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technology was at least as uneven as on Old Earth. Lunzie spent all her time in the fast-tape booths, or practicing procedures and taking the preliminary recertification exams. Basic and advanced life support, basic and advanced trauma first response, basic and advanced contagious disease techniques... her head would have spun if it could.
    In her brief time "off," she tried to catch up with current research in her area, flicking through the computerized journal abstracts.

    "What we really need is another team member for a trip to Diplo." Someone groaned, in the back of the room, and someone else shushed the groaner.
    "Come on," the speaker said, half-angrily. "It's only a short tour, thirty days max."
    "Because that's the medical limit," came a mutter. "This comes up every year," the speaker said. "We have a contract pending; we have an obligation; whatever your personal views, the heavyworlders on Diplo have significant medical problems which are still being researched,"
    "Not until you give us an allowance for G-damage." Lunzie thought that was the same mutterer, someone a few seats to her left and behind.
    "Pay and allowances are adjusted for local conditions," the speaker went on, staring fixedly at his notes. "This year's special topic is the effect of prolonged coldsleep on heavyworlder biochemistry, particularly the accumulation of calcium affecting cardiac function." He paused. Lunzie wondered when that topic had been assigned. Everyone would know, from her qualifications posted in the files, that she had special knowledge relevant to the research. But it would not do to show eagerness. The speaker went on. "We've already got a molecular biologist, and a cardiac physiologist—"
    The names came up on the main room screen, along with their most recent publications. Very impressive, Lunzie thought to herself. Both Bias, the biologist, and Tailler, the cardiac physiologist, had published lead articles in good journals.
    "Rehab medicine?" asked someone in back.
    The speaker nodded. "If your Boards include a subspecialty rating in heavyworlder rehab, certainly. Clearly relevant to this year's special problem."
    Another name went up on the screen, presumably the rehab specialist who'd spoken: Conigan, age 42, had published a textbook on heavyworlder rehabilitation after prolonged work undersea. Lunzie decided she'd waited long enough. What if someone else qualified for "her" slot?
    "I've got a background in prolonged coldsleep, and some heavyworlder experience." Heads turned to look at her; Discipline kept her from flushing under that scrutiny. The speaker peered at what she assumed was her file on his podium screen. "Ah... Lunzie. Yes. I see you haven't yet taken your Boards recertification exam?"
    "It's scheduled for three days from now." It had been scheduled for six months from now but Jerik had arranged for her to take the exam singly, ahead of time. "All the prelims are on file."
    "Yes, they are. It's amazing you've caught up so fast, and your skills are well suited to this mission. Contingent on your passing your Boards, you're accepted for this assignment." He looked up, scanning the room for the next possible applicant.
    The woman next to Lunzie nudged her.
    "Are you sure you want to go to Diplo? I heard your last coldsleep was because heavyworlders went primitive."
    Lunzie managed not to glare. She had not heard the rumors herself, but she'd known they would be flying around the medical and scientific community.
    "I can't talk about it," she said, not untruthfully. "The case won't be tried for months, and until then—"
    "Oh, I quite understand. I'm not prying, Doctor. It's just that if it was heavyworlders, I'm surprised you're signing up for Diplo."
    Lunzie chuckled. "Well, there's this glitch in my pay records—"
    The woman snorted. "There would be. Of course; I see. You'd think they could realize the last thing you need is worry about money, but the Feds have acute formitis."
    "A bad case," Lunzie