"One-seventeen, abort the flight."

George took off his cap and pulled on his headset. "What's the problem, Tower? What's the reason for the delay?"

"FAA did not give us a reason, One-seventeen. This is not a delay. The flight is canceled. Please return your passengers to the gate."

"What am I supposed to tell them? The passengers?"

A baritone replaced the other voice. "Tell them there won't be any flights to Skyport today. Just say it's a mechanical problem."

"What is the problem?"

"One-seventeen, can we talk about this later? Tell your passengers that agents will be waiting to assist." Moonbase. 9:04 A.M.

Charlie was touring the mining and manufacturing section when Al Kerr got through to him on his cell phone. "The place is going to get hammered, Charlie. The president wants you out of there."

Charlie walked away from the small group of VIPs. "Come on, Al, it can't be that big."

There was an irritating three-second delay while the radio signals traveled between Earth and Moon.

"All I'm telling you is what the experts are saying. There'll be a general evacuation. You are to leave Moonbase posthaste. Hampton knows and is arranging it now."

Suddenly Sam came out of nowhere, huddled with his people, and they all looked over at Charlie. The agents must have gotten a call at about the same time, he figured.

"Okay, Al," he said to Kerr. "I think the word's getting around."

"Good. Henry'll be relieved to know you're on your way back." Kerr switched off, leaving Charlie looking at his phone and wondering whether anybody got less respect around Kolladner's White House than the vice president.

Sam took him aside. "You heard, sir?"

"Yes."

"They've got a bus leaving at noon. We'll be on it."

But Charlie was wondering what the voters would think of an aspiring president who caught the first ride out of town. "No," he said. "They're saying Saturday night. We have plenty of time."

Sam frowned. "Mr. Vice President-"

Charlie shook his head and signaled that the conversation was over.

It had been a shattering few minutes. The space program was probably dead. More important, public opinion would crucify the president and everyone associated with him. Half a trillion dollars in Treasury-held MBI stock would become worthless overnight. And how much had the nation invested over the years in development costs?

He cut his tour short and went up to the administrative offices looking for Evelyn. The secretary was startled to see him, but after a whispered conversation with her boss, she took him to Chandler's office, where Evelyn was still meeting with the director.

"Hello, Charlie," she said, rising as he walked in. "I see you got the news."

"Yeah. A few minutes ago." He nodded a greeting to Chandler, then turned back to Evelyn. "The White House sounds rattled. How bad is it?"

She waved him to a seat. "It isn't good. Everybody I talk to thinks Moonbase won't survive. Some of them think the Moon won't survive. I talked to Wes Feinberg a few minutes ago." Charlie didn't know who Feinberg was, but he caught the inflection in Evelyn's voice that implied he was the reigning expert.

"So what did Feinberg say?"

She shook her head in the manner one might use discussing a dying patient. They stared at each other for a long moment. "I can't believe this is happening," she said at last.

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? We'll evacuate." She asked whether he wanted coffee. He did, and she poured a mug and handed it across the desk.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Get us more buses." She smiled.

"I don't think we have them in our inventory." And then, seriously: "You're not suggesting you can't get everybody out, are you?"

"Things are a bit tight," said Chandler.

Evelyn nodded in agreement. "We don't have enough buses to take everyone over to L1."

Charlie's stomach tightened. "So," he said, "What do we do? Are there more buses somewhere?"

"Under construction. And one so far down for repairs as to be useless. No. Jack suggested we bring in the SSTOs."

"The space planes?" said Charlie. "But my understanding was they could only fly between Skyport and the ground."

"It's true," said Chandler, "they aren't designed for long-range space flight. Too much mass, inefficient fuel usage. But any port in a storm."

"Can they land out here?"

Evelyn shook her head. "But they can go into orbit around the Moon, and we can send the buses to them. They'll be closer than L1, so the bus ride'll be shorter. Not by much, but enough that we can get everybody out. While we're waiting for them, we'll keep moving people over to L1."

"Thank God," said Charlie. He was relieved, not only because no one would be left behind, but because he already foresaw the political impact if people died while he escaped.

"A spokesman at Moonbase International headquarters in Boston revealed today that a general evacuation of Moonbase has begun. The spokesman stressed there is no danger to base personnel or to visitors. The evacuation has been prompted by the impending collision with Comet Tomiko early Sunday morning, Greenwich mean time. The collision will not be visible from London.

"In a related development, astronomers at the Royal Observatory are speculating that the object is not strictly a comet, as the term is traditionally understood. "Comets are members of the Sun's family," said Wilfred Hodge, a staff member and well-known science writer. "Tomiko is an interstellar object, probably a cometary body that was expelled from another star system, and has been traveling for millions and perhaps billions of years." Moonbase, Grissom Country. 10:17 A.M.

Evelyn Hampton found herself, in the supreme operational crisis of her life, with little to do. Jack Chandler was organizing the evacuation, and the last thing Moonbase needed was a second boss. So she'd withdrawn into the role of Visiting Dignitary Who Had To Be Rescued.

This status gave her a perspective similar to Charlie's. Consequently, it seemed almost in the natural order of things that the two of them arranged to meet in the private dining room of the Huntress, a bistro set back in a grove of trees in Main Plaza, where (while the agents watched) they exchanged condolences and words of encouragement. "No blame should attach to either of us," said Evelyn, "but it will. It's Hampton's Law."

"What's Hampton's Law?" asked Charlie. The vice president looked dazed, as if he hadn't quite caught up with events.

"When things go wrong, whatever the circumstances, it's always somebody's fault."

As a rule, Evelyn disapproved of politicians. They tended to break down into two categories: the completely unprincipled, who composed the vast majority; and those who lived by their principles no matter who suffered. Her early impression of Charlie was that he did not fit easily into either category. It was almost as if he'd somehow wandered in off the street and gotten into the wrong profession. He embodied a kind of casual, we're-all-in-this-together approach to business relationships that she wouldn't have believed for a minute coming from the other seekers-after-power whom she had known. And even with Charlie she was mildly skeptical. For one thing, they weren't all in it together. Charlie might have to face some political fallout, but Evelyn stood to lose everything-the corporation, her holdings, her career. Her reputation.

"So what will you do now?" Charlie asked. "Do you see a way to salvage any of this?"

She shrugged. "It doesn't look hopeful."

They were having coffee and toast. About half the tables in the main dining area were occupied. People strolled casually along the walkways, and somebody was riding a hang glider down from the top of the dome. "How about the evacuation?" he said. "Any problems?"