Free A Step Beyond by Christopher K Anderson Page A

accomplish the deeds and to earn the respect of others like Komarov had. To be a national hero. Even to have guiltless love affairs. He was not ready to admit that to Takashi, however. “What else?”
    “Perhaps if you were more specific, I could be more helpful?”
    Vladimir thought for a moment and decided it was best to be indirect. What if his suspicions were ill founded? He did not want to raise unnecessary concerns in Takashi’s mind. He realized how foolish he had been in thinking Takashi would simply volunteer what he wanted to hear. It appeared Takashi did not even know what he was alluding to. He had not formed a plan beyond simply asking what Takashi thought of Dmitri. For nearly a minute he stood staring at the glistening soldier, wondering how best to proceed.
    “I see that something is troubling you,” Satomura said.
    “It is probably nothing,” Vladimir said. “It’s just that sometimes I feel he is hiding something from me.”
    “Ah,” Satomura replied as if he finally understood. “I would not trouble myself too greatly.”
    “Why is that?” Vladimir asked, relieved.
    “How long do you suppose he could hide something in a ship this small?”
    “Very true,” Vladimir replied. He did not have the courage to speak of his problem any more directly, although he sensed that Takashi fully understood it. He convinced himself that for the time being he would learn little else from Takashi. But what Takashi had said about the ship being small was true, and that now dominated his thinking. He realized with sudden clarity that he would eventually find them out. It was absurd to think they could carry on an affair in such small confines. He was beginning to think of ways he could spy on them, something he had always before considered undignified. Each room had its own microphone. He could reprogram the circuits, but decided the move could be too easily detected by Tatiana. She was responsible for maintaining the ship’s software. As he contemplated the various ways he might be able to find them out, he became increasingly conscious of Satomura’s presence. A sense of guilt overcame him. He wanted to be alone so that he could think. He complained of the schedule and said it was time he got back to work.
    “You know where to find me,” Satomura said.
    The aging scientist watched Vladimir’s back as he departed through the portal. He attempted to recall what it had been like when he had been in love. The recollection was overwhelmed by all the troubled emotions that had ensued, and produced a knowing smile, for Vladimir was apparently experiencing many of the same emotions. Satomura’s wife was dead. She had died of a sexually transmitted disease, a disease from which he had not suffered. The nature of her death, which Satomura had managed to keep secret even from her family, had left Satomura with a contempt for women. Even that he managed to conceal, but not quite as well.
    “Proceed,” he ordered the board.
    “Knight takes bishop,” Napoleon responded.
    “Of course,” Satomura replied with a sharp bark of a laugh.
    “T hey could be some sort of crystophages,” Brunnet said. “Creatures that consume ice,” Endicott replied doubtfully. He pressed his thin lips tightly together. He was not opposed to the idea that life could exist on Mars; what he objected to were the forms that life took when Brunnet began to speculate out loud.
    “Precisely,” Brunnet confirmed. “But they need not eat the ice directly. They could melt it through some sort of metabolic process.”
    “I suppose it is an improvement upon the creatures you were advocating yesterday. A chemical catalyst to suck water from a rock is a bit extreme.”
    Brunnet chuckled as he pulled down on eighty-five pounds of resistance. Sweat dripped off his brow and dropped in slow motion to the metallic ground. Grimacing, he crunched his stomach until he achieved a fetal position. He detested exercise. Endicott, on the other hand, happily