"Lowell?"

"Yep. I guess we're throwing everything we've got into this little tug of war." Skyport Flight Terminal. 9:45 P.M.

Everything went like clockwork. Five planes arrived from Hartsfield, the last three only slightly delayed by the terrorist incident. They refueled and got a final inspection while they waited for their window to open.

Although all were owned by the Lunar Transport Authority, they were based around the world. SSTO 702 was from Atlanta, 703 from Berlin, 704 from London, 705 from Tokyo, 708 from Moscow.

The journalists at Skyport, most of whom had been on the Moon for the opening ceremonies, had a field day. The networks were filled with interviews of crewmembers, all of whom seemed calm and confident. Feinberg predicted success. "The numbers are there," he said. "Barring another crazed act by terrorists, we should see the Sun rise tomorrow on a happy Kansas."

"I'll tell you, Frank, I'm with the woman who said the whole thing's just a con game to free up money for the aerospace people. That's all it is. That rock isn't coming down tonight, never was gonna come down. But Haskell will claim credit and a lot of taxpayer money'll go to Lockheed and the LTA. Mark my words."

With Bruce Kendrick.

"The entire world appears to be kneeling in prayer tonight____________________

"

Skyport Flight Terminal. Midnight.

The last of the SSTOs, 708 from Moscow, broke away from Skyport with measured speed. Almost everyone on the station was standing along the flight terminal's Apollo Deck, which had the best view of the launch. For a long time after Moscow's lights vanished into the night, almost no one moved.

Tuesday, April 16

Percival Lowell Flight Deck. 12:03 A.M.

"Arlington's here, Mr. President." Rachel pointed to the scope over the heads-up display, where three blips had appeared. The objects were approaching from the rear, after having completed a long, looping orbit to allow them to match the Possum's trajectory. Dead ahead, Earth looked very big and very vulnerable.

Thank God. Charlie felt the weight shift on his shoulders. It was too easy to visualize this thing ripping through the planet's pink skies, blasting the lush brown soil of Kansas into the upper atmosphere, melting the underlying bedrock.

"Arlington's damaged," she continued. "It got hammered coming back from the Moon."

"I hope it holds together."

"I don't think there're any fears about that."

"Who are the others?"

"Ferries, Mr. President. The Alexei Kordeshev and the Christopher Talley."

Charlie raised his coffee in silent salute. They had been crew members on the Ranger.

Rachel was getting another transmission. She touched her earphones, nodded, and switched on the speaker.

"This is Arlington," said the radio.

"Good to see you, Arlington."

"Roger that. It's a big son of a bitch, isn't it?"

"Yes it is."

"Okay, I guess we're a little pressed for time. We've got the engineer and the equipment. We're going to set down and get locked in. You'll follow us, right?"

"Arlington, we'll be right behind you."

"Why are we going down with them?" asked Charlie.

"They need to use the laser drill. After they're set, we'll pick up some of their gear and their engineer and go tie down on our site." She flipped a switch on the PA. "Lee, are you ready?"

"Roger."

They watched Arlington make its approach. Feinberg had assigned it a site in the Plain. Its pilot moved in and turned control over to the navigational computers, which matched course and speed with the Possum, then duplicated rotation and tumble.

It touched down in the zero-g equivalent of a landing.

Lowell descended nearby, and Rachel told Cochran he was clear to go.

Arlington's airlock opened and two figures in p-suits emerged. One climbed down the ladder. The other, their engineer, began pushing out a series of large drums that had to be hauled to the surface by tether. The drums were followed by loops of heavy cable and spikes about two meters long. Cochran, assisted by Saber and Evelyn, moved the drill outside.

Cochran and the engineer examined the ground, conferred, and selected their sites. They used the drill to cut four sets of holes in the ground. Then they inserted the spikes, which telescoped out to twelve meters, into the rock.

"What's in the drums?" asked Charlie.

"Polycrete." Polycrete was a concrete derivative that had been used extensively in lunar construction.

While the teams worked, Charlie took a call from the British prime minister. The PM was preparing a public statement and wanted to know whether there was any good news he could pass on. Charlie switched off the speaker, but the subject of the conversation had to be obvious to Rachel, who watched him sympathetically. She's thinking she wouldn't have my job on a bet, "Nothing yet, Phil," he said. "But you can say the operation's on schedule and we're cautiously optimistic." He thought about it. "No, make it just plain optimistic."

"Yes," the PM said. "My thought entirely."

Kerr called moments later. There were more problems, mostly having to do with banks.

"Not now," Charlie said. "I don't have time to deal with banks"

"I think you better make time, Mr. President." Kerr's resort to formality irritated Charlie. "You don't want to save the planet, and then have to deal with a depression."

The problem was the loss of the financial centers along both seaboards, primarily in Los Angeles and New York. Mechanisms had to be put in place to keep the monetary system functioning through the crisis. Would the president agree to a few short-term measures? Would he support a new National Recovery Act? ("We should do so," Kerr advised.) There was a draft copy of one floating through the Senate, said the chief of staff, with provisions that were unworkable. "We need to put together our own version."

Disaster funds had been appropriated by the House and approved by the Senate in a late-night session. It would be a good idea to provide the presidential signature forthwith, Kerr said. Everybody in the country who still had access to a TV or a computer was watching it. "We need to do what we can to encourage the belief that there will be a tomorrow."

"Fax me a copy," said Charlie. "Along with your reaction, and Bert's in Commerce. And anybody else's you think I should see. If I like it, I'll sign it and get it right back to you."

Other calls came in, and by the time he got off the phone, more than two hours had passed. By that time four large cables, one forward, one aft, two amidships, restrained the space plane.

The Earth rose and set twice during that time, at widely divergent points on the horizon. It was growing rapidly larger.

He heard hatches open and shut.

"Clear," came Cochran's voice. "We've got our passenger."

Rachel nodded. "The engineer from Arlington is on board," she told Charlie. Then: "Lifting off."

The surface dropped away, and the rock began to spin again.

"Tokyo and Berlin are on approach, Mr. President," she said. "The cavalry's starting to arrive. And there's another ferry. Your Professor Feinberg's on it."