection.

A shadow fell across her and she turned to see Elliott Danvers’s hulking form filling the hatchway.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Danvers said, going to the coffee dispenser.

“No.”

Danvers settled his bulk in the chair opposite Lara. It groaned as he sat on it, and the bishop sighed heavily.

“I’ve sent half a dozen messages to my superiors in Atlanta and they haven’t seen fit to reply to any of them.”

Lara saw that his fleshy face was pale, creased with lines she’d never noticed before. “What will happen to you once we get back to Earth?” she asked.

Danvers shrugged his massive shoulders. “I wish I knew. A reassignment, at least. They’ll want to strip me of my title, I’m sure. Perhaps they’ll throw me out altogether.”

“I know you didn’t do it,” Lara said.

Danvers’s eyes flared briefly. Then he murmured, “Thank you.”

“I’m not merely being kind, Elliott. I know who actually duped Victor and planted the evidence that puts the blame on you.”

Now his eyes stayed wide. “You … you do?”

“But if I tell who it really is, it will ruin his life.”

“But he’s trying to ruin my life!”

“I don’t know what I should do,” Lara said plaintively.

“Yes, you do,” said the bishop. “You must do what is right. You can’t cover up a lie. Forget about me—your husband’s career is at stake.”

“I know,” said Lara.

“And what about your son? This affects him, too.”

“I know,” she repeated.

Danvers stared at her as if trying to pry the information out of her by sheer willpower. At last he asked, “Why wouldn’t you name the wrongdoer?”

“Because it will hurt him. Because he’s been terribly hurt already and I’m not sure that I can do this to him, hurt him again.”

“But… your husband! Your son! Me!”

Lara gripped her cup with both hands and stared down into it. “Maybe if I simply tell the committee that the man told me he did it, that he cleared you entirely, maybe that would be enough.”

“Without naming him, so they can check? They’d think you’re nothing but a wife who’s willing to lie to protect her husband.”

She nodded dejectedly. “I can’t help one without hurting the other.”

The bishop waited a heartbeat, then reached across the table to take her hands in his massive paws. “Lara, morality doesn’t come in shades of gray. It’s black and white. You either do the right thing or you do the wrong thing. There’s no middle ground.”

She looked into his soft gray eyes, red with sleeplessness, and thought that morality was simple when doing the right thing would save your own neck.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she said quietly.

“Then think of this,” Danvers said, almost gently. “What is the greatest good for the greatest number of people? You have your husband and son to think of, as opposed to this mysterious wrongdoer.”

She nodded. “My husband and son—and you.”

BOREALIS PLANITIA

Wrapped in their cumbersome spacesuits, Alexios and Yamagata sat side by side in the tractor’s transparent cab as it slowly trundled along the pitted, rock-strewn landscape.

“Borealis Planitia,” Yamagata muttered. “The northern plain.”

He sounded slightly nervous to Alexios, a little edgy. Inside the pressurized glassteel cabin they could hear one another without using the suits’ radios, although their voices were muffled by the heavy helmets.

“This region is an ancient lava flow,” Yamagata went on, as much to himself as to his companion. “Planetologists claim that this entire area was once a lake of molten lava, billions of years ago.”

Alexios contented himself with steering the tractor through the maze of boulders that lay scattered across the ground. Now and again he rolled right over a smaller rock, making the tractor pitch and sway. To their right, the yawning crack of the fault line was narrowing. They would reach the end of it soon, Alexios knew.

Yamagata continued, “From orbit you can see the outlines of even older craters, ghost craters, drowned by the lava when it flowed across this region.”

Alexios nodded inside his helmet. The man’s talking just to hear himself talk, he thought. Trying to hide his fear at being out here. Grimly, Alexios added, He has a lot to be afraid of.

They drove on in silence. The time stretched. Alexios could feel in his bones the vibrating hum of the tractor’s electric motors, hear his own breathing inside the helmet. He drove like an automaton; there seemed to be no emotion left inside him.

“You are very quiet,” Yamagata said at last.

“Yes,” replied Alexios.

“What are you thinking about?”

Alexios turned his head inside the fishbowl helmet to look squarely at the older man. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about the skytower.”

“The skytower?” Yamagata looked surprised. “That was years ago.”

“Many years. Many lives.”

“Technological hubris,” said Yamagata. “The people who built it paid no attention to the danger it might pose.”

“Part of it is still spinning outward, in deep space.”

“Carrying the bodies of dozens of dead men and women.”

“Murdered men and women,” said Alexios.

Yamagata grunted. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose.”

“The tower was sabotaged. All those who died were murdered.”

“Sabotaged?”

“By agents of Yamagata Corporation.”

Yamagata’s jaw dropped open. “That’s not true! It’s impossible!”

Without taking his gloved hands from the steering controls, Alexios said, “We both know that it is possible and it did happen.”

“Paranoid fantasy,” Yamagata snapped.

“Is it? I was told the full story by the last surviving member of the plot. Just before your hired killers closed his mouth forever.”

“My hired killers?” Yamagata scoffed. “I was in Chota Lamasery in the Himalayas when the skytower fell. We didn’t even hear about it until a week or more after the tragedy.”

“Yes, I know. That’s your cover story.”

Yamagata stared at this coldly intent man sitting beside him. He’s insane, he thought. Alexios’s eyes glittered with something beyond anger, beyond fury. For the first time since he’d been diagnosed with brain cancer,