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ducts that leaked liquid hydrogen vapor onto the cracked concrete pad. Glancing at Felicia and Alderdice, he was about to speak when he realized that they were both staring at Captain Vuh in astonishment. It was only then that he realized what she had just told them.
    They were going to Mars.

FOUR
    CAPTAIN VUH DIDN'T stay with them for long. She had been designed to initiate draftees facing lunar service, and so her spiel had really been almost meaningless. Not that Johnsmith had paid much attention to what she'd been saying, anyway. Nevertheless, she'd ridden with them up in the elevator and helped them strap in. After wishing them a safe journey, she left them alone with the two-person crew. Ignored by the professional spacers, they had a few minutes before liftoff, and their destination was the sole topic of conversation.
    "Now we know why we were separated from the rest," Johnsmith mused. "But why us?"
    "I'll tell you why I'm going to Mars," Felicia said. "They want me as far away from this corrupt world as they can get me. They know that I'm a threat to the status quo."
    "You know," Alderdice said to her, "it seems to me that I've heard of you before."
    "As a revolutionist, no doubt," Felicia said. But there was an odd expression on her face, as if she were covering something up. "Maybe they circulated some wanted posters in your office, or something."
    "No, I don't think so." Alderdice was watching her closely now, his neck craning awkwardly.
    "It doesn't matter," Johnsmith said. "The three of us are all in the same boat now."
    "Or the same shuttle, at least," Alderdice added pleasantly. "And it seems as though things are not working out as badly as we had feared."
    It was true. Mars was the cushiest duty the Triple-S had to offer. Growing plants, with the long range plan of terraforming the dried-up planet, was the chief business of the involuntary colonists stationed there. There were other tasks, of course, but these were either technical or service-and-support jobs that were filled by volunteers. The position that would almost certainly fall to the three of them would be Johnny Appleseed . . .or John smith Appleseed, in his case. Alderdice had been quite right; it could have been a whole lot worse.
    The pilot, a red-faced man with a broken nose, turned to them. "We'll have liftoff in a couple minutes," he said, settling into his chair. "Brace yourselves back there."
    Johnsmith wasn't quite sure how to brace himself anymore than he was already braced. He thought of classic videos from the pre-space era, invariably depicting centrifugal force that distorted the features of those fearless pioneers into the unknown. He would have felt so much better if this job actually did require heroism. From what he could see, it was just a routine flight to a space station, and another routine flight to a dead planet, where they would live out their lives in servitude to the world government.
    A thunderous roar welled up from below and the ship trembled around them. It was frightening, and yet exhilarating. Johnsmith could feel his heart pounding, as gravity attempted to hold him down to the planet that he was about to leave forever. The force created nothing more than a minor discomfort. Still, as he felt himself rising from the Earth, he could almost imagine that they were embarking on a heroic quest. It was a foolish notion, but what harm could it do now?
    They passed through the clouds and were outside the Earth's atmosphere in what seemed like just a few seconds, though it must have been longer than that. The gravitational force relaxed and then vanished altogether.
    Johnsmith peered through the narrow aperture leading to the cockpit, trying to see out the window over the pilot's console, while the shuttle eased into orbit around the Earth.
    The co-pilot, a bald woman who looked every bit as tough as the ship's captain, said, "You can unstrap yourselves and move around, so long as you don't try to come forward of the