Jones said bluntly, “I might as well just tell you guys straight out. You’re not going to be seeing any action for a while. None of you is dumb, so you know what the funding situation is like up on the Hill.

“Even if we get to Mars, and even if — if — a scientist is selected,” and Jones’s tone of voice made his feelings about that clear enough, “there are too many people in line ahead of you new guys. Including previous batches of scientists, some of whom have been here for years and haven’t gotten to fly yet. It’s even worse than with Apollo. At least with Apollo several Moon flights were planned. For Mars only a single flight has been inked in, and competition for places on that flight is going to be ferocious.”

Jones swiveled his cold black eyes, and York found it difficult to withstand the pressure of that gaze, as if his vision had contained some sizzling, hostile radar energy. “You’re looking at long delays, and maybe no flights, ever. We don’t need you around here. I’m saying this just so you’ll understand.”

Ben Priest took her out to lunch at the Nassau Bay Hilton.

She surveyed the menu. “Steak. Seafood. Salad. Potato. More steak. Jesus, Ben.”

He grinned as he sipped at a Coke. “Welcome to Houston.”

“How does a civilized man like you stand it here, Ben?”

“Now, don’t be a snob, Natalie.”

York ordered chicken-fried steak. When it arrived, it was a great plate-sized slab of meat, heavily fried and coated in batter. The first few mouthfuls tasted good, but the meat was tough, and her jaws soon started to ache.

Oh, how I am going to love Houston. A home away from home.

“So tell me,” Priest said. “What do you think of the astronauts, now that you’ve seen them en masse?”

“Oh, God. Football captains and class presidents. Straight out of Smallville.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Well, that describes me, too. Round here I’m just a ‘bug-eye’ from Ohio.”

“Look, I’m serious, Ben. Maybe this is what’s wrong with NASA. These guys have had it easy.”

“Easy?”

“Sure. For all their great achievements. Every day of their lives the astronauts are handed single, easily visualized objectives; all they have to do is go ahead and achieve. Unlike the rest of mankind.”

He grunted and cut into his steak, a big T-bone. “Well, one thing’s for sure,” he said.

“What?”

“Whether you’re right about this colony of Eagle Scouts, or whether it’s just your perception we’re talking about here, you’re going to have one hell of a job trying to find a niche.”

He was right, she felt. Flying to Mars could turn out to be the easy part.

After lunch, Priest took her sight-seeing and apartment hunting.