Diane stepped closer to him, waddling ponderously. "How come the two bases were built right next to each other?"

"That was back when the watchword was cooperation. We were going to share most of the facilities: electric power, water factory, the farms . . . cheaper for both sides."

"It didn't last long, did it?"

"Earthside politics," Kinsman said. "The food short- ages, the energy crunch—we started getting orders to make Moonbase self-sufficient. Not to depend on the Russians for anything. They got the same orders. But we'd already been living together for several years. It's hard to distrust people when you live with them."

Diane said nothing.

Spreading his arms, Kinsman turned slowly and asked, "Well . . . what do you think of the place?"

She may have tried to shrug inside the suit, it was impossible to tell. "It looks so barren . . . desolate. And it's so empty."

"We've got lots of space," Kinsman agreed. "And energy—free, almost, from the sun. What we don't have is water. Have to process it out of the rocks. Funny: energy's cheap here and water's expensive. On Earth it's just the other way around."

"Water isn't cheap on Earth anymore," Diane said. "Not drinkable water."

Kinsman shook his head even though Diane could not see the gesture. "You'd think that would be the last thing they'd mess up on a planet brimful of the stuff."

He took her gloved hand and guided her up the gentle slope of a small crater rim. The ground was pockmarked with crateriets a few centimeters across. The blower in Kinsman's 322 suit hissed at high speed; still he felt hot inside it. "The horizon's so close," Diane said.

"The edge of the world. Makes you half think you could fall off."

"I thought we'd be able to see the stars better."

"Your visor's pretty heavily filtered."

"It's just so dreary\ I've never seen such desolation."

What did you expect? he said to himself. Aloud, he asked, "Diane, what made you come up here?"

She turned ponderously to face him. "I toid you. It was a good job opportunity. Extra pay."

"And that's all?"

She hesitated. "I found out that you were right, Chet. All along, you were right and I was wrong. I tried it NeaPs way, I tried working for the poor and the oppressed. All that happened was that they got poorer and the government got more oppressive. It took a lot of years, but I finally figured out that you were right. We need a frontier—even if it's a desolate emptiness way off in space someplace."

But there was something in her voice that hinted at deeper reasons, hidden motivations.

"Is it that bad, Earthside?" he asked.

"Yes," Diane said fervently. "The government doesn't release unemployment statistics anymore, that's how hard things are. And the super-morality fanatics make it even harder when you've got a fatherless child to support."

"You have a baby."

"She's almost five years old."

"Neai's baby."