Free The Tranquillity Alternative by Allen Steele Page B

acknowledge it with anything more than a quick glance in Parnell’s direction. “For the record, though, I expect you to serve your country as capably on this final mission as you have throughout your careers, and on behalf of the launch team I wish you godspeed and good luck.”
    If he was expecting any applause, he didn’t receive it. The mission director was another NASA bureaucrat spouting patriotic homilies for public consumption; everyone knew it, including Harvey himself. He coughed uncomfortably and shuffled away from the blackboard as Bromleigh lowered his camcorder and Rhodes checked her notes. Parnell stood up and sauntered to the buffet table while Lewitt reopened his notebook, deliberately ignoring Ryer’s hot gaze. The two shuttle jockeys murmured between themselves. There were a few minutes left to kill before walk-out, just enough time for another cup of coffee before they hit the road.
    Watching them, the other Paul Dooley once again realized how easy it was to play traitor. Although his employers had their own agenda, he was in it strictly for the money. There was a time, in a former life, when he would have claimed revolution as his ultimate objective; now his motives were purely mercenary and apolitical. Five million dollars and a comfortable life in another country was fair exchange for wearing another man’s face for ten days, and fuck the dogma he had once espoused.
    And yet, he reflected, his task was made easier by the knowledge that he was taking advantage of a country that had grown apathetic toward its own achievements and former aspirations. It wasn’t terrorism so much as it was mugging an old codger hobbling down a dark alley on his way to a VFW meeting….
    He was startled out of his reverie by a steaming mug of coffee being placed in front of him. Dooley looked up to see Gene Parnell at his elbow. “Ready for your moment of glory, son?” he asked.
    Dooley forced a smile. “If you want to call it that, sure,” he replied, picking up the coffee and taking a sip. “I don’t think glory has much to do with it, though.” And wasn’t that the truth, just for once?
    Parnell shrugged as he sat down next to him. “You’ve got a point,” he mused as he sipped from his own mug. “Twenty years since Ares, and people still remember Armstrong as being the first man on Mars, but nobody remembers who was the last person to climb up the ladder.” He shrugged again. “Still, last NASA mission to the Moon and all that … maybe we’ll earn our own little place in the history books after it’s over and done with.”
    Was this guy living in the past or what? Dooley tried to look interested, although his mind was focused mainly upon the task he was to perform a few days from now. “I don’t think I’m going to be writing any memoirs about this,” he said, not entirely without irony. “I’m just your basic, run-of-the-mill hacker. The company could have sent someone else, but they picked me instead.”
    “Hmm.” Parnell looked thoughtful; he stared at Dooley over the lip of his raised coffee mug. “Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re the guy who believes we—or rather, your company—can replace people with robots, turn everything up there over to machines. That makes you something of a historic figure in your own right, doesn’t it?”
    There was the slightest hint of accusation in Parnell’s voice, and Dooley couldn’t ignore the hard glint in the man’s eyes. He wondered how Parnell might react if he knew that the person he really intended to blame was now being subjected to slow torture less than thirty miles from here.
    “Hey, dude, don’t blame me,” he replied. “At least we’re finding some use for that base, aren’t we? If my company hadn’t bought it, nobody would have—”
    “Mr. Dooley?”
    The interruption came from a voice across the room; some NASA minion had poked his head through the door. “Right here,” Dooley shouted back.
    “Got a