"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?"
"Shouldn't I be?"
"They've had these crises before. It'll blow away."
"Not this time."
She put her hand on his back. "You don't think they're really crazy enough to start throwing nuclear bombs around, do you?"
"This time it's for real." He turned toward her, and could barely make out her face in the shadows. The only light in the room came from the digital clock built into the wall alongside the bed. "I'm going to try to talk Pierce out of 362 leaving. I'll tell him to bring his family up here, instead."
"You really think it's that serious?"
"We're going to declare our independence from Earth. Leonov and I. I want as much of everybody's family as possible to be here when the shit hits the fan. Is there somebody back Earthside who can take your daughter to Cape Canaveral?"
"I don't know." Diane's voice was a frightened whisper.
"I'm hoping that our declaration of independence—and cutting off the supplies to the space stations—will throw a monkey wrench into their war preparations."
"Will the Russians go along . . . ?"
