brought her up here not because they respected her skills, but because they suspected she lacked them. Just another pretty popularizer. Just another stupid face.

Vee's jaw clamped down so hard her teeth started to ache. She stood.

"Vee..." began Josh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't worry about it," she said without looking at him. Her gaze swept the room until it fastened on Helen Failia, who didn't think she knew enough. Who didn't think she could do this job and had her handpicked because of that.

Vee strode across the room, barely seeing where she was going.

Slow down, Vee. Slow down! This is not going to do anyone any good, especially you. She stopped in her tracks. Her chest had tightened, and she was breathing way too hard. Stop and think what you're doing. You throw a fit now, and you'll just be proving their point.

In the back of her mind she heard Rosa's voice: "Be careful what you pretend to be."

Vee turned away from Failia, hoping the woman hadn't no-ticed her angry approach and abrupt change of plan. Evidently not. No one came up to her as she found an empty table and sat. The cameras were occupied; so were the other U.N. investigators, with each other and the cameras and with the whole wide cloudscape, and not one of them knew why they were here.

I'm gonna kill her. Vee bowed her head into one hand. I'm gonna kill myself. What was I thinking? I actually believed- "Dr. Hatch?"Vee looked up. Terry Wray stood over her.

"If this little tableau turns up in-stream-"

"It's off, it's off," Terry reassured her, lifting her hair out of the way so Vee could see the band was well and truly dark. "But are you okay?"

Vee pushed her veil back over her shoulders. "Not right now, but I will be."

"Okay, good." Terry smiled. "You're one of my star attrac-tions. I'd hate it if you stomped off or anything."

"Oh no," replied Vee sweetly. "They're not getting rid of me that easily."

A thought struck her. "Terry, can I use you shame-lessly for a minute?"

A whole variety of expressions crossed Terry's face from amused curiosity to interested calculation. "As long as we stay in public, sure."

Vee squeezed her hand. "Turn that thing back on, and when I start talking to Helen Failia, come up and start paying atten-tion, okay?"

Terry looked down her snub nose at Vee. "Okay, but I get an extra interview for this."

"Done."

Vee rose, pasted her best sunny, vapid smile on her face, and slipped over to where Helen Failia stood talking with Philip. Vee waited for a pause in the conversation and then strode forward, timing her attack.

One, two, three, she pauses for breath and...

"Dr. Failia, good, you're still here."

Helen turned toward Vee, all solicitous. "What can I do for you, Dr.

Hatch?"

"Well"-Vee folded her hands in front of her-"I hadn't real-ized Dr.

Kenyon was going to be on base. I thought he was still on his Earthside swing."

Helen's expression went slightly rigid as she held back some impoliteemotion. "Ah, you know Dr. Kenyon?"

"By reputation. I've read his work." She glanced across at Josh and let her smile grow even happier. "I'm so glad he'll be with us. I don't mind telling you." Vee leaned forward confi-dentially. As she did, she saw Terry coming into range on the very edge of Helen's field of view. "I'm excited about this op-portunity, but my lab work was all done a long time ago.

With-out someone who's in better practice, I'm afraid I might make a mess of things." She laughed lightly. Dr. Failia looked gratifyingly disconcerted.

"I'm sorry." Vee pulled back and blinked rapidly a few times. "He is coming down with us, isn't he? His help would be ut-terly invaluable to me." Come on, there's the camera, you see it. You aren't going to admit you're sending down a half-assed team, are you?

Helen Failia didn't even hesitate. "If you feel Dr. Kenyon can be of assistance, of course he will be included in the investiga-tive roster." Only a slight darkness in Helen's clear eyes told Vee that she did not think this was an excellent idea.

"Marvelous." Vee beamed. "Thank you so much." For good measure, she shook Dr. Failia's hand before she turned away and strode out the door.

"That was pretty shameless," murmured Terry behind her.

"You should see me when I'm trying." Vee turned, and her smile was feral. "Thanks. Contact me when you're ready for that interview."

"Never fear." Terry's face grew thoughtful. "You should be careful about getting to like this too much, Dr. Hatch."

"You know, I've got a friend back home who says the same thing." Vee felt her face soften. "You're probably both right too."

Terry gave her one more thoughtful look. Sizing me up, thought Vee.

For what? "I've got to get back," was all Terry said. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Vee let her go and started walking down the corridor, sud-denly bothtired and frustrated. Hope this doesn't get you in any kind of trouble, Josh, but I was not, I was not, going to let her get way with this. You and I. She paused before the elevator. We're going to make something of this, and Dr. Failia can just sit back and watch us.

Kevin Cusmanos hated accounting. Especially late at night after an evening spent smiling and chatting with a glass of wine in his hand when what he really wanted was a beer. He hated staring at the rows of figures in their little boxes and checking them on a split screen against the individual logs where every-one was supposed to enter all their individual orders and pur-chases but never did.

However, it came with the job. So he sat in his office with coffee steaming in a plastic mug, ancient Afro-Country playing over the speakers, and a burgeoning dislike of Shelby Kray, one of the new guys who could not seem to get the hang of keeping track of his money.

The door, which Kevin never locked, swished open. Kevin glanced up briefly and saw Derek framed in the threshold.

"Hey," said Derek, a little tentatively. He still had his party clothes on-black slacks, red tunic, and cap.

Now's not a great time, little brother, thought Kevin, but all he said was, "Hey."

Derek wandered in and dropped down on the stiff sofa Kevin kept for visitors. Most offices had chairs, but Kevin in-sisted that it was traditional for a mechanic to have a rundown sofa, so a sofa he would have.

"So, when they dropping you down?" asked Derek.

Kevin eyed him, trying to see what he had really come in for. "Couple of days. Gotta get at least some training into the tourists first."

Derek tapped the back of the sofa, sort of in time with the music.

"They're going to be sending Josh Kenyon down with you. Did you know that?"

"Yes." Derek still wouldn't look at him. "Ben let me know at the end of the reception. Said it was Dr. Hatch's idea." Come on, Derek, say it,whatever it is. It's just you and me here.

But Derek just changed the subject again. "And you're taking Adrian with you?"

Kevin sighed and looked back down at his screen. "Yeah, Adrian will be with me in Scarab Five. Charlotte and Bailey are taking down Fourteen."

The problem, he decided was that Shelby wasn't used to the idea of human backup for computer records. He'd come from a fully automated and fully profit-making environment.

Just have to take him aside and teach him the importance of counting those beans...

"I don't envy you, Kevin."

"I don't envy me either," muttered Kevin before he realized Derek was not talking about correcting Shelby's accounting be-haviors.

"You expecting problems?" Derek was working hard to make the question sound like idle curiosity, and he was failing miserably.

At least now I know what you wanted to talk about. Kevin leaned back with a sigh. "Actually, Derek, I am, and you should be too."

Derek shook his head and dropped his gaze, smiling a little, it was an old gesture, a little-boy gesture Derek had picked up when trying to put one over on teachers, and principals, and pretty girls. "Well, we'll just all have to do our best, won't we?" he said brightly. When he looked up again, all he saw was Kevin's blank expression.

"I guess so," Kevin ran one finger along the edge of the desk. "Dr. Meyer talk to you lately?"

Derek nodded, relaxed. "Yeah. She doesn't mind the pause, he's got lots of new data to correlate, she says, especially with the biologist they sent up."

Kevin met his brother's eyes. He saw all the uneasy trust in them, all the shaky confidence that everything was still going to be okay because not only was one of the big shots in on this, his big brother was too. A thousand things jumped into Kevin's mind all at once, all of them needingto be said. Hell, begging to be said.

Derek slapped his hands down on his thighs and got to his feet.

"Derek..." started Kevin.

"What?"

And if I say anything, then what? He won't stop. I'll just scare him, and if he's scared, he'll give it all away. It's not just Michael we're dealing with now. We've got the U.N. here. "Never mind."

Derek shrugged. "Okay, then. I won't."

"Okay."

Derek walked back out into the main hangar. The door swished shut behind him. Kevin rested his elbows on his desk and stared at the screen.

The rows of dollar figures and time signatures made no sense. They were just numbers, tidy sets of numbers that didn't mean anything at all.

What had ever convinced him that they did?

"We are ready to make the recording, Ms. Cleary," called Phil through the open door.

"Thank you, Mr. Bowerman," Angela shouted back. "I'll be right there."

Philip and Angela had requested adjoining suites on the grounds that they'd have to be doing a lot of screen work to-gether and they didn't want to have to monopolize a confer-ence room. Angela wasn't entirely sure Dr.

Failia believed them, but she wasn't sure she cared either.

Angela pulled out a chair from under Phil's dining table and swiveled it to face the wall screen. She sat down and flattened her screen roll on her lap. As she did, Phil pressed the Record key and started talking to the wall screen.

"Good evening, Mr. Hourani. This is preliminary report you asked for.

We've had several conversations with Michael Lum, the chief of security here. He's cooperative, if not terribly en-thusiastic. We've established amonitoring approach on com traffic to and from Mars that everybody can live with..."

"We're monitoring transmission levels, just for the past six months as opposed to the previous couple of years, seeing if we get any jumps," put in Angela.

"We've also checked dips into known stream hot spots," Philip went on, ticking off a point on the screen roll he had spread out on his lap. "There's a few Venerans who like to talk separatist politics, but they're all in the shallows, nothing going on down in the depths." He glanced at Angela.

Your turn, he mouthed.

Angela found her next point on her own roll. "Bennet God-win was late to the U.N. reception tonight, but we got in a face-to-face. My impression is that he seems more sour than se-rious. If he's doing anything other than being sympathetic to the Bradburyans and being annoyed at U.N.

interference with his schedule pad, he's doing a tremendous job of hiding it."

"In short, sir," said Philip, "so far so good. There seems to be nothing going on here but science and general good clean liv-ing." He reached for the Send key, but Angela frowned, and he hesitated.

"The only thing is..." She started and then stopped. "Could be nothing, probably was nothing, but if it wasn't..." Say it Angela. "The tension around here is thicker than the cloud cover. During the reception, I felt as if I was in a shark pool, and the sharks were all waiting for the first hint of blood."

The corner of Philip's mouth quirked up. "You ever dealt with a research facility that's short on funding before?"

Angela shook her head. "But this one isn't anymore."

"True, but if you've been living in fear for a while, it can take time to bleed away."

Angela shrugged. "I offer it for what it's worth." She paused. "Mr.

Hourani, you should also know that I will be the one going down to take a look at the Discovery with the rest of the investigative team. Phil required me to engage in an obscure North American combat ritual known asscissors-paper-stone to determine which of us would take the plunge, and I lost."

Phil's smile was all benevolence. "And on that note..." Philip touched the Send button, and the record light faded out in time with the glow of the screen.

Angela dropped the screen roll on the couch and yawned hugely. "Want something caffeinated?" asked Philip.

She shook her head. "I was on coffee all through dinner; any more and you'll be peeling me off the ceiling."

"Scotch then? The base distillery's surprisingly good."

She waved him away. "Want the boss to catch me with a glass in my hand? We're on the clock until he takes us off it."

"Relax, Angie, he can't see you from Earth."

"He'd smell it on the ether." Philip opened his mouth, and she held up her hand. Philip shrugged and let it go, picking up his notes instead. They each settled down to their own work and their own thoughts until the screen chimed again and lit up with an incoming message.