He searched his mind for the right word and finally nodded.

Castrated.

That was it. That was perfect.

Damned fortunate for him that his wife had lost interest in sex some years ago. His head bent, his shoulders slightly stooped, Petrov strode toward the small terminal where he would prop himself up to give a gracious, politic reception to the current batch of newcomers from UpLink.

Welcoming them where they very well might be needed, but were most assuredly not wanted.

"--don't know why you keep coming here to visit, Annie. You aren't around for someone's time of dying, it isn't like missing your train or a dentist's appointment or the early-bird sale at Wal-Mart. There's late and there's late, and if you think that puts a heavy load on your shoulders, think of how it felt for me. "

Annie is back in Room 377 of the hospital, sitting at the bedside of the man in the carrot-red flight/reentry suit. The man with the Vaseline-smudge face who is and isn't her husband. The room is dark, the lights off, night outside the window behind her. The only illumination is a soft glow coming from the equipment-she's gotten used to seeing it change from hospital instruments to a space shuttle console to the front panel indicators of an F-16 with almost every glance--on the far side of his bed.

She shakes her head. "I didn't know, they said there was time--"

"And you had a training session to conduct, " he interrupts with a chuckle like the sound of someone stamping down on dry twigs and broken glass. "How convenient. "

"That isn't fair," she says, an imploring note in her voice. "I was going to come back in the morning. You knew I was coming back. You knew. And then they called ... they phoned me... "

"Yeah, yeah, we've been through this same old song before. Sudden heart attack, smoke in the cabin, with a heave and a ho, they just had to tell you so. " He produces another brittle expulsion of laughter that dissolves into a chain of hacking coughs. "Might've made it easier for my Annie to digest, you know how the Juiceman says to drink your bromelain before bedtime. But to be honest, there's not much difference from where I'm lying. There's late and there's late and you missed our date--"

She shakes her head. "No, don't say that again--"

"You can't stand hearing it, lassie, then why not put on your tweed cap and head on over to Erlsberg Castle? That's got to be better than this here barn hop, " he says with a mock Scottish brogue. His hand comes up and points in her direction, the burned, sloughy flesh dangling off his finger like strings of half-dried glue. "Or you can always use the ejection seat. Handle's right in front of you. "