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I was in the command chair. April stood to my left, and Agnes stood to my right. There had been some discussion that she be seated in the command chair. Until I pointed out that the bridge was my command, and I should be the person sitting in that chair. I did suggest that another chair be brought in for Agnes. But she laughed and informed everyone that she wasn’t so old or decrepit that she couldn’t stand for a minute or two. Still, I had a chair standing by in my ready room just in case. I had charged her unofficial guards to keep an eye on her and get that chair the second it seemed she was tiring.I glanced around the room. Everyone was looking at me. The anticipation was thick. “Communications open a channel to Mars station departure control.”“Aye Sir, channel open.”“Independent vessel Seward’s Folly to Mars station control requesting permission for launch and outbound vector.”There was no delay. This whole theater was set up the day before. “Mars station departure control to. When I left Tuesday, I heard Zeena on the phone to you, saying 'Hurry, Dammit. He's on his way NOW!' Then on Thursday while I was hanging on the wall waiting for Stanley to come back, I heard her say, 'Reese? Listen Reese, never mind that. Dan is sick as a dog. Really sick, and I'm bringing him home. Now don't freak out on me, girl. What? Who cares! Tell him tough shit and to get his ass out of there!' Keith's ass, I suppose."They were looking at each other wildly now, trying to comprehend how he'd gotten all of this put together."Now, Reese. You have lied several times in the past ten minutes. I'm going to ask you questions, and I want the absolute truth. If we are ever going to get past this and have a future beyond this minute, you have to tell the truth. No lies. No half-truths. Understand?"She nodded, but Dan could see from the furrows in her brow that she was trying to think how much of it he could possibly know. He'd seen that look on the face of some of his account reps..
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They’d broke custom and met for lunch the afternoon before. Peter was a real Joe Brooks when it came to clothes. He told Kitty he’d had a dress designed for her and wanted her to wear it to Mongo’s the following night. He expected his woman’s threads to be just as fancy as his own. He’d made all the arrangements. She could pick the dress up at Singer’s. Kitty didn’t know Peter’s essentials, like where he was from, if he had any family, or what his nine-to-five was. But she knew Peter kept a fat roll in his pocket, and he liked to flash it. They were in love and had discussed running away a time or two. Kitty figured that night they were going to follow through. It didn’t play right to Moe. Schmidt didn’t seem like a man in love. Most men dizzy for a dame would have demanded more playing time. Their once-a-week meetings didn’t seem to be enough to scratch the surface of a real romance. No, Peter Schmidt was a sharper – Moe would have bet a pair of centuries on it ‘Are you sure.

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