“Because the candidate landing sites are near coasts, be aware that the tidal situation is complex. The innermost moon raises tides comparable in height to the Moon’s. Because this moon orbits so close to the planet, these tides last most of a day. The middle moon adds tides about a third as high, but with different timing. The tidal pattern shifts day to day because the moons do not orbit in synch.”
“And it’s a rock,” Carlos said. “On land, there isn’t a scintilla of life.”
Perhaps he meant to give full value for his side of their…transaction, but this was no time for him to improvise. Li thought daggers at him without looking. If she had, someone might have noticed.
“Continue, Marvin,” Dana said.
“Gravity is about forty percent above standard. Humidity varies more than across Earth, likely attributable to the reversal of the land/sea ratio. Not a factor for this initial exploration, but worth a comment: I have detected few traces of surface metals. Because of the higher gravity, whatever metals there are will have tended to sink before the planet cooled. And—”
That’s enough,” Rikki snapped. “Earthworms are so damned spoiled. Apart from the gravity, this planet is a damned paradise. Breathable air. An ozone layer. A bit more sunlight than Mars gets. Plenty of water for agriculture.”
So Marvin was an Earthworm? Li thought. Well, maybe his programmers were.
Only the Earthworms about whom Rikki truly worried were her husband and Li.
Rikki was on a tear. “…so there’s a lot of cee-oh-two? Be glad, because the greenhouse effect is what keeps the average temperature above freezing.
“And if metals are scarce on the planet? We’re starfarers! All the metal we could ever want is waiting for us in the local asteroid belt—and it is more convenient than the old belt was to Mars.
“Can you imagine what the early settlers on Mars would have given to have had this world as their starting point?”
And then Rikki stopped, gone red in the face.
A bit embarrassed at our outburst, are we? Li toyed with ways to put that reaction to use.
Blake gave his wife’s hand a reassuring pat.
How touching, Li thought. Especially the way Rikki yanked away her hand.
“Anything else, Marvin?” Dana asked.
“No.”
“Anyone else?” Dana pressed.
“Dress warm,” Antonio said.
Dana said, “To recap, a shuttle is prepared. The world is habitable. We’re all due for a change of scenery. Are we ready to review landing sites and protocol?”
That discussion was more businesslike. They reviewed the camping supplies a shuttle would carry. They agreed upon an initial four areas to inspect. Each region was in a mid-temperate zone or lower latitudes. Each offered a cave system for shelter, a lake or sea to filter for deuterium, and a broad river delta for farming. On a world devoid of land life, silt would be the closest thing to soil.
“Then that’s it,” Dana said. “I’ll pilot the shuttle and—”
“No way,” Blake said.
Dana blinked. “What’s that?”
“My job was to get Endeavour here. Done. Your job isn’t finished till you land this ship.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like your logic…but I accept it. And I concede you’re qualified to fly the shuttle. So, okay. Blake pilots this time. Any other volunteers?”
“I’ll go,” Carlos offered. Trying to impress Li, of course.
“Absolutely not, and that’s doctor’s orders. You’re not ready yet. I’ll go.” Smiling at Blake, Li added, “We’ll have fun.”
Steam seemed to rise from Rikki’s ears. She said, “That’s okay, I’ll fly down with Blake. My job was to get him here.”
“The gravity won’t be fun,” Li said. “For this first outing, at least, we should leave it to”—let’s push Rikki’s buttons again—“the Earthworms. We have more stamina.”
And she winked at Blake.
Dana jumped in. “No way, Li. If there are infectious agents on the surface, I can’t have our only doctor exposed. Those are captain’s orders.”
Antonio fingered his chin. “I think I’ll be…more useful up…here.”
“Then it’s settled,” Dana said. “Blake and Rikki will make this first flight. That’s it.”
Rikki was seething, a Vesuvius about to blow. Blake was conflicted: flattered by the come-on, and even mildly intrigued; upset at Rikki’s anger; eager to explore. Carlos was jealous, Dana annoyed, and Antonio—as always—oblivious to the undercurrents.
All Li’s pieces were in place.
She cleared her throat. “First, we have some unfinished business.”
“Not names again,” Blake stage-whispered.
Li pretended not to hear. “Surely, Captain, we’re not about to set foot on our new home world still calling it ‘the planet.’”
“You’ve made some interesting suggestions,” Dana said. (Interesting carried more than a hint of disapproval. The pawns had been comparing notes.) “The problem is, we’re nowhere near a consensus on planet names.”
“Symbolism matters,” Li said. “Never mind how like Earth or Mars this planet may be. We’re keeping it at a psychological distance. It’s ‘this planet,’ and ‘this world.’ We need to make it home.”
“Then call it Home, with a capital h,” Blake said.
Li feigned considering the suggestion. “Alas, no. There’s none of our heritage in that name. It is my professional opinion that—”
“Oh, just give it a rest,” Rikki barked.
“That’s one opinion,” Li said. “However, this affects us all. I propose that we put it to a vote whether to decide on names, at the very least on picking this world’s name, before the initial landing. Surely we can manage that.”
A subtler barb, but this time Dana stiffened. To manage things was the captain’s job.
By now Blake, Rikki, and Dana would reject anything Li proposed. She couldn’t win—and that was as she intended. Li said, “Well?”
And then Rikki surprised her. “We’ve gone on and on about naming conventions. Philosophers. Playwrights. Composers. Poets. Artists. Explorers and castaways. What we haven’t done is agree.
“So here’s my suggestion. There are six planets and six of us. We draw lots, and each of us names one world.”
“That sounds fair,” Antonio said.
“Hurrah,” Blake said. “The Gordian knot, nuked.”
Dana seemed to consider. “In this scheme,” she asked, “how would we address moons
