Once Jill shut the curtain to the bunkroom. Kinsman went to the control desk and reviewed the mission schedule. Linda stayed at the biology bench, three gliding paces away.
After a glance across the control board to check all the systems status indicators, Kinsman turned to Linda.
"Well, now do you know what I meant about this being a way of life?"
"I think so. It's so different . . ."
"It's the real thing. Complete freedom. Brave new world. After ten minutes of EVA everything else is just toothpaste."
"It certainly was exciting."
"More than that. It's living. Being on the ground is a drag. Even flying a plane is dull now. This is where the fun is ... this is where you can feel alive. Better than booze. Better than drugs. It's the highest kick there is, as close to heaven as anyone can get."
"You're really serious?"
"Damned right I am. I've been thinking of asking Murdock for a transfer to NASA duty. Air Force missions don't include the Moon, and I'd like to walk around on the new world, see the sights."
She smiled at him. "I'm afraid I'm not that enthusiastic. And besides, not even NASA's been on the Moon for years."
"They will be," he replied. "Sooner or later."
"You really think so?"
"Sure. But what's really important is that up here you're free, really free. All the laws and rules and prejudices that they've been dumping on us all our lives—they're all down there. Up here it's a new start. You can be yourself and do your own thing, and nobody can tell you differently."
"As long as your air holds out."
"That's the physical end of it, sure. We live in a microcosm, courtesy of the aerospace industry and the scien- tists. But there're no strings on us. The brass can't make us follow their rules. We're writing the rulebooks ourselves. For the first time since 1776 we're writing new social rules."
Linda looked thoughtful. Kinsman could not tell if she was genuinely impressed by his line or if she knew what he was trying to lead up to. He turned back to the control desk 88 and busied himself with the mission flight plan again.
He had carefully considered all the possible opportuni- ties and narrowed them down to two. Both of them tomor- row, over the Indian Ocean. Forty-five minutes between ground stations and Jill asleep both times.
"AF-9, thisisKodiak."
He reached up for the radio switch. "AF-9, Kodiak. Go ahead."
"We are receiving your automatic data transmission loud and clear."
"Roger, Kodiak. Everything normal here. Mission pro- file unchanged."
"Okay, Niner. We have nothing new for you. Oh, wait . . . Chet, Lew Regneson is here and he says he's put twenty bucks on your butt to uphold the Air Force's honor. Keep 'em flying."
Keeping his face as straight as possible, Kinsman an- swered, "Roger, Kodiak. Mission profile unchanged."
"Good luck!"
Linda's thoughtful expression had deepened. "What was that all about?"
