Free The Sails of Tau Ceti by Michael McCollum Page B

booster that afternoon and the three of them had toured their future home.
    “Impressive,” the doctor replied.
    “What about you, Tory? Just another day at the office?”
    “Any day that gets me away from my terminal is a good day.” Tory sat sideways in a booth while her two shipmates shared the opposite side. She’d put in a particularly long shift the day before and was feeling lethargic. She had been yawning throughout the tour of the ship.
    “What word on our fourth?” Kit asked.
    “The board finally stopped frittering. They selected Elias Guttieriz to join our little band.”
    “Has he accepted?”
    Garth nodded. “He should be here late next week. We’ll start full crew training the day after.”
    “Is it certain they aren’t going to add a fifth slot?” Tory asked.
    “I convinced them that it wasn’t wise. I know the calculations say we can get away with another crewmember, but damn it, you do not go out on something like this without a margin of safety. I’d hate to run out of food a month before we return.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Kit said lazily. “That never bothered the Donner party.”
    “Who?”
    “Never mind. It was a bad joke.”
    Tory, who had let her eyes fall to half-staff while listening to the by-play, idly keyed the reference into her implant. That brought a history of the Colorado Administrative District of the North American Directorate, and the history of Donner Pass. Kit was right. It was a very bad joke. She sat up, drained her drinking bulb with a quiet slurping noise, and said, “Well, see you!”
    “Where are you going?”
    “Back to work. Lots to do!”
    “Like what?”
    Tory listed the subroutines she was debugging.”
    “I thought Vance Newburgh had already checked those out.”
    “He did. I’m running an independent analysis.”
    “Do you have reason to suspect the quality of his work?” Garth asked, his manner suddenly serious.
    “No, of course not. Vance is one of the best we’ve got.”
    “Have you found any errors?”
    “Not so far.”
    “Then why double check Newburgh’s results?”
    “Because I’m the one getting in that ship, not Vance.”
    Garth gestured for her to sit. “Let’s talk. You listen to this too, Kit. We need to get a few things straight.”
    Tory sat. She felt like she was a little girl again, about to be lectured by her father. This was evidently one of those times when Van Zandt felt the need to play captain.
    “Look, people, we’ve all been working hard to get ready for launch. That is good. It is not good if we wear ourselves out doing it. Tory, how much sleep did you get last night?”
    Tory told him.
    He swore softly. “You will not go back to the office tonight. I want you to go home and get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Doc, can you give her something?”
    Kit reached into her medical pouch and withdrew a small white pill. “Here, take this when you get home. It will relax you.”
    She pouched it, but not before giving Van Zandt a dirty look.
    He continued without pause. If he saw the look, he chose to ignore it. “Let’s say you find a mistake in Newburgh’s work and fix it. What is the probability that you have taken a perfectly good piece of software and ruined it?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Eighty percent, according to the studies on fatigue we’ve done in the Navy. That is why I want you fresh when you are working. It could mean the difference between a successful mission and blowing up.”
    “All right, I’ll get a good night’s sleep.”
    “You’ll do more than that. When was the last time you saw your family?”
    “I don’t know. Last year sometime.”
    “Anyone who is about to embark on a three year mission has to have time to get their life in order. If you don’t, you will be worried about things at home and not concentrating on your job. I want you headed down to Mars within the next seventy-two hours. I don’t care what you do, but you are to avoid thinking about that damned