He took off his glasses and wiped them on his crumpled tie.

Later tonight Gregory was going to have to fly up to Virginia to be with Sylvia, and bring her back. He’d spoken to her on the phone several times already — the Mission Control people had given him a line — and she’d sounded calm enough. But Dana couldn’t begin to imagine how she was going to react to this.

Well, how am I reacting? Do I even understand that? My son, my only son, is in orbit right now — perhaps trapped up there — with his poor, fragile body irradiated by Marshall’s hellish abortion of a nuclear rocket. It was a situation, he thought, which the human heart simply wasn’t programmed to cope with.

And, under all his grief, he felt the dull, painful glow of anger that none of this need have been so — that it wasn’t, never had been, necessary to build nuclear rockets to get to Mars.

He pushed his glasses back on his face, shoved open the car door, and got out.

There was a Christmas wreath on Jim’s front door.

It was physically hard for him to walk up the drive, he observed, bemused. He watched his feet, his shoes of brown leather, as they lifted and settled on the gravel path, as if they belonged to some robot.

He reached the door.

He felt exhausted, as if the path had been a steep climb. It won’t be so bad, he told himself feverishly. Just ring the doorbell; that’s all you have to do. Seger had said someone from the Astronaut Office would have been there already. So you won’t have to give her the news, at least. And besides, Walter Cronkite was probably already intoning gloomy predictions on CBS.

You won’t even have to break the news. So ring the bell, damn you.

His hands hung at his sides, heavy, weak, useless.

Wednesday, December 3, 1980

APOLLO-N; LYNDON B. JOHNSON SPACE CENTER, HOUSTON

“Apollo-N, Houston. We’re going to bring you home. Just take it easy, and we’ll bring you down. The Command Module systems are looking good at this time. You might want to dig out the medical kit—”

Natalie’s voice remained calm and controlled, and Priest, through the mounting pain in his chest and eyes, felt a surge of pride. Good for you, rookie. “I think we’ll have to pass on that,” he said. “I doubt if any of us could reach the kit, Natalie.”

“Just hang tight, Apollo-N.”

“Hey, bug-eyes,” Jones said to Priest. “I’ve got Jim’s pin in my pocket.”

“What pin?”

“His flight pin. The gold one. He’s no rookie now. I was going to give it to him after the burn. You want to reach over? He might like to see it.”

“Maybe later, Chuck. I think he’s sleeping.”

“Sure. Maybe later.”