"That's none of your damned business," Diane replied, still looking smug. "But Harry was a fan of mine, you know, back Earthside. He collected my records."

"A patron of the arts."

"And it might further interest you to know," Diane continued haughtily, "that my aptitude scores and work records rate me higher than anyone else in the comm section —anyone who's staying here, that is," she finished more soberly.

He nodded. "A lot of them are going to want to go back home. Damned fools."

"You can't blame them, Chet."

"They'd be a lot safer here," he said.

Diane shook her head. "That's just logic. You're dealing with emotions."

"Panic."

"Very close to it," she agreed.

"What about you?" he asked. "What about your daugh- ter?"

"I don't know what to do," Diane said. "Could I get a few days off to return to Arizona and bring my daughter here?"

"You could ask the base commander for an emergency leave," Kinsman said. Before she could speak he added, "But you won't get it. You're going to stay here, Diane. Have your 361 daughter sent here; I'll okay that."

"But she's too young to travel by herself." "1 can get an Aerospace Force officer to bring her up here. But you're not going back Earthside," Kinsman said.

"It's too dangerous. The balloon could go up any minute.

You're staying here."

"Whether I want to or not?" Her eyes locked on his. He nodded. 'That's right. Whether you want to or not.

Now that you're here I'm not going to let you go."

Monday 6 December 1999:

0345 hrs UT

KINSMAN PULLED HIMSELF up to a sitting position on the bed. He stared into the darkness of Diane's bedroom, running his tongue across his lower teeth. They felt gritty.

She turned beside him. "You're not sleeping?"

"No."

"What's the matter?" Her voice sounded hollow, as if she were stifling a yawn.

"Can't sleep," he said simply.

She sat up beside him. He could smell the musky odor from their lovemaking. "You're really worried about this war emergency?"