Suddenly serious, Leonov said, "I know how you must feel. If I thought that I would have to spend the rest of my life at a desk, or training others to do what I most want for myself, I would go mad."
"We need a new program," Durban said. "A priority program that's got to get going now, before they have time to train the next generation of kids."
"Such as what?" Colt asked. 161
"Not a military program," Leonov said. "Both our nations are putting enough military hardware into space. Too much."
"I agree," said Durban. "It ought to be an international program . . . something we can all participate in."
"Something that needs a corps of experienced astro- nauts," Kinsman heard himself chime in. "Something that will get us out there to stay. Away from here permanently."
"I've been mulling over an idea for a while now," Durban said. "Maybe the time is ripe for it."
"What is it?"
"A hospital."
"Huh?"
"On the Moon. A lunar hospital, for old gaffers like me, with bad hearts. For people with muscular diseases who are cripples here in this one-gravity field but could lead normal lives again on the Moon, in one-sixth gee."
Leonov smiled approvingly.
"Nobody's gonna put up the funding for an old soldiers' home on the Moon," Colt said.
"Want to bet?" Kinsman was suddenly surging with hope. "What's the average age of the U.S. Senate? Or the Presidium of the USSR?"
"My father . . ." Leonov realized. "He is confined to bed because of his heart's weakness. But in zero gravity, or even on the Moon ..."
"And Jill Meyers," Kinsman added, "with all those damned allergies of hers." I can stay in the Air Force! If they go into a medical base on the Moon I can stay and work on that. I can stay on the Moon, away from it all!
They drank and made plans. Kinsman's head started to spin. The pub filled up with dignitaries from the conference that had officially inaugurated the underground training facili- ty. The four men stayed in their booth, drinking and talking, ignoring everyone else. The international businessmen and government officials drifted away after a while and the pub began to fill up with its regular customers—the hard-drinking, hard-handed miners who dug for opal and copper, who lived underground to escape the searing heat of the desert above, the miners who were being crowded out of half their living area to make room for the space training facility. 162
The noise level went up in quantum leaps. Laughing, rowdy men. Blaring music from the stereo. Higher-pitched laughter from the extra barmaids and waitresses who came on duty when the regulars came off shift.
Durban was yelling over the noise of the crowd, "Why don't we adjourn to my room? It's quieter there and I've got a couple of bottles of liquor in my luggage."
"Gotta make a pit stop first," Colt said, nodding toward the door marked GENTS near their booth.
"Me too," said Kinsman.
Inside the washroom the noise level was much lower. Coit and Kinsman stood side by side at the only two urinals.
"Y'know, I think the old guy's really got a workable idea," Colt said happily. "We can lay this hospital project on top of everything else that the Air Force is doing . . . and with Durban pushing it, with his connections . . ."
"I still won't get off the ground," Kinsman suddenly realized.
"Huh? Sure you will. Murdock can't . . ."
