Drew Reinholt was working his way through a new set of technical documents when he heard voices just outside his office door. He couldn’t make out words, but the tone and rhythms suggested distress, albeit carefully reined in. No doubt if he had been able to actually hear the words, he’d be too focused upon them to pick up that nuance.
Strictly speaking, even paying enough attention to notice the tension in the voices was a breach of privacy. Up here on the Moon, everyone was living in such tight quarters that it was liveable only if everyone studiosly avoided overhearing conversations that were not meant for them — although nobody would ever know if you did listen in as long as you never revealed it.
On the other hand, there were lots of ways of revealing information you weren’t supposed to have. Even so much as failing to show surprise at something could reveal that you must’ve come about knowledge in an illegitimate manner.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Back on Earth, he would’ve had to get up to open the door, but here he could just lean back and pull the door open. As long as it wasn’t a superior, his failure to rise to greet the person wasn’t a major breach of courtesy.
“Come on in.”
He was a little surprised to find Peter Caudell there. At least Captain Caudell wasn’t in his direct line of command, but the man was sufficiently senior in the list of astronaut selection groups that a certain amount of due deference was typically expected.
On the other hand, Caudell was also a clone of a Mercury astronaut, and familiar with the Shepard temperament. No, he wasn’t going to make an Issue of it.
Instead, he just leaned against the doorpost, taking an equally casual pose. “Say, Drew, have you heard any news about the situation down in Schirrasburg?”
“Not really. With their spaceport closed, I haven’t been keeping up that closely. I’ve got enough to do between studying for my latest training sequence,” he gestured to the documents on his computer, “and preparing for upcoming missions. Especially since they keep sending me down to Coopersville all the time.” Better stop there. It wouldn’t do to sound openly resentful about being unable to visit his family when Caudell’s wife and daughter lived here in the Roosa Barracks.
If Caudell picked up anything, he made no remark on it. “I’ve just heard some rumors. Some people claim the guy’s recovering and whatever he had, they’re pretty sure it wasn’t the diablovirus. Other people are saying he died but they’re covering it up to prevent panic.”
And you thought that Brenda being a DJ over at Shepardsport Pirate Radio would have her plugged into the information networks well enough that she’d know. Except there was no way to actually say that without being rude. “Unfortunately, I haven’t heard anything more authoritative, and with the current situation, I’ve been trying to keep my nose out of trouble.”
“Understood. But if you do come across something, let me know. I’m trying to reassure some people that we’re still safe, but the lack of solid information is only making them more likely to believe the worst rumors.”
“Will do.” With the conversation closed, Drew pointedly returned his attention to the material he needed to get absorbed before his next training session. After class, he’d consider whether he should contact Brenda and find out what she might know.
Or maybe he ought to contact one of his clone-brothers who happened to be one of Brenda’s colleagues at the station. That kid had a real nose for trouble, especially when he thought someone was hiding information from him.