"Wait a minute," Anson said, from behind her desk. "Wix, will you have enough time to rig the control system so you can operate the beam gun from inside, here?"

"No. We'll have to run it manually, out there at the mass driver."

"In suits," said Vince Falcone.

Wicksen nodded solemnly.

"With a nuclear warhead coming at you," Falcone added.

Another grave nod.

Anson said, "So if the beam gun doesn't work you and your people get fried by the nuke."

"That's right," Wicksen said slowly. "We'll be operating an untested apparatus, in the open, in surface suits, and if it doesn't work the first time we'll all be toast."

All eyes turned to Doug.

"The alternative is to let the Peacekeepers nuke our solar farms," he said. But he was thinking, I can't force Wix and his people to go out there under the gun. I can't order him to do it.

Wicksen smiled a strange, enigmatic smile. "Well… I can see that we'll have to make the apparatus work the first time.' He pushed his chair back from the table. "I'd better get back to the workshop. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it."

The others watched him walk out of the office and slide the door shut softly behind him.

Anson shook her head. "The Japs aren't the only ones who've got kamikazes."

Falcone, his swarthy face set in a scowl, said to Doug, "You're gonna let him go out on a suicide job?"

"Do you see any alternatives?" Doug returned, forcing himself to sound much firmer than he felt.

Before Falcone could answer, Doug added, "Except surrender?"

"Okay, Wix has made his decision," Anson said. "Let's move on."

Gratefully, Doug turned to Zimmerman. "Professor, what have you cooked up for us?"

"Nothing," said Zimmerman flatly.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing that can be ready in a week."

Doug turned to Cardenas. "Kris?"

"We're ready to inject therapeutic nanomachines into anyone who'll accept them. After your recent experience," she glanced inadvertently at Gordette, "lots of people have come to realize that nanomachines can be extremely helpful to them, healthwise."

"Good," said Doug.

"But there's a downside, too," Cardenas added, raising a warning finger. "Most of the people here intend to return Earthside, sooner or later. They're scared of trouble down there if they're carrying nanomachines in them."

Doug slumped back in his squeaking little plastic chair. "So what's the bottom line, Kris?"

"Most of our people refuse to be injected. But we're ready for emergency nanotherapy for people who're hurt or wounded."

The stupid fools, Doug thought. Then he realized his own fears of returning Earthside, where nanoluddite assassins waited. Like Killifer. Like the fanatics who murdered anyone who publicly espoused nanotechnology.

"Okay," he said wearily. "I assume you're working with the medical staff."

Cardenas grinned. "All three of 'em."