G. I. Morrison - Moon Spore [ss]

"MOON SPORE?"

"Yes, Dr. Franks. Moon spore infection."

"Infection? Tell me again. What did that colonel do?" The very slender man in the gray suit was impeccably dressed yet was undeniably ruffled. As the young aide reported he drew slowly on a long thin cigar.

David Hanson was proud and happy with his job as assistant to Dr. Franks. He considered his words carefully. He wasn't apprehensive. He simply wanted to give his best, in return for what he'd been given by the doctor. "Colonel Beck, USMC, punched his subordinate in the mouth. It was described as a classic left hook and it rendered the lieutenant unconscious. The colonel, an M.D., then checked the subordinate's pulse, gave the two-finger `peace' sign and strolled out. The colonel was also middleweight champ at Annapolis. Since he was infected here at Houston, we have been notified."

"How do they know that?"

"I mean, since he came from here."

"Are there any others?"

David knew the only acceptable phrasing for his answer. "Yes, sir."

"Play the tape again, please." The tape recorder on the crowded desk whirred, clicked, hummed and began a familiar conversation.

"Liberty Two to Houston Control. We have been cleaning screens every couple of hours but the situation is about the same. We're getting nowhere." Dr. Joseph Franks listened to the words in static and tried to recall how long ago it had been. "Houston Control to Liberty Two, diagnosis, silicosis ... that miner's disease from coal dust."

"Understand, this is unbelievable. No other problems except usual ... ears plugged some ... some fatigue headache ... and sniffles from this dust!" The recorder stopped except for a low hum.

The doctor's aide moved, tapped a key on the machine and listened a moment before sitting back.

"K. Bannon," a new voice droned. "Civilian clerk typist from the lunar receiving center, Houston, was committed by her family to Natchadoges County Hospital. The ex-beauty queen broke her two-year engagement when her fiance enlisted in the Air Force. Next, she delivered an impassioned speech to a library gathering, threatened the lives of two newspaper editors, and defied the general order to the extent of breaking a beer bottle over a policeman's head. This was kept from the press. She is considered a 'nut'. Papers for her emergency leave of absence have been forwarded." David switched the machine off, dropped back and swung one long leg over the arm of the chair.

Franks flung his dead cigar at an ashtray, watched it miss and land on the pile carpet. He spoke without moving, "How does it look now?"

"Worse. There are indications of epidemial infection. Spreading. It's being transmitted and moved. The info is classified. I used your signature for the order." The blond youth was intent.

"Good. If you hadn't ... well. Thank you, David. You know I am the only logical man responsible."

"Not really, sir. The accident was the station's fault."

"I am responsible. It's been a long time but I should have been aware and done ... I don't know what ... but something. What about the M.D. who slugged the lieutenant?"

"He was exposed in the accident. He's under house arrest pending investigation of conduct. He also wrote letters to the heads of every known government without regard to chain of command. He assaulted verbally, and then physically, that junior officer in the presence of witnesses. They were being interviewed for a TV talk on space and the future. Beck asked for medication for an ear infection, migraine, and a 'nasal' condition. He's in good condition at Walter Reed." David reported in an unemotional tone, but Franks caught every word.

"Thank you." Franks lifted the brightly colored phone on the desk and spoke softly. He became annoyed and raised his voice. "Yes, Damnit! Moon spore! And before you call for the meeting you better check the names with me for clearance! You can tell your boss, I said so!" He started to slam the receiver but replaced it gently. He rose, walked over and picked up the cigar butt. He looked older than his years. "We'll be busy."

"Yes, Doctor."

"Spread your stuff out, David. Let's get started."

In Walter Reed Hospital a small frightened wife stared at her husband. "I can't believe it, John."

"Liz, I'm wrong by the book but I didn't do anything wrong. I belted that idiot and he needed it. He's the one that's been a bottleneck all the way and all of a sudden, here he is not just grabbing credit, but saying that everything is beautiful! I just wish I took a better shot, used a combination on him."

"There are the letters. You told them about them yourself."

He grinned. "Don't read me off for those until all the results are in, sweetie. We've got a daughter. Most of those people I wrote to have daughters, too. We can take our lumps but we should try to save them from some. Right?" She took his hand tenderly melting his exasperation. Liz Beck felt capable of knowing when her husband was sane.

She answered the knock at the door. Two sturdy guards flanked the captain who removed his cap before speaking.

"Mrs. Beck, Colonel, please bear with me. Your daughter has been taken to the dispensary. I'm asking your warrant of good conduct. It's serious. I want you to accompany me." When they stood without speaking, he visibly relaxed from his awkward attention stance. He nodded to the guards who fell in behind them as they filed out and entered a waiting car. "My information is that she complained of her ears hurting and she was sniffling a lot and then she started screaming." He paused and watched the colonel carefully. "They say she took your medals off the wall and threw them in the garbage disposal and then wrecked your ship models and threw them through a window."

"She's just ten years old," murmured Mrs. Beck.

The colonel was in deep concentration, his arm about his wife's shoulders. He asked the captain for a pencil. He scribbled, seemingly erratically, on a piece of paper, found a blank sheet, wrote briefly, tore out the page, folded it and handed it to the captain. "Without reading this, get to the Lunar Receiving commander as fast as possible. I'm being rational ... I assure you." He waited. The captain hesitated and then took the note.

"We're almost at the dispensary. I'll start it from there in a classified cover and have it flown out. I won't read it, sir."

Beck smiled wanly and replaced his arm about his wife as the gray car slowed to a stop. No one spoke as they entered the drab building. One guard stayed close as they talked with the doctor and nurse. The captain sealed the message and sent the other guard off with it.

"What is it?" Franks barked into the phone. He listened, started to reply, choked and yelled, "Wait a minute!" He placed his free hand over the speaker. "David! A classified message just arrived for Lunar Command from BECK! They haven't touched it!" He watched the freckled face of the aide rise from behind mountains of reports. He returned to the phone. "Did the envelope get to Command Headquarters? ... The courier called in? Fine! Now!

"In about an hour I'll leave for the meeting. I give you these orders. They are equal to orders from the vice president. Activate your quarantine area and all necessary personnel. All of them. Expect about three hundred" - he looked to David, who nodded - "or more guests. Right? Now! You will post security. Direct the courier to quarantine. Instruct him to give me the message and obey my orders." He paused again. "We will use a code name - Spoil Sport. It will be discussed by no one!

"People will arrive here, give that code name and you will quarantine them until further notice. They probably won't expect it, either. You'll have to arrange something special for this because anyone they are physically exposed to must also go into quarantine. Do you understand that completely? Yes. If they arrive by plane, the entire crew... WHAT? ... Sir! If you don't, it will be your head! You'll find quarantine space! You'll maintain it!" He hungup quickly. In a Durante-like gesture he lifted his arms from his sides and let them drop limply back.

"David, we are committed. We can only lose our jobs, prestige, money - that jazz. I don't see a choice. I won't blame anyone for what I feel is my moral obligation."

"Yes, sir. You said it, 'we are committed.' " He chuckled, "We may be at that before this is over. Shall I guess what Beck's message says?"

"It better include ear infection, headache and sniffles. What else do you expect?"

"A timetable. Beck's a good diagnostician. He'll know what we need. I wonder who he infected. He would have to have passed it along to recognize it as epidemic."

"The courier should call any minute. Do you have any estimates on the time elements?"

"Still very loose. It has to relate to the people in the accidental exposure not being confined for the full period that the astronauts were. The astronauts came out O.K. which will take some separate study. The time worked before when no one here got infected. Right now we have to find a solution to the problem. Later we can figure out why. One door being opened too soon shouldn't make all doors useless."

"True. Incubation, transmittance, incubation, attack all seemed to fit except for the absence of attack symptoms in the middle. First we handle first needs. I fed what we have so far to the computers but we have to wait for clearance on some of the information." He snorted. "It was on TV and in all the papers but now they have to clear us! Horsefeathers! I didn't open that stupid door!"

"Protocol, sir." The blond crewcut aide rubbed his eyes. Frank watched him closely.

"Get some sleep so you can relay the computer data to me in Washington. I'll get some sleep on the plane. Be careful and go slow. We can't afford to miss one item."

"Yes, sir." Hanson yawned and the older man smiled as he realized that, although giving away thirty years in age, he was insistent of himself that he maintain a facade of tirelessness. As he gathered the papers into folders he felt the facade slipping. His mind rejected weariness and began planning and conjecturing the Washington meeting.

"How come a taxi, sir?" Reginald Seaton John Bauer, Brigadier General, USMC, really didn't care at the moment but he figured it was polite to make conversation when riding with the vice president.

"Borrowed, General. Attract less attention to the meeting. The driver is Secret Service though."

"Then we can discuss the meeting?"

"No use, really. I don't know enough about it to discuss and you know even less." The vice president, Bernard Richards, was easy-going. He moved his gangly frame into a sprawled position in the spacious seat. "May as well relax. We have a long ride. Also, I answer to 'Barney' and I would prefer to call you something more congenial than 'Gen-ere." He held out his knobby hand which the Marine gripped firmly.

"Yes, sir. I'm called ... well, Rusty is most common." R. S. J. Bauer, USMC, mentally blessed his parents and all the others who had at one time or another given him names. His complexion darkened to match the color of his brick-red hair and he was pleased when the vice president's reply didn't extend the subject.

"Fine. I received very little notice of the meeting. A Dr. Franks called for it through the President. I have reason to believe that it's important from my own knowledge. I met Franks last year and he impressed me. You may be prepared for all of us to be treated equally. He doesn't use much protocol. He is simple and direct. I like his style."

"What's his bag?"

"Pardon? Oh." The vice president smiled. "Good question. Tonight I'm not sure. He's medicine with space and biochemistry thrown in. Not a wild professor and he makes the long-hair intellectuals appear impotent. I said - I like him and I'll tell you one more thing. He's no salesman. He doesn't sell, he tells. I expect we'll hear something and that we'll have work to do. No selectivism - no bag. No Marine deal, Rusty, and no Air Force or Army deal. Just work." He thought for a moment. "Answer your question?"

"Yes, sir. Very well, sir." There was a strong tone of interest in the low reply.

"Don't expect to sell him a bag either."

"Yes, sir. Touche, sir." The Marine's thick eyebrows almost came together in an angelic expression.

"No offense. You Marines have a reputation for some things." Richards expected a direct reply and got it.

"Damn right!" Rusty grinned along with him.

"O.K.! Some ding-a-ling connected to the space program goofed and now a lot of them are acting ding-a-ling. What does that have to do with us?" The admiral obviously felt that the meeting was wasting his time but didn't want to be so impolite as to come out and say so. He was a small man, nattily dressed in the latest fashionably lurid shades. Franks felt uncouth in the man's presence and irritated by the choice of words until he restored his own esteem by making a mental bet as to whether the speaker did, or did not, have his hair pompadoured at a beauty parlor.

The doctor measured his reply weighing the total responsibility as his own. "Admiral, I apologize for your inconvenience and time. We have another choice." He tapped the papers before him with a forefinger. "We can forget the whole thing. We can go home or to a party. We can do anything else we want. There is one point to consider though: If we do any other thing except take care of this now - we can very reasonably plan to make reservations in a mental hospital. We would best plan it and make reservations because they'll be crowded and we won't be safe anywhere else. That's the picture. You, Admiral, which institution do you choose?" He sat down quickly. The vice president gazed tranquilly at a pencil that he held and spoke softly.

"We are assembled at the direction of the president. We are confronted with incidents that have occurred to several people involved with, or exposed to, lunar dust. We have heard of a spore in that dust and have evidence that it causes these problems. There is a possibility of an epidemic of these incidents which are manifested in mental aberration and are believed to be the result of infection from this alien spore. The problem could affect the entire world and, in fact, may be doing so now. I anticipate a problem. Who to blame?" He stopped. He still hadn't raised his eyes from the pencil. He repeated. "Who to blame?" He looked from man to man around the table. "Lesser men might concern themselves with that now. Gentlemen, we won't. We will not begin to. Am I understood?" Several faces reddened as he looked at them. He had anticipated accurately. He returned his attention to the pencil. "Dr. Franks, will you please continue? I believe we are in agreement and that we need to know facts as to whether it can be fought, how, and what do we need to do?" He smiled gently and inclined his head to the doctor.

Franks was wound tightly. He started to lift a hand to rub his eyes but straightened and arching his back, adjusted his tie. When he spoke his voice tone was more measured than before. "We have taken all available information, related it, analyzed and evaluated it toward definite conclusions. They aren't speculative anymore." An Army general let air through his lips in a sigh. Bauer didn't realize it but he flicked a scornful glance at the general. The attention was drawn back when Franks leaned on his fingertips on the table. The vice president put down the pencil but didn't look up.

"Our conclusions are as stated. We either do what is needed immediately, or prepare for absolute chaos. I'm not speaking loosely. Neither will I understate the amount or type of activity required. We must arrange kidnapping of an unknown number of, as yet unidentified, people all over the world. We must have support, intelligence, and logistics."

There was no question of interest, attention, or boredom. Every man at the table leaned forward with mouth agape. Even the vice president who asked:

"Isn't that strong?" He knew the answer.

"No, sir. Our problem is the quarantine of the people exposed just as in any epidemial case. We have the concern that if we leak information, we will allow panic. The ramifications of a panic about a moon spore epidemic would destroy any chance of a successful quarantine. We wouldn't know which was fear and which was infection. It would spread. Without successful quarantine we are wasting everything. We have to identify all of the people exposed and isolate them without starting, or letting anyone start, resistance. We must be drastic. I see no other way. If anyone can, I'm ready to listen."

Rusty Bauer spoke. "Seems to me, Doctor, you might use some Embassy Marines and their buildings around the world. I'll take it on my own to offer their use. You'll need help, so anything the Corps can do, say so." His eyes twinkled. "We Marines have a reputation that I was reminded about tonight. We just might be experienced at stealing, or borrowing, or even kidnapping, or whatever you need. Our Embassy Marines did things without getting caught or they wouldn't be Marines with Embassy duty."

"I know the value of your men and appreciate the offer." Franks scanned the table. "The code name is 'Spoil Sport' and it carries all priority and authority. Our Command Post will be at Lunar Receiving in Houston to have computer ability and information available as well as communications."

The vice president interrupted. "Use the code name to clear anything. Air Force One is ready to take you and its communication systems are open to you. I'll be staying in Washington. Good night, gentlemen, Good luck. Doctor, one moment, please." Franks remained as the others filed out silently.

"I would like you to keep me posted personally. Don't feel that you have to call at specific intervals or every time something happens. Get the job done. When you have time that you can spare and have news, call me. You can reach me at this number any time. Don't bother about the clock. If you have bad news and don't want to call, then don't. If you have bad news and want to call, then do. The president will be depending on your communication through me for information. We're partners, Doctor. I expect a lot and I am depending on you - WE are depending on you." He stood and they shook hands solemnly. Franks nodded his head quickly and hurriedly left.

The Lunar Receiving commander was usually a patient man. He had come to command this base through the ranks on the basis of his ability. He arrived patiently stressing that patience was the key to getting anything of worth done. He always had got his way in time, kindly, and without furor. He was, however, human and subject, as such, to the vanity of revenge when it could be afforded.

He blamed this trait on an Irish grandmother. This evening he leaned back and relaxed luxuriously with the phone caressed to his ear. Eyes glinting, he curled his upper lip into what he considered a wolf-smile and purred into the speaker. His mind echoed a previous conversation when Dr. Franks had given him orders as though he were a recruit.

"Is that right? You will arrive here? You are in the 'Spoil Sport operation? Uh HUH! What will your ETA be? Uh huh! Well - tell me how many people are with you. Yes!" He could feel his ego preening like a cat as he warmed up to the moment of triumph. "Hm-m-m, I have the gravest of orders about what to do with you! As you know! HAH!" The phone emitted squawks and he held it away from his ear until it quieted. He cackled in a put-on 'fiendish' fashion. "You say you're different? Is that right? Orders are orders, Buster, and don't you forget it! How many people in that crew? What accommodations? What's that? You haven't been exposed? You're lucky!" He felt satisfied "Get in here and get this done with. I got word from DC that you were en route. Everything is set up. Just don't forget who's boss of this base again - right?" He pitched the phone onto the stand, stretched his legs out and laced his fingers together over his loosened belt. Maybe older, softer, fatter, but still boss. That should be good for my tension, he thought. His smile made his face feel happy even as he realized his envy of the doctor. He felt more equal.

The vast control room was all but deserted. Of the military personnel only Bauer was present, the rest off sleeping, reading or playing gin. He had a corner out of the traffic. He had made many phone calls and had coded lists of information on his desk ready for any eventuality he could figure. He enjoyed the scene when the base commander came in and went to Franks. Bauer couldn't hear them but he could read their facial and body expressions. The base commander was trying to make amends for his vengeful radio conversation when they arrived. It was amusing since Bauer knew Franks hadn't paid any attention as far as personal feelings were concerned and no one had ever been out of "grace." A uniformed man interrupted them and handed Franks a sheet of paper which was read quickly. There were no trivial greetings when the doctor passed it along to Bauer. The Marine was crosschecking lists and lifting a phone even before the doctor turned back to his own desk.

One moon spore case was content. Infected at Houston, he now sat on a Wake Island beach watching a saloon burn. Down the road from the airport, nestled behind quonset huts from the traffic, the cocoanut masks and tiki decorations lit, flamed and reflected their light in the lagoon. They'd never again confuse a drinker's eye. Amid the bizarre mixture of military and civilian fire vehicles a small group of spectators chattered. Drinkers from this bar and the one at the bowling alley, they commented philosophically about the fire's origin. Someone brought a case of cold beer which was passed around and enjoyed in the psychedelic light. The infected man basked in the conversation and tropic night.

"I heard an Air Force guy went ape and started it."

"Nah. Probably some G.I. on his way back from Nam."

"One of them going, more likely."

"Maybe it was one of those sexy flicks on the quarter movie machine got too hot?"

"I bet someone from the airline gets blamed."

"Too bad there isn't a ship in. You can blame those sailors for anything!"

"Blame it on the moon!"

"Was it started or what?"

"Who knows? Pass me a burpsie, Baby."

The infected man gloated with a beer in each hand. He knew. He had started the fire. Helluva good place for it, too, he decided. "Blame it on the moon." He giggled and drank and poked at his itchy ear with a sandy finger. He hoped it would be more comfortable the rest of the flight. At least his headache was gone. When he thought no one was looking he pitched an empty can into the lagoon, cadged a full one and started hiking toward the airport. He sniffled and planned to sleep all the way to Tokyo. His plans were being changed.

As the "fish" were identified, the net was flung out. It came in relentlessly and successfully from strange and distant places. Red-eyed young Hanson considered a nap in the doctor's lounge or even on one of the dark silent machines. The military people began planning a party and forming a club complete with formal reunions. In his corner, Bauer twitched his nose as though smelling something and moved quickly to Franks' desk.

"What is it, Rusty?"

"Doc, we're out of contact." He tried clumsily to convey that he needed help to make a serious point. He was trying to avoid the appearance of fault-finding that they had neglected an 'important matter. He was relieved when Franks nodded.

"What are we missing?"

"Well, this Texas girl for one. She's not in a quarantine and she's exposing the others in that mental hospital - like Beck did with his kid in D.C. We don't have the people who are exposed to her being covered."

"I goofed." Franks stared at the Marine. "I goofed more, too. It will be difficult but we'll take care of it. You said 'contact' also. You meant communications. You're right. What do you have in mind?"

"We have all these phones and radios but they're all internal. We're out of touch with outside. I don't even know if it's raining or snowing outside! I got a feeling that I should!"

There was a general pause of consternation and then they erupted into frenzied activity. Phone calls. Men and women in and out until they huddled over a small, cracked plastic brown radio that had just two big knobs. As it warmed up they calculated news report time and stared pathetically at the dial knob. Amid dot dash code and terse formal jargon of the center's awesome electronic system a rock and roll chant and a twang of guitar cut like a baby's cry. They twisted the dial frantically.

"...Was up one quarter for the day." Their response was sudden and in anguish. "We missed the news!"

"Shut up!" They were silent as the station made its identification. "... Five persons arrested in the Shamrock Hotel disturbance were released today on bail. The rest, all military personnel, are still in custody. The Air Force issued a statement that disposition of their recruit" - someone coughed - "is pending an investigation of the incident. He and the other ten are being held on 'open charges'. Now - a word from Enterprise Motors and then the weather report ..."

"What was that name?"

"No, Dummy! The recruit!"

"It was the fiance, or ex-fiance, of Kathy Bannon, the Texas girl." Franks folded his arms stoically. Bauer was already on a telephone. The doctor unwound his arms, lit a cigar and waited. He conjectured on the situation and thanked his stars for the Marine

In Franks' private lounge Bauer struggled with the collar of his dress white tunic. Sighing loudly when it finally loosened, he quirked his head in a wordless inquiry to the doctor. Franks pointed to a cabinet in the corner. The Marine opened the cabinet, sighed again and brought out two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. He poured some in each glass. Still silent they raised the glasses in a toast.

"You'd have been proud of me, Doc."

"What happened?"

"I met the governor and mayor and chief of police and the news editors. They were the toughest. Nobody liked it but we do anything we want with no interference or publicity. I told them nothing."

"They must have had some demonstration to give in like that!"

"The chief says curiosity seekers are still a problem at the hotel and he has men quitting."

"I thought there wasn't any violence!"

"There wasn't. They were ready for that and got something else. The crowd was ready to explode and the boy took over. He was sort of contemplative and peaceful, but he got to them. Hell, how would you react if somebody gently explained to you that you were out of your mind and you suddenly knew they were right? Some experience! So they were breaking the law and the police arrested them. Peaceful! No crazy cult or anything, just regular people who don't want any more people hurt or killed. I would have been impressed. I am impressed!"

"We've already moved the girl and the hospital people and it was the same way. She helped. Apparently during the irrational stage the brain gets hyper-ventilated and when they're coming out of it this makes tremendous mental capacity. Beck, in Washington, computed the incubation and transmittance data to near perfection and he didn't have any outside information, let alone computers! Little wonder these people were influenced as they were."

"Too bad," Bauer murmured. "Too bad there's that irrational phase." Franks nodded in agreement.

The great black teak table dominated the room and was avoided by the men who lounged in the side chairs or stood talking in groups of two or three. Their attitudes varied from fatigue to smugness. They ranged in dress from sloppy suits to ornate uniforms with gaudy splashes of colored ribbon. Franks chatted with Bauer who wore a suit with too wide lapels. When the double doors opened and the vice president entered the men all quietly took seats around the table. The vice president spoke very softly.

"Welcome back to Washington. For your information, we have monitored all communications in the world for the full incubation period plus ten days. We used underwater, space, you name it. There are no reports of a nature that would or might involve moon spore. You have done the job. The President said to tell you, 'Thank you'. I can't add anything to that. The job is well done."

"I should say so! And a job it was' I expected him to be here, Mr. Richards." The admiral was visibly irritated. "I rather expected some form of ... recognition ... of this work we've done!"

"I expect some," Rusty Bauer said. "I expect some and I expect it will be quiet. I, for one, don't care for any noise about what might have happened."

The admiral flushed and glared from man to man as though daring anyone to agree. He stopped when he reached Franks.

"I've respect for your position, Admiral, but." He stood and leaned his knuckles on the table. He felt a nerve tic in his cheek and wondered if it showed. "Some of you, I owe thanks and I don't even know what you did. Some of you weren't privileged to help but were there to help if possible. Thank you." He lowered his voice. "As for me, I apologize for whatever I might have averted and didn't. I'm glad we're done. We came too close. I suggest we go home."

"Motion accepted as made, seconded and carried unanimously." Richards stood, walked over to place his arm about Franks' shoulders. He waited until only they, with Bauer and David Hanson remained. "Rusty, I heard that you have a cabin near here. Any booze there?"

"Enough for a battalion, sir! There might even be enough for all of us!" They laughed and left together.

Young David was a chuckler. He chortled now as he roamed the cabin drink in hand. He picked up a bottle and attempted to splash some in the others drinks despite their protests. The bottle was still nearly full. The four men were scattered randomly in the vast room that was the cabin. In the quiet countryside there was no need to raise their voice when they spoke. They could be heard at normal tone from the extreme bunk end of the building to the great fieldstone fireplace. Each was relaxed beneath the high roof rafters. The helter skelter Indian rugs, framed photographs, paintings, cased old guns and exotic knives added to their rapport. The aide coolly eyed the vice president, "All present and accounted for, sir. Now are we told why?" He was very sober.

Richards smiled easily. "Yes, David. Dr. Franks will brief you. Before he does, I'd like to say thanks personally for not disappointing me. I have high hopes with all of you. The President has, too."

Franks walked to each of them and handed out small purple metal containers. The purple was an anodyzed identification color. The containers were heavy for their size. David looked at his and chuckled.

"Baby! LSD it ain't!" They rocked in their chairs, the laughter draining away tension. Franks' smile was tender.

"Gentlemen, these containers hold moon dust that we know has spore in it." He sipped his drink and over the glass his leveled eyes met their steady gaze. "We are not being exposed - unless we choose to be." He might have caused more reaction by announcing it was a new cheese spread. Three totally attentive people waited for him to continue. "Anyone who wants to can leave now. I intend to open my container, expose anyone remaining and stay here under controlled conditions that can be scientifically evaluated. Before I open the container I will signal a perimeter guard" - he glanced to the vice president who nodded - "and after that no one will be allowed to leave or enter. There is enough food and equipment here for months. Rusty says there is even enough booze." He grinned at the expressions of their approval.

"Why are we doing this, Doctor?" The vice president spoke from the far end of the room. He joined the laughter of their recognizing his words as a cue.

"Sir, we can't identify why the astronauts reported no irrational problems. If we use animals for tests we lose the human ability to express emotion regardless of how extensively the tests are made. None of us question that all the people who were infected, and caused so much difficulty, have been ultimately better off for it. In fact they aided in some improvements in our society. There were no deaths - and major increases in ability to organize thoughts. We need to use this if we can! I don't feel that there's a big risk - or I'd be here alone. We agree and so we are here. We could have more or less people. You, sir, agree with me that this group, these particular people, with their unique abilities and qualifications ... and ... unique independent intellectual capacities, combine to offer a maximum chance for success. We are not shooting for the moon. That's been done. We are trying to harvest something more from that feat and I don't mean to sound heroic about it."

"Good go, amigo," Bauer was peeling at the tape around his container cap. "Only how come I can't open mine? It seems loose." He lifted the cap from the container.

They grinned and uncapped their individual packages to look at the gray dust as Franks conspicuously held up a small box and pressed a button on it. David checked his watch and made notes on a pad.

They raised their four glasses in salute and sipped. David made a false sniffling noise and chuckled.