They asked a few more questions and then their teacher started to shoo them toward the door.
"Can girls go to the Moon, too?" the girl asked.
"Yes, sure."
"Come now, children. Mr. Kinsman is very tired. It's very difficult for a man from the Moon to stay here on Earth. 550
Smell the air in here? Even the air is different!"
"I don't smell anything."
"That's what I mean!"
By now they were outside in the hall and the door was swinging shut when one of the kids yelled, "Fuckin' traitor! We'll get ya!"
"George!" the teacher clucked. "Such language! And shouting in the hallway!"
Shout it from the rooftops, kid, Kinsman thought. Be a real patriot.
Harriman kicked the door shut. "George must be run- ning for mayor."
Landau got up from his chair and went back to the desk. "I must run a medical check."
"More blood? Hugh. order up some dinner, will you? Frank, you'll stay and eat with us."
"I oughtta get going," Colt muttered.
"Come on," Kinsman urged. "We'll let you loose early. We've got to be at JFK for a ten o'clock takeoff. You can watch the immigrants take off on TV."
Hesitantly, Colt got up and went to the TV controls on the wall. With equal reluctance, Kinsman turned his chair toward the syringe-wielding Landau.
All traffic was being routed around Times Square. Police- men on horseback, in. armored cars, in helicopters, all wore riot gear: hard helmets, plastic visors, gas masks, the arma- ment of combat infantrymen. Thousands of people were pouring into the square and more throngs were congregating elsewhere in Manhattan. In strategically located armories around the island the Army assembled companies of men and armored personnel carriers and balloon-wheeled light tanks. Washington Square, Columbus Circle, the entire length of the Amsterdam Avenue Mall—crowds were thickening every- where. Bottles and butts and pills were passed freely in spite of the fact that police patrolled the fringes of the throngs and flitted overhead with glaring searchlights probing down from their helicopters. But the people were happy, laughing, cele- brating. Huge TV screens had been set up in the streets to show the launch from Kennedy Space Center.
Frank Colt puffed nervously on a cigarette as he sat on the couch and watched the final moment of the countdown. 551
The shuttle sat at the end of the runway bathed in the glare of a dozen huge spotlights. All the service vehicles had been cleared away from it. Only a thin wisp of vapor from the liquid oxygen boil-off indicated that the craft was occupied and ready for launch.
The TV announcer was gabbling, "In one of the most generous acts of international goodwill seen in this decade, the United States is allowing fifty people from foreign nations to engage in this historic journey to the Moon—despite the fact that the lunar settlement is still legally American terri- tory."
Landau frowned as he packed away his medical equip- ment. Harriman was on the phone, checking again on the readiness of their own shuttle at JFK.
Kinsman sat tiredly in his special chair. The medical exams not only depressed him, but made him feel even weaker than normal. Somewhere far in the back of his mind a nagging tendril of unease flickered warningly. He turned his gaze from the TV screen to Colt, taking a hard drag on his cigarette. Frank never smoked. Kinsman told himself. Can the pressures of command be so heavy on him that he's started smoking?
The door buzzer sounded. Dinner arrived.
"Not again!"
General Maksutov listened for a solid four minutes, by the digital clock on his metal desk, his face growing more incredulous and grimmer at the same time. Finally he put the phone down, but not before saying into it, "Yessir. Immedi- ately!"
