She didn’t feel any pleasure, or pride, in his startling offer. All she felt was irritation. That damn roller coaster again. “This doesn’t make sense, Phil. You’re passing up the chance to become the first human to walk on Mars, for God’s sake. What kind of asshole does that?”

“This kind,” he said, annoyed. “This is important, Natalie. I discussed it with Joe Muldoon before the launch. We have to get this right — this first EVA most of all — for the sake of the future. The next few minutes are maybe the point of the whole damn mission. Even more than the science — though I don’t expect you to agree with that. Natalie, it’s going to be a long time before anyone comes this way again. But we’re changing history here; even if we fall back, now, people will be able to look up at Mars and say, yes, it’s possible, we can get there, live up there. We know, because somebody did it.

“Look, I know I’m no Neil Armstrong. You’re more — articulate. And this is your place; your valley. Your planet, damn it. You know your way around here better than anyone alive. I think you’d do a better job of communicating this than me. And besides…”

“What?”

He smiled. “I have this feeling. I might be remembered longer for being the man who passed up the chance to be first.”

“I hope she’s obeying orders,” Gershon called.

“About as much as she ever does.”

They’ve plotted this. I’ve been set up.

“And take this,” Stone said.

She held out her hand; Stone dropped into her palm a small disk, like a coin, less than an inch across. It was the diamond marker. “I think it’s more appropriate for you to place it. For Ben. And the others.”

He reached out with two hands, and closed her fist over the marker. He was looking into her eyes.

He knows, she realized suddenly. About Ben and me. He knows. They all knew, all the time.

She dropped the marker into a sample pocket on her suit. Then, numbed, she pushed the red bands over her arms and legs, and dropped her gold visor down over her face.

Stone held the hatch aside. York got down, clumsily, to her knees, and backed up ass-first to the hatch. She started to crawl backwards, out onto the porch.

“Here we go. You’re lined up nicely, Natalie. Come toward me a little bit. Okay, down. Roll to the left. Put your left foot to the right — no, the other way. You’re doing fine.”

She could feel where her sides scraped against the hatchway. Coolant tubes dug into her knees.

Blood hammered in her ears.

“Okay, I’m on the porch.” She reached out and grabbed the handrails, to either side of the porch.