"All right, all right," Doug said, trying to be soothing. He turned toward O'Malley. "Nick?"

"I just said that if he needs nanobugs to act like dust, why doesn't he just use the flaming dust itself?"

"You see!" Zimmerman snapped.

"Wait a minute," said Doug. "Nick, what do you mean?"

O'Malley sucked in a deep, deep breath. Doug realized he was trying to hold onto his own temper. He was a big man, and if he got truly angry there could be real trouble.

"What I mean," he said slowly, "is that we don't need to invent nanomachines that behave like dust particles. We can pump the corridor sections full of regular lunar dust. Run 'em through an electrostatic grid so they'll stick to the Peacekeepers' suits and visors just like you want 'em to."

"An electrostatic grid?"

"We can rig that up easy; just need to connect some electricity to the air filter screens in the corridors."

"We, he keeps saying," Zimmerman muttered.

Doug put a hand on the old man's shoulder. "Professor, I think he's right."

"And I am wrong?"

Forcing a smile, Doug said, "No, but we don't have time to produce your specialized nanomachines. Nick's worked out on the surface; he knows how the dust clings to suits."

"So I must sit back and retire like a useless old man?"

"No, not at all," Doug said. "You can work with Kris Cardenas on the medical side. We're going to need your nanomachines to take care of the injured and wounded."

Zimmerman huffed out an enormous sigh. "You expect injured and wounded? How many?"

"I have no idea," Doug answered truthfully.

The professor turned away and walked a few steps deeper into his lab. Then he spun around and pointed a trembling finger at O'Malley. "Very well! Go play with your verdammt dust! I will stay here and do important work!"

O'Malley started to reply, but one glance at Doug and he shut his mouth with an audible click of teeth.

"We need you, professor," Doug said softly. "You know that. I need you. Moonbase needs you."

"Yah. While you and this young lummox here go out to fight, I sit here like a dreamer."

"It's your dreams that we're fighting for," said Doug. Then he took O'Malley by the arm and led him out of the nanotechnology laboratory.

Harry Clemens seldom showed tension. Word around Moon-base was that he didn't have any bones, that's why he always looked so relaxed.

But he was sitting rigidly in one of the little swivel chairs in front of a console in the control center, eyes riveted on the screen that showed the little tubular rocket vehicle, as the launch computer counted aloud: '… four… three… two… one… zero."

Clemens saw a flash of smoke and dust. The rocket was gone when it cleared.

"Radar track on the line," said the technician sitting to his right. He saw the radar display on the screen just above his view of the now empty launch pad.