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“Another space race? Come on, Morgan. Nationalism is finished. Aeroflot is just another zaibatsu; they’ve got branches all over the world, just like you do.”

“But they’re Russians, Reese.The people running that company all grew up under the Soviet, they all played war games in grade school where Americans were the bad guys.The first generation to grow up without nationalism is barely out of its diapers. Don’t forget that. Don’t underestimate the old factionalism.They beat us to Mars before, and I don’t plan to let it happen again.”

Reese stretched out on the bed.“Whatever you say.”

“You sound awfully skeptical, Reese. Especially for a man who insisted he get to go along.The same man who was so desperate for information that he went to work for me under a false name five years ago.”

Shit, Reese thought.

“I didn’t find out till you’d already disappeared again,” Morgan said. “But I must say, it hurt my feelings. I wish you’d just talked to me.”

“Look, Morgan. I don’t trust you.We’ve got what they call an adversary relationship. I’m going to be trying to get your people to Mars, and you’re going to be trying to make money.Anything else you say is just a smokescreen, just so much bullshit. I don’t see any point in our trying to be friends, or your trying to sway me with a lot of outmoded politics and noble-sounding rationalizations.”

“If that’s the way you want it, Reese, that’s okay with me. I’ve always admired you, and I would like to have your respect. But I can’t force you to be my friend, and I’m not going to try.”

The hell of it is, Reese thought, he’s probably sincere.Whatever view he has of himself, whatever he sees when he looks in the mirror, is probably a lot like the way he sees me.As if we were brother pioneers.

“I’m a little tired,” Reese said, the closest he could come to an apology.“Let’s just put the personalities aside for now.What can you tell me about the crew? How long have I got?”

Morgan cleared his throat.“Kane didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Um.There’s a bit of pressure, because of the Russians, you see. I’m afraid you’ve only got six weeks.”

“Six weeks?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“No way,” Reese said.“It’s impossible.”

Morgan leaned forward, his eyes glittering.“I don’t like that word, Reese. If we’re going to be working together, you’ll find it’s to your advantage not to tell me something’s impossible. Ever. Do you understand?”

Reese nodded, almost involuntarily.The force of the man’s will was frightening, almost psychotic. He thought of Kane’s driving, wondering if the entire family was unstable.

“Fine,” Morgan said, relaxing again.“nasa used to train mission specialists for the shuttle in five weeks.And my people are in top condition, all of them with pilot experience. Most of the lander training can be done with the on-board computers in simulator mode anyway, give them something to do on the trip out. Now if you’re worried about not getting yourself in shape in that amount of time, that’s no problem. You can pull out any time you want.”

He is not, Reese thought, the clown he played for so many years. It was not just intensity that Morgan shared with Kane but an aura of danger, the dark, flat, predator’s eyes that were alert for the slightest weakness in their prey.

“I can handle it,” Reese said.

Morgan stood up, smiling, and stopped by the door.“Sleep on it. I’m sure you’ll come through for me.”

In fact Reese cleared his mind and let himself sleep deeply and well. The phone woke him at 8:15, and he did a hundred sit-ups before he got dressed.

At breakfast Kane introduced him to Lena,Takahashi, and the other two pilots:Walker, a thirtyish woman with hooded brown eyes and leonine hair, and Phut, a slight Vietnamese who took Reese’s hand with barely repressed hostility. Five of them, Reese thought, and only five places on the ship. I’m putting one of them out of a job.

Theirs was the only occupied table in the long, sunlit room, and Morgan’s absence allowed Reese to eat in relaxed silence.As soon as he comfortably could, he excused himself and wandered through the room, ending up at the souvenir counter. Between the T-shirts and the plastic shuttles was a small hologram unit. Reese switched it on and saw himself in miniature, planting the American flag in the rusty soil where the Frontera dome would be built.

That morning he put them on the wheel.

The centrifuge had a building to itself, the Flight Acceleration Facility, just north of Building 5 and its Link Shuttle Trainer. Even after all these years, he still felt nauseated at the sight of the curved gray walls and the radial concrete struts across the roof. He thought of the Hotel Casino de la Selva as his footsteps echoed across the dusty, slick-troweled floor under the fifty-foot arm of the centrifuge.

He remembered the techs talking about some trainee who’d ridden the wheel “eyeballs out,” lying on his belly, hemorrhaging all the capillaries in both eyes, turning the whites bright red for a month. He remembered his first sight of an Apollo spacecraft, how amazed he’d been by the sheer, clumsy, mechanical weight of switches and latches and levers and knobs.Then, as now, the very idea of space travel seemed ludicrous, beyond the capability of the equipment.

But the power plant started, and the centrifuge turned, and one by one he took them up to five Gs and let Lena watch their signs.Then it was Lena’s turn, and then it was his, and he had to climb into the gondola and let Kane control the wheel, thinking, I can’t be afraid of him, I have to learn to trust him, I have to learn to trust them all.

And after all, it was only five Gs, not even enough to bring out the purple splotches of petichiae on his back. He remembered the breathing technique, filling his lungs and sipping air off the top, not letting his chest muscles relax.And then it was over, almost before it started.

Easy, he thought, no problem. But he knew that it didn’t get hard until it got over eight Gs, and he knew that ten Gs were going to be very hard indeed.

In the afternoon he left them with Takahashi for a full workout and tried to round up the material he would need for the classroom work. Six weeks seemed pathetically short to teach them upper atmosphere physics, flight mechanics, guidance and navigation, systems and hardware, not to mention some kind of hands-on simulation and escape and contingency drills.

Which left the outbound flight for all of the lander instruction and simulations, training on the onboard medical and science equipment, preparation and rehearsal of the Mars surface excursions, as well as diagnostics, housekeeping, communications and exercise.

So many things, he thought, so many ways to go wrong.

After supper he took them to the auditorium in the Visitor’s Center and ran them the films he’d been able to find, keeping the volume low, correcting the affable announcer’s voice on the soundtrack when he had to.Around eight o’clock, Morgan took a seat in the back row and stayed for the remaining two hours.

In the flickering light of the projector, Reese watched the recruits. Kane and Takahashi were both impassive, Lena very serious-looking, and only Walker seemed openly enthusiastic. Phut was restless, bored, and seemed to fall asleep a little after nine.

When the others had left, Reese sat back in a red-plush chair, one seat away from Morgan, and closed his eyes.

“Well?” Morgan said.

“Where did you find these guys?”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Walker and Takahashi seem okay. But Lena doesn’t know a damn thing outside her specialty, Kane is probably a borderline psychotic, and Phut thinks I’m here to do him out of his job, which in a way I guess I am.What happened to the nasa people? They can’t all be too old.”