"Okay. Your team has been outside for nearly six hours already. I wanted to make sure you guys aren't getting burned out with all the extra time you've been out. Over," Maddox said.

The project leader referred to the fact that Team One, as well as Teams Two and Three, had been in space for much longer periods of time than originally planned. It was thought that construction teams would be rotated with weekly shuttle deliveries but that plan had not been followed during the first six weeks in orbit. A surge in media attention around the shuttle launch sites, along with delays in the deliveries of construction materials, led to numerous postponements over the past month.

Wesley Maddox stressed to his overburdened crews not to work if they were anything but fresh and focused. The men were tired from the unexpected schedule change but viewed their extended time in space as a positive. The teams gained more experience with every shift worked. Their cohesion as units made every job completed like second nature. They all complained about not going home but every single worker agreed it was better to be part of Team One, Two, or Three in space than it was to be Team Four or Five on the ground.

Yet no matter how many times Barnes told Maddox that his crew was okay, the project leader still persisted that his men not do too much.

"Nobody is burning out. We have to finish this now. I'll report back when the job is complete. Team One out," Barnes reported.

Frankie knew Maddox had the crew's and station's best interests at heart but the leader of Team One felt annoyed that his project leader did not totally trust him. After all, Team One made more progress on the North Corridor than either of the other two teams made on their assignments. Teams Two and Three had each run into trouble at one time or another but work had been nothing short of smooth sailing for Frankie and Vlad's crew.

"Do not be worrying about anything else, Frankie," Vlad told his friend. "We must think only of what should be finishing now."

Somehow, Vlad's encouraging words always had their desired effect on Frankie's psyche. Frankie looked up and saw the rest of his men exactly where they should be. The men held a strange-looking piece of machinery in place against the top of the corridor, of which ten feet had already been assembled.

"Thanks, Vlad," he said. "Okay guys, let's bolt this arm in place."

Completing installation of the utility arm required Barnes and five members of his team. The top of each corridor section was designed and constructed with sliding tracks built in. These tracks would allow the utility arm to move laterally along the entire length of the corridor, thus making the process of transporting building materials and other heavier construction equipment significantly easier. This job would eventually be completed by each team on every station corridor. It was one of the specific jobs for which every crewmember had trained. It was no surprise that Team One was minutes from successfully installing the first utility arm, the first team to complete the task.

With the five other men having maneuvered the arm into place, the only task left was for the Team One leader to correctly attach it. Frankie opened the storage pouch attached to his spacesuit, where ten large bolts were packed. He carefully extracted one of the bolts, careful to zipper the pouch once he was done to stop the other bolts from floating away. These bolts were much larger than standard-sized bolts to allow astronauts to grasp them better and deal with the awkwardness of large gloves. Frankie's hands were slippery from perspiration on the inside of his suit, but he still found it difficult to keep his grip.

"I wish they made these things bigger," Frankie said as he carefully positioned the bolt into its correct spot.

He manually turned the bolt a few rotations until it was snug, at which time he retrieved the only tool needed for this job. Attached to a small utility belt, the tool was similar to an electric screwdriver, only bigger. Like the oversized bolts not big enough for Frankie's gloved hands, the leader of Team One wished the screwdriver was also bigger. He carefully brought the tool into perfect position on top of the bolt before slowly depressing the trigger. Used to the whining of drills on Earth, Frankie still found it strange that tools used in space were mostly silent. The only sound he heard as he worked was his own deep, nervous breathing.

When Frankie felt the screwdriver lightly shudder, he knew the bolt was firmly in place. He never let anyone think he lacked confidence but often felt unsure of what he was doing, especially when compared to some of his fellow Russian workers who were far more experienced. The only reason Maddox made him leader of Team One was because he was the best communicator. But now that his crew cruised through the first major task, the value Frankie placed on his ability to lead was at an all-time high.

Maybe I'm better then I've been giving myself credit for, he thought.

That thought turned out to be premature.

Frankie opened the pouch and retrieved the second bolt. Wanting to impress his men by being quicker, Frankie failed to notice that he did not completely close the pouch. As he began to screw the second bolt into place, he noticed something small floating by the corner of his eye. Frankie made the split second decision to concentrate on his given task, having learned that losing concentration while working in space could prove disastrous.

"Frankie, the...," Vlad said, his panicky voice stuttering as he searched his English vocabulary for the correct word. "...the bolts floating away."

As the screwdriver finished tightening the second bolt, Frankie saw more of the bolts escaping his opened pouch. He forced most of them back into the pouch and completely zipped it, but not before a few of them floated away. Knowing that the crew was running short on supplies due to shuttle delays, losing any bolts was detrimental to his team's chances of becoming the first crew to attach their utility arm.

Frankie's hand instinctively shot out towards the three loose bolts. He snagged two of them before they got very far but the third quickly floated out of reach. Spur-of-the-moment decisions were not wise but Frankie refused to lose even one bolt. He hopped a few feet to the side of the utility arm, making sure not to move out of position enough to compromise the positioning of the SPACE lines.

"Frankie, what are you doing?" one of his team members asked. "You have to watch where you're going."

Frankie heard the warning but knew his movements weren't endangering the SPACE lines. The bolt was only a few inches out of his reach. He stretched out his bulkily suited arm and almost reached the bolt when something banged into his hand. The bolt floated away as Frankie realized he'd banged against the utility arm. The piece of machinery dislodged from its track, momentarily tilting to one side while the crew fought to put it back in place.

Frankie quickly moved back to his assigned position and helped wrestle the utility arm onto its tracking. Once the situation was back in order, some of the men expressed their displeasure with Frankie's decision-making, the one person closest to the team leader first to voice his concern.

"That was not a wise move to be making, Frankie," Vlad said. "You are having to think before you move. Losing one bolt is not worth it to be risking the arm or your team members."

One of the other Russians spoke in his foreign tongue. Frankie could tell from his tone of voice that it wasn't complimentary. Vlad quickly responded in Russian, his tone equally angry. The other man immediately stopped talking and Frankie knew Vlad had come to his defense.

"I'm sorry, guys. That was stupid," Frankie said. "I don't want anything to stop us from being the first to hook up the utility arm. Nothing like that will ever happen again."

Having averted a crisis with no harm done, the other men accepted Frankie's apology. He slowly screwed the rest of the bolts in place, extra careful not to make any further mistakes.

When the task was completed except for one missing bolt, it was time for Team One's shift to end. One by one, the crewmembers of Frankie's team left their positions and returned to the space shuttle. This was the most boring part of each shift, as only one person could return to the shuttle at a time. The process of returning and releasing the SPACE lines took each man about five minutes. Frankie and Vlad were the last two in line.

After nearly half an hour with no work, Vladimir inspected the base of the utility arm connected to the tracks. What he found did not make him or Frankie happy.

"Frankie, you must be coming over here to look at this," he said when the two of them were alone.

Without the other crewmembers in close proximity, Frankie moved easier around his SPACE lines. He floated next to Vladimir, who pointed at the base of the arm. Frankie crouched down as low as his spacesuit would allow.

"You can be seeing a small bending in tracks," Vlad said. "Also, utility arm not being anchored as solid as it should being."

Frankie could see the slight bend in the tracking system, no doubt a result of him crashing into it. The second part of Vlad's inspection was harder for the Team Leader to spot, though. There was a small section of the arm not properly anchored, likely due to the missing bolt.

"We don't need to worry about the strength of the arm," Frankie said. "Once we put the final bolt in during our next shift, everything will be in place as planned."

"I'm not being so sure as you," Vlad said. "This machinery was not being designed to only hold in place by nine bolts. If we not can get last bolt in soon, stress might be too much for tracking system. It will be causing too much wear too soon and we will have to be replacing everything."

Frankie could not believe what he heard. If they had to replace the tracking system, they would have to replace large sections of the corridor already installed. On top of that, they would have to unhook the utility arm and start all over on that task once the corridor was replaced. In short, Team One would be weeks behind the other teams instead of days in front of them. It would be a nightmare and it was all because Vlad didn't 'think' the arm was tight enough.

"I'm going to have to disagree with you on that one, Vlad," Frankie said, refusing to accept such a bad prognosis. "Once we get that last bolt in place sometime tomorrow, everything will be fine."

"I am thinking that no bolts like we need are being left in our inventory," Vlad said. "This is meaning that we will be wait for shuttle to bring more. We do not know when that will be. In this time, more wear will be being placed on arm, and this is not good. But you are leader, is your decision to make of what is needing to be done."

Frankie could not imagine that one missing bolt would make a significant impact, especially since nothing weighed much in space anyway. Time was of the greatest importance, at least according to Maddox's construction itinerary. Holding back construction for weeks was not the news Frankie wanted to give to the project leader.

"We'll just wait and see with the utility arm," Frankie said. "We'll keep a close eye on the situation. If we see that the tracking becomes damaged from the improperly anchored arm, we'll fix it then. But we have to stick to the schedule, the utility arm is too important to the rest of our construction to wait around for a new delivery. We don't even know when supplies or relief will be coming from Earth; we can't just do nothing. We'll see what can be done about fixing the small bend in the tracks but then we have to continue on with the plan."

Frankie could see through Vlad's visor that he looked disappointed about his warning not being taken more seriously. Frankie felt bad, especially since Vlad had always been there for him. But if he always listened to his overly cautious Russian friend, Team One would never get any work done.

"Whatever you are thinking is best, that is what we will be doing, Frankie," Vlad said. "It is my turn to be going back to shuttle now."

Frankie watched as Vlad's SPACE line began to reel him toward the shuttle. He was the last one on the construction site; he never felt a greater sense of solitude than when floating in space alone. He looked back down at the arm's base and tracking and hoped he was making the right decision.

Whether it's the right decision or not, it's the only decision I have, he thought, knowing Maddox would not accept such a problem without there being major consequences.

The Team One leader decided to put aside his problems for now. He turned his attention back to Earth. The view was incredible and seemed to become more so every time Frankie saw it.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

The Fourth of July was always one of President Marshall's busiest days of the year. Today was America's 239th birthday, and the President was scheduled to make numerous appearances around the D.C. area. Therefore, his daily national security briefing with James Armour took place earlier and was quicker than usual. Once that was over, the President had his secretary summon Mansfield for a quick meeting of the 'Inner Circle.'

No matter what he was doing, the Chief of Staff usually reached the Oval Office in less than three minutes when the President summoned him. Marshall was therefore surprised when Mansfield took nearly fifteen. Normally energetic and fast-paced, Mansfield seemed much more sluggish and slow-moving the past few months. His mood was as bad as normal but his sarcastic personality turned more malicious lately.

Today, he looked even worse. Exhausted and dazed, his suit and hair were equally unkempt. His walk could hardly be described as a stroll, his normal hawk-like eyes empty and glassy. He muttered a quick apology for his tardiness, with no further explanation.

President Marshall noticed the change in his top aide and wished he could give Peter some time off. But things were too chaotic and he relied too heavily on him to lose him for any period of time. Knowing Peter, he would not want time off anyway.

"Do either of you have anything new to report concerning the comet or space station?" the President asked.

"Space construction is progressing as well as we'd hoped," Armour said. "We've been feeding the media fodder for the past month and a half but if everything continues the way it has, we might be able to give more concrete information very soon."

"Good," Marshall said. "What about you, Peter?"

"I completed the 100 military selections this morning," Mansfield said, his speech slightly slurred as he attempted to suppress a yawn. "The ten alternates are still pending but I should have them chosen by the end of the week."

"That's great progress, Peter," Marshall said, realizing the list must be the reason for Peter's recent changes. "You don't have to kill yourself to get the list done so quickly. There's still plenty of time for that."

Anger filled Mansfield's mind at the thought of slowing down his decision-making. As far as the Chief of Staff was concerned, he couldn't finish the list quickly enough. Mansfield stopped himself from blowing up at the two men, not wanting them to know his emotional struggles. He couldn't show any sign of weakness, especially not to James Armour. Instead, he steered the conversation in a different direction.

"I also wanted you to know that I made the first selection for the 'special' list," he said. "Sarah Rose, sister and girlfriend of the two comet discoverers. She's the only link to the discovery of Comet Clement."

"I think that's very appropriate," James Armour said.

"As do I," Marshall agreed.

"I also agreed with your second suggestion, Mr. President," Mansfield said. "Emily Peterson."

"She must go," Armour said immediately. "It was the only promise we made to Neil Peterson."

Mansfield expected this passionate response from Armour. As a fellow astronaut, Armour no doubt felt a special connection with Peterson. He'd hand-selected Neil for the impossible mission of trying to deflect the comet, a mission he eventually failed.

"Her handicap does not make her an ideal candidate," President Marshall said. "But it's something Emily Peterson will have to overcome. She deserves to be on that list because of her father's sacrifice."

"She will be added the next time I update it," he said.

"While we're on that subject, you can go ahead and add another 250 Americans to a whole separate category."

Mansfield felt like he'd just been punched in the stomach. The first hundred choices seemed to take forever and now President Marshall wanted more than twice that number added. Numbness gripped Mansfield's heart and he fought the sudden urge to become sick.

"For what?" Mansfield asked.

"It's not for the space station," the President said. "It's for the seacraft that Ainsworth is building."

The Chief of Staff had been briefed about Tyler Ainsworth and his seacraft. President Marshall had been surprised when Mansfield took little interest in the unexpected emergence of a third shelter against Comet Clement. The old Peter Mansfield would've been adamant about discovering how another person found out about the comet.

"250 is half of the 500 that Ainsworth assured me his seacraft will hold," the President explained. "Half of the spots aboard is worth the millions we've given him to finish construction. You can make about half that number doctors and scientists and such, and the other half just strong, young people."

"Has there been any word on the seacraft's progress?" Marshall asked Armour.

"Nothing specific," the Secretary of Defense answered. "But I see no reason why construction won't proceed as well as the space station's. Construction restarted only hours after we visited Ainsworth and there's hardly been a break for any of the workers."

"Tyler sure can get his men to work hard," Marshall said. "Maybe we should've chosen his company for the space station project after all."

"But what we don't know is whether he can be a leader," Armour said. "Can he be placed in charge of his seacraft once construction is complete? I, for one, don't feel comfortable leaving a civilian in charge of that. One of the spots on board the craft should be given to someone trusted to be in charge once the comet strikes."

President Marshall looked at Mansfield, expecting him to chime in with his opinion. Instead, his Chief of Staff looked on blankly, as if he was an innocent bystander. Marshall was going to get an opinion out of Mansfield, though, even if he had to force one.

"What do you think, Peter?"

Peter's eyes blinked and he looked blankly at both men.

"I agree," Mansfield said simply.

"Agree with what?" Marshall asked.

"I agree with James," Peter said. "It's probably not best to leave an eccentric millionaire in control of a third of humanity's chance for survival, whether he built the craft or not."

"One-third might not be totally accurate," Marshall said.

"You didn't see today's news?" Armour asked Mansfield.

For the first time in a few weeks, the thought of the station's 'guest list' left Mansfield's mind.

"I guess not. What about it?" he asked.

President Marshall walked across the Oval Office and retrieved a newspaper from his desk. He handed the front page of the New York Times to Mansfield and pointed at the lead headline. It read: "CHINESE ACCUSE US/RUSSIA OF BUILDING SPACE STATION AS WEAPON"

"What does this have to do with the shelters?" Mansfield asked. "From the moment we asked and accepted Russia's assistance with the space station, we knew there'd be backlash from China."

The Chief of Staff handed the newspaper back to President Marshall. Instead of answering, Marshall flipped through a few pages of Section A before handing the paper back. The story continued on the middle of the page.

"Read the last paragraph," Marshall said.

Mansfield sighed, wishing they would just tell him already. The final paragraph of the article contained only one sentence: "Experts believe that China is the only other country in the world, besides the U.S. and Russia, that could construct their own space station."

Mansfield looked up from the newspaper and saw the cagey look on the President's face that usually meant he was hiding something.

"Don't tell me China already built a station," Mansfield said.

"No," Marshall answered. "But after I tell them about the comet, I'm hoping they will build their own."

"You decided to tell them then," Mansfield said, more of a statement than a question. The usual disgust was evident in his tone of voice. "Are you sure that's wise?"

President Marshall and the other two men previously discussed the idea of telling other nations. While Marshall and Armour always thought it was the moral thing to do, they allowed Mansfield to dissuade their opinion. The Chief of Staff did not trust any other nation to keep the secret and argued that mass chaos could destroy their chances of saving anybody. Therefore, the President and Secretary of Defense always let Mansfield be the bad guy and not let them tell anybody else.

"We all knew we'd have to tell the rest of the world about the comet at some point," Armour said. "We may as well give China the opportunity to develop their own space station safe haven."

Let the one country who hates us most build their own space station and possibly turn it into a weapon against us? Mansfield thought. Yeah, that's real wise.

Before his blood began to boil enough to make him argue, a single thought entered Mansfield's mind. This thought alone was enough to deflate any and all vigor that slowly formed inside of him: Lewis Clayton.