Second Chance by David D. Levine

could work more closely together, with Mari looking into the chemical activity while I focused on a high-level planetological survey of the moon. We hadn’t originally planned to go into such detail on the gas giants’ moons until later in the mission, but the presence of oxygen made Bianchon a lot more interesting. As Mari and I spent more and more time together, I realized I was starting to look on her differently. Not as a woman, exactly, but as a human being rather than some kind of aberration.
    I also started taking dinner with the crew again. At first I ate quietly at the back of the group—in the team but not of it—but as the days went on I began to offer my opinions, then to engage in discussion and debate. After a week and a half the interactions started to feel natural, and I found that I could even disagree with people without feeling as though I was balancing on a razor’s edge.
    One day, while Mari and I were waiting for a complex data analysis to complete, I even got up the nerve to ask her a question that had been bothering me for some time. “Back on Earth,” I said, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat, “when we first... got together...” I swallowed. “What in the world did you see in me?”
    For a long moment she just stared at me, and I was sure I’d overstepped what little trust we’d built up. But then she snorted and shook her head. “You were actually kind of hot as an old guy,” she said with a sad little smile. “I’ve always been partial to bald men. And, well, we were spending so much time together...” She sighed, shrugged. “We all make mistakes.”
    “Yeah,” I acknowledged. “I guess we do.”
    But just for a moment I wondered if it had to have been a mistake. If I hadn’t been such a shit back then...
    Then the monitor pinged, announcing the completion of the analysis, and we got back to work.

    -o0o-

    During what was supposed to be my sleep period, I analyzed the data that was trickling in from Alpha. The wayward module was so far away, and moving so fast, that the bandwidth the satellites could achieve with their little dish antennas was pathetic. I was frustrated as the puzzle built up, slowly, piece by piece, but I knew Bobb was doing the best he could to move the data quickly without attracting attention. I was tremendously impressed with his feats of digital legerdemain, and I told him so.
    One night, as I was peering with gritty eyes at a graph comparing the growing set of Alpha’s coast-phase data with the merged data from Cassie , I was startled by a tap at my door. “Chaz, are you awake?” came a low voice. “It’s Nuru.”
    Heart pounding, I powered the screen down and opened the door. “I’m awake,” I said, blinking in the light from the habitation bay outside. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
    Nuru cut the sleeves off of all her coveralls, and when she wasn’t working she wore a shawl over her bare shoulders. It was her way of marking personal from work time. With the light from behind her shining through the thin fabric, patterned in vivid stripes and squares of autumn colors, I could imagine her as some high priestess or village shaman, looking over the veldt at sunset.
    “Chaz... I wanted to say that I’m sorry I came down so hard on you.”
    I didn’t have anything to say to that. Anxiety, anger, sadness, and suspicion tightened around my throat and kept the words inside.
    “It’s just...” she continued, then paused. “It’s just that you didn’t seem to be accepting any more subtle direction.”
    “I know you don’t want me looking into the communication problem. But it’s important.”
    “I understand. But...” Her voice was more hesitant than I could ever recall having heard. “...but you mustn’t. Please don’t try any more.”
    I waited to see if she would say anything more. When she didn’t, I asked “Why?”
    She shook her head. “I can’t say. I wish I could.” She looked deep into my eyes, and