"Your brother is the director of Moonbase, isn't he?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice from shaking.

"Greg. That's right"

"And your mother lives here, now, doesn't she?"

Doug nodded eagerly. "In fact, there she is now." He stood up and waved.

Melissa turned in her chair and saw Joanna: older, a bit thicker in the middle, her hair more gray than ash-blonde now, but unmistakably Joanna. While the other women in The Cave wore mostly coveralls, Joanna was in a midnight blue pantsuit set off by a flowered silk scarf at her throat. She doesn't need weighted boots to hold her down, Melissa thought; those bracelets and necklaces must be heavy enough to do the job.

Doug saw that his mother had spotted him and pulled up a third chair for her. Joanna smiled as she approached their table, but her smile froze once she recognized who was sitting with her son.

It's Melissa Hart! Joanna realized as she neared Doug's table. She looks as if she's been through hell and back. Painfully thin. And her eyes-as if she hasn't slept in years. What's she doing up here?

"Melissa," she said as she put her tray on the table. "Whatever brings you here?"

"She came up on the LTV you're buying," said Doug.

"Really?" Joanna sat down between them "I'm here as the representative of the new corporation's COO," Melissa said coolly.

"Omar? You're working for him?"

"For Mr. Rashid, yes."

Doug sensed their mutual hostility. It was as obvious as the snarling of a pair of lionesses arguing over a bleeding chunk of fresh meat.

"I didn't know you were still with the corporation," Joanna said.

"I dropped out," Melissa replied, "but I'm back now."

"And in such a key position, too."

Melissa said, "Mr. Rashid seems pleased with my work."

"I'm sure," Joanna murmured- Doug broke in, "Just what are you doing here, Melissa? Why've you come to Moonbase?"

Before she could think of a reply, Joanna said, "Rashid is pushing the idea of developing nuclear fusion power."

"Using helium-three?" Doug asked.

"You know about it," said Melissa, impressed.

"I've looked into it. Power conversion is the key to its economic success."

Turning to Joanna, Melissa lied, "I was hoping to get your support for the fusion development." This isn't the time or place to confront her, she told herself. I want to see Greg. He's the one I've come for.

"I suppose we could program nanomachines to glean helium-three out of the regolith," said Joanna.

"You don't really need nanomachines to do that," Melissa said.

"We're fully committed to nanotechnology here," Joanna replied icily.

"But the U.N. treaty-"

"Won't be signed by Kiribati. You know that."

"Still," Melissa said, "the fusion program shouldn't be dependent on nanotechnology."

Doug said, "We want to show the world that nanomachines aren't harmful, despite all the hysteria down there."

Melissa kept herself from replying.

"After all," Doug went on, "nanomachines can do a lot more than scour the regolith for raw materials. The medical applications of nanotech are the greatest thing they've got going for them."

"Are they?" Melissa countered. "Nanomachines killed your father, didn't they?"

Doug felt as if she had slapped his face. He saw that his mother had gone white, too.

"That was twenty years ago," Joanna said stiffly. "Nothing like that has happened again."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Nanomachines saved my life," Doug said, recovering somewhat 'If it weren't for nanotech I'd have died of radiation poisoning."

"And now you can live forever, is that it?"

"Really," Joanna started.

But Doug silenced her with a gesture. "I don't know how long I'll be able to live. But wouldn't you want to extend your lifespan, if you had the chance?'"

"That's just it, isn't it?" Melissa retorted. "Of all the billions of human beings on Earth, how many of them will get the chance to live forever?"

"Answer the question," Doug insisted. "If you, yourself, had the chance to extend your lifespan indefinitely, would you take it?"

"No," Melissa said honestly. "I don't want to extend this misery one minute longer than I have to. Life is pain, don't you understand that? The sooner we're out of it, the better off we are."

Moonrise DIRECTOR'S OFFICE.

"Melissa? Here?" Greg stiffened at the news. "What does she want?"

Joanna was too nervous to sit down. "She wants to see you."

"But why?"

"Who knows? She says she's here to ask our support for Rashid's fusion program."

"You don't think that's the truth?"

Joanna glared at her son. "Do you?"

Greg leaned back in his desk chair and stared at the ceiling. The bare rock seemed lower than usual, heavier, inching down to crush him.

"You're going to have to see her," Joanna said.

"Yes," he said, feeling the desperation creeping into his bones. "Yes, I suppose I will."

"Would you like me to be with you when you do?"

What to answer? Greg wondered. I can't tell my mother that I'm afraid to see Melissa by myself. But I am! I don't want to see her, I don't want to be anywhere near her. She's bringing me nothing but pain, I know it, I can feel it.

"Well?" Joanna insisted.

"Yes," Greg blurted. "I think it would be better if you were present when I talked with her."

"Good. I do too."

Doug didn't forget about Melissa, but he relegated her presence at Moonbase to a corner of his mind. He had more important things to do.

He brought Bianca and Lev Brudnoy to his room and imaged on his Windowall the LTV sitting on its pad.

"She's a beauty," Doug said, beaming at the picture on the screen. "Only been used for seventy-two flights; practically new."

Brudnoy scratched at his beard. "I've always wondered why Americans tend to personalize their machinery. It looks like any other LTV, to me."

Bianca was more practical. "Okay, how long are we going to let it sit out there?"

"I've requisitioned a dome for it," said Doug. "The machine shop's putting it together now."

"So we put up the dome over the landing pad?"

"No, that'd interfere with the rocket port operation too much. We put up the dome a half-mile away from the pad and tow the LTV to it."

"We're going to work on the ship in spacesuits?" Brudnoy asked.

"No, the dome will be pressurized."

"But we'll need suits to get to and from, won't we?" asked Bianca.

Doug admitted it with a shrug. "Can't be helped. There's no space inside the base to work on it"

"The main garage? Is the ceiling high enough?"

"I checked. Ceiling's okay, we can just about squeeze her in, but there's not enough room for the LTV when all the tractors are inside."

"But at least half of them are left outside, usually," said Brudnoy.

Shaking his head, Doug told them, "I know. I asked Greg about it, but he just scrolled up the regulations on his screen. The main garage's got to be able to house all the tractors in an emergency."

"What kind of emergency?" Brudnoy asked.

"Solar flare," Bianca and Doug answered in unison.

"So your technicians will have to spend an hour getting into spacesuits and then walk or ride half a mile past the rocket port to work on our LTV," said Brudnoy.

-'They can work in their shirtsleeves once they're inside the dome, "Doug pointed out.

Brudnoy sighed. "And then spend another hour getting back into their suits to go home again."

Doug spread his hands helplessly. "What else can we do, Lev? You know how much work it takes to carve out extra space underground. We can't blast out the space we need with plasma torches; it'd take too long and too much effort. The dome's our best bet."

"I presume you've run all the numbers through your computer," Brudnoy said drily.

"Frontwards and backwards," said Doug. "I've gone through every option I could think of. The dome's our best choice."

"I just hate all that extra work of getting into the suits," the Russian muttered.

"It's the prebreathing that takes most of the time," Bianca said. "If the suits ran at the same pressure that the base does we could zip into them in half the time."

"Well, they don't," said Doug, "and it takes time to breathe the excess nitrogen out of your system."

Brudnoy's pouchy eyes looked even sadder than usual.

With a grin, Doug added, "When I'm director of Moonbase I'll start our people working on suits that run at normal base pressure, so you'll be able to hop into them in a couple of minutes."

Bianca shook her head. "You'd think after all these years somebody would've already done that."

"Not much need for it," said Doug. "What kind of an emergency could come up so suddenly that you need to jump into a suit in a few minutes?"

Brudnoy nodded. "True enough. I've been here more than twenty years and I've never seen such an emergency."

Doug nodded.

"On the other hand," the Russian went on, "it's going to slow down our work tremendously. Isn't there some way we can put up a pressurized access tube to the dome?"

"A mile-long tube?" Bianca asked.

"Wait!" said Doug. "Why don't we pressurize one of the tractors? Couldn't we put the crew module from the LTV itself onto a tractor? That way we can take three or four people at a time out to the dome in their shirtsleeves." 'Yeah!" Bianca cheered. "That could work." Brudnoy was more reserved. "Check it out on your computer, my friend. Don't celebrate until the engineering program tells us it can be done."

"It's good to see you again, Greg," said Melissa.

"It's been a long time," he said, staring at her from behind his desk. She looks awful, Greg thought. Her face is still beautiful, but it's like a death mask, a skull, her skin is stretched so tight over the bones it's a wonder she can open her mouth. And she's so thin! As if she's been a prisoner of war all these years.

She wore a shapeless gray pants suit, its jacket falling halfway to her knees. When she sat in front of Greg's desk and crossed her long legs, he saw that the trousers ended in stirrups that looped under her weighted boots.

It was Melissa's eyes that frightened Greg. He saw fury in them, hot red rage. He remembered the last time he had been with Melissa, when he had told her they were through. Her eyes were red then, too, but with tears and pleading. I turned my back on her and she's never forgiven me for it, Greg realized. All these years she's been hating me.

He turned to his mother, sitting beside Melissa. Joanna was outwardly cool and controlled, but Greg knew that she was just as tense as he was. He could see it in the way Joanna was nervously fingering the ends of the flowered silk scarf she was wearing.