"Yeah, I figured that was what you were so tense about, the past day or so."
She hadn't thought he'd noticed. The knowledge that he had warmed her, at a moment when she felt very cold. So much so, that she almost explained.
But . . .
No. Let it be on my head alone.
"Okay," Joe said. "I just wanted to know because . . ."
He was acting, for all the world, like a high school boy trying to work up the nerve to ask a girl on a date. More precisely, the way a geek acts when he's trying to work up the nerve to ask out the high school head cheerleader. Even in the suit, Madeline could see him fidgeting.
She almost burst into laughter. "Joe, what's on your mind?"
As if by sheer force of will, she could see him settling down. "Sorry. It's just . . ."
His head turned for a moment, looking across the Martian landscape. Madeline's gaze followed his. The sight was a splendid one. The sun was beginning to set over the far distant rim of Valles Marineris, casting lengthening shadows over the crimson-pinksalmon landscape. The colors always seemed at their richest, then.
Still not looking at her, he reached into one of the pouches of his suit and brought out something. Quite small, whatever it was, completely hidden in his glove.
"When A.J. told me he was making one of these up for Helen— last night, he told me—I asked him to make me one. Real quick, so I'd have it in time."
"In time for what? And what is it, anyway?"
Finally, he looked at her. His glove opened up. Nestled in the palm was a ring. The band itself was some sort of utilitarian metal. But the stone set in it was a shimmering, multicolored brilliance like nothing Madeline had ever seen.
"I wanted to ask you before I knew what the message was you sent. Just . . . Well, so you'd know. That it wasn't any kind of condition, I mean. Whatever decision you made is okay with me. Even if I don't agree with it."
Her eyes were still riveted on the ring, and . . . whatever it was glimmering in its center.
"We don't have any diamonds, of course," Joe said apologetically. "And no way to get any, for . . . God, who knows how long? I don't think there are any on Nike, either, except for industrial use. And those are . . . well. Not pretty."
"Joe, it's beautiful," she whispered. Her mind was trying to grapple with the real issue, but kept getting distracted by the mystery. "But what is it?"
"A.J. showing off, what else? He told me he could do it." Joe picked the ring out of the palm of the glove with his other hand and held it up. "It is gorgeous, isn't it? Prettier than diamonds, if you ask me. Of course, you'll have to get it recharged periodically, which you wouldn't have to with real stones."
Her eyes widened.
"Yup. What a show-off, huh? Genuine 24-carat solid Fairy Dust."
"Yes," she said firmly. Then, she shook her head. "I'm not talking about A.J. Yes, he's a show-off. Who cares?"
She looked up from the ring, to Joe, to the landscape. Her vision got worse as it went, from the tears watering them.
"Damn, there are things I hate about spacesuits," she muttered. "Can't wipe your eyes, can't blow your nose. Yes, Joe Buckley, I will marry you."
A while later, she added: "And that's another thing. Hugging in a spacesuit is a pain, and kissing's impossible."
Joe laughed. And laughed. Never once letting her go.
"I warn you," she whispered, as close to his ear as she could get. "You'll have to be the only breadwinner, for a while. I'm pretty sure your bride-to-be is about to become unemployed."
"Who cares?"
"Well. And you may have to visit me in prison, too. I don't think that's likely, but . . ."
Finally, he pulled back. "Like that, huh?"
"'Fraid so. And, yes, I understand and appreciate the fact— believe me, I do—that you didn't wait to know before you proposed. But you might want to reconsider now that—"
"Oh, bullshit." Joe keyed the general band used by Thoat's company. "Hey, A.J.! Madeline thinks she might have to take it on the lam, in a few months. That be enough time for us to figure out how to make our getaway into the badlands of Valles Marineris?"
The answer came immediately. "Sure. Biggest badlands in the Solar System, too."
Chapter 53
The director of the Homeland Investigation Authority stared out of the window. At a distance, he could see a little stretch of the Potomac River.
The sight of the river was soothing. A little reminder, if he needed it, that politicians and bureaucrats came and went—not exempting himself, even if his tenure had been much longer than usual—but the nation remained.