On the truck radio, a commentator was quoting a speech by Walter Mondale in Congress, where NASA’s budget submission was being debated…. I believe it would be unconscionable to embark on a project of such staggering cost as this Mars proposal when many of our citizens are malnourished, when our rivers and lakes are polluted, and when our cities and rural areas are dying. What are our values? What do we think is more important?…

York and Ben Priest got cups of coffee from a communal flask and walked off a little way. The sun was low and blasted directly into their eyes; it had lost little of its heat.

“I guess Romero is soaking up a lot of Chuck’s frustration at losing his flight,” York said.

“Naw. Chuck is always like this, when it comes to the ‘science,’ ” Priest said. He took a pull of his coffee. “It’s damaging.”

“Damaging is right. Can’t you exert some influence on him?”

He grinned at her. “I’m afraid you don’t know astronaut psychology, Natalie. Where these guys are concerned, the commander’s word is everything. He sets the tone for the crew, the whole mission. If the commander is somber and quiet, like Armstrong, then that’s the way the crew must be; if he wants to wear a beanie hat with a Teflon propeller on it and sing all the way to the Moon, like Pete Conrad, then we all have to wear our beanie hats and like it. That’s the way it is. Thank God Dave Scott is taking the science seriously. I think if Chuck was the prime commander, 14 might be the nadir of Apollo’s science program, not the zenith.”

Now she heard raised voices again. Romero was telling Jones how important it was to take samples from large boulders, if they could, because large rocks wouldn’t have moved far from where they were formed. And the context of a sample was just as important, to the good geologist, as the content of the rock -

Jones was telling Romero where he could stick his geological hammer.

This isn’t good enough, York fumed. We can’t keep sending these clowns to the Moon. Beanie hats, and kids’ jokes -

We can’t go on like this. If we’re really going to Mars, we need a new class of astronaut. A better breed.

Ben had continued to encourage her to apply, to join the program. Maybe I should. I know I could do a better job than a moron like Chuck Jones.

She went back to the truck and got more coffee. Mission Elapsed Time [Day/Hr:Min:Sec] Plus 001/13:45:57

“You are go for TOI,” Capcom Bob Crippen said. “One minute thirty.”

“Thank you,” Gershon replied.

York pulled on her helmet and locked it to the neck of her pressure suit. She fumbled slightly, her fingers clumsy inside her stiff gloves. She buckled her canvas restraints around her.