"But this is a military station."

"Unarmed. Two things this brave new world doesn't have yet: death and love."

"People have died in space."

"Never in orbit. Three Russian cosmonauts died during re-entry. People have been killed in ground or flying acci- dents. But no one's ever died up here. And no one's made love, either."

Despite herself, it seemed to Kinsman, she smiled. "Have there been any chances for it?"

"Not among NASA's astronauts, not in the shuttle. And the Russians have had a couple of women cosmonauts, but you know how puritanical they are."

Linda thought it over for a swift moment. "This isn't exactly the bridal suite at the Waldorf. I've seen better motel rooms along the Jersey Turnpike."

"Pioneers have to rough it."

"I'm a photographer, Chet, not a pioneer."

Kinsman spread his hands helplessly. "Strike three; I'm out."

"Better luck next time."

"Thanks." He returned his attention to the mission flight plan. Next time will be in exactly sixteen hours, sweetface.

When Jill came out of the sack it was Linda's turn to sleep. Kinsman moved to the camera monitor screen, sucking on a container of lukewarm coffee. They were passing over Plesetsk, the Soviet military launching center. Clouds cov- ered the area, so he switched the monitor to display the radar imagery. A space shuttle sat at one end of the ten-thousand- foot runway down there. And, as usual, at least six of the dozens of launch pads had boosters on them.

They launch their antisatellite stuff from there, he thought. Does one of those boosters have an ASAT on it, primed to take us out?

No, he told himself. That would mean war. Nuclear war. The rumors that unmanned reconnaissance satellites had been destroyed by ASATs were just the usual scuttlebutt that military people liked to scare each other with.

He pulled his eyes away from the screen and looked at Jill. She was taking a blood sample from one of the mice.

"How're they doing?"

Without looking up she answered, "Fine. They've adapted to weightlessness beautifully. Calcium levels have evened off, muscle tone is good. They're even living longer than they would on Earth."

"Then there's hope for us two-legged types?"

Jill returned the mouse to the colony entrance and snapped the plastic lid shut. It scampered to rejoin its clan in the transparent maze of tunnels-

"I can't see any physical reason why humans couldn't live in orbit indefinitely," she answered. "It might even be beneficial."

"You mean we'd live longer?"

Jill nodded. "Maybe. I'd certainly be better off up here. No allergies."

"That's right," he said. "No pollen or dust."

"I never sneeze up here. I never get headaches." Jill smiled, a trifle ruefully. "Living up here eliminates a lot of physical problems."