"Seats please," Heineman said. "We're going to slow this sucker down. Reverse seats this time; I want to keep our FLR facing forward, and there'll be about two-tenths of a g. . . .”

Carrolson strapped herself into the copilot's seat with a pixie grin at Lanier. "Backseat, boss," she said. "I was here first."

Lanier and Farley crawled past the equipment boxes and sat next to each other. Lanier took a deep breath and closed his eyes; the urge was almost unbearable.

"Something wrong?" Farley asked.

"Not at all." He touched her hand reassuringly with his own and drew it back.

"You feeling all right?"

He smiled unconvincingly and nodded."

“Something's wrong, Garry. I've been around you long enough—"

"We'll be there in an hour or so," Heineman announced from the cockpit.

"So what is it?" Farley pursued.

He took a deep breath and his face reddened. "I can't help it, Karen. It's crazy. I've been. . . horny for the last twenty hours. It isn't going away."

She regarded him without expression, and then her eyes widened the merest fraction.

"You asked, dammit," he said.

"Just in general?"

"No."

"Someone in particular."

"Yes," he said.

"Who. . . or is that asking too much?"

He raised a finger and pointed it at her, shaking with stifled laughter. His face was red as hamburger now and he sounded like he was choking.

"That's funny?"

"No-oo-o," he said, finally controlling his laughter. "It's crazy."

“You've never been interested in me before?"

"No—I mean, yes, you're attractive, obviously, but—"

"Then shut up." The deceleration had already started. She unbuckled her belt and fell slowly toward the cockpit, easing herself along with the handgrips on the side of the seats and storage racks overhead.

"Wait," Lanier said, reaching for her and missing. He looked back over the neck rest. "Karen!"

Farley hung in the cockpit hatchway. "Wake us when we're at the wall," she said pointedly, sliding the partition shut with a decisive snick of the bolt. She pulled herself back along the aisle and braced one knee against his seat and the seat opposite.

"I'm sorry—" Lanier began.

"Not at all," Farley said. She tugged at her jumpsuit zipper and pulled it down, revealing a T-shirt with the Chinese character

on the front, signifying "whale," the Chinese name for the Stone. She shimmied it off quickly and removed white cotton panties.

Lanier watched in shock.

"You should have said something sooner," she admonished. "Anything that keeps you from thinking straight is a detriment to our mission." She pulled the T-shirt over her head and stuffed all the clothes in a rear seat pouch.

He removed his jumpsuit, glancing nervously at the cockpit partition. She lay on the rear of the two opposite seats; the tuberider's deceleration provided an effective if skewed sense of direction. "You never did put yourself on the social roster," Farley said, taking his hand and pulling him toward her. "Not because you were shy, surely."