“It's on the record. They've done all their launches for a couple of years now with these boosters, and all of them have worked and worked well. They've had their troubles with their shuttles and they dig in their toes and lift.”

''Time for a coffee break yet?''

“No. We do this one next.“

7

“And now our little holiday begins, hey?” Colonel Kuznekov said, smiling around at the five others. Behind his back the heavy door hissed shut and the bolts rattled into place.

“It's quarantine,” Ely Bron said, “I don't think we can look at it as a holiday.”

“But we can, Dr. Bron,” Kuznekov insisted. “Ninety-six hours of peace while the final countdown begins. Right now the technicians are, how do you say it, in a bloody sweat making sure everything goes right? While us — what do we have to do? We are locked in this magnificent block of flats where nasty bugs and bacteria cannot get at us. We're sealed in with cooks to make our food and maids to look after our clothes and bedding. We all have work to do, the pilots most of all, I see them studying those big books all the time. But we don't work as they do. So we've time to meet each other without politicians and publicity and newsmen and a thousand other things to distract. To talk with us they must use the phone and we can always be busy when it rings.”

The phone rang. They were all silent for a moment — then burst out laughing. “Who shall I say is busy?” Patrick asked, as he reached out to take up the phone.

When he did so the lights came on. This was more than a simple telephone, really a closed-circuit television setup. The chair in front of the phone was bolted into place and a TV pickup focused on it. Across the desk was a screen with the image of the caller. It was I. L. J. Flax.

“What's up?” Patrick asked. “We're not even locked in yet and you're on the phone already.”

“Sorry. Reporter wants to interview Coretta. Should have been here a day ago but had trouble with plane connections.”

“Who is it?” Coretta called out.

“Girl by the name of Smith. Says you promised an exclusive interview for Black Woman magazine.”

Everyone was aware of the conversation; no one was looking at Coretta. She hesitated a moment, then answered.

“Tell her to wait a bit, I'll be in touch with her. There's no time now.”

“Pull out the cord when you hang up, will you, Patrick,” Ely said.

“I'd like to. But let's do like Coretta. Don't take calls. Call them if we want to talk. Colonel Kuznekov is right. We all have things to do before lift-off. But let's get to know one another. We're a team and we're going to have to learn some more about each other to function as a team. Nadya and I are the pilots and we know how to work together. At this moment I'm in command and I'll stay there until we're in final orbit and the engine is shut down. At that point the Colonel takes over and issues the orders.”

“Not quite, Patrick. The generator is my responsibility, and I am in charge of assembly. I'll need strong people who can space walk; for this I'll issue orders. But for everything else, maintenance of our space station, communications, the rest, to the Commander. You must still be in charge.”

“Makes sense, Pat,” Ely said, turning the page of his book as he spoke. “You're the captain of the ship and you stay that way. With Nadya your first mate. The fission engine is mine, but I just fire it up for the single burn into orbit, then shut it down. After that I play rigger to Colonel Kuznekov's solar generator.”

“We all have our roles, like an anthill in space,” Kuznekov said. “Patrick and Nadya get us into orbit, then keep all the machines operating that keep us alive in that hostile environment. I'll supervise the assembly of the generating plant and once that's done electricity's turned over to Gregor here.”

Gregor nodded. “While the generator is being assembled I will be erecting the broadcast antennae on Prometheus. The output will be low to begin with but will serve to operate the pilot program. Conversion from the turbo-generators to 3.3 GHz then beamed to the receiving stations on Earth. I do not envision any problems. The equipment has been tested and functions as designed.”

“Well, bully,” Coretta said. “That leaves me as odd girl out, with nothing to do except help you people carry around the equipment. But I must remind you that the only machine on this trip not designed to function in space is the human body. We will be in orbit, in free fall, for at least a month before the relief flight of the space shuttle. So my job is to see that we all stay functional for that period, possibly longer. It must cost a million dollars each to put an American or a Russian body into orbit, so the longer we can stay on the job functioning well the better it will be. See me with all your complaints, aspirin and sympathy at all hours.”