Kinsman could not answer. His voice choked in his throat.

"You want the Moon so goddamned much," Murdock was yelling now, "you better get your friend McGrath to vote the right way! Because the only way you're ever going to get off the ground, mister, is as a passenger!"

Kinsman's pulse was thundering in his ears the way it had 204 so long ago, when he had let his temper run away and lead him to murder.

But Murdock was smiling triumphantly at him now. "I know you. Kinsman. I know what makes you tick. You want to get to the Moon and leave us all behind you. Fine! I'm all for it. But you'd better make sure there's a base up there for you to go to; otherwise, you'll be flying a desk for the rest of your life."

"McGrath," Kinsman croaked, "will never go for it. Never."

"I've sweated blood over you," Murdock went on, ignoring Kinsman's words. "You always thought you were so goddamned superior. Hotshot flier. You and Colt. a couple of smartasses. Well, you just goddamned better do the job you're assigned to do or you'll be shuffling papers at a desk until you drop dead!"

For a moment Kinsman said nothing. It took every effort he could muster not to get up from the chair and punch the fat leering face gloating at him.

Finally he said, "I could resign my commission. I could quit the Aerospace Force."

"And do what?" Murdock asked smugly. "Get a Job with NASA? Or one of the aerospace corporations?"

"You don't think I could?"

The Colonel's stubby-fingered hands were rubbing to- gether as if by their own volition. "I don't know who would hire a man with a disturbed mental background like yours, Kinsman, After all, if they ask us for your background, we'd have to tell them how . . . unbalanced you can be."

Kinsman was on his feet and grabbing the Colonel's lapels before he realized what he was doing. Murdock was white-faced, half out of his chair, hanging by Kinsman's fists.

Closing his eyes. Kinsman released the Colonel.

"Okay," he said, forcing his breath back to normal. "You win. I'll work on McGrath."

Murdock dropped back into his chair. He smoothed his tunic and looked up at Kinsman furiously. But there was still fear in his eyes.

"You'd better work on McGrath," the Colonel said, his voice trembling. "And the next time—"

"No!" Kinsman leveled a pointed finger at him. "The 205 next time you try holding that over my head, the next time you say anything about it to me or anyone else, there'll be another murder."

"You . . . you just get to McGrath."

"Sure. I'll get to him." Kinsman headed for the door, thinking, I'll take him just like Lee took Washington.

He was staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sleep that was taking longer each night to reach him, when the buzzer sounded. In the darkness he groped for the switch over his sofabed. "Yes?"

"Chet, it's me- Diane."

Wordlessly he groped for the button that opened the lobby door of the apartment building. Only after he let go of it did he think to ask if she was alone.

He rolled out of the sofabed and turned on the battery- powered lamp on his end table. The main electrical service was shut down for the night, of course. Only battery-operated devices, like the building's security locks, could be used after twelve-thirty. Kinsman often wondered if his refrigerator was really insulated well enough to keep everything fresh over- night. He never kept enough food in it to worry over.

By the time Diane knocked on his thin apartment door he was wrapped in a shapeless gray robe and had lit a couple of candles. His wristwatch said 1:23 A.M.

He opened the door. Diane stood there alone, wearing a light sleeveless blouse and dark form-fitting slacks.