"Alex will go with you," Jill said. "There's no medical reason for his being confined here."
"But he's driving one of the buggies in the race," said Kinsman.
"Then call him back."
"But . . ."
Leonov raised a solemn hand. "She is right. The race is not as important as your medical safety."
"It would be good politics to have a Russian in our little delegation," Harriman pointed out.
"All right," Kinsman said. "Then it'll be Alex, you" —nodding to Harriman—"and me. A Russian, an Irish- Brazilian Jew, and an American. We'll outnumber 'em."
Kinsman and Diane walked back toward the living quarters together, silent as they paced down the long, rough, curving corridor. It was late afternoon; nearly the whole day had been spent planning the Earthside trip.
"Would you like to have dinner at my place?" he asked.
She would not look at him. "I don't think so, Chet."
A family walked by them, parents and two children, one barely big enough to toddle by herself. After they passed, Kinsman asked, "What's wrong, Diane?"
She stopped and turned toward him. "You know what's wrong. You're going to keep going at this thing until it kills you."
"Oh . . ." He hunched his shoulders. "I've got to. There's no way around it."
"I know," she said. "That's the trouble. I know that what you're doing is right, and good, and there's no one else in the human race who can do it."
"I'll be okay."
She shook her head. "They're going to kill you."
"Don't be so melodramatic."
Diane turned and started walking down the grass-floored corridor again. Kinsman caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "Diane, listen to me. It's just this trip Earthside. After that, things will settle down." He grinned weakly. "We'll bring your daughter up here. We might even be able to lead a halfway normal life."
She smiled back. "I wish it were true."
"It will be true," he insisted. "When I come back from this trip Earthside, everything ought to be pretty well set- tled."
