Harriman's voice came out of total darkness. "It's De Paolo. They're going to meet tomorrow. The President's coming up to New York to look at the damage. De Paolo says to tell Chet that buildings can be rebuilt. And so can institutions. Stronger than they were before."

But we'll have to be so careful, Kinsman replied silently. It'll be so easy to turn it into a dictatorship. We've got to preserve human freedom—it won't work any other way.

They were moving him. He felt himself being lifted, placed. Carefully. Tenderly. Like a fragile treasure. He thought, Like a fossil.

Pressure and the muted thunder of rocket engines. The pain flared everywhere now, waking him.

Frank Colt was sitting beside his litter, brooding. Kins- man grabbed at his arm.

"There's so much to do, Frank." His voice sounded like a dying old man's.

"Hey, Chet. Take it easy, man." But Frank's voice sounded strange, too.

"Got to . . . listen, Frank. We've got to do everything we can. We've got to keep the doors open for the human race." "Yeah, sure, baby. Don't get yourself excited." Others were surrounding him now. Shadows. "Frank, we can develop the raw materials from the

Moon. And go on to the asteroids. We can develop it ... there's a whole solar system of natural resources . . . nobody has to be hungry or poor. We can do it! We can make it all work out!"

"Yeah, okay."

"You understand, Frank? You know what I mean? I can leave it with you. can't I?"

Colt nodded gently as someone else pulled Kinsman's hand away.

"I know," Colt said. "Been thinking about it myself. I'll see that it gets done. Don't worry about it. You just rest yourself."

"Good," Kinsman said. "Good. You'll know how to get it done. Mine the Moon. A world of resources. And the asteroids. Plenty of power . . . everything we need ... for everybody . . ."

Someone—Landau, he thought—pressed a needle into his arm.

Floating. He was floating. Voices flickered around him. They were moving him again, but now it was like floating out in the sea.

Don't go too far, Chester. There's a tide.

Yes, Momma. There sure as hell is.

"It's all right now, Chet. You're safe. You're back home."

Diane's voice. Her scent.

He tried to open his eyes. He tried to speak. With all the power of his being he tried to raise a hand to touch her.

Nothing.

He felt her hair brushing his face. "You're going to be all right, Chet. You're not going to die. Please. You can't die."

He moistened his lips. He got the feeling that his eyes were open but he just could not see anything. Maybe a blur, a faint gray against the enveloping darkness. Cold. Cold and dark as space itself.

"Chet, it's me, Diane. Please don't die. There's so much for us to live for. I love you, Chet. I've loved you all my life . . ."