We'll see the benefits of this in our own lifetimes." Another member of the audience stood, and Gordon felt his blood pressure rise. If there was anyone he despised more than Senator Parish, it was Montana congressman Joe Bellingham, whose Marlboro Man good looks couldn't disguise the fact he was a scientific moron. During his last campaign, he'd demanded that public schools teach Creationism. Throw out the biology books and open the Bible instead. He probably thinks rockets are powered by angels.

"What about all that sharing of technology with the Russians and Japanese?" said Bellingham. "I'm concerned that we're giving away high-tech secrets for free. This international cooperation sounds high-minded and all, but what's to stop them from turning right around and using the knowledge against us? Why should we trust the Russians?" Fear and paranoia. Ignorance and superstition. There was too much of it in the country, and Gordon grew depressed just listening to Bellingham.

He turned away in disgust.

That's when he noticed a somber-faced Hank Millar step into the auditorium. Millar was head of the Astronaut Office. He looked straight at Gordon, who understood at once that a problem was brewing.

Quietly Gordon left the stage, and the two men stepped out into the hallway. "What's going on?"

"There's been an accident. It's Bill Haning's wife. We hear it doesn't look good."

"Jesus."

"Bob Kittredge and Woody Ellis are waiting over in Public Affairs. We all need to talk." Gordon nodded. He glanced through the auditorium door at Congressman Bellingham, who was still blathering on about the dangers of sharing technology with the Commies. Grimly he followed Hank out the auditorium exit and across the courtyard, to the next building.

They met in a back office. Kittredge, the shuttle commander for STS 162, was flushed and agitated. Woody Ellis, flight director the International Space Station, appeared far calmer, but then, Gordon had never seen Ellis look upset, even in the midst of crisis.