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Jackie nodded and started speaking softly into the ship's communication system.





"Are you sending all of us?" Helen asked.



"Not on the first trip," Hathaway replied. "The lander just isn't big enough, given that we have to make room for the pressurized rover or there's no point sending anyone at all. The landing team will consist of yourself, A.J, Madeline, Rich Skibow—sorry, Jane, but he's better qualified on the physical end than you are—Dr. Sakai, Joe, and Bruce to pilot the lander. Helen, you'll be in charge."



Her eyes widened. "Why me?"



"I'd think it was obvious. This is basically a paleontological dig, and who's more qualified on Nike to be the boss of one? Bruce will be in command, of course, during the flight itself."



"That's fine," Jane Mayhew snapped. "But why is Fathom going?" She was all but glaring at Madeline. "Do we really need a watchdog down there? Enough—I do not like this—to bump me off the expedition?"



Madeline gave her a smile. Not the full-bore one, just a serene little indication of innocence. "Don't be silly, Jane. Why would I go down there to play watchdog? All the communications from the Mars expedition will have to be relayed through Nike anyway. I can do my watchdog bit up here far better—and be enjoying my chocolates while I'm at it."



Mayhew looked suitably abashed. "Well. Yes. That's true."



Madeline now turned the smile on Hathaway. "Which does, however, bring up the question: why am I being included in the expedition?"



"Do you object?" Hathaway asked, gruffly.



"Officially? No, of course not. And speaking personally, I'd like to go, as a matter of fact. But I really don't see what special skills I bring to the task."



Hathaway looked at her for a long moment. "You don't, huh? Even you! Bunch of civilians."



His dark eyes swept around the table. "People, it may not have dawned on some of you yet that this trip will be dangerous—and dangerous in an up-close and personal way that the voyage here wasn't. If something had gone wrong with the Nike, the engineers would either have been able to fix it or they wouldn't. But, either way, there would have been no call for physical heroics."



"That's preposterous!" Mayhew blurted out. "Do you really think we'll encounter hostile Martians that require Ms. Fathom's martial arts skills to deal with?"



"That's not what I'm talking about, Jane—and you're perfectly smart enough to know it." As even-tempered as he was, Hathaway was clearly restraining himself. "There are a thousand things that could go wrong down there. Any number of which could indeed require considerable physical exertion. So why is Madeline going, and you aren't?



Because Madeline is in the best physical condition of any member of Nike's crew, myself included, and you—since you've been blunt, Jane, so will I—are probably in the worst. You were forty pounds overweight when we started the voyage, and you've gained twelve pounds since. That's not because your diet hasn't been good—Joe sees to that—but because you have consistently refused to maintain the exercise regimen that Dr. Wu set up for everyone. He complained about it to me again just two days ago. He's starting to get worried that when you finally return to Earth you'll have real physical problems with Earth-normal gravity."



"Oh," Mayhew said, in a very small voice. Her pale, plump face was pink with embarrassment. "I've been very busy," she protested.



Hathaway shook his head. "Nobody thinks you're lazy, Jane." He glanced at A.J. "But in a lot of ways you're just like Wonderboy over here. You get so preoccupied with your work that you forget about everything else. Fortunately for him, A.J. developed good workout habits years ago, so he never slips too far. But you—"



He sighed. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Jane. Really, I don't. But I'm the commander of this expedition and I would simply be remiss in my duties if I let you go on this trip. I'm not too happy about sending Rich, to be honest, given his age. But we need a linguist and—being blunt again—he's in better physical condition than you are even though he's eighteen years older. He does stick to the exercise schedule."



Apparently not knowing where else to look, Mayhew gave her fellow linguist a look of appeal.



Skibow looked away for a moment. "I do wish you'd start exercising. I've begun worrying about your health myself. Not here, so much, in this low gravity. But once we get back . . ." His eyes came back to her, looking very warm. "I'd miss you, Jane. I really, really would."