Greg had to swallow before he could bring his voice back. "I understand that you're working for Rashid now, with the new corporation."

Melissa's chin dipped a bare centimeter. "That's right"

Greg opened his mouth again but no words came out He didn't know what to say. He looked up at the ceiling, menacingly low.

Joanna prompted, "Rashid's pushing the fusion program, isn't he?"

"I'm not here to talk to you-two about Rashid or his programs or anything like that.'Melissa said, her eyes flaring.

"Then what?" asked Joanna.

She focused those laser-beam eyes on Greg. This is the man who abandoned me, she thought, staring at him. The man I begged to stay with me. The man I thought I loved. The man whose child I was going to have. A wave of self-loathing swept over her, made her shudder visibly. I pleaded with him! I got down on my knees and begged him! And he turned his back on me. He walked away, the cold-hearted sonofabitch. He knew I was pregnant with his baby and he just walked away from both of us.

"Murder," she whispered.

I murdered my own baby. You made me do it, the two of you. You threw me out like so much garbage. I aborted the baby. I committed murder.

"What are you talking about?" Joanna demanded.

Greg knew.

Melissa pointed a skeletal finger at him. "You murdered Paul Stavenger. You used nanomachines to kill him."

"That's nonsense!" Joanna snapped.

"Is it?"

Greg couldn't answer. He couldn't speak. He gripped the armrests of his swivel chair and stared in growing horror at Melissa. It's all coming back. It's all rising up again, all around me, walling me in, smothering me.

"I have Jack Killifer's sworn statement," Melissa was saying, her voice cold and hard as ice. "He gave you a sample of nanomachines that attacked long-chain carbon molecules. Gobblers, he called them."

Joanna blustered, "That doesn't mean-"

"You put them in with the nanomachines that Paul was using up here on the Moon, didn't you, Greg? They killed Paul and two other men."

"My husband died in an accident," Joanna insisted.

"He was murdered. By your son. And I can prove it."

"That...' Greg choked out the words, "... that was, for god's sake, that was twenty years ago, almost."

Melissa smiled thinly. "There's no statute of limitations on murder."

"You haven't got a shred of evidence," Joanna said. "Even if this Killifer person gave Greg a set of nanomachines, what of it? You can't prove murder in a court of law."

"Can't I? Criminal courts have become much tougher over the past few years."

"We'll have the best lawyers in the world."

"Fine. Hire all the lawyers you want. A big, scandalous trial will be perfect. The public will love to watch the two of you, week after week. It'll be the entertainment highlight of the year."

Two of us?" Joanna asked.

"You aided and abetted your son, Mrs. Stavenger. Didn't you? Accessory after the fact."

"Now wait...' Greg started.

Melissa silenced him with a glance. "Mrs. Stavenger, it was you who covered up the evidence of the murders. It was you who sent Jack Killifer to Moonbase, so he wouldn't be available to tell anyone what he'd done until nearly twenty years afterward."

"You can't be serious," Joanna said.

"I've never been more serious in my life," Melissa replied. "The murderer son and his accomplice mother. Think how that's going to look on video back home."

Greg stared at her. The bitch is trying to ruin my life. She's trying to ruin both our lives. He thought how easy it would be to get up from this chair, walk around the desk, and snap her neck like a brittle stick.

Then he gasped with the sudden realization that Doug had ordered Killifer out of Moonbase. And I let him do it! Greg raged at himself. Doug knew exactly what he was doing. He knew Killifer would testify against me once he got back to Earth! He's been against me from the very beginning. Doug, Melissa-all of them!

Joanna took a deep breath, then asked Melissa, "What do you want?"

"Justice," said Melissa.

"And what do you think would be just, in this case?"

Melissa turned away from Joanna's cool gray-green eyes to look squarely at Greg once again. "Shut down Moonbase," she said flatly. "Put an end to all the nanotechnology you're using here."

Greg blinked at her. "And what else?"

Melissa shook her head. "First things first. I want an end to this evil of nanotechnology. An end to this place where rich people can escape the problems of Earth."

With a shaky laugh, Greg asked, "That's all? Just shut down Moonbase?"

"And any nanotech operations you might have elsewhere," Melissa said.

"And for that, you'll forget about this murder business?" He couldn't believe it.

Melissa smiled again, this time showing teeth. "Oh no, Greg. You misunderstood me. Moonbase has to be shut down. But you'll still have to stand trial for murder. In Atlanta, I imagine. In the federal court in Atlanta."

"You little bitch! You want to destroy me!"

"That's right," Melissa said calmly. "I'm going to destroy you. And Moonbase with you. And the nanotechnology that you're protecting."

For the first time, Joanna looked alarmed. "My son's life was saved by nanotherapy. He can't return to Earth."

"He'll have to. He'll have no other choice."

"But they'll murder him! One of your fanatics will kill him just the way they killed Carlos Quintana."

Melissa replied coolly, "Surely, Mrs. Stavenger, you have enough money to protect your son. Even if you go to prison, the family fortune will still be there for him."

"To live behind walls all his life?" Joanna said, her voice almost pleading. "To live separated from the rest of civilization?"

"What's he doing here?" Melissa retorted. "A quarter-million miles from civilization."

Greg watched and listened, the horror within him freezing his insides. They're worrying about Doug when she wants to put me on trial for murder. She wants to destroy me and Mom's thinking of Doug! Moni doesn't care about me; it's Doug she's trying to protect.

"All right!" he shouted, leaping to his feet. "You want to kill me? You want to wipe out Moonbase? All right, I'll help you!"

Joanna's face went white. "Greg, what are you-"

He came around the desk, swift as death, and grabbed Melissa by her bony wrist.

I'll show you!" Greg roared, dragging Melissa toward the door. "I'll show you all!"

ZIMMERMAN'S QUARTERS.

"So? You have come to see my monastic little cell?" Zimmerman asked as he stepped aside and allowed Doug to enter his room.

Stepping past an unopened garment bag thrown carelessly on the floor, Doug said, "I think we can make the room feel a lot bigger if we put up a couple of Windowalls for you."

"Windowalls?"

"Big flat-screen display panels. You could show videos of scenes you like, make it seem as if you're looking out a window."

Zimmerman bobbed his fleshy jowls. "Yah, that would be an improvement."

I'll let you have one of mine until we get some new ones brought up," said Doug.

Zimmerman gave Doug a crafty look. "You didn't come here to discuss my interior decorating problems, hah?"

"No," Doug admitted cheerfully. "I've come to enlist your help."

"Sit," said the professor, gesturing to the desk chair as he eased his bulk onto the sagging bunk. "What help do you need from me?"

"We want to build Clipperships out of pure carbon -diamond-using nanomachines."

Zimmerman's shaggy brows rose. "So? That would make them much stronger than metal ships, no?"

"And lighter," Doug said.

"My experience has been mostly in medical uses of nanotechnology, not rocket engineering."

"It would help us enormously if you'd work with the technicians here. Just look over their shoulders a bit. Encourage them."

"Stick my nose in."

"You'd be an inspiration to them."

Zimmerman shook his head. "I'd be an old man bothering your young people. The one you want is Professor Cardenas. She has experience in engineering programs."

"I intend to ask her, too. But I wanted to ask you first."

"Why first?"

"Because I respect you so much," Doug replied. "I owe my life to you."

Zimmerman slouched back on the bunk until his head rested against the cushioned wall. "The Chinese believe that if you save a man's life, you are responsible for him ever afterward," he said gloomily. "I have the feeling that you are going to find many things for me to do."

Doug laughed. "I'm not Chinese. But I do want your help on this."

"I suppose-"

The ceiling lights flickered.

"What was that?" Zimmerman sat up rigidly on the bunk.

"Don't know," said Doug. "The lighting system must've switched-"

They flickered again.

"Does this happen often?" Zimmerman looked decidedly worried.

"No, never," Doug said, puzzled. "I don't know what's going on."

From outside in the tunnel they heard the ceiling speakers paging, "DOUGLAS STAVENGER, PLEASE CALL THE BASE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE. DOUGLAS STAVENGER, PLEASE CALL THE BASE DIRECTOR'S OFFICE."

Feeling uneasy, almost worried, Doug tapped the phone key on Zimmerman's computer keyboard.

Joanna's face appeared on the screen, strained, distraught. "Doug! Where are you?"

"I'm with Professor Zimmerman, in his quarters."

"Your brother's snapped! -He's run off with Melissa Hart somewhere, screaming that he's going to destroy everything."

"Greg? What do you mean?"

Then he heard the unmistakable thud of an airlock hatch slamming shut.

"EMERGENCY' blared the speakers out in the tunnel's ceiling, loud enough to be heard clearly through the flimsy accordion door. "EMERGENCY. AIR PRESSURE DROP IN MAIN GARAGE. ALL AIRLOCKS HAVE AUTOMATICALLY SHUT. FOLLOW EMERGENCY PROCEDURES. UNLESS YOU ARE WITH SECURITY OR ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROL GROUPS, REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. DO NOT MOVE FROM YOUR PRESENT LOCATION UNTIL NOTIFIED BY BASE ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROL."

The sad sweet strains of the Rose Adagio from Sleeping Beauty filled her mind as Bianca Rhee floated through a nearly-perfect grand jete, higher in the air than any prima ballerina could possible achieve on Earth, arms extended, toes pointed properly, when the loudspeakers bellowed out their warning.

She landed on her toes, stumbled off-balance, and staggered against the flimsy partition that closed off her little practice area from the rest of the main garage. Almost angrily she yanked out the earplug and snapped off the miniature chip player clipped to her belt.

"EMERGENCY," the automatic warning repeated." AIR PRESSURE DROP IN MAIN GARAGE. ALL AIRLOCKS HAVE AUTOMATICALLY SHUT. FOLLOW EMERGENCY PROCEDURES. UNLESS YOU ARE WITH SECURITY OR ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROL GROUPS, REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. DO NOT MOVE FROM YOUR PRESENT LOCATION UNTIL NOTIFIED BY BASE ENVIRONMENTAL CONTROL:"

Bianca didn't feel any air-pressure drop. Some stupid sensor's gone down, she thought But she padded in her ballet slippers to the edge of the partition and looked out at the main garage. People were hustling for the hatches that led into the base's four main tunnels.

And she felt a breeze.