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filled him with awe, made him forget all the trivial problems of being Production Division leader. Now, those “trivial problems” outweighed anything he had ever endured before.
    The first scattered reports implied that a good portion of Earth’s population had survived the War, but most communications were wiped out from the electromagnetic pulse. As McLaris had guessed, they were utterly incapable of sending any more supply ships, probably for years. That didn’t surprise him: when only one of the early NASA shuttles had exploded, the entire nation’s space program was grounded for three years. This disaster was much more extensive than a single explosion. Their entire industrial base had probably been knocked to its knees.
    As Orbitech 1 rotated, the great shining ball of the Moon swung into view. It seemed so bright, like a bowl filled with hope. Clavius Base lay on the Moon’s surface. The oldest of the space settlements, it had been set up as a stepping-stone for the Lagrange colonies. And since supply shuttles had a vastly more difficult job entering and leaving the Moon’s deep gravity well, Clavius Base had been forced to become self-sufficient much sooner than the other colonies.
    “Diddy, what star is that?” Jessie’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
    McLaris looked where his daughter pointed. Her little finger smeared against the crystal, but he had learned to sight along her arm. “That’s called Fomalhaut, honey.” He wasn’t certain, but he knew she’d be disappointed if he didn’t come up with some answer for her. “The Arabs named it.” She giggled at the strange-sounding name, but seemed satisfied.
    She wore her reddish-brown hair in braids. McLaris had never been able to decide if Jessie really preferred her hair that way, or if she just wanted her father to spend the time braiding it.
    The first time he had tried it, back when his wife was still on Orbitech 1, McLaris had done nothing more than make a tangled mess of Jessie’s hair. Taking it upon himself as a father’s duty, he sat up late by the light of a small glow-lamp, toying with strings in his hand, studying the diagrams and instructions he had called up on the big screen of his terminal, practicing how to braid hair. Diane slept restlessly in their bed beside him, probably dreaming about hills and trees and fresh air.
    McLaris glanced at his watch again in the observation alcove. Close enough. “Ready to go, Jessie?” He tried to sound cheerful, to keep the quaver out of his voice. “Take a last look.”
    “Ready.” She grasped her toy synthesizer/keyboard (she called it her “keeburd”) like a teddy bear. McLaris had built it for her from a kit, and she played it relentlessly. He had told Jessie she could take only one of her toys with them tonight, and her decision had not surprised him.
    He drew a deep breath and stood up, adjusting the lights in the observation room back to normal. He blinked, waiting to become accustomed to the brightness. Jessie rubbed her eyes but grinned. She didn’t look at all worried—she seemed to have a lot of faith in her daddy’s abilities.
    McLaris didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to think. He would become frightened if he wasted too much time thinking. This was not the type of decision one made rationally.
    The others would realize the implications of the War soon enough. Brahms probably already had, but hadn’t yet decided what to do. And if McLaris was to have a chance to save himself and Jessie, he had to do it now, before Brahms decided to act.
    McLaris forced his breathing to become even and shallow, though his heart continued to pound. He grasped Jessie’s hand, almost dragging her along with his rapid steps. She clutched his fingers and followed as best she could, uncomplaining.
    He kept a complacent half-smile on his face. Some of the workers in his Production Division greeted him, but most looked shocked and disturbed, too wrapped up with the very idea of the War