Diane said. "They're desert people; the Moon's certainly bleak enough for them."
"Too much," Kinsman muttered. "It's all too much."
"You're entirely right," Jill Meyers said, fixing Kinsman with a professional medical gaze. "You look like you've been through several wringers. I want you in my office at oh-nine- hundred hours tomorrow morning."
"You mean this morning." Alexsei said softly. "It's already past three."
"To bed, all of you," Jill commanded. "Can't have our Chief Administrator collapsing from exhaustion his first day on the job."
Harriman pursed his lips. "There are several lewd re- marks I could make, but considering your exalted position, Mr. Chief Administrator, I will maintain a kindly and courte- ous silence."
"You're just sucking up for a good political job," Kins- man said.
"How right you are! How about making me Minister of Education?"
"No. I want you to be our Foreign Minister."
Harriman was aghast. "Me? A diplomat? One of those mincing faggots?"
"You'd start a new trend in foreign affairs, Hugh. You've already influenced one government, by your own admission."
"I won't wear striped pants!"
"Hugh, you don't have to wear any pants at all, if you don't want to. What I need is—"
"Tomorrow!" Jill said firmly. She got up from her chair and Alexsei rose with her, towering above her tiny form. Diane got up, too, and they all drifted toward the door. But Kinsman lingered as the others left.
Harriman's voice was still echoing down the corridor as Kinsman said to Diane, "Well, I made it. They didn't kill me."
"They tried," she said.
He reached out to push the door shut but she did not let go of it.
"You did a fine job, taking care of everything while I was gone."
"Thanks."
He did not want to make polite conversation. He did not want to talk about anything, or even to think. Not about politics or war or death.
