Kinsman quickly returned to his makeshift headquarters in the rec area, grateful for the diminishing weight as he made his way up the metal ladder that wound through the tubular spoke connecting the station's various levels.
They'll go on red alert, he knew. But then they'll find out that the Russians are cut off from their stations, too. They'll wait to puzzle it out. They'll wait. They won't launch the missiles. Both sides will wait. But the burning in his chest contradicted the logical certainty his mind was trying to establish.
Four civilians were waiting to see him, sitting along the bench at his table as Kinsman padded across the gym floor. He spent the better part of an hour with them, assuring them patiently that they could stay at the station or leave for Earthside as soon as transport could be arranged. One of them was a wispy little Japanese astronomer, fragile and aged.
"We are scientists, not politicians," he said in a quiet, calm voice. "We do not wish to abandon our work here. Several of us are caught in the midst of experiments or observations that must not be interrupted. We have no desire, however, to be caught in a cross fire between armed troops."
"Nothing could be further from my own desires," Kins- man answered, unconsciously picking up some of the formal cadence of the Japanese manner of speech. "I sincerely believe that you can all be assured that no one will interfere with your work. It would please me if you would continue your investigations as if nothing has happened."
"Well, I'm not a scientist," said one of the other men, hotly. He was younger than the others, built on the chunky side and starting to flesh out too much. Youthful muscle 462 turning into the premature flab of middle age.
"I'm a civilian contractor from Denver, a U.S. citizen," he went on. "Came up here on government contract to work on the computer system they put in here. Now just what ..."
Kinsman silenced him with a pointed finger. "You'll be going back home within an hour. Better get your gear packed."
"What? But I'm not ... you can't . . ."
Kinsman said, 'There's no time for arguing. Get pack- ing!" He turned to the other three. "That goes for all of you. Anyone who wishes to return Earthside may do so. The shuttle will be here in less than an hour."
The contractor lurched to his feet. "You're letting for- eigners stay, but a taxpaying American has to clear out?"
"The scientists can stay if they want to," Kinsman replied calmly. "The rest will be better off going home. This station is no longer American territory. It is now part of the indepen- dent nation of Selene."
The contractor blinked, uncomprehending. The Japa- nese astronomer sighed knowingly.
"I don't get it," the contractor said.
"You will, once you're Earthside," Kinsman told him. "Now, hurry; you don't have much time to spare."
One of the younger scientists claimed Kinsman's atten- tion. "We're being held incommunicado. Your men won't allow us to call our colleagues or families at home."
"Only for a short time more."
"And what have you done with Dr. Marrett? He disap- peared with one of your officers after putting up a row, and he hasn't been seen since."
"He's in the observation section, carrying out his experi- ment."
"You mean that he's allowed to have radio contact with Earth?"
