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then. Good work, Laslo.”
    His own studies were a steady grind. Sean liked reading, and he did well enough in writing and literature, but the math was extremely difficult and the science all but impossible. Time after time he caused explosions in his chemistry lab. Fortunately, it was a virtual lab, computer-generated, so he didn’t actually cause any damage, but it was discouraging to hear Mickey Goldberg sing out, “Heads down, everybody—Doe’s got his hands on a test tube again!”
    And Mickey seemed to have made it his mission in life to pester Sean about his specialty. He asked the same question about four or five times a week: “What are you going to settle in and actually do, Sean? Haven’t they placed you yet?” Sometimes he had suggestions: “You could go in for demolition. You have a real talent at blowing things up!” Or: “You know, if you went outside at night and stuck your arms straight out, you’d freeze solid. You might make a good coat rack.”
    Sean, who had fought off boys older and tougher than Mickey back on Earth, held back his temper and merely simmered. He still could not explain it, and he supposed it might have just been stress, but increasingly Sean had the feeling that matters back on Earth were becoming more serious. Whatever happened, he did not want to be bundled back aboard the
Argosy
when it departed for Earth in three months.
    He had the sick feeling it might be flying back for Doomsday.

CHAPTER 4
4.1
    “What about the crop failures?” Jenny asked, her brow furrowed.
    “Lots of them,” Sean replied, huffing. He, Jenny, and eight other kids were taking their turn in the gym. In the low gravity of Mars, it was essential for the colonists to work to maintain their muscle tone, and that meant five hours of hard exercise a week. Sean and Jenny were side by side on treadmills, running with the strange low stride necessary on Mars. She was faster than he was, and she wasn’t even gasping. “Central Asia lost half its rice harvest two years ago—plant viruses left over from the China-Russia war. And some of the rainforest in south Asia is infected.”
    Jenny leaned forward, grasping the safety handlesof her treadmill and making it whir even louder. Sean realized she was angry.
    “What about countermeasures? Bioengineering?”
    “Expensive,” Sean gasped. He was used to being grilled about conditions on Earth. Some of the colonists, the old hands, had been on Mars for five years now. Dr. Ellman had been the science and communications officer for the first ten-person crew to erect a habitat on Mars, and others had been on the planet nearly as long. Though they received news reports from home every day, they still burned with curiosity.
    “Stupid, stupid,” Jenny was growling. “How can it be too expensive? If the ecology crashes, there’ll be worldwide disease, starvation—too expensive!” Her treadmill chimed, telling her that she had finished her three-mile run. She began to slow her pace, the treadmill automatically adapting as Jenny cooled down.
    Sean couldn’t answer. His lungs were burning, and sweat poured into his eyes. He’d heard of the runner’s second wind, but he couldn’t seem to findhis. He told himself he wouldn’t look at the readout, then gave in and glanced down. The display read 4.7 kilometers—just a little left to do. He clenched his teeth and tried to increase speed. No good. He was running full-tilt already.
    A moment later, thankfully, he heard the chime of his own readout. He’d done his 4.8 kilometers—three miles. Like Jenny, he began to slow until he was shuffling along in a sliding walk. He slowed to a stop, stepped off the treadmill, and reached for a towel.
    Jenny had looped her towel around her neck. She held both ends of it as Sean wiped his face. “I heard that some large animal species have gone extinct,” she said.
    Sean groaned. “Let me get my breath, or
I’ll
go extinct,” he panted. A few moments later he said,