Solar Express by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

talk in generalities, such as “balancing the budget” or “obtaining justice under law” or “maintaining meaningful employment,” when they really mean “massive spending cuts in programs advocated by my opponents,” or “creating a religious loophole for my largest contributor,” or “keeping open a redundant and wasteful government facility in my district.”

    Alayna couldn’t help but smile. At the same time, she didn’t want the citation/quotation thing to become one-sided. Then she smiled. She had just the right book from which to send back her own citations … but that would have to wait. She needed to see if what the Solar Institute was doing dovetailed with what she had in mind. If not … there was a block of time, almost an hour, available tomorrow morning where she could insert her own program and follow up on what she’d begun during the last lunar day on Farside. Once she had an observational baseline, then she could use the many small segments of unleased observational time that often occurred, as well as piggyback on observations of the solar latitudes she was studying.
    After several minutes of examining the Institute’s program and observations, she shook her head. All the focus there was on the chromosphere, and what she needed were specific spectro-polarimeter studies of the base of the photosphere, where the magnetic flux lines created the solar granulations.
    With that, she turned to refining the observational program she had worked out.
    At 1223 UTC, she got another message from Lunara, even shorter than the earlier one.
    Pack train left with passengers and cargo at 1219.
    She sent back a pleasant thank-you and went back to work.
    At 1611 UTC, Marcel announced, “The lead roller has entered the supply tunnel. ETA at the supply lock is 1623.”
    â€œThank you.” Alayna stretched, then made a last survey of all the monitors before rising. She needed to change into an undersuit because she’d have to use the exosuit to unload the supplies, given that the supply tunnel—really just a big covered and radiation-insulated trench—was unpressurized. She voice-locked the control center before heading down to the lower level and the supply lock.
    By 1641, all three of her visitors were inside the suit locker room adjoining the supply lock. Alayna was wearing her undersuit, and her suit was hanging before her locker, ready to don, once she finished with her welcoming duties.
    She had concentrated when they introduced themselves in order to remember their full names—Antoine Deveau, Geoffrey Hart, and Dominique Perez—because no one had sent her anything on who the inspectors actually were. When she could get away from them gracefully, or maybe after they retired to sleep, she wanted to see if there was any information in the databases.
    Alayna offered what she hoped was a warm and welcoming smile. “I’m Dr. Alayna Wong-Grant, the duty astrophysicist and general technician here at COFAR. Once you finish unsuiting, I’ll show you to your quarters, and to the galley, if you’re so inclined. While you’re settling yourselves, I’ll need to unload the pack train. After that we can eat, or I can show you around the station.”
    The shorter man frowned. “We’re supposed to…?”
    â€œIf you trust my cooking, I can fix something, but I’ll need to unload the train first.” One of the reasons Alayna wanted and needed to do that was because Harris or someone at Lunara usually threw in some fresh vegetables or fruits from the hydroponics and minifarm at the mining facility, but the insulation on that section of the cargo bin wasn’t especially good at keeping things from freezing if they were left too long, and the melons she often received, in particular, were far less edible after being frozen solid.
    â€œIt’s a one-person station, Geoffrey,”