Besides, he told himself, I have no real power here, no authority over these men and women. My strength lies in moral persuasion, nothing more.

Dr. Li was pacing the office from the draped windows to the head of the conference table and back again, more nervous than Brumado had ever seen him.

"Please sit here next to me," Brumado said mildly. "It hurts my neck to look up at you."

Li’s thin ascetic face looked startled momentarily, then apologetic. He took the chair next to Brumado’s.

"You seem very upset," Brumado said. "What is wrong?"

Li drummed his long fingers on the tabletop before answering. "We seem to have a virtual mutiny on our hands. And your daughter, sir, is apparently the ringleader."

"Joanna?"

"Once it became clear that DiNardo could not make the mission, your daughter — and others — demanded that Professor Hoffman be replaced as well."

Brumado felt confused. Joanna would never do such a thing. Never!

"I don’t understand," he said.

"Your daughter and several other scientists here have refused to go on the mission if Hoffman is included. It is mutiny, pure and simple."

"Mutiny," Brumado echoed, feeling dull, stupid, as if his brain could not grasp the meaning of Li’s words.

"We cannot announce the final selections for the mission, we cannot begin transporting the scientific staff to the assembly station in orbit, if they refuse to go." Li’s voice was high and strained, nearly cracking.

Brumado had never seen Li like this, close to panic.

"What can we do?" Li asked, raising his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "We cannot tell Professor Hoffman that he has been removed from flight status because a cabal of his fellow scientists don’t like him! What can we do?"

Brumado took in a deep breath, unconsciously trying to calm Li by calming himself. "I think the first thing I should do is speak to my daughter."

"Yes," Li said. "Certainly."

He sprang up from the chair, all six and a half feet of him, and nearly sprinted to the desk where the phone was. Brumado wormed out of his jacket and tossed it onto another chair. He was rolling up his shirtsleeves when Joanna stepped into the office. She too was wearing a softly comfortable running suit, butter yellow and muted orange. Brumado wondered idly what the Russians thought about this craze for American fashion.

"I will leave the two of you alone," said Li softly, nearly whispering. He scurried from the room like a wisp of smoke wafted away on a strong breeze.

Joanna came over to her father, bussed him on both cheeks, and sat in the chair that Li had used earlier.

Brumado studied her face. She looked serious, but not upset. More determined than fearful.

"Dr. Li tells me you are leading a mutiny among the scientists." Brumado found himself smiling at her as he said it. Not only did he find it difficult to believe such an outrageous story, but even if it were true he could not be angry with his lovely daughter.

"We took a vote last night," Joanna said in their native Brazilian Portuguese. "Out of the sixteen scientists scheduled to fly the mission, eleven will not go if Hoffman is included."

Brumado brushed his upper lip with a fingertip, a throwback to his youth when he had sported a luxuriant moustache.

"The sixteen includes Hoffman himself. Did he vote?"

Joanna laughed. "No. Of course not. We did not ask him."

"Why?" her father asked. "What is the reason for this?"

She made a small sigh. "None of us really likes Hoffman. He is a very difficult personality. We feel that it will be impossible to work with him under the very close conditions of the mission."

"But why wait until now? Why didn’t you say something sooner?"

"We thought that Father DiNardo could keep Hoffman under control. Hoffman admired DiNardo, looked up to him. But the thought of having Hoffman without Father DiNardo — having him as the prime geologist for the mission — we realized we could not stand that. He would be insufferable. Unbearable."

Brumado said nothing, thinking: I’m not going into space with them. I’m not going to be cooped up inside a spacecraft for nearly two years with someone I can’t stand.

"Besides," his daughter went on, "Hoffman was chosen mainly for political reasons. You know that."

"He is an excellent geologist," Brumado replied absently, thinking now about the difficulties he was asking his daughter to face. Two years in space. The stresses. The dangers.

"There are other geologists who have gone through training with us." Joanna said, leaning slightly closer to her father. "O’Hara is from Australia. He can move up. And there is that Navaho mestizo, Waterman."

Brumado’s attention suddenly focused on his daughter’s eyes. "The man who stayed on at McMurdo to help your group through your Antarctic training."

"And the following groups. Yes, him."

"And O’Hara."

"Waterman has done extensive work on meteor impacts. He even found a Martian meteorite in Antarctica, although Hoffman took the credit for it."

"Is he the man you want?"

She pulled back again. "I think he is the best-qualified person, isn’t he? And everyone seemed to get along with him very well."

"But he’s an American," Brumado muttered. "The politicians don’t want more Americans than Russians. Or vice versa."

"He’s an American Indian, Papa. It’s not really the same thing. And O’Hara will make the Australians happy."

"The politicians wanted Hoffman to help represent Europe."

"We already have a Greek, a Pole, and a German to represent Europe. As well as an Englishman. If Hoffman goes on the mission there will be trouble," Joanna said firmly. "His psychological profile is awful! We have tried to work with him, Papa. He is simply unbearable!"

"So you took a vote."

"Yes. We have decided. If Hoffman is chosen there are at least eleven of us who will resign from the program immediately."

Again Brumado fell silent. He did not know what to say, how to handle this situation.

"Ask Antony Reed," Joanna suggested. "He has had more training in psychology than any of the others selected for the mission. It was his idea to take the vote."

"Was it?"

"Yes! I didn’t do all this by myself, Papa. Most of the others cannot stand Hoffman."

Brumado got up slowly and went to the desk. Picking up the telephone, he asked the man who answered to find Dr. Reed. The Englishman opened the office door before Brumado could return to the conference table. My god, he thought, they must all be sitting in the outer office. I wonder if Hoffman is there too.

Reed seemed faintly amused by it all.

"None of us can get along with Hoffman," he said, smiling slightly as he sat relaxed in a chair across the table from Brumado and his daughter. "Frankly, I think bringing him along to Mars would be a disaster. Always have."

"But he passed all the psychological tests."

Reed arched an eyebrow. "So would a properly motivated chimpanzee. But you wouldn’t want to live in the same cage with him, would you?"

"You’ve all been filling out cross-evaluation reports for the past two years!" Brumado heard his own voice rising with more than a hint of anger in it. He forced it down. "I admit that the reports written about Professor Hoffman have not been glowing, but there has been no hint that he was so disliked."

"I can tell you about those evaluation reports," Reed said, almost smirking. "No one ever expressed their true feelings in the reports. Not in writing. There is enormous psychological pressure to put a good face on everything. Every one of us realized straight from the outset that those reports would be a reflection on the person who wrote them as much as on the person they were writing about."

Brumado thought, We should have realized that from the beginning. These are very bright men and women, bright enough to see all the possibilities.