McGrath came up and sat beside his wife. The three of them— husband, wife, sister—faced Kinsman. Like the beginning of a shotgun wedding.

“Listen, Chet,” McGrath began, his voice huskier than usual from too much drinking and smoking. “I don’t like the idea of Murdock sending you over here to try to soften me up. Just because you’re an old friend doesn’t give you—”

“Hold on,” Kinsman said. “I was invited here two weeks ago. And I came because I wanted to.”

“Murdock knew these hearings were coming up this week and next. Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not denying a damned thing. Murdock can do what he wants. I came here because I wanted to. If it fits Murdock’s grand scheme, so what?”

McGrath reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette. “I just don’t like having space cadets from the Pentagon spouting Air Force propaganda at my parties. Especially when they’re old friends. I don’t like it.”

“What if the old friend happens to believe that the propaganda is right and you’re wrong?”

“Oh, come on now, Chet. . .”

“Look, Neal, on this Moonbase business, you’re wrong. Moonbase is essential, no matter what you think of it.”

“It’s another boondoggle—”

“The hell it is! We either build Moonbase or we stop exploring the Moon altogether. It’s one or the other.”

McGrath took a deep, calming drag on his cigarette. Patiently, he said, “There’s too much to do here on Earth for me to vote for a nickel on Moonbase. Let alone the billions of dollars—”

“The money is chickenfeed. We spend ten times that amount on new cars each year. A penny tax on cigarettes will pay for Moonbase.”

McGrath involuntarily glanced at the joint in his hand. Scowling, he answered, “We need all the money we can raise to rebuild the cities. We’re going under, the cities are sinking into jungles.”

“Who’s spouting the party line now?” Kinsman shot back. “Everybody knows about the poor and the cities. And the population overload. And the whole damned social structure. That’s a damned safe hobbyhorse to ride in Congress. What we need is somebody with guts enough to stand up for spending two percent of all that money on the future.”

“Are you accusing me—”

“I’m saying you’re hiding in the crowd, Neal. I don’t disagree with the crowd; they’re right about the cities and the poor. But there’s a helluva lot more to life than that.”

Diane cut in. “Chet, what about Moonbase? What good is it? Who will it help? Will it make jobs for the city kids? Will it build schools?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “No,” he said at last. “It won’t do any of those things. But it won’t prevent them from being done, either.”

“Then why should we do it?” Diane asked. “For your entertainment? To earn your Colonel Murdock a promotion or something? Why? What’s in it for us?”

Standing on the rim of a giant crater, looking down at the tieredterraces of rock worn smooth by five eons of meteoric erosion. The flat pitted plain at the base of the slope. The horizon, sharp and clear, close enough to make you think. And the stars beyond. The silence and the emptiness. The freedom. The peace.

“There’s probably nothing in it for you. Maybe for your kids. Maybe for those kids in the cities. I don’t know. But there’s something in it for me. The only way I’ll ever get to the Moon again is to push Moonbase through Congress. Otherwise I’m permanently grounded.”

“What?”

Diane said, “Your man Murdock won’t let you—”

Kinsman waved them quiet. “Officially, I’m grounded. Officially, there are medical and emotional reasons. That’s on the record and there’s no way to take it off. Unless there’s a permanent base on the Moon, a place where a non-pilot passenger can go, then the only people on the Moon will be flight-rated astronauts. So I need Moonbase; I need it. Myself. For purely personal, selfish reasons.”

“Being on the Moon means that much to you?” Diane asked.

Kinsman nodded.

“I don’t get it,” McGrath said. “What’s so damned attractive about the Moon?”

“What was attractive about the great American desert?” Kinsman shot back. “Or the poles? Or the Marianas Deep? How the hell should I know? But a while ago you were all asking what turns me on. This does. Being out there, on your own, away from all the sickness and bullshit of this world—that’s what I want. That’s what I need.”

Mary-Ellen shook her head. “But it’s so desolate out there . . . forsaken . . .”

“Have you been there? Have you watched the Earth rise? Or planted footprints where no man has ever been before? Have you ever been anywhere in your life where you really challenged nature? Where you were really on your own?”

“And you still want to go back?” McGrath had a slight grin on his face.

“Damned right. Sitting around here is like being in jail. Know what they call us at the Pentagon? Luniks. Most of the brass think we’re nuts. But they use us, just like Murdock is using me. Maybe we are crazy. But I’m going to get back there if I have to build a mountain, starting at my desk, and climb up hand over hand.”

“But why, Chet?” Diane asked, suddenly intent. “Why is it so important to you? Is it the adventure of it?”

“I told you—it’s the freedom. There are no rule books up there; you’re on your own. You work with people on the basis of their abilities, not their rank. It’s—it’s just so completely different up there that I can’t really describe it. I know we live in a canned environment, physically. If an air hose splits or a pump malfunctions, you could die in seconds. But in spite of that—maybe because of that—you’re free emotionally. It’s you against the universe, you and your friends, your brothers. There’s nothing like it here on Earth.”

“Freedom,” Diane echoed.

“On the Moon,” McGrath said flatly.

Kinsman nodded.

Staring straight at him, Diane said slowly. “What you’re saying, Chet, is that a new society can be built on the Moon, a society completely different from anything here on Earth.”

Kinsman blinked. “Did I say that?”

“Yes, you did.”

He shrugged. “Well, if we establish a permanent settlement, I guess we’ll have to work out some sort of social structure.”

“Would you take the responsibility for setting up that social structure?” Diane asked. “Would you shoulder the job of making certain that all the nonsense of Earth is left behind? Would you do the job right?”

For a moment, Kinsman didn’t know what to answer. Then he said, “I would try.”

“You’d take that responsibility?” Diane asked again.

Nodding. “Damned right.”

Mary-Ellen looked totally unconvinced. “But who would be willing to live on the Moon? Who would want to?”

“I would,” Diane said.

They all turned to look at her. Mary-Ellen shocked, McGrath curious.

“Would you?” Kinsman asked. “Really?”