“I know my aviation history, JK.”

“Sorry. Anyway, Bell should have won the X-15 contract. But what it proposed was an exotic spaceplane that was years ahead of its time. Rockwell won by giving NASA what it wanted, straight down the line, a simple brute force machine. And later, when the bidding for Apollo was going on, there were companies like Martin and Douglas who spent millions on all kinds of Buck Rogers stuff, lenticular shapes and lifting bodies and you name it. Rockwell won out by giving NASA precisely what it wanted and needed, which was a three-man Mercury capsule.”

“Yes, but, JK,” Cane said drily, “we’re bidding against Rockwell this time. And you’re saying you know better than Rockwell, and Martin with its team of three hundred engineers, and—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Because those guys are going to be too busy defending the pet projects they’ve built up over the years to be able to see what the goddamn customer wants, Art.”

Cane thought about that. “You’re a smart guy, JK. Only you could turn the fact that we don’t know what the hell we’re doing into a strength. What’s more, I have the feeling that you actually believe it when you say it.”

“Sure I do. Look, we have a real opportunity here; we could achieve something unique. Columbia could go to Mars. Now: are you going to back me or not?”

Art Cane studied him through small, sharp, watery eyes.

“I guess I’ve got to allow you to bid. But if you spend more than two million bucks, I swear I’ll have your ass in a sling. Now get out of my office.” June 1981 U.S. NAVY ACCELERATION LABORATORY, JOHNSON, PENNSYLVANIA; LYNDON B. JOHNSON SPACE CENTER, HOUSTON

With a heavy whir, the Wheel started to rotate. It felt as if her chest was being pressed back to meet her backbone.

York, strapped into her couch, tried to comfort herself with the thought that according to pilots who’d actually made it into space, this fake experience was a lot worse than the real thing.

It was cold comfort.

She reached five Gs; she had to make a conscious effort to open up her ribs to suck in air. The cage rattled her back and forth, and from side to side — she felt like a pea in a cup, being whirled around on a rope — a real flight’s a lot smoother, Natalie…

She had a checklist she was supposed to work through, and she conscientiously pressed her dummy switches with gloved fingers.

A gray curtain started closing in on her vision, as if sweeping in around her head. It was the first symptom of blacking out. There was an array of colored lights on a panel in front of her so she could tell how far gone she was. When she relaxed, the gray curtain was prominent; when she tensed herself up the curtain would disappear. She tried to ignore the pain in her chest; but every time she raised her arms or moved her head she felt giddy. That was the Coriolis force — the sideways force associated with fast rotation.