"Swigert and Haise." That was Douglas. Even in the middle of a crisis, he had to be accurate. "We can do this, Charles. We have to. We're all we have. And Stinky needs you to be brave for him. I can't do it. He listens to you, not me."

In my head I knew he was right, but that didn't stop me from being so scared I couldn't speak. My helplessness just came bubbling out. Douglas held on to me and let me sob like a baby into his shoulder. I was so afraid. It was everything.Mom and her slap. Dad and his lies. Douglas and Mickey. Stinky. Not knowing where we were going. Everything out of control. It had been bad enough being stuck on a high-tension line, caught between everyone and everything—now my worst fear of all had just come true. We were helplessly falling forever. We were a million klicks from nowhere and getting farther away every second.

So I held on to Douglas and cried, because he was all there was to hang on to—even though he was falling just as fast and just as far as I was.

But you can only cry for so long … and then after that, it's boring. Even worse, it's silly …

I sniffed and wiped my nose unashamedly on Doug's shoulder.

He backed off a bit so he could look me in the eye. "Are you all right?"

"No," I admitted.

"Can you hold it together?"

"I don't know."

"Because I don't want to have to sedate you."

"Like Stinky?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "And I hated doing it."

I didn't answer. I could see the logic of it. Who needs an hysterical eight-year-old? Especially if you've already got a crazy thirteen-year-old?

He asked again, even more serious this time. "Chigger—can you hold it together?"

"I'll try." I was thinking about the tranquilizer. It might not be such a bad idea after all. But if I was going to die, I wanted to be awake for it. And wasn't that a stupid thought? Wouldn't it be better to be asleep, so you wouldn't know when it happened?

"Listen—" His voice got very quiet, very serious. "All we have is each other."

"Yeah, I know."

For a moment, we just studied each other. He was wondering if I could be trusted—and I was wondering the same thing. I needed him to be strong for me, and he needed me to be strong for Bobby. I didn't know if I could do it. I'd spent so many years shutting them out I didn't know how to let them back in. I didn't know what to say. And even if I did, I didn't have any words—Finally, I blurted, "I don't have anything to hang on to."

"Nobody does," he said. "Ever." Like that was supposed to reassure me. The funny thing was, it sort of did.

I let go of him. "I think I'll be okay now."

"You're sure?"

I was starting to feel embarrassed. "Yeah," I said, and pushed past him back to the others. Mickey and Alexei looked at me with concerned eyes. "I'm fine," I said. "I just have this—fear of cramped spaces. And heights. And falling. And the dark … "

"Wow," said Alexei. "Is triple whammy. Not a good combination for space travel, da?"

Mickey gave him a shut-up-stupid look, then reached over and put his hand on my shoulder, ostensibly to steady me, but he was slow in taking his hand away, and I knew he meant it as moral support too. Douglas settled in next to him, and the two exchanged grown-up glances; Mickey's had a question mark, Douglas's had a reassuring period.

Mickey's look to Alexei hadn't worked. Alexei kept talking. "I don't understand this fear," he said. "Where I grow up, you fall slow, you have time to turn yourself so you land on your feet. You bounce, you don't hurt yourself. So why be afraid?"

Douglas said bluntly, "Try it in Earth gravity sometime."

"Earth?" He made a face, shook his head. "I do not think anyone will go to Earth for a long time. I certainly will not. I have Luna muscles, Luna bones. I have no desire to be toothpick-man on planet of crazy dirtsiders. You haven't heard latest news, have you? Ecuador has nationalized the Line. Armed troops have seized Terminus."

Mickey didn't look as surprised as I thought he would. "How'd they get access?"

"According to Line chatter, hurricane relief teams came in to use Terminus as a base. Troops came in with teams, to help prevent looting—but then they started arresting Line personnel. The situation is still … how you say, very fluid? Traffic is running again, but most cars up are carrying troops. They have already seized One-Hour. Maybe there will be fighting at Geostationary. The U.N. is in uproar, of course—"

Mickey looked worried and upset. His mom was still at Geostationary.

Alexei was still talking. "We are lucky to get away. Who knows what will happen next?" He gestured dramatically. "But one thing I am sure, Luna will finally prove what I have been saying all along—Luna doesn't need Earth anymore. We are self-sufficient. We will be new center of human consciousness. Not Earth."

Douglas and Mickey exchanged another glance. This time, Douglas had the question mark. Mickey answered, "Yes, Alexei is militant in his Lunacy."

Alexei didn't bristle; he wore his madness like a badge. "The laugh is on you, Mikhail.If not for my paranoid Lunacy"—he tapped his head with his fingertips—"you would be in custody very shortly. In another four hours. At the end of the line, how you say, literally. And whose custody would you be in? Up for the highest bidder, I think. And if we are all at war, who knows? Bad accidents happen in war. No, my Lunacy is saving your life. Again. No, no, you can thank me later. The money I have made today is all the gratitude I need."

FLOATING

Alexei settled us at the far end of the pod, in the little bit of space between the cargo containers and the hull. He tucked us and our gear into the orange webbing on the aft bulkhead, spacing us around so that our mutual center of gravity was congruent to the central axis of the pod.

If we wanted to go anywhere in the pod, we'd have to squeeze around pipes and cables and supporting rods—and big green glops of hardened foam that looked like industrial-strength boogers. But there was no place to go anyway, so we just stayed where we were, wrapped in our plastic blankets and looking at the ominous round wall of cargo containers in front of us. It was like being a bug at the bottom of a piston.

The crates were all big wedge-shaped things, four to a circle, each anchored firmly in place by plastic clamps and foam boogers. Mickey explained that the thick foam pads were how the cargo engineers kept the containers from breaking loose and rattling around in transit. I didn't see how the crates would have much chance to rattle or break loose; we would be in free fall the whole way, wouldn't we? But there was a lot I didn't understand.

"The accommodations aren't pretty," Mickey admitted, "but we won't be uncomfortable. Cargo pods are designed for supercargo. Sometimes Line engineers have to ride with supplies, so there's mandated life support for at least five people at a time."

Alexei grinned. "Is very convenient, no?" He showed us the arrangements. "See those blue tanks all around? They hold water. Many liters. Microdiaphragm pumps move it around for balance. Water is very convenient that way. Green tanks have oxygen. Brown cabinets hold food—well, MREs."

"MREs?"

"Meals Ready to Eat. Three lies in as many words, no? Be sure to drink much water. MREs make lumps like concrete in bowel. With no gravity, lumps get even harder. Very much pain. Learn the hard way, yes? Very hard. That is the problem. Too hard even to work out with pencil. Not to worry—if you don't like MRE, you are not hungry enough. Starvation is not as painful, but takes too much longer."