Jupiter by Ben Bova

said
spy
, but Tami's cheerful expression showed she had no inkling of his own situation.
    He bumped into Lane O'Hara now and then, mostly in the aquarium, but she was strictly business, a staff scooter telling a grad student which chore had to be done next. Now and then he saw her swimming in the tank with the dolphins, a sleek white wetsuit covering her completely yet revealing every curve of her lean, lithe body. She swam among them happily, playfully, as if she were at home with the dolphins, glad to be with them in their element, much friendlier to them than she was to Grant.
    Every night Grant prayed for release from his slavery. How am I going to get a doctorate when I'm stuck washing glassware and fixing broken-down equipment?
    He felt so depressed, so ashamed of how low he had fallen, that he couldn't bring himself to talk about it in his messages to Marjorie. Guardedly, he told his parents about the situation. His mother was nearly in tears when she replied; his father counseled patience.
    'They're just testing you, I'm certain. Do your best and soon enough they'll see that you're too talented to remain a lab helper. This is a test, you'll see.'
    Grant hoped his father was right, but didn't believe a word of it. He begged his parents not to reveal his problem to Marjorie.
    He tried to be upbeat and smiling when he spoke to his wife, avoiding any mention of the work he was doing. Worst of all, he realized he was not accomplishing one iota of progress toward his doctorate in astrophysics. There wasn't even another astrophysicist in the station to serve as his mentor — assuming he had time to continue his studies.
    Marjorie's messages to him became rarer, as well. She was obviously busy and immersed in her work. She still seemed cheerful and energetic, smiling into the camera for him even when she looked tired and sheened with perspiration. Often she appeared to be in a tent or in some clearing in a tropical forest. Once he saw a raging fire behind her, hot flames licking angrily through the trees and thick oily black smoke billowing skyward, while heavily-armed troops in the sky-blue helmets of the International Peacekeeping Force prowled past. Yet she always seemed chipper, enthusiastic, telling Grant excitedly of their success in tracking down hidden drug factories or caches of biological weapons.
    Yet Grant saw something in Marjorie's bright, joyful face that puzzled him. For weeks he tried to determine what it was. And then it hit him. She was pleased with herself! She was delighted with the work she was doing, excited to be helping to make the world better, safer - while all Grant was doing was janitorial work in a remote station, hundreds of millions of kilometers from home.
    And he realized one other thing, as well. Marjorie no longer ended her messages "with a count of the hours until they would be reunited.
    I've lost her, Grant told himself. By the time I get back to Earth we'll be strangers to each other.
    Still he could not bring himself to mention his fears to Marjorie. He could not tell her of his loneliness, his weariness, his growing desperation. He tried to be cheerful and smiling when he spoke to her, knowing that she was doing the same in her messages to him. Is she trying to keep my spirits up? Grant asked himself. Or is she just being kind to me? Does she still love me?
    Then he wondered if he still loved her, and was shocked to realize that he did not know whether he did or not.

    He saw Sheena often enough, shambling through the narrow corridor of the aquarium or sitting quietly in her glassteel pen, munching on mountains of celery and melons. The gorilla was like a two-year-old child: her repertoire of behaviors was quickly exhausted and her conversation was limited to a dozen simple declarations. In the back of his mind Grant marvelled at the fact that he could accept a talking gorilla as commonplace.
    On the other hand, Sheena was so massive and strong that she frightened Grant, even though