“They’d just get somebody else.”

“Of course. But you could make a public statement as well. Let everyone know why this is so dangerous. Priscilla, it’s a potentially deadly project. We all know that.” Proctor stood, not moving, gazing at her with growing desperation in her eyes.

“No,” Hutch said. “I can’t do that. I made an agreement and I’ll live by it. Maybe you’re right, Madam President. Maybe the universe is full of lunatic aliens. But that’s hard to believe. In any case, I don’t think we’d be looking at a very bright future if we spend the rest of our existence sitting here hiding under a table.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As am I.” She hesitated. “There’s not much time to change your mind. If you need to reach me, you have my number.”

“Thank you.”

“I understand this is difficult for you, Priscilla. But I’m your president, and I’m asking for your help.”

•  •  •

The ride home was one of the longest of her life. She’d traveled more quickly between stars than she did that day in the automated car between Cherry Hill and Woodbridge. She couldn’t make up her mind. Who should she betray? Her friends and her lifetime convictions of the necessity for interstellar travel, or the President of the North American Union? Was she so committed to her life’s work that she could not look at the issue objectively? What if something lethal did accompany them back? The responsibility would be hers.

She got home midafternoon Sunday. Her commlink was crowded with calls, mostly from media types. One was from Unterkoefler. Derek and Tom had also tried to reach her. She called Blanchard first.

“The Eiferman’s docked, Priscilla. We’re going to turn this around as quickly as we can. Some of the guys from the Save the Earth Foundation have been calling around, trying to put pressure on our people, hoping to shut us down. They got to your copilot. Walcott. He’s passed on the project. I’m guessing they’ve talked to you too.”

“More or less.”

“Really? Please tell me you’re not also bailing.”

Last chance. She was still not sure what she should do. “No,” she said after stalling a few moments. “Who’s going to replace Walcott?”

“Clay Clairveau.”

She’d heard his name but couldn’t recall ever having met him. “He have any experience with the Locarno?”

“Yes. It’s okay. He’ll be fine. If nobody gets to him and talks him out of going.”

“So, when’s liftoff?”

“We’re trying for Wednesday. We have to get out of here as soon as possible. Can you manage that?”

Three days. “Okay.”

“When can you be here?”

“When do you need me?”

“Tuesday would be good.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. We’ll send the lander down. You’d be coming from DC?”

“Yes.”