"Give you a medal."

She dazzled him with a brilliant smile. "I don't think so."

An aide had been trying to get her attention. She turned away momentarily, signed a clipboard, and then looked back at him. Her expression had grown very serious. "It is a risk," she said, "that I'd prefer not to take. May I ask why you wish to go out?"

Because it's something I've always wanted to do and this might be my only chance. "I might not get back here again," he said.

She looked at him for a long moment. "When do you want to do this foolish thing?"

Charlie felt like a boy confronting a disapproving teacher. How hard could it be to learn how to walk around in a pressure suit? "At your leisure," he said.

She sighed. "Understand, I do not think this is a good idea." She glanced at Sam, establishing her witness for the future inquest. "However," she added, "if I were you, I would also wish to go outside." She took his hand, and the grip was curiously electric. "We can do it now, if you like."

Yes, Charlie decided, he would like very much. He called Rick and directed him to cancel his morning's schedule. Rick was, of course, appalled.

Sam wasn't happy either. "I'm sorry, sir. I just can't allow it. It violates procedure."

"Relax, Sam," said Charlie. "I'll be fine."

Moonbase was an underground facility. The surface was nine floors up from the Director's Dining Room. Evelyn, Charlie, Sam, and Isabel took the elevator, which climbed the outside of the headquarters building, providing a panoramic view of Main Plaza. From this perspective, Moonbase resembled nothing so much as a vast park.

At the top level they passed along a winding corridor whose walls were decorated with a series of prints depicting Moonbase at various stages of construction. They stopped before a heavy metal door marked CAUTION-AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. An intercom was mounted on the wall. Evelyn keyed it, said her name, and the door opened.

They entered a long room filled with benches, equipment bins, cabinets, and racks. Pressure suits in various bright colors hung from overhead bars. A technician rose from a desk and stood by.

"We have several ground-level exits," Evelyn explained. "We're quite busy outside. Moonbase is still under construction, as you know. The crews are in and out all the time. And researchers. And our maintenance people. And occasional tourists." Here she brightened and pursed her lips.

The technician provided them with two p-suits. One was gold and the other, vermilion. Evelyn accepted the gold suit and removed her shoes. "You get the loud one," she smiled.

"Wait a minute," Charlie said. "I didn't intend for you to have to go out."

"Nobody goes out alone. We don't allow it."

It made sense. "Okay. But why not send someone else? I don't want to take up your time."

"It's my pleasure," she said.

"I'll need a suit, too," said Sam, looking resentful.

"Why?" said Charlie. "Who's out there to take a shot at me?"

"Sir, I don't see that it matters. It's dangerous and I wish you wouldn't do this."

"It's settled."

"I have to go along. It's in the regs."

"How familiar are you with the equipment?"

"Not much."

"Which means, in an emergency, how much good would you be?"

The muscles in Sam's jaws were rippling. "Not much."

"You might even become the emergency. Sit tight. Evelyn'll take care of me and we'll be back in a few minutes."

Evelyn gave him a quick course on procedure, which consisted mostly in not jiggling the suit's controls unnecessarily once they'd been set. She showed him how to modulate the air pressure, how to control the temperature, and how to use the radio. "Keep in mind the gravity differential," she said. "That's the real danger. There are lots of fissures, craters, cracks, you name it, for you to fall into. Keep your eyes open. The suit is tough, but it's still possible to punch a hole in it. Red light means you've got a problem and you should come back immediately. If you see a red light, they'll see it at the same time back here and they'll tell you to return. Anything like that happens, no argument, okay?"

Charlie was no dummy. "How often do you get red lights?"

She shrugged. "They're not unheard of."

They put on his helmet and air hissed into the suit. Evelyn did a radio check. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Good." She was pulling on her own helmet. "You'll enjoy it, Mr. Vice President."

The technician led them into an adjoining room where an airlock stood open, waiting to receive them. Charlie followed Evelyn inside and the technician closed the door. Colored lights flashed. "You'll feel a tingle as the air pressure changes," Evelyn said.

He couldn't see her face anymore behind the smoked Plexiglas. "How many times have you been outside?" he asked.

She laughed. "Once or twice."

Charlie assumed she was tweaking him, but a long silence followed. "You're kidding," he said.

"Yeah. I've been out a few times. Not as often as I'd like."

A green lamp came on and the exit door irised open. Charlie looked out at the lunar surface, a broken plain, etched in silver light. The sky was black, but filled with rivers of stars.

She waited, letting him go first.

"It's magnificent," he said. He stepped through the hatch. Out onto the regolith. The illumination, most of it anyway, was coming from Earth, which hung blue and white and very big almost directly overhead.

"It's about forty times brighter than a full Moon," said Evelyn.

The horizon looked close. Had there been natives on Luna, they would have known without any question they lived on a globe.

There were no words. He'd seen the hologees many times, but they were nothing like this.

Evelyn led him out to a rectangular area that had been cordoned off. It was about one hundred by fifty feet. A walkway had been built across it, a few inches above the surface. Here and there he saw footprints, each marked with a small post and a yellow tag. She showed him the names on the tags. They were all familiar, all well known: Sheila Davidson, who had commanded the first return mission to the Moon; Angela Mikel, the first woman to give birth on Luna; Ed Harper, who'd overseen most of the construction efforts. Evelyn pointed to an unbroken piece of ground. "I'd like you to step down onto the regolith," she said.

"Why?"

"You belong here."

"I don't think so."

"If you win in the fall, people will look at your prints centuries from now and remember the first president to walk on the Moon."

"If I lose?"

She smiled. "We'll take down the rope and run a roller over it."

He looked again at Earth, blue and warm and inviting in the black sky. "I can understand," he said, "why people come out here and get religion." And then with a rush of caution: "Can they hear me back inside?"

"Every word, sir," said the technician's voice.

"It's okay," said Evelyn. "Nobody'll quote you."

"Good." As Rick would have reminded him once again, it wouldn't be the first time a spontaneous remark had sunk a candidacy. George Romney had faded after commenting on his return from Southeast Asia that he'd been brainwashed; Teddy Roosevelt had ruled himself out of a second term without stopping to think; and Mary Emerson was on the verge of becoming the first woman president when she told a reporter there were a lot of deadbeats on Medicaid.

He stepped down onto the marked ground, trying to leave clear prints. It was gratifying to imagine people standing on this spot ages from now, pointing out to one another that Charlie Haskell had walked here. First president of the Space Age. It had a nice ring to it.

It occurred to him that Evelyn was probably wondering whether his moonwalk was a political stunt. Something that would appear later in a campaign biography. But there was nothing he could do about that. And Charlie wondered, not for the first time, whether his political career was worth all the hassle. He enjoyed the cut and thrust of politics, he loved winning, and he enjoyed being in a position to make things happen. But there was a price to be paid. He would never again be able to go out to a restaurant or run over to Wal-Mart without attracting a crowd.