"You're the chief of the psychiatric section. I guess my case is in your hands for a final decision."

"That's quite true," she said. "It's up to me to decide 121 whether you return to active duty or not."

Kinsman regarded her steadily for a moment, then shifted his attention to the window. The blinds were half closed against the burning afternoon sun. For a moment he seemed like a little boy in a stuffy classroom, yearning for the bell that would free him to go outside and play.

"Colonel Murdock wants you permanently removed from duty. He'd like you honorably discharged from the Air Force, except that it might look bad in Washington."

"I'm not surprised," Kinsman said.

"Why not?"

He made a small motion of his shoulders that might have been a shrug. "Murdock would be happy to get rid of me. I'm not his type of marionette." He considered that for a mo- ment, then added, "That's not paranoia. You can check it out with any of the other astronauts."

Marian chuckled. "We already have- You're not para- noid."

"I didn't think so."

"But you do seem to have some problems. I've got to determine if your problems are too big to allow you to fly again."

"That's what I thought."

She did not respond and he did not add anything. They sat looking at each other across the cluttered desk for several moments. Colonel Campbell's office bore the privilege of her rank and station. It was just another one of the starkly functional offices at the Air Force hospital, but a lieutenant colonel who is chief psychiatrist has more latitude in decorat- ing her office than most others. The square little room was festooned with hanging plants. A young rubber tree sprouted in the corner near the window. Instead of a couch, there was a long metal stand bearing exotic tropical flowers.

He's outstaring me, thought Marian Campbell.

"Well," she said at last, "how do you feel about all this? What do you want to do?"

This time his answer was slow in coming. "I don't honestly know. Sometimes I think I ought to get out of the Air Force, accept a medical discharge. But that would take me out of the space program, and that's all I really want."

"To be out of the space program." 122

"No!" he snapped. "To be in it. NASA's sending astro- nauts to the Moon again. I want to be part of that."

"You want to go to the Moon?"

"Yes."

"To get away from here?"

"As far away as I can," he answered fervently.

She shook her head. "You can't run away from your problems."

Kinsman gave her a look of pitying superiority. "You've never been in orbit, have you?"

"No, of course not."

"Then you don't know. That business about not running away from your problems—it's a slogan. Pure crap. Like telling poor people that money can't buy happiness. You get your feet off the ground, get out of this office and up into a plane where you can be on your own—you'll get away from your problems easily enough."