6
For the hundredth time, Ming-Mei wondered how an astrophysicist could find herself grappling with advanced microbiology. Only in the space program. In fact, only on a mission tasked with exploring an alien world to make sure it could someday be a home for humans.
She suspected that Dr. Roche would be glad to be rid of her the day after tomorrow. The man sat only as close as necessary to be able to point things out in the holographic display. And that was fine with Ming-Mei—better than some of the younger guys who somehow imagined she could be interested in them.
“But even if we do discover deadly pathogens on Centauri B-d, surely no-one really believes we could synthesize enough anti-pathogens to disinfect an entire planet,” she said. “That could take centuries.”
“It may take centuri
