The copilot, who still had not learned that she was supposed to be subordinate to the pilot, added, “Then it will rise again for seventy-three minutes before setting for the night.”

Yamagata saw the clear displeasure on the pilot’s face. The man said nothing to his copilot, though. Instead, he pointed toward a rounded hillock of stony rubble.

“There’s the base,” he informed Yamagata. “Dante’s Inferno.”

Yamagata said, “They are sending out the access tube.”

A jointed tube was inching toward them across the uneven ground on metal wheels, reminding Yamagata of a caterpillar groping its way along the stalk of a plant on its many feet. He felt the shuttle rock slightly as the face of the tube thumped against the craft’s airlock.

The pilot watched the display on his panel, lights flicking on and off, a string of alphanumerics scrolling across the screen. He touched a corner of the screen with one finger and a visual image came up, with more numbers and a trio of green blinking lights.

“Access tube mated with airlock,” he announced, reverting to the clipped jargon of his profession. To the copilot he commanded, “Check it and confirm integrity.”

She got up from her chair wordlessly and brushed past Yamagata to head back to the airlock. He appreciated the brief touch of her soft body, the hint of flowery perfume. What would she do if I asked her to remain here at the base with me? Yamagata wondered. A European. And very independent in her manner. But I have a dinner appointment with my two guests, he reminded himself. Still, the thought lingered.

After a few silent moments, the pilot rose from his chair and walked a courteous three steps behind Yamagata to the airlock’s inner hatch. The copilot stepped through from the opposite direction, a slight smile curving her generous lips.

“Integrity confirmed,” she said, almost carelessly. “The tube is airtight and the cooling system is operational.”