Free Jupiter Project by Gregory Benford Page A

wanting to get in. By then it will be time to push on…before they build a Hilton.
    That is, assuming ISA didn’t send me back on the Argosy, I reminded myself.
    That thought wasn’t so easy to brush aside. I tried pretty hard, though, the next two days. I climbed hills, skied and played soccer until my legs threatened to stop holding me up. When we got up in the morning Zak would just lie in bed groaning about his past sins, and wish for a chocolate sundae to tide him over until breakfast.
    The third day we were skiing sort of halfheartedly, waiting for enough people to show up to make a soccer team, when I lost sight of Zak on the slope.
    I turned uphill, came to a halt and looked around. There was nobody very near. I poled my clumsy way uphill and looked again. There was a small mound nearby I skirted around it to get a better view.
    “Hey!” Zak said. He was lying in a small depression behind the mound. His skis were off and there was a brown gouge in the snow.
    “Why didn’t you yell before?” I said, clomping over to him.
    “I was embarrassed. It’s kind of dumb to take a fall on an easy grade like this.” He grinned sheepishly.
    “Hurt anything?” I put out a hand to help him up.
    “I don’t think— ow !”
    “Sit back down. Let’s see.” I unwrapped his left ankle.
    “How is it?” He blinked owlishly at his leg.
    “Sprained ankle.” I started unclipping my skis.
    “Will I be able to play the piano again, doctor?”
    “Sure, with your feet, just like before. Come on.” I got him up and leaning on me. “Think you can walk?”
    “Certain— ow !”
    He did make it, though, to the bottom of the hill. From there I hiked back to the dome lock and got a small wagon usually used to haul things to the experimental farm. The base doctor walked back with me and bandaged up Zak’s ankle, making the same diagnosis I had, only using longer words.
    I got him settled into his bunk. The doctor delegated me to bring him his meals and the first thing Zak asked for was a milkshake. I shrugged and went over to the cafeteria to weasel one out of the cook—no mean feat.
    I asked the man tending counter and he told me it would be a few minutes—several people had lunch coming up. I stood aside to wait. The woman from the Sagan was next in line behind me. She asked for a cup of coffee and a vegetable roll and got it immediately. Then she leaned over to the counterman and said loudly, “These youngsters all want special favors, don’t they?”
    I stood there trying to think of something to say until she flounced out. If it had been Zak, he would have come up with something cutting and brilliant, but I acted as though I had a mouth full or marbles, and my face burned with embarrassment.
    “You’re the younger Bohles, aren’t you?” a deep voice said.
    I looked up. It was Captain Vandez; he looked tired.
    “Yes sir.”
    “I heard about the Palonski boy just now. Unfortunate.”
    “It isn’t anything major,” I said, “Zak will be walking by the time we ship home.”
    “Good.” He nodded abruptly. “The base commander has you two slated to take the Walker out on a routine inspection tour starting tomorrow. I was afraid this accident might scrub it.”
    “It will.”
    “Not necessarily. Another boy volunteered for the job two days ago. I told him both places were filled, but now there is a spot vacant. You see, Bohles, base personnel are all assigned to other jobs now and we are a bit squeezed. If you don’t mind going out with another boy…”
    “Who is he?”
    Captain Vandez sighed and looked at a paper in his hand. “Sagdaeff. Yuri Sagdaeff.”
    “Oh.” I gulped. “Could I let you know in a few minutes?”
    “Of course. Take your time.”
    I got the milkshake and put it in a sealed carrying box. I was still in my suit, so I put on my helmet and cycled through the cafeteria lock as fast as I could. Then I double-timed it through a low-lying pink haze back to our dorm.
    When I told him Zak