Her work was so routine that she had set up a computer program to run the telescope and catalogue the results, and began to spend her time calculating how to build a giant telescope using liquid mercury for its mirror. And — when she was sure no one else could see her — practicing ballet in the low lunar gravity.

But suddenly, with Douglas Stavenger walking beside her, she got another idea.

“You know,” she said, “I could use your help.”

“Mine?”

“I’d like to come along on Brennart’s expedition.”

Doug stopped walking and looked at her. “Why?” he asked. “Why should Brennart take an astrophysicist along? What good would that do for the expedition? Or for you, for that matter?”

Bianca answered with one word. “Farside.”

Before she could start to explain, he said, “You want to set up an astronomical observatory on the farside, and the expedition to the south pole can be a sort of training mission. Is that it?”

“Exactly!” She was impressed with how quickly he grasped the idea.

With a slow grin, Doug went on, “That’s a pretty flimsy excuse, don’t you think?”

Damn! she thought. He sees right through me. But she found herself grinning back and admitting, “True. But it’s the only one I could think of.”

By the time they reached her door Doug had promised he would speak to Brennart about her. Bianca wanted to kiss him, but decided it was too soon for that. Sternly, she reminded herself that this good-looking young man was five years her junior. She also remembered that men attain the peak of their sexual potency around the age of eighteen.

Doug did not seem to have any romantic intentions. So they merely shook hands, and then he headed down the tunnel toward his own quarters. She dreamed about him that night. She dreamed she was a slender and graceful ballerina and he was hopelessly in love with her.

Almost everyone in Moonbase wore utilitarian coveralls with nametags pinned to their chests. Yet even though Brennart wore a one-piece jumpsuit just as most others did, he needed no nametag. Although he belonged to the exploration and research group, he insisted on wearing pure white coveralls, clean and crisp as if they had just been laundered and pressed, and decorated with shoulder patches and chest emblems from the dozens of missions he had undertaken during his years as an astronaut and lunar explorer.

Doug Stavenger did not consciously think of Brennart as a father figure, but the older man’s single-minded drive to establish a working base in the south polar region of the Moon impressed Doug forcefully.

“Do you really think Yamagata’s planning an expedition to Aitkin Basin, too?” Doug asked.

“No doubt in my mind about that,” said Brennart, in his sweet tenor voice. “They’d be damned fools not to.”

It was the morning after the football game, and Doug’s meeting Bianca Rhee. He and Brennart were hunched over a display table in Brennart’s workshop/office, studying the latest satellite photos of the Mt. Wasser area.

“After all,” Brennart went on, “we’re going out there, aren’t we? The Japanese are just as smart as we are. That’s why we’ ve got to get there first Like the man said, the side that wins is the one that gets there firstest with the mostest.”

Doug nodded as he straightened up. Brennart’s office was one of the largest rooms in Moonbase, but still it felt hot and cramped. Most of the equipment that jammed the office was already crated and ready to be loaded on the ballistic Jobbers. Doug saw a tousled cot in one corner, and realized that Brennart was sleeping in this room, too.

Brennart tapped the satellite display with a fingernail. “This is where we’ll put down. Right here, at the foot of the mountain. Close as lovers in a spacesuit built for two.”

Doug looked down again. “It’s hard to make out details of that area. It’s too heavily shadowed. “It’s an ice field,” Brennart said.

Doug stepped over to the end of the table and worked the keyboard. False-color infrared imagery of the region appeared over the satellite picture.

“Not ice,” he murmured. “The spectrographic data shows anorthosite rock. Typical highlands profile.”

Brennart straightened up and stretched his arms over his head. His hands bumped the smoothed rock ceiling. “Been coming up here more than twenty years and I still can’t get used to how low the ceilings are,” he muttered.

“That area might be too rough for a landing,” Doug suggested. “But over here—”

“We want to be as close to the mountain as possible,” Brennart interrupted. “We land where I said we’ll land.”

Doug looked up at the older man. There was iron in his tone. Brennart seemed totally convinced of his decision and completely unwilling to consider any alternatives.

Then he smiled down at Doug. “I know you’re concerned about safety, son. So am I. Be a fool not to. Like the man said, there are old astronauts and bold astronauts, but there are no old, bold astronauts.”

“Uh-huh,” Doug mumbled, for lack of anything better to say.

“I’m an old astronaut, son. If the landing area looks too spooky as we approach it, I’ll simply goose the Jobber a bit and land in the clear field, a little further from our goal.”

Returning his smile, Doug said, “I see. Okay. I should have thought of that.”

“Nothing to worry about,” said Brennart. Then he added, “Except coming in second to the Japanese.”

A little later, Doug asked Brennart about taking Bianca Rhee along with them.

“An astrophysicist?” Brennart seemed startled at the suggestion. “Why on earth should I take an astrophysicist along? This isn’t a tourist excursion, you know.”

“We have room for her,” Doug said. “I’ve checked the logistics program and we could handle six more people, if we needed them.”

“Yes,” Brennart said, “but I need an astrophysicist like a nun needs condoms.”

“She could be useful,” Doug said.

“Doing what?”

“She’s a good technician. I’ve looked up her personnel profile and she’s qualified for electrical, electromechanical, and computer repairs and maintenance.”

“I already have all the technicians I need.”

“But think of the longer-range situation,” Doug said.

Brennart glanced down at him. “What longer-range situation?”

“Somebody’s going to build an astronomical center on the farside, sooner or later. She could help you get the experience you need to lead that mission, when the time comes.”

Brennart pursed his lips. “Farside.” His eyes looked off into the future.

“Farside,” Doug repeated, knowing he had won Bianca a spot on the team.

They celebrated that night with as festive a dinner as could be obtained at Moonbase: prepackaged turkey with holiday trimmings, microwaved somewhat short of perfection. Bianca invited all her friends, and they pushed tables together in The Cave, careful not to tread on the semi-sacred grass.

Although there was talk around the table of a mysterious still that produced ’rocket juice,” the high spirits of the gang did not come from alcohol. When at last the crowd broke up, Doug escorted Bianca to her quarters. She gave him a peck on the cheek and then swiftly went inside and slid the accordion-fold door shut.

He’s too young, she told herself. Probably a virgin. No, she contradicted herself immediately. Not with those looks. But why should he be interested in you? He’s the son of the corporation’s chairwoman. He’s young and good-looking and rich and kind and…

She stared at her image in the full-length aluminum mirror on the rock wall of her room. You used him and he was kind enough to let you do it. He’s not interested in you sexually. Who would be?

Bianca did not cry. But she wanted to.

Doug was too keyed up to go back to his quarters and go to sleep. Instead, he jogged up the tunnel to the main garage and asked the security guard on duty for permission to go up to the surface.