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Deiderichs nodded. "Yes. I remember it quite vividly."



"I don't remember it personally, but if you read the stuff from around that time, there were so many people trying to argue that they should have "done something"—gone to the International Space Station and waited for rescue, stayed in orbit until someone could get there, fixed the ship somehow, and so on. These people just didn't grasp that it wasn't like someone getting stranded on a mountain top or out at sea. To them, the ISS was in space, the shuttle was in space, so obviously the shuttle should be able to just go over to the ISS and wait for rescue. We know that it's not like that—that the Columbia simply, physically, could not reach the ISS from that orbit. All the other so-called solutions were just as impossible or impractical. I don't know if some of our enthusiastic funders grasp that once Nike is under way, there will be nothing man-made that can catch her, and absolutely no way for anyone to help if something goes wrong."



"You may well be right. I'll do my best to convey that to the President and the Cabinet when I present the current plans. Personally, I agree with everything you say. Three months off is nothing at all compared to what we're asking you to do. But I'm still going to have to make excuses to the guys who are writing all the checks, and some of them are peeved enough that they're being made to support this at all."



"And I have to go back to Gupta and Baker," Hathaway said, "and let them know if they should start or not. And remember what Gupta's going to say if the answer is 'wait.'"



"I do indeed. And I sympathize, Major Hathaway. Dr. Gupta is undoubtedly the right choice for the job, but I do not envy anyone trying to give him bad news." The general frowned for a moment. "Tell them to proceed with designs, but to order no actual construction until I get back with the authorization. Technically, I shouldn't even allow them to begin design work, but I'm willing to take that much on my own responsibility."



"I'll try to make them understand that, General," Hathaway said.



"And I'll get right to it." The general stood up. Much as he hated having to shuttle back and forth to Washington, the President and his top people preferred in-person meetings on matters of importance, despite all the technological advances in remote communication. And if he was going to be conveying news of mixed impact, he definitely wanted to be there physically.



He stopped a moment. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot." He signed a paper that had been lying on his desk, then placed it in its envelope. "Dr. Buckley, would you do me a favor and deliver this? Thank you." He strode out of the office.



Joe looked down at the envelope. "What . . .? Ken, it's addressed to you. Why the hell did he give it to me?"



Hathaway stared at the envelope as though it was a viper. "I think I know. Damn."



"What?"



"The final selection for the command crew of Nike was being made sometime this week. You know General Steve Goldman was campaigning hard for it. He's got space experience too, and a lot of connections."



"Oh. And Deiderichs didn't want to be here when you found out."



"Yeah." Hathaway sighed. "Well, might as well get it over with."



He took the envelope from Joe, opened it, and read:



"Kenneth B. Hathaway, Colonel . . . yadda . . . You are hereby informed that you have been . . ."



He trailed off, and then suddenly bellowed: "COMMANDING OFFICER OF THE UNITED STATES INTERPLANETARY SPACECRAFT NIKE!"



"Congratulations, you dreaming son of a bitch!" came Deiderichs' voice from the other side of the door, which opened to reveal the general grinning at them. He came over and shook Hathaway's hand, which seemed somewhat limp with shock. "Now get your team to finish building it. Hold on, though."



He reached into his desk. "Goldman was right about one thing. You do need the rank to command a mission as important as this one." He opened the case, revealing different emblems than those currently on Hathaway's uniform. "Congratulations again, Brigadier General Hathaway."



Hathaway was clearly having trouble keeping his voice under control. His eyes looked suspiciously shiny.



"I would have sworn they wanted Goldman," he said huskily.



Deiderichs looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "At first, they did—and so did I. But that was before I got here and had a chance to see the situation. I know better than to take a team with a commander they already listen to and trust, and replace him just because it might be politically expedient. If I went and got someone else, they'd have to spend a year just building the same rapport you have with your team now. If they can build one at all. Just do me a favor and prove that I made the right decision."