«That’s just like Mary-Ellen saves me money at department store sales. I can’t afford to save that money. Not this year. The capital outlay is too high. To say nothing of the overruns.»
«Now wait—»
«Come on, Chet. There’s never been a big program that’s lived within its budget. No … Moonbase is going to have to wait, I’m afraid.»
«We’ve already waited fifty years.»
A crowd was gathering around them now, and McGrath automatically raised his voice a notch. «Our first priority has got to be for the cities. They’ve become jungles, unfit for sane human life. We’ve got to reclaim them, and save the people who’re trapped in them before they all turn into savages.»
Damn, he’s got a thick hide. «Okay, but it doesn’t have to be either/or. We can do both.»
«Not while the war’s on.»
Hold your temper; don’t fire at the flag. «The war’s an awfully convenient excuse for postponing commitments. We’ve been in hot and cold wars since before you and I were born.»
With the confident grin of a hunter who had cornered his quarry, McGrath asked, «Are you suggesting that we pull our troops out of South America? Or do you want to let our cities collapse completely?»
Do you still beat your wife? «All I’m suggesting,» Kinsman said with, deliberate calm, «is that we shouldn’t postpone building Moonbase any longer. We’ve got the technology—we know how to do it. It’s either build a permanent base on the Moon, or stop the lunar exploration program altogether. If we fail to build Moonbase, your budget-cutting friends will throttle down the whole manned space program to zero within a few years.»
Still smiling, McGrath said, «I’ve heard all that from your Colonel Murdock.»
There was a curious look in Diane’s dark eyes.
«Chet. Why do you want to have a Moonbase built?»
«Why? Because … I was just telling you—»
She shook her head. «No, I don’t mean the official reasons, I mean why do you dig the idea?»
«We need it. The space program needs it.»
«No,» she said patiently. «You. Why are you for it? What’s in it for you?»
«What do you mean?» Kinsman asked.
«What makes you tick, man? What turns you on? Is it a Moonbase? What moves you, Chet?»
They were all watching him, the whole crowd, their faces blank or smirking or inquisitive. Floating weightless, standing on nothing and looking at the overpowering beauty of Earth—rich, brilliant, full, shining against the black emptiness. Knowing that people down there are killing each other, teaching their children to kill, your eyes filling with tears at the beauty and sadness of it. How could they see it? How could they understand?
«What moves you, Chet?» Diane asked again.
He made himself grin. «Well, for one thing, the Pentagon cafeteria coffee.»
Everybody laughed. But she wouldn’t let him off the hook.
«No—get serious. This is important. What turns you on?»
Wouldn’t understand anyway. «You mean aside from the obvious things, like sex?»
She nodded gravely.
«Hmmm. I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to answer. Flying, I guess. Getting out on your own responsibility, away from committees and chains of command.»
«There’s got to be more to it than that,» Diane insisted.
«Well … have you ever been out on the desert at an Israeli outpost, dancing all night by firelight because at dawn there’s going to be an attack and you don’t want to waste a minute of life?»
There was a heartbeat’s span of silence. Then one of the women asked in a near-whisper, «When … were you … ?»
Kinsman said, «Oh, I’ve never been there. But isn’t it a romantic picture?»
They all broke into laughter. That burst the bubble. The crowd began to dissolve, breaking up into smaller groups, dozens of private conversations filling the silence that had briefly held them.
«You cheated,» Diane said.
«Maybe I did.»
«Don’t you have anything except icewater in your veins?»
He shrugged. «If you prick us, do we not bleed?»
«Don’t talk dirty.»
He took her by the arm and headed for the big glass doors at the far end of the room. «Come on, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’ve bought all your tapes.»
«And I’ve been watching your name on the news.»
«Don’t believe most of it.»
He pushed the door open and they stepped out onto the balcony. Shatterproof plastic enclosed the balcony and shielded them from the humid, hazy Washington air—and anything that might be thrown or shot from the street far below. The air conditioning kept the balcony pleasantly cool.
«Sunset,» Diane said, looking out toward the slice of sky that was visible between the two apartment buildings across the avenue. «Loveliest time of the day.»
«Loneliest time, too.»
She turned to him, her eyes showing genuine surprise. «Lonely? You? I didn’t know you had any weaknesses like that.»
«I’ve got a few, hidden away here and there.»
«Why do you hide them?»
«Because nobody gives a damn about them, one way or the other.» Before Diane could reply, he said, «I sound sorry for myself, don’t I?»
«Well…»
«Who’s this Larry character?»
«He’s a very nice guy,» she said firmly. «And a good musician. And he doesn’t go whizzing off into the wild blue yonder … or, space is black, isn’t it?»
He nodded. «I don’t go whizzing any more, either. I’ve been grounded.»
She blinked at him. «What does that mean?»
«Grounded,» Kinsman repeated. «Deballed. No longer qualified for flight duty. No orbital missions. No lunar missions. They won’t even let me fly a plane any more. Got some shavetail to jockey me around. I work at a desk.»
«But… why?»
«It’s a long dirty story. Officially, I’m too valuable to risk or something like that.»
«Chet, I’m so sorry … flying meant so much to you, I know.» She stepped into his arms and he kissed her.
«Let’s get out of here, Diane. Let’s go someplace safe and watch the Moon come up and I’ll tell you all the legends about your namesake.»
«Same old smooth talker.»
«No, not any more. I haven’t even touched a woman since … well, not for a long time.»
«I can’t leave the party, Chet. They’re expecting me to sing.»
«Screw them.»
«All of them?»
«Don’t talk dirty.»
She laughed, but shook her head. «Really, Chet. Not now.»
«Then let me take you home afterward.»
«I’m staying here tonight.»
There were several things he wanted to say, but he checked himself. «Chet, please don’t rush me. It’s been a long time.» It sure as hell has.
They went back into the party and separated. Kinsman drifted through the crowd, making meaningless chatter with strangers and old friends alike, drink in one hand, occasionally nibbling on a canape about the size and consistency of spacecraft food. But his mind was replaying, over and over again, the last time he had seen Diane.
Five years ago.
Soaring across the California countryside, riding the updrafts along the hillsides and playing hide-and-seek with the friendly chaste-white cumuli, the only sound the rush of air across the glass bubble an inch over your head, your guts held tight as you sweep and bank and then soar up, up past the clouds and then you bank way over so you’re hanging by the shoulder harness and looking straight down into the green citrus groves below. Diane sitting in the front seat, so all you can see of her is the back of her plastic safety helmet. But you can hear her gasp.