Free Mercury by Ben Bova

beneath his conservative tweed jacket.
    Between the smile and the vest, Yamagata felt too irritated to sit still. He paced around the three-dimensional image, explaining this intolerable situation. Forward’s holographic image turned to follow him, that maddening smile never slipping by even one millimeter.
    “But finding life on Mercury is very exciting news,” the image said. “You should be proud that you helped to facilitate such a discovery.”
    “How can we continue our work if the IAA forces us to shut down all activities on the surface?” Yamagata demanded.
    “That won’t last forever. They’ll lift the suspension sooner or later.”
    “After Sunpower Foundation has gone bankrupt.”
    “You have four powersats in orbit around Mercury and six more on the way. Can’t you begin to sell energy from them? You’d have some income—”
    “The solar cells degrade too quickly!” Yamagata snapped. “Their power output is too low to be profitable.”
    Forward seemed to think this over for a moment. “Then spend the time finding a solution for the cell degradation. Harden the cells; protect them from the harmful solar radiation.”
    “Protect them?”
    “It’s probably solar ultraviolet that’s doing the damage,” Forward mused. “Or perhaps particles from the solar wind.”
    Yamagata sank into his favorite chair. “Solar particles. You mean protons?”
    Forward nodded, making his fleshy cheeks waddle slightly. “Proton energy density must be pretty high this close to the Sun. Have you measured it?”
    “I don’t believe so.”
    “If it’s the protons doing the damage you can protect the powersats with superconducting radiation shields, just as spacecraft are shielded.”
    Yamagata’s brows knit. “How do you know about radiation shielding? You died before interplanetary spacecraft needed shielding.”
    “I have access to all your files,” Forward reminded him. “I know everything your computer knows.”
    Yamagata rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If we could bring the powersats’ energy output up to their theoretical maximum, or even close to it…”
    “You’d be able to sell their energy at a profit,” Forward finished his thought. “And go ahead with the starship.”
    Nodding, Yamagata closed the Forward program. The physicist winked out, leaving Yamagata alone in his quarters. He put in a call for Alexios, who had returned to the base on the planet’s surface.
    “I want to find out what’s causing this degradation of the solar cells,” Yamagata said sternly. “That must be our number one priority.”
    Alexios’s mismatched image in the wall screen looked as if he had expected this decision. “I already have a small team working on it, sir. I’ll put more people on the investigation.”
    “Good,” said Yamagata. To himself he added silently, Let’s hope we can solve this problem before the IAA drives me into bankruptcy.

Earth

    The International Consortium of Universities was less an organization than a collection of powerful fiefdoms. It consisted of nearly a hundred universities around the world, no two of which ever agreed completely on anything. Moreover, each university was a collection of departments ranging from ancient literature to astrobiology, from psychodynamics to paleontology, from genetic engineering to gymnastics. Each department head tenaciously guarded her or his budget, assets, staff, and funding sources.
    It took a masterful administrator to manage that ever-shifting tangle of alliances, feuds, jealousies, and sexual affairs.
    Jacqueline Wexler was such an administrator. Gracious and charming in public, accommodating and willing to compromise at meetings, she nevertheless had the steel-hard will and sharp intellect to drive the ICU’s ramshackle collection of egos toward goals that she herself selected. Widely known as “Attila the Honey,” Wexler was all sweetness and smiles on the outside and ruthless determination within.
    Today’s meeting of the