Rudy was annoyed at his superiors. Annoyed that he would have to miss the televised ballgame tonight in order to sit through a tedious dinner with their latest prospective customer. Annoyed at having to change out of his accustomed jeans and T-shirt into a suit and tie to go to some fancy restaurant and eat fancy food with their fancy customer. As far as he was concerned, there were only two good reasons for a man’s shirt to have buttons, and one of them was so he could unbutton it on a fine afternoon like this and enjoy the wind on his bare chest as he drove along the freeway in his convertible. But he sure didn’t feel like doing that with his company’s Chief Financial Officer in the car. Besides, he was wearing a white T-shirt underneath the scratchy thing, and this was the industrialized Bayshore Freeway and not the pleasant Foothill Freeway. And anyway, no amount of ephemeral pleasure could be worth having to figure out how to get the damn tie on again.

Rudy was all for carpooling – with people he liked – but if Lilah didn’t want to take her own damn car, why couldn’t she have gone with the CEO, her own husband? He’d been taking the customer on a tour of Angstrom Nanosystems’s research and manufacturing facilities. Rudy supposed he should be glad he hadn’t been stuck with that task himself, but it bothered him that they hadn’t told him anything at all about this customer. He hated it when they kept him in the dark, and then demanded his participation. Now Lilah wanted to give Rudy a quickie briefing on the way to the restaurant – now, when they were only 9.3 miles away, according to the number projected on his windshield. No doubt she wanted to go over what not to say in front of the customer.

The formal but less-than-professional way Lilah was dressed annoyed Rudy too. Why wasn’t he allowed to expose that much skin to the breezes today? Her long blonde hair, worn loose, was blowing distractingly behind her. In the bright sunlight, Rudy could clearly see the subtle line where the bleached hair ended and the quasi-natural blonde hair started. You could calculate the exact number of months since follicle treatments had come on the market by measuring the position of that line. Rudy didn’t feel it was any less fake when a woman reprogrammed her follicles to produce less melanin than when she applied oxidizing chemicals to destroy the pigment after it was produced. He noticed that Lilah didn’t mind buying the products of their competitors when her vanity was at stake.

Why did they drag him along to these things? Entertaining customers was their job. It wasn’t like they’d given him the promotion to Chief Technical Officer and Vice President of Engineering that they kept hinting at. Those would be tempting titles to attain before the age of 30, even in such a small startup company in so young a field as nanotechnology, a company whose founders were only a few years older than he was.

"It’s just going to be the four of us?" he asked tightly. He dreaded sitting through an evening of his bosses fawning over some big shot, with Rudy’s main job being not to contradict anything they said.

"Yes, unless George decides to invite someone from the biotech department at the last minute. It turns out the customer had some interest in that too."

That might make the dinner almost tolerable, since the person was likely to be Cindy. And maybe between the two of them, they could concoct some excuse for slipping out early.

"Mainly, the customer seemed to be interested in meeting you."

"Really? I wish you would tell me what business he or she is in, so I could prepare for any questions he or she might have."

"He’s male. Very much so, judging from his pictures in the press."

"Someone famous, then?"

"Not like a movie star or a football player, but yes. That’s why it’s confidential until the press release. Have you heard of that astronaut who left NASA last year to start his own space company?"

Rudy’s jaw dropped. He had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road. "The one who’s trying to get to Mars? Hunksaker, I think? Red Planet something?"

"Red Sky Ventures. I forgot you were a space buff. Hunksaker’s somehow managed to line up venture capital, supposedly enough to finance a four-person Mars mission."

"I guess even venture capitalists remember that heroic rescue a few years ago."

"Yes. The product endorsements alone will go a long way, but in the end I’m sure it will be Red Ink Ventures," she said dismissively.

"Mars! Wow! This is such – wait a minute. What exactly is he buying from us?"

"Something to do with making fuel on Mars."

"In-situ propellant production? That would be an exciting thing to contribute! They’ll never get back to Earth without it, not with the fuel they can afford to carry. Are we really going to develop it for him?"

"We already have it. Sawdust." That was the unofficial name for one of their development projects, until it was released as a product.

"Sawdust is for turning landfills into methane!"

"Yes. Methane is what they’ll use for fuel."

"Naturally. But I don’t think Sawdust will work."

"It works perfectly on all our tests. You told me so yourself."

"We tested it on Earth. That doesn’t mean it will work on Mars. For one thing, have you thought about UV?"

"UV?" she asked absently.

No, of course she hadn’t. The only time Lilah ever worried about UV was when she bought trendy sun block to keep her skin from looking prematurely aged. Rudy himself preferred to use the new nano-based products that protected his skin by giving him a natural tan. It worked just the opposite way from Lilah’s hair treatment, by convincing his skin cells to produce more melanin. Only, she reprogrammed her cells for cosmetic reasons, while he did it to protect his skin from cancer-causing solar radiation. Not because it made him look more like a bronze god and less like a pasty-skinned engineer, when he took his shirt off in the gym. Or so he liked to tell himself.

"Ultra-violet radiation," he explained. "From the sun. Mars’s atmosphere—"

"The engineering details are your department, darling," she interrupted impatiently. "I have more important things to worry about."

"If you wanted to delegate the little ‘details’ of whether our product is going to strand four explorers to die on the surface of Mars, maybe you should have consulted me."

"Don’t be so melodramatic. Do you know for a fact it won’t work?"

"I’ll have to test it under Mars conditions."

"I’m getting very tired of your asking for a larger testing budget. I’ve increased it for you three times now."

"But —" Rudy knew it was useless to argue with her. "Oh, another thing: How is the methane being collected? Please tell me you’re not selling him our microtank assemblers for that."

"Now, don’t tell me those aren’t space qualified. Our customers have been using them for six months."

Rudy felt like screaming in frustration. "For satellites! In Earth orbit! They can only build those foam structures in microgravity. Why do you think they don’t work on Earth?"

"Mars isn’t Earth. You said so yourself."

Why did he always wind up working for idiots? "They can’t stand up to even lunar gravity, let alone Mars. And the wind, and the dust…" Rudy groaned. "They’ll be torn apart faster than they can be assembled."

"Well, no matter. If it fails, it will fail on Mars, after all. No one can pin the failure on our product. "

Whether they could pin it on Angstrom Nanosystems seemed beside the point, but Rudy tried to argue in terms she would understand. "Don’t you think there’ll be an investigation?"

"No, since it’s not being paid for with tax money. At most, his insurance company will do a perfunctory investigation. There won’t be anything they can find from down here."

There would be plenty of evidence, unless the communication equipment failed first. But Rudy was not about to give her ideas. He wasn’t sure he would put sabotage past her.

"Besides, do you really think they’re going to make it that far? I mean, really, a mission to Mars? On their budget? More likely than not, they’ll crash land, and no one will know whether our products would have worked or not."

"Next exit," the voice of the GPS chimed in as Rudy seethed. A green arrow appeared, superimposed on the ramp ahead. The restaurant was in Redwood City, a city whose historical name was as out of step with present reality as "Silicon Valley." There was probably not a single redwood tree still standing within city limits — any more than computing was still done with metal wires on stiff chips.

"Now, for goodness sake, don’t start worrying Mr. Hunksaker with these engineering details."

"What else did he want to meet me for?"

"Just sit there and look adorable, dear, and agree with whatever George and I say."

George Cokewold and Charles Hunksaker were already sitting at the table when they arrived. Hunksaker’s photos didn’t do him justice. Posing for his official NASA portrait, he’d looked like a fairly average guy. Well, maybe a little more handsome than average, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and almost stereotypically square jaw. But his frozen smile had looked rather forced there, nothing like his real smile when he was talking with someone he liked. And he obviously liked George. But then, George always did seem like a nice guy – until you knew him as well as Rudy did. Anyway, seeing the animation in Hunksaker’s features was completely different from watching him in front of a news camera. He was wearing a long-sleeved dark-blue button-down shirt, but no jacket or tie. Rudy liked him already.

George caught sight of his wife, and Hunksaker followed his gaze to Rudy. He gave him – them – a welcoming smile. Wow. A real-life hero, smiling at him!

As they were introduced, Hunksaker’s handshake was warm and firm without seeming like the opening hold in a bone-crushing contest. "Rudy!" he said heartily. "George has been talking about your work all day. Great to meet you!" He actually sounded like he meant it. He’s just being polite, Rudy told himself.

Nevertheless, he felt himself blushing. "I can’t tell you what an honor it is to meet you! I mean, I’d have killed for a chance to meet any of you guys, but…" Words failed him, which was just as well, because he was sure that Hunksaker was tired of fans gushing at him.

"Yeah, well, if you’re thinking of the rescue thing, the press gave me way too much of the credit. Any astronaut would have done the same thing in my place. The ground controllers are the real heroes. Some of them worked double shifts, gave up kids’ Little League or hot dates, working out the rescue plan. Not to mention the people who trained us in the simulators, handling five emergencies at once, so we’d be ready if one happened someday. And the engineers who make everything work right, and got us there in the first place. That’s who my heroes are." His eyes shone, and he spoke so earnestly that Rudy knew he meant every word.

"And this," George said, "is Lilah Dalton, my Chief Financial Officer and Vice President of Marketing."

"I’m looking forward to doing business with your company, Mrs. Dalton," he said, giving her a businesslike handshake. "Or do you prefer ‘Ms.’?"

"‘Lilah’ is fine," she said invitingly.

"I’m ready to start discussing the financial terms over dinner, if you don’t mind, ma’am."

"Oh, that’s already settled," Rudy put in. "She’s picking up the check."

Hunksaker had a nice laugh, too.

After they’d ordered, Lilah said, "So, Charlie, tell us about how you saved your crewmates." Rudy could tell she was trying to flatter him.

"There’s not much to tell, Ms. Dal— Lilah. The press made it sound more exciting than it was." But he proved to be a captivating storyteller, spinning a thrilling tale about the unsung heroes on the ground. He modestly downplayed his own role.

"You really meant what you said about them being your heroes," Rudy said wonderingly.

"It’s people like them who make everything possible. Just like it’s people like you," and he reached over to grip Rudy briefly on the shoulder, "who are going to make this Mars mission possible. George here tells me that you invented half the magic he showed me today."

"It’s not magic, believe me."

"Just advanced technology, I know."

Rudy mustered his courage. "And like any technology—"

"—it can make things cheaper and easier than you’d ever thought possible," Lilah cut in smoothly.

"Exactly," Hunksaker said, nodding at her politely. "You have no idea how hard this would be without your help," he told Rudy.

Rudy knew he should tell this guy his technical misgivings. It was probably people like George and Lilah that had almost cost Hunksaker’s crewmates their lives. Them, and engineers too afraid of losing their jobs to speak out. He brooded all through appetizers. He could find another job, but he didn’t have the heart to derail Hunksaker’s faith in him. It wasn’t every day an astronaut showered him with praise. His shoulder still tingled where he’d touched it.

During a lull in financial negotiations and hype, Rudy set down his salad fork and asked about mission objectives.

"Our main goal is just to show we can get there. Watching humans set foot on Mars will inspire a whole generation, especially with our moviemaker sponsors helping. We’ll also do more science the first day than all past rovers put together. Measuring everything from ground ice to magnetic dust particles."

Right! Mars had magnetic dust particles. Rudy shuddered to think what that would do to his nanoelectronic controllers. George had ordered a bottle of wine, and Rudy found that it helped numb the sense of guilt. He was risking this guy’s life by not saying anything. He wondered if he had any family. Yes, he remembered an interview with his wife during the rescue – a beautiful woman who looked like a cross between Marylin Monroe and Doris Day. If such two extremes of womanhood were even interfertile.

"Your prices aren’t unreasonable, Ms. Dalton, but—"

"‘Lilah.’ If you keep that up, I’ll just have to start addressing you as ‘Commander.’"

"Actually, Commander was my rank in the Navy, but I resigned my commission. And I was only a pilot on the missions I flew for NASA, not a commander." He reached for the bread plate with his left hand, and Rudy noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. No matter. Widow or no widow, this man’s life was precious.

"Did you resign from the Navy because you were leaving NASA?" Rudy asked. He was a little unclear on the relationship between the civilian space agency and the military, but he knew that astronaut pilots were traditionally military test pilots.

"Sort of the other way around."

"Oh. Everyone says you left because got fed up with the way NASA does things."

Hunksaker laughed. "Oh, that was true from my first year."

"Then why—"

"Don’t ask," he told him with a grim smile. "There are some complex issues having to do with incompatibilities between the Navy’s personnel policies and NASA’s. Let’s just say I would have very little chance of being selected for any more missions if I stayed in the astronaut corps. But it’s just as well. We’ve been noodling around in Earth orbit for most of my life. I want to explore a new world! NASA’s won’t get there in my lifetime, they’re so stuck in the Stone Age. They still refuse to trust any nanotechnology at all."

"You’ll be the first to set foot on another planet, won’t you? How exciting!" Lilah said. Rudy refrained from rolling his eyes. Last month she’d pretended that a lard rendering facility was exciting.

"Being the first isn’t all-important for me," Hunksaker told her earnestly.

"Oh really?" she said coquettishly. "That’s such a refreshing attitude for a gentleman to have."

Hunksaker blushed. "I didn’t mean to imply any double meaning there, Mrs. Dalton."

"Stop teasing Charlie," Rudy scolded her, trying to make light of it. "Uh — okay if I call you ‘Charlie’?"

"Actually, you can call me ‘Trojan.’ All my friends do."

"Is that your nickname?" George asked.

"My handle. Sorry, George, I hadn’t gotten around to mentioning it to you yet. Speaking of things I was going to mention, I was wondering if you guys have anything in the way of radiation countermeasures. Shielding against solar flares is really killing our mass budget. If we could protect our bodies with nanotech instead of doing it the brute force way…" He looked hopefully at Rudy.

"Well, biological applications aren’t my field… Trojan. Our company does do some work in that area, but I understand from a friend in that department that it’s still at the research stage."

Rudy was annoyed to catch a knowing glance from George at his use of the words "friend." Trojan seemed to catch it too, and may have interpreted it as a clue that they were holding back some technical secrets, not his supposed personal ones, because he asked, "Do you have something that works in lab mice, maybe, that will be ready for human trials soon? I’ll be glad to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I’ll even be a guinea pig for you."

"Oh, we couldn’t ask you to take that kind of risk, Charlie," Lilah said, batting her eyes. Why was she leading him on? Rudy knew the company didn’t have anything that had been tested outside a petri dish. Cindy would have mentioned it.

"Taking risks is part of my job, Ms. Dalton. In fact… confidentially, I’m already beta-testing a nano-machine from Gericeutical Technologies. I’m not supposed to reveal the details. I probably shouldn’t have told you at all, but I’m really hoping you’ve got something for me to test, too."

"We heard Gericeutical got FDA approval for a Phase II trial on something," George said. "I didn’t think they were involved in radiation protection, though. We assumed it was for the geriatric market."

"Bone demineralization," Rudy speculated. Everyone looked at him in amazement, and he could tell from Trojan’s face that he’d guessed right. Trojan would be a lousy poker player, with that open face. "Well, that’s the main other thing you’d need protection from, since your ship is too small to spin for gravity. You didn’t ask us for it, so I figured you already have a solution."

"Wow. George told me you were the best," Trojan said. Rudy felt himself flush at the admiration in his tone. "It’s really going to be great working with you. It’s smart people like you who’ll make this mission work."

Rudy studied his place setting, unable to meet those clear blue eyes, so confident in the trust they placed in him. He was almost on the verge of blurting out the truth when Lilah spoke up.

"Do you know who’s funding the manufacturing for the study? Gericeutical Technologies is a tiny development stage company. I’m surprised they could afford to assemble the billions of nano-machines it would take for even a small trial."

"I think they’re funding it themselves."

"That’s impossible. Gericeutical couldn’t manufacture enough nanobots for a full dose, even for one person. Not even enough to establish safety."

Trojan looked thoughtful. "They told me it would take a few months before it really started to take hold in my system. Is that unusual?"

"Our products will start working in a matter of hours," George assured him. "That is, they’re expected to, based on our research."

The part about their research was bullshit. Cindy’s team wasn’t even testing on worms yet. But it was a valid guess based on every other biotech nanobot on the market. They all worked the same way: you got an injection of a few hundred million of them, and they went to work almost as quickly as your bloodstream could circulate them to the place they recognized as home. It wasn’t like a biological agent, which has to reproduce and build up a population. And treatments didn’t get more effective with time; they wore off.

"Anyway, they said if all goes well, the injection they gave me should reach full strength before we launch next year, and level off throughout the mission."

Suddenly it made sense! Rudy drew his breath in sharply. Gericeutical had accomplished what every company in the valley had been working toward: they had figured out how to make nanobots replicate inside a person’s bloodstream, like living cells do. It would make manufacturing much less expensive. And new nanobots would take over faster than old ones broke down. Most treatments needed booster shots at least once a year, which could be a problem for Trojan and his crewmates on their three-year mission, well beyond the shelf-life of most nano-medicines.

Rudy excused himself and went to the men’s room, mostly to get a chance to think and try to compose himself.

He was taking care of some routine business, as long as he was there, when someone stepped up beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw sandy-blond hair. After a moment, the other man said casually, "I thought I’d give Lilah time to work her magic."

Rudy had been scrupulously staring at the wall and hadn’t realized it was George who had taken the other urinal. He hated it when guys talked to him in the men’s room. It was hard enough to pee with another guy next to him, without him trying to engage him in conversation.

"You think he’ll sign a purchase order if she just bats her eyes at him enough?" Rudy said.

"It took more than that for the venture capitalists."

Rudy was so startled he turned his head to look at George. "You mean you let her…"

"Sleep with them? A few, when flirtation alone wasn’t enough."

"You don’t mind her doing that?"

"You know me, I’m very broadminded. I don’t care how many other men she has sex with, as long as I’m the only one she actually cares about."

The office rumor mill was right, then. Cindy had once said that if there were a species of spider where the female bit her sex partner’s head off and brought it home to nourish her mate, she’d compare Lilah to one.

"Is this contract worth that much?" Rudy asked, zipping up.

"If the mission succeeds, the publicity will be worth its weight in gold. Of course, it may fail."

"Especially if they depend on our products. First of all, the UV—"

"Never mind that now. I wanted to get your opinion on something much bigger. Is there any way we can get a copy of that bone-building nano he’s got? There’s a huge market for that now, with the geezer boom just starting."

"You’re not talking about stealing their design, are you?"

"Cindy will be very interested."

Cindy, their lead biotech researcher, happened to be Rudy’s closest friend at work, at least now that his buddy Dan had moved to Cambridge where his wife had been transferred. Cindy was one of the most ethical people Rudy knew. Not that George would recognize ethics when he saw them. Or had ever noticed anything about Cindy except her curly blonde hair and two-sigma breast size, and perhaps her regular contributions to the company’s patent portfolio.

"I don’t think Cindy will approve of using stolen technology."

"She doesn’t need to know. Take my advice, it’s always better not to tell your girlfriend everything."

It’d never seemed to occur to George that Rudy enjoyed Cindy’s company because she was intelligent, witty, and forthright, not because of the way she looked. To be fair, though, it wasn’t like Rudy had tried to disabuse him of that idea. It made things easier, to let George believe Cindy was his girlfriend. Easier for Cindy, too.

"There’s no way we could steal it anyway, without Trojan’s cooperation. And he strikes me as an honest guy."

"Well," George said, glancing thoughtfully back at the urinals they’d vacated, "we could have him come by the lab tomorrow afternoon to close the deal. I can pay a plumber to rig the men’s room to capture a sample."

"Won’t work. Nano-machines are too big to make it into urine. The kidneys filter out anything the size of a virus or bigger." Even Rudy knew that, from the scanty biology he’d learned hanging out with Cindy. Why was it that the people running a company could never be bothered to pick up some basic technical knowledge about what they were managing?

"I see. Then I guess it’s up to Lilah to talk him into a blood sample."

"I doubt he’ll go along with that."

"I think you’re underestimating my lovely wife’s powers of persuasion. He’s divorced, you know, and I bet he hasn’t been getting any for a long time. And he’s obviously got the hots for her."

"How can you tell?"

"He’s had a hard-on from the minute he met her. Didn’t you notice?"

"No, actually." Rudy didn’t make a point at staring at other guys’ crotches. He brushed passed George and stepped over to the sinks.

"Anyway, good job of getting the information. Sharp questions."

There’d been a time when any praise from George had given Rudy a warm glow. Right now it made him sick. He pretended to be absorbed in the task of washing his hands.

"And you learned more than you let on about what Gericeutical is working on, didn’t you?"

"I’m sure it’s a countermeasure to bone loss, like I said."

"C’mon, you know what I mean. How is it that Gericeutical’s nano acts different from every nano-medicine on the market?"

"How would I know? My department is structures and control."

George met his eyes in the mirror and favored him with a winning smile — like the one he’d used at the interview to convince a younger and more innocent Rudy to join the company. "I’ve known you too long for that, buddy. You’re a sharp guy, but a lousy liar. You know something."

Rudy’s resolve began to melt. To this day, he found it hard to say no when George turned on the charm. He tried to make a break for the door, but George moved to physically block it.

"C’mon, spill it, buddy," he said teasingly – as if this weren’t something so big it could be used to dominate a multi-billion dollar industry. He put a hand on Rudy’s shoulder, something he rarely did. Desperately, Rudy tried to push past him, but all he got was a good whiff of George’s expensive aftershave. George wouldn’t budge, and Rudy wasn’t about to try to manhandle his boss out of the way.

He sighed. "It’s obvious, isn’t it? Gericeutical has invented assemblers that work in vivo."

"That’s the one that means in test tubes, right?"

"No, in vitro is test tubes. They’ve got something that can replicate a supply of medical nanobots inside a living organism, maybe sustainably."

"My God. That could be worth billions." George shoved his hand in his pocket and drew out his loose change, studying it as if visualizing the gold dollar coins replicating into a fortune.

"Yeah, I suppose…" Rudy said as neutrally as he could, hating himself for spilling the beans. How did George manage to get whatever he wanted out of him, every time? "Can we go back now?"

"You go ahead. I’ve got to make a couple of phone calls." Poking at his handful of change with the forefinger of his other hand, he muttered, "Now where the hell did my cell phone — ah, here it is."

Rudy noticed that the occupied chairs were now a few inches to the left of their place settings, as though Lilah had edged hers closer to Trojan and he had retreated. When Trojan saw Rudy approaching, he gave him a big smile, with a hint of relief. Lilah looked less pleased at Rudy’s return, but covered gracefully. "Charlie was just showing me pictures of his two adorable children."

"Yes, would you like to see?" Trojan hesitated before he handed the wallet to Rudy, adding almost shyly, "They’re the best thing to come out of my former marriage."

"Oh, you’re divorced, then?" Lilah murmured coyly.

The children were indeed very cute, both about four to six in the pictures. The little girl was blonde, like her parents, and the little boy was a redhead. "I bet you’ll be glad to get back to them when you’ve finished your business trip," Rudy said.

Trojan looked uncomfortable and sad. Rudy kicked himself for reminding the man that he was planning a three-year trip, during which he’d miss a substantial part of his kids’ childhood. But Trojan said, "Actually, my ex-wife got full custody. I was able to swing visitation rights for spring break, two weeks every summer, and holidays every other year. Me being sort of a national hero and all."

"Oh. I’m sorry," Rudy said sincerely. Trojan, who had been so enthusiastic all evening when talking about his mission, was looking downcast for the first time.

"Yeah, well, the courts usually award custody to the mother. In Texas, anyway. I thought I might have a chance at joint custody at least, what with her criminal record and all, but my lawyer told me to forget it."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Rudy searched for something sympathetic to say and wished the main course would arrive to distract them from a topic that obviously made the poor guy miserable to be reminded of, what Rudy finally came up with was, "Well, I’m sure they’ll be proud one day to turn on the TV and see their daddy walking on Mars."

It seemed to be the right thing to say. They talked about the details of the mission, and Trojan’s former cheer gradually returned.

"Where did George get to, Rudy?"

"Is that part of my job description, to keep track of your husband?" Rudy said. He noticed Trojan’s startled look and Lilah’s frown, and realized that his superiors had deliberately neglected to mention their personal relationship.

Even that small victory was hollow. Now he’d seen pictures of the future orphans to make his guilt complete. He’d do anything for an excuse to get out of there. He barely noticed when George returned.

When their dishes were taken away – Trojan had cleaned his plate and Rudy had barely touched his – the server offered them dessert. Trojan ordered nonfat cheesecake, and Lilah chose the same. When George, however, tried to order coffee and Kahlua, the server told him, "I’m sorry, sir, but liqueurs are served only at the bar." That was news to Rudy.

"Fine," George said, rising. "Rudy, would you like to join me? You did mention you were craving an after-dinner drink, didn’t you?"

He hadn’t, but it seemed like a good idea now. He couldn’t stand looking at the face of the man he was helping to doom. One more minute, and he’d blurt out the truth.

"You don’t mind, do you, Lilah?" George asked.

"Of course not, darling," Lilah said. "Charlie is such a delightful dining companion. I can talk to you any other night."

Trojan, looking alarmed, seemed to be groping for some polite way to tell George that he didn’t especially look forward to being left alone with his wife, but George was already walking away.

Rudy downed three shots of brandy before George’s coffee had cooled enough to drink. It did take the edge off the guilt feelings, but it was a treatment, not a cure.

"Look," he finally said to George, who was sipping his spiked coffee. "Suppose Lilah does talk him into giving us a blood sample. The bone protection product will make us millions. The replication technique, billions. We’re in a position to bring them to market long before Gericeutical, aren’t we? And you’re always telling me how good our patent lawyers are." He gulped down half of his fourth glass of brandy, or was it his fifth?

"So?"

"So why do we need to sell Sawdust to Trojan? It’s a drop in the bucket."

"It’s all about cash flow. We’re still not profitable, and we can’t take for granted that we’ll survive long enough to bring these newly acquired technologies to market if we neglect our quarterly sales now." His tone made it clear that he didn’t understand how anyone could go through life with so little knowledge of business. This from a man who was unclear on just what kidneys do. Not everyone is married to an MBA.

For a minute, Rudy almost convinced himself that it was all Lilah’s fault, that her greed for the bottom line had corrupted poor innocent George, with his pleasant face and friendly smile. If only George could be freed from her influence, he’d revert to being the nice guy Rudy had thought he’d hired on with.

That’s how Rudy knew how drunk he was getting. The man was scum. He and Lilah deserved each other. Rudy ordered another drink, a rum and Coke this time, drawing on another little increment of the venture capitalists’ investments. He could probably count on Lilah to hide it in the books, or to sweet-talk anyone who questioned it.

"About time, Carlos," George grumbled.

"Sorry, George. Took me awhile to find someone with the key to the medical supplies."

"Is Cindy with you?"

"Couldn’t reach her."

Rudy managed to focus on the source of the new voice. It was one of George’s assistants. One of the male ones, which meant George had hired him on his merits rather than for decorative purposes like most of them. Although he wasn’t looking half bad at the moment.

"Did you hear what I said, Rudy?" George touched him on the shoulder. It felt so good that Rudy threw his arm around George’s neck and drew him close. He was nice and warm, and his aftershave really did smell good up close.

"You’re drunk, buddy," George laughed, gently pushing Rudy’s arm away. "I need you to focus. Are you sure a blood sample will contain the bone nanobots?"

"Course it will."

"Will this be enough?" He held up what looked like a standard blood drawing kit, with an evacuated test tube or three and a needle, all neatly sealed in a clear bag.

"Dunno. Ask Shin—Cindy."

"Focus, pal!" George said, laughing indulgently. "How many test tubes am I holding up?"

Rudy counted them carefully, and recounted to be sure. "Two?"

"Very good. Now, is that enough?"

"Think so. Thaz at least a gazillion nanobots, in my pr’eshnal opinion."

"Thanks. Just one more question, pal, and then you can go back to drinking: Would drugs in his system interfere with the collection in any way?"

A chill ran down Rudy’s spine. Suddenly, he felt stone-cold sober. He had to warn Trojan!

"What kind of drugs?"

George showed him a second bag. This one contained what Rudy at first took to be a large Band-Aid. Then he realized it was a drug patch, like the kind they give you for seasickness. Maybe it would stop the room from rocking under him, if he put it on.

"It’s a quick-acting paralysis agent. It takes effect in a few minutes – ideally, less than a minute, if it’s placed directly over the heart. It wears off about an hour after the patch is removed. It tends to interfere with short-term memory and leave the person befuddled, so it’s perfect for what we plan to do.

"And what exactly is that? Are you gonna haul him outside and bleed him dry? Or strap him to the table, right on top of the pastry crumbs?"

"Hey, keep your voice down. Nothing like that. Lilah is going to go back to his hotel with him. She can easily slap this onto him as he sleeps."

Rudy felt sick to his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the booze. Granted, there was probably no truth to the colorful office rumors that said Lilah’s sexual tastes were as twisted and unfeeling as her management style and her business practices. Still, the thought of Trojan lying drugged and helpless, all alone with that woman, made Rudy shudder. And at the very least, even if she did nothing but coolly and professionally take what she wanted and leave, it would be messy and painful. Lilah was mistress of many skills, but phlebotomy was not one of them, as far as he knew. The poor guy was going to look like a pincushion by the time she found a vein. Did she even know how to stop the bleeding, once she was done with him?

"He’ll know what happened," Rudy pointed out, in the forlorn hope that they just hadn’t thought it through. He struggled to express his thoughts. "Even with a real flobmist, it hurts the next day, and there’s a hole."

"Let Lilah and me worry about that. We know how to cover things up really well."

Suddenly Rudy remembered something that’d happened the year before. The founder of Angstrom Nanosystems’s then-leading competitor had been found badly beaten in an alley in a particularly bad part of East Atherton. He’d been hospitalized for months, and meanwhile his business had gone bankrupt. It had been very convenient for Angstrom. Now Rudy was sickeningly sure of what had happened to that guy. No way to prove it, though.George, and possibly Lilah, had used this same drug on him, dragged him to the most unsafe part of town they could find, and left him unconscious in an alley after peeling off the evidence. Maybe they’d left nothing to chance and actually hired the thugs, untraceably through a middleman. He was irrationally convinced they were going to do the same thing to Trojan. If he were beaten to a bloody pulp, the little pinprick and any telltale drops of spilled blood would be lost in the noise. He’d be in no shape to notice it, and the paramedics and emergency room doctors would be too busy to look for it. If the police somehow noticed it later, they’d most likely accuse Trojan of being a drug addict and suspect the attack was a drug deal gone bad.

"The drug will destroy all the nanobots in his system," he said flatly. "You won’t get a damn thing."

George’s looked hurt. "Why are you lying to me again, buddy? I thought I could count on you." He got up and stalked away from the bar.

"George, wait!" Rudy called desperately. He managed to slide off the barstool and remain upright, but his legs felt like rubber and he stumbled into a chair.. The threat to the other man’s life may have felt like it cleared his head, but he still had every drop of alcohol in his bloodstream.

Unable to face navigating back to the table, he staggered back to his latest drink. He felt better with a fresh dose of unmetabolized alcohol in his bloodstream, and wondered when someone would invent nanobots that would sit in a man’s veins and continuously assemble ethanol molecules out of sugar, keeping him perpetually drunk. Right now, he’d buy some.

He reminded himself that he didn’t know for a fact that they were planning to harm Hunksaker, beyond jabbing him with a needle and leaving him a little mixed up in the morning. "Not my problem," he muttered. "Just met the guy." If they were friends, Rudy might feel some obligation to watch his back, but they were strangers. Rudy hadn’t introduced him to George and Lilah. Sure, if Hunksaker asked him for an assessment on whether Sawdust could do the job, he’d have to be honest. But he didn’t need to voice his paranoid fantasies.

He almost convinced himself. But something in that open, honest smile kept coming back to haunt him.. It would never occur to Trojan that Lilah was out to harm him. He just didn’t think that way. Rudy was frightened for him.

By the time he had finished his drink, he knew what he had to do. He would seduce Lilah himself, thus derailing her plan to sleep with Trojan tonight. Lilah wasn’t exactly Rudy’s type, but he thought he could keep up the pretense for one night. There were pills that could help him keep it up.

He was staggering in the general direction of the table when he ran into George, who grabbed his arm and steered him to the table. Rudy leaned against his sturdy body gratefully.

"I found him, dear. I think I’d better give him a ride home."

"I should say so."

"Would you mind driving Charlie back to his hotel when you’ve finished discussing business?"

"Not at all, darling."

"Do you have your keys to my car?"

"Let me check my purse."

"Don’t bother." He took the keys from his own pocket, and handed them, not to his wife, but to Trojan, with one key extended. "This one opens her and turns her on. She’s a real pleasure to drive." He clapped Trojan on the shoulder. "Have a good night."

"Uh, I could… you don’t need to lend me…" Trojan stammered, but George was already walking away, with Rudy leaning heavily on him.

The slightly moist nape of George’s neck smelled particularly good, right between his collar and his soft blond hair. "Cut it out," George snapped, grabbing his shoulders and pushing to one side as they walked.

Eventually, Rudy remembered where he’d parked. He wondered if George would help him into his apartment and stay for coffee or something. He wasn’t such a bad guy, once you got him away from his wife.

"Well? Give me your keys."

Pretending to be even drunker than he was, Rudy half collapsed against his buddy, resting his head on the muscle just below his shoulder.

"Damn it! This isn’t funny anymore. Where the fuck are your keys?" He dug into Rudy’s pants pocket.

That seemed like a fun idea. Rudy returned the favor, digging both his hands deep into his friend’s pants pockets.

"OK, that’s it!" George snarled, pushing him roughly against the car. "I’ve had it with you tonight! Do you always act like a fucking faggot when you get drunk? I’m trying to do you a favor."

Stunned back to his senses, Rudy remembered he was dealing with a true asshole, however much Rudy wanted to believe otherwise. And he wasn’t doing Rudy a favor, he was using him as a prop to make his gracious exit less transparent. Even the urbane California polyamorous attitude he’d showed Trojan had been part of a trap. Rudy had to get back in there right away and stop them from springing that trap. His plan to sacrifice himself by sleeping with Lilah still seemed sound, as far as he could work out in his present state of mind.

"I think I can drive myself," he said lamely.

"You’re gonna have to, you faggot, because I’m not getting in that car with you. I hope you drive off a fucking bridge." He stomped off.

He got only a few steps before he turned back. "No, I don’t mean that. I like you, Rudy – when you’re sober. Besides, you’re the best nano-engineer I have."

There were two taxis nearby. George hailed one. Rudy allowed George to shove him into the back seat of the taxi.

"I’ll take the other cab," George said.

"Where to?" the driver asked Rudy.

Rudy thought this over for a few seconds. All he had to do was give his address, and in twenty minutes he could be home in bed. He was too drunk to try to go rescuing astronauts in distress.

"Around the block once," he said. "Ten bucks enough?"

He was just in time. Lilah was filing away her credit card receipt when he reached the table. She glared at him.

"What happened?" Trojan asked him, sounding concerned.

"I couldn’t remember where I parked, and George got disgusted and took a taxi," Rudy extemporized.

"Well, I’m sure you’ll find it tomorrow. C’mon, Ms. Dalton can drop you off after she drops me off at my hotel."

"Actually, Rudy’s place is on the way to your hotel," Lilah purred. "And we should get him home as soon as possible. He doesn’t look well."

"Yeah, in fact, I feel like I’m gonna be sick. I hope I remember where the men’s room was." He staggered off in the wrong direction and artfully stumbled into some chairs.

"Let me help you, buddy," Trojan offered. He grabbed Rudy around the waist and placed Rudy’s arm over his own shoulders, and supported him all the way to the back of the restaurant.

As soon as they were around the corner, Rudy grabbed Trojan by both shoulders and said urgently, "Listen! That was just a ruse. We need to get you out of here."

"Then you don’t need to throw up?"

"Not unless I have to watch Lilah fawning over you for one more minute. You’ve got to—" he stopped as his thoughts plowed their way through the molasses his brain had turned into. "Did you tell Lilah which hotel you’re staying at?"

"She already knew. I guess George told her."

"George knows?"

"He came up to my room when he picked me up. Why?"

"You need to spend the night at my place. I don’t know how to say this, but –"

"Sure."

"Huh?"

"Sure. I take it you really know where your car is?"

"Come this way."

"You’re parked in the kitchen?"

Rudy led him out the back door before the kitchen staff could do more than give them dirty looks. Once outside, he quickly got his bearings and spotted his car only half a block away. He fished the keys out of his pocket himself this time, and carefully handed them to Trojan – tossing them was a cool gesture he couldn’t risk; in his present state they might wind up in the sewer.

"This isn’t even in the same direction as my hotel," Trojan observed after he’d pulled onto the freeway. "Is your GPS lying, or Lilah?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh."

"Look, I’m sorry for interfering, but—"

"Hey, no need to apologize for helping me escape! I know California has a different idea of sexual morality than Texas, but –"

"That’s mostly a myth," Rudy assured him. "Well, an exaggeration. I don’t want you to get the idea we’re all like Lilah and George. Compared to what you hear about Californians, we’re downright straight-laced."

"Oh." Trojan drove for a moment in thoughtful silence. "You sure I’m not imposing? You’ve got a couch, I guess…"

"Sure. A futon couch."

"Whatever that is. Look, I can take a taxi back to my hotel."

"She might be waiting for you there."

"Is she that desperate?"

"It’s not that simple." How to tell him? "

"I guess I’m okay-looking, but I’m sure she could do better than me."

"Okay-looking?" Rudy objected. "You’re more than ‘okay-looking.’ Plus, you’ve got the mystique of the explorer."

"I didn’t think most women go for that. Most women like someone who’ll stay close to home and provide for them."

"I don’t know what women want. I… How about some music?" he said instead. "What kind do you like?" He flipped on the player.

"Got any late 20^th Century pop?"

"Thousands. Name it."

"‘Wind Beneath My Wings.’"

The player chimed. "Play," Rudy commanded.

Trojan sang along, with obvious feeling. It made Rudy feel even crummier.

Rudy chose "The Evil Woman," then tried without success to remember which old song had the line "she’ll carelessly cut you and laugh while you’re bleedin’."

"Is this the place?" Trojan asked.

Rudy awoke with a start. He’d been slumped as far against Trojan’s shoulder as his seatbelt would allow. Was it a coincidence that the song now playing was "Lean on Me"?

"Yeah. My parking space is that one right there."

What seemed like a split second later, Trojan asked, "So are we spending the night like this? I’ve had smaller, but not in a gravity field."

Rudy realized he’d dozed off again. The player was halfway through "He Ain’t Heavy." "If that song is your way of asking if you need to carry me in, that won’t be necessary."

Trojan insisted on supporting him anyway. Probably a good precaution. Rudy noticed he, too, smelled good. And he wasn’t even wearing aftershave.

He felt an enormous sense of relief when they were inside, with the door double-locked behind them. He had rescued Trojan. At least for tonight. Crazily, he imagined Lilah showing up to seduce Rudy while George overpowered Trojan. Both seemed physically unlikely.

"Is this the mysterious crouton?"

"Futon," Rudy corrected, gratefully removing his suit jacket and draping it over a kitchen chair.

"It’s softer than I expected. Not as crunchy."

"Can I get you anything?"

"You got a spare blanket? Maybe a pillow?"

"I meant to drink."

"Of course you meant to. You can’t get that drunk by accident."

Rudy groaned. He was tempted to get the spare pillow right away, just so he could throw it at this clown, but he was reluctant to make him too comfortable on the couch just yet. He wanted to stay up and talk.

"Sorry," Trojan said. "I always make bad jokes when I’m nervous."

So he did sense the danger he’d been in. Now that he’d brought up the subject, Rudy tried to think of a way to explain his fears without sounding too paranoid. Maybe if he just stuck to what he knew for a fact… He started trying to loosen his tie. "It’s going to feel great to get these stupid clothes off."

"Having trouble?" Trojan asked him, watching his struggle with interest, his chin resting on his propped-up hand.

"I can barely manage these when I’m sober."

"Usually it’s tying it that’s the hard part."

"For that, I look up an instructional video on the web, every time."

Trojan laughed. "I promised myself I’d never wear a tie again, now that I own my own company."

"You’re lucky. You could impress the bankers with your reputation alone."

"Want some help with that?"

"Uh, sure."

Trojan stood in front of him and undid the knot and pulled it off. Then he reached for the button at Rudy’s throat and undid that too. "Feel better now?"

"Thanks for the hand. I usually don’t dress this formally, you know. Even a button-down shirt like this is more formal than I usually get."

"So you’ll be needing help with that too, eh?" Trojan said, unfastening another button.

"I’m not that drunk!" Rudy protested, laughing. He fumbled with the button on the cuff. "Although these are hard to do one-handed," he admitted.

Trojan unbuttoned both cuffs, and together they got the shirt off. Trojan seemed to overestimate his drunkenness; he ran his hand down Rudy’s T-shirt, toward his waist, apparently planning to untuck it for him.

"I think I can handle it from here," Rudy laughed, pulling it out for himself. "I wear T-shirts every day to work." Trojan backed off a step, looking abashed. Rudy reached out and snagged him by the top button of his shirt, and observed, "I see you don’t believe in T-shirts, either." Trojan’s chest felt hairy. Rudy wondered what color his chest hair was. Did he come by that blond hair naturally? Of its own accord, his hand undid the button it was holding, exposing some reddish-gold chest hair. It looked, and felt, finer than Rudy’s own.

"I bet you wear sneakers to work," Trojan said softly.

"Yeah, these shoes are killing me." Rudy bent over and untied them.

"Sit down on the couch and I’ll rub your feet."

Rudy complied. His guest – hero to a nation and space enthusiasts everywhere – sat down on Rudy’s carpet and gave him an attentive foot massage. Rudy made appreciative noises. After several minutes, he pulled off Rudy’s socks and massaged his bare feet.

"You guys don’t wear shoes in orbit," Rudy murmured.

"That’s because you never know when someone’s foot is going to wind up in your face by accident. But we always wear socks. It wouldn’t be proper to go barefoot." To demonstrate his point, he put his face in Rudy’s foot, inhaling deeply. He paused for a few seconds, looking up at Rudy’s face. Then he began licking between his toes.

"Oh, man!" gasped Rudy.

"You… like that?"

"Oh, that feels intense! I didn’t expect—"

"What?" Trojan asked softly.

Clean, musky manhood reached his nose. He opened his eyes. Trojan was leaning over him, face to face. "What?" he repeated gently.

"You know…" Rudy didn’t dare say it.

"Can I do anything else for you," he murmured, unbuttoning Rudy’s pants, "that you didn’t expect?"

Trojan had opened his shirt halfway while attending to Rudy’s feet, revealing silky-looking chest hair between his well-developed pectorals. It looked inviting. Hesitantly, Rudy reached out and stroked it, to see if it was as soft as it looked (it was) and if Trojan would object (he didn’t). Rudy slid his hand into the space under the shirt afforded by Trojan’s leaning posture. Trojan closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure.

Rudy scooted down a little and placed his tongue against Trojan’s skin, and was rewarded with a soft moan. His tongue explored his chest while his hands alternated between undoing the remaining buttons, one by one, and caressing Trojan’s hard abdomen. Soon he had Trojan’s shirt hanging down on either side of his head, and his tongue and hands had complete access to the astronaut’s bare chest.

At this point, part of him that was standing back and watching started repeating, This is so cool! An astronaut! This is SO COOL! Firmly, he told his inner child that it was way past its bedtime.

Trojan kissed him gently on the lips. He shifted his arm behind Rudy’s neck, imprisoning his head, and kissed him a little harder. Rudy desperately tried to recall whether he’d remembered to use nano-mouthwash this week. His mouth tasted fresh, and his teeth felt squeaky clean, so the bots must still be active, preventing any microbes in his mouth from forming a biofilm. He parted his lips and let Trojan’s tongue in. It tasted equally fresh. He must use the same stuff. But just in case, Rudy felt it was his duty as a friend to run his tongue along the other man’s teeth, seeding them with nanobots. But they felt absolutely clean, in a way that that could never be achieved by brushing. He imagined the little nanoscale drama being played out in Trojan’s mouth: one nanobot nudging its neighbor and signaling, "Where did all these new guys come from all of a sudden?"

Still locked in the kiss, Trojan was running his hands along Rudy’s back under his T-shirt, which he’d pulled halfway up. Then he broke off and pulled the shirt over Rudy’s head, with Rudy obligingly lifting his arms. Rudy found himself pushed down onto his back and kissed everywhere from his throat down to his navel and back again. They hugged each other tightly, enjoying the skin contact.

Trojan propped himself up, breathing hard, playfully ruffling Rudy’s chest hair with his free hand. "You have one of those damn California waterbeds?"

"Well, no, just —"

"Good! Those things always make me dream I’m sleeping in orbit. Until fifteen minutes ago I was picturing stretching out on this couch overnight, but—"

"You know what I’m picturing, Trojan? You stretched out on my bed. Naked."

Trojan leapt to his feet. That made three things eagerly standing up. He grasped Rudy’s hand, hauled him to his feet, and half dragged him toward the bedroom.

Rudy started with Trojan’s shoes and socks, and found that Trojan liked the toe-licking thing the other way around too. As he relieved him of his shirt, it hit him again: who’d have thought he’d ever have a barefoot, bare-chested astronaut lying in his own bed? He reached for Trojan’s belt buckle, but Trojan took that moment to sit up and grab Rudy’s half-unzipped pants and tug them to his knees.

They wrestled a bit. Once Trojan had him naked, they lay together catching their breath.

"No tan line," Trojan observed, his fingers exploring Rudy’s uniform tan. "You must spend a lot of time at those nude California beaches I’ve heard about."

"No, I use that new nanotan stuff. It signals the skin cells to produce extra melanin the same way that the sun would." He babbled on about enzymes and ion channels and melanosomes until he was interrupted by a burst of affectionate laughter.

"Guess that’s what I get for sleeping with a drunken engineer." He kissed Rudy gently. "I kinda like it, actually."

Rudy wondered whether he meant the all-over tan or the technical pillow talk.

"Is it true that engineers talk shop during sex?" Trojan teased.

"Don’t know. Haven’t slept with enough other engineers to have a good data sample. Is it true that astronauts go through a checklist before having sex?"

"Absolutely," Trojan said with a wink. "Let’s start with Health Systems. Got your shots?"

He must be kidding. Rudy had gotten vaccinated as soon as he’d turned 18 and the law allowed it. "Heath Systems ‘go,’" he said with a grin.

"No spouse to get concurrence from?"

"Faithfulness is ‘go.’ Uh… what about you? You’re divorced, right?"

"We have separation," Trojan intoned. He laughed. "Yeah, the divorce is final. Hydraulic pressure?"

It had flagged a little during this banter, but under Trojan’s light touch it spiked again. "104% of nominal. Launch Vehicle A is ‘go.’"

"Launch Vehicle B is ‘go.’" It was tenting Trojan’s boxers.

"Stand by for visual confirmation," Rudy said playfully, tugging at Trojan’s one remaining piece of clothing. Once he’d slipped it around his ankles, he lay back, savoring the thrill of it. Charles Hunksaker, naked, in his bed! Just lying there and willingly letting Rudy run his hands anywhere he wanted. He leaned down, hardly believing he was going to be allowed to do this.

He’d barely tasted it when he was pushed roughly back onto his back. He wondered whether he’d done something wrong, but a second later he felt Trojan’s lips around him, and he was enveloped by warmth. His last coherent thought was that he’d been utterly wrong if he’d entertained any notion that he’d seduced a straight guy. Trojan was very experienced at this, and he couldn’t have learned all of it by observing from the other side.

He woke up snuggled comfortably against Trojan’s chest. The lights had been dimmed. "I thought sure you were out for the night," his bedmate said in his ear.

"I never could sleep with a job unfinished," Rudy said, pushing himself onto his hands and knees on top of Trojan. He kissed him again, then started licking his way down the length of the man’s body. At the rate he must be leaving nanobots all over Trojan’s skin, he was going to have to remember to rinse with nano-wash again tomorrow. They’d shut down automatically, of course, as soon as their chemical sensors figured out that their owner’s tongue had left them stranded somewhere they didn’t belong. Though as far as Rudy was concerned, his mouth belonged all over Trojan’s body, and especially where it was now.

Rudy always delighted in making other guys moan in pleasure. To do it to this guy… Wow.

Later, Rudy awoke from a nightmare about Trojan screaming in agony as he fell from a marmalade sky, his flight suit in flames. But Trojan was cuddled safely beside him. The room was dark, except for ambient light from streetlight spilling in through the curtains. In sleep, his bedmate’s face seemed even more unguarded, as though he trusted Rudy to protect him from any danger. He looked younger than Rudy right now, though Rudy recalled he was in his mid-thirties.

Still shaken by the nightmare, but cozy, Rudy slid back into a drowsy reverie. He felt fiercely protective of his sleeping comrade. Sure, there was always a risk that some unforeseeable danger in space would kill him; that was the risk human explorers had taken throughout history. But Rudy would do anything to protect him from hazards caused by people not doing their jobs right – or hiding the truth, like his bosses had.

"Anyone who wants to hurt you will have to get past me first," he promised, stroking his vulnerable-looking bedmate’s naked chest.

Rudy awoke with a hangover. He tried to focus his eyes on the ceiling, but it wouldn't stop moving long enough for him to accomplish this task. He rolled over to his left and almost fell off the bed in the process.

"This day is not getting off to a good start," he muttered to himself.

As he rolled onto his back again, his right arm landed on something hiding under the covers. He looked over and saw some blonde hair poking out from under the covers, and heard a sleepy moan come from somewhere in that direction. The lump moved slightly and he felt a bare foot press against him as the movement stopped.

Maybe today wasn't going to be so bad after all!

Rudy stared at the figure lying next to him and tried to reconstruct the events of last night in his mind. This was not easy to do because the room kept spinning, and when he closed his eyes he felt as though he was floating on a stormy sea, bobbing up and down. He instinctively reached out to steady himself and again made contact with the person sleeping next to him. This time his movements caused the person to stir briefly, and Rudy saw the satisfied grin on their face.

Rudy couldn't believe his eyes. He pinched himself to see if he was dreaming, but when he looked again the same person was still lying next to him. Last night must have gotten a lot more out of hand than he could have imagined. He gingerly slipped from the bed and unsteadily made his way to the bathroom. Taking three Excedrin in hand, Rudy staggered towards the kitchen to get something to drink - he didn't want to chance waking his bedmate with the sound of running water.

As Rudy opened the door of the refrigerator the phone rang. Almost simultaneously there was a knock on the door, followed by a loud groan from the direction of the bedroom. Rudy's head felt as though it was going to split open from the sudden noises. He grabbed the telephone as it started to ring a second time and managed to croak, "Hello?"

"What the hell happened to you last night?" The shrill female voice coming through the receiver added to Rudy's headache. "I waited for almost an hour before I decided you had left without me. Where the hell did you go?"

The knocking on the door turned to pounding, and a male voice called out, "You better not try to hide from me, Rudy! I know you're in there, and I know who you're with. Open this door right now!"

And as Rudy tried to sort out what to do next he felt a warm body press against his back. A voice whispered in his ear, "You certainly make it hard to sleep, lover!"

An unshaven chin nuzzled his neck, and strong hands slid around his ribs and laced themselves together across his bare chest. The good-natured complaint, which Rudy could feel rumbling in Hunksaker’s chest against his spine, had a soothing effect. He was almost convinced that the only decision they had to make was whether to go back to bed or start a leisurely breakfast, and the worst problem they would have to face was how long they’d need to lie wrapped in each other’s arms before both men could drift peacefully back to sleep. Even the throbbing in his head was subsiding, replaced by a more pleasant throbbing further down. Savoring the skin-to-skin contact, he wished he could lean back into Hunksaker’s strong arms and allow him to drag him back to bed.

He could hardly believe he’d really slept with Charles Hunksaker! Trojan. He’d been invited to use his handle. And not the handle whose underside was presently crushed against Rudy’s buttock. Though he’d been invited to use that handle too. Unbelievable!

The loud knocking continued. George sounded determined enough to break the door down. He didn’t know Rudy was gay, and would probably fire him if he broke into Rudy’s home and found him sleeping with another man, equal-opportunity-employment laws be damned. Better have Trojan pretend to be sacking out on the couch. That’s where George would expect to find him.

So why was he angry that Rudy had let Trojan spend the night? In a flash, it all came back to him. How were they ever going to get out of this mess? He swallowed the Excedrin dry, hoping its nanocoating would be enough to let the pills slide down his throat smoothly. He’d drink some water later.

Trojan was rubbing his cheek against Rudy’s. Rudy hoped the sound didn’t carry over the phone. He doubted Lilah was familiar with the sound of two unshaven cheeks being rubbed together, but he wouldn’t put it past her, if some three-way business deal had ever called for it.

Regretfully, he pulled out of Trojan’s embrace and reeled over to the door, saying, "We left without you because — Hang on for just a second, Lilah." He muted the phone, put his face close to the door and called softly, "Be with you in a minute, George. It’s Lilah on the phone." A second later, his conscious mind figured out why he was speaking like there was someone left to wake up. He added, "And keep it down, will ya? You’ll wake Hunksaker up." He caught Trojan’s eye and urgently pointed at the couch. Trojan looked confused, all except the part of him that was urgently pointing back at Rudy.

Rudy lurched back into the bedroom, beckoning Trojan to follow. "Last night," he asked quietly, "did I tell you… anything?"

"Nothing that you’ll need to take back," Trojan said, looking disheartened. "We had a great night," he added wistfully, "but you never promised we—"

"That’s not what I meant." Damn. But now was not a good time for long-term plans. A wordless arm around Trojan’s bare shoulders would have to do for now. He unmuted the phone.

"You still there, Lilah? We left because I was really sick, and Hunksaker got worried and drove me to the emergency room as soon as I’d finished tossing my dinner."

"Did you tell him anything?"

"You mean, did I tell him that you were planning to drug him and steal his blood so you could find out what Gericeuticals has discovered? Or just that our technology may not work on Mars?"

"Either."

"No, I didn’t tell him anything. He’d be shocked to hear it." And so he was. He looked like Rudy had just sucker-punched him in the gut. He sat down on the foot of the bed, looking stunned.

Rudy located Trojan’s pants and handed them to him. Muting the phone, he whispered, "You’re sound asleep on the couch. Follow my lead." Trojan caught on immediately and dragged the blanket off the bed and tucked a pillow under his arm. Good man.

Rudy managed to struggle into his bathrobe while listening to Lilah rant about how she’d be sure to tell all the other employees that the reason their medical insurance premiums had been hiked was that Rudy had drunk himself sick at a business dinner.

"Anyway, he would have stayed in the waiting room all night, but I insisted he take my car back to his hotel and get some sleep. He promised to bring it around this morning."

"When he arrives, try to keep him there. George is on his way. He had the idea you’d told him everything and that you’re harboring him. Obviously, he overestimated you."

The pounding on the door resumed, quieter this time but no less insistent. "I think one of them is at the door now," Rudy said. "Whichever one it is, I’ll give him your love." He hung up on her outraged response.

His vestibular balance system was still misfiring a little, but he made it back to the door and called "Just a minute, George." He glanced back and saw that Trojan had put on his pants and also Rudy’s rumpled T-shirt, and was swinging his bare feet onto the couch as he pulled the blanket over himself. With quick thinking and teamwork like that, maybe his mission did have a chance to succeed. If greedy bastards like George and Lilah didn’t screw it up for him.

He unlocked the door and eased it open. "Jeeze, George," he said quietly, "It’s a miracle you didn’t wake him up. I heard you all the way from the bedroom. Even with those sleeping pills I slipped in his beer last night, I’m surprised he’s still out."

"You drugged him?" George asked.

"Strangely, he felt too tired to drive… I was going to call you. Should I have tied him up?"

"You know, I actually thought you were harboring him? I’m sorry, Rudy. I should have trusted you."

"C’mon, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to bring him here! It’s the first place you’d look."

"The second. But why did you bring him here?"

"He was getting suspicious of Lilah. I pretended to be really drunk so he’d drive me home." Another memory fell into place, of George shoving him away. "Had you fooled too, didn’t I?"

"We’re lucky he did offer. It’s not like he’s a friend of yours, like I am."

"I knew he would. He’s a real Boy Scout."

"Good work. Sorry for doubting you. I don’t suppose you got a blood sample?"

"I was half dead last night myself. Way too shaky to get a needle in him without spilling more blood than I drew."

"I wouldn’t worry about that," George said grimly.

"Easy for you to say. It’s not your carpet. Anyway, I don’t keep a blood sample kit lying around the house."

"No problem." George pulled the zip-lock bag out of his suit pocket. "I was a Boy Scout myself, and I’m always prepared."

Yeah, an organization that can produce guys like you but kicks out guys like me and Trojan for not being "morally straight," Rudy thought.

"Well, come on in."

As they stood shoulder-to-shoulder looking down at his apparently helpless guest, Rudy whispered, "See, you didn’t need sex to make your plot work."

"Good job, Rudy."

"But we can’t count on him sleeping through a needle being jabbed into his arm. Remind me how that patch works."

"It’s designed to be put right over his heart."

"Should I slide it under his T-shirt?"

"No, you’re likely to get it stuck on your own hand, or inside his shirt. Do you think you can lift his shirt up without waking him?"

"I think so." He carefully slid the blanket down to Trojan’s hips. Trojan trustingly kept his eyes shut and didn’t flinch as Rudy slowly rolled the bottom of his T-shirt up, gradually exposing his belly, then his chest. When he had the shirt rolled up to the astronaut’s armpits, he sidled behind George, who had the patch in hand. "Easy does it," he advised, resting both hands lightly on George’s shoulders.

George whispered, "Get ready to grab him if—"

Rudy grappled George’s arms, shouting, "Now, Trojan!" and then finally allowed himself to topple over, taking George with him.

They pinned George to the floor. His look of betrayal was heartrending. "Sorry it had to come to this, George," Rudy said, patting him on the cheek. George hadn’t taken the time to shave this morning, he noticed.

"What should we do with him?" Trojan asked.

"I’ve got an idea." He started unbuttoning their vanquished foe’s shirt.

As soon as they saw the police car pull up to the alley, Rudy discreetly drove away in the opposite direction. He was relieved the police had responded. This was East Atherton, after all, and they must have more pressing things to do; he’d been afraid they would laugh off his anonymous complaint about a drunk passed out on the street. Certainly no bystanders had paid much attention to two men carrying a third unconscious man between them and leaving him in an alley.

"Do you really think they’ll make the connection to that beating you told me about?" Trojan asked, removing his arm from Rudy’s neck so he could drive.

"It’s the exact same alley. I checked the web while you were shaving. When they can’t wake him up, they’ll take him to the hospital, where they’ll find the patch and analyze it. There’s only one hospital nearby, the same one the beating victim was taken to. Between the hospital, the police detectives, and the press, someone will make the connection. There’s bound to be an investigation, and if he and Lilah really were behind it, maybe they’ll find evidence. Man, do I ever need another cup of coffee! Can we risk stopping at a drive-through window on the way to the airfield?"

"Sounds safe enough to me. How’s the headache?"

"Much better, thanks." Trojan had forced him to drink a quart of juice and half a gallon of water the minute George’s increasingly weak struggles had stopped. "But this has been the worst hangover I’ve ever had. I hate getting up before the crack of noon even under normal circumstances."

"You could have fooled me! You did a fantastic job of thinking on your feet."

Rudy felt himself flush with pride, the way he always used to when George had praised him.

"Well, creative problem solving is what I do for a living. …Did."

"Dressing him in ratty old clothes was a stroke of genius!" Trojan said exuberantly.

Watching the man he had just slept with stripping a man he used to be… well… infatuated with, down to his briefs, was an experience Rudy had enjoyed way too much, under the circumstances. He really ought to talk to his therapist about that. Did they have therapists in Texas? Then he’d gotten to dress George in his old jeans and sneakers, both slightly too worn to wear at work anymore, while Trojan had pulled a torn-up old T-shirt over his head. Rudy had selected it for its Dilbert cartoon.

"I’m more proud of the Nanoxydil." The same over-the-counter product that kept Rudy’s hairline from receding as he approached the Big Three-Oh had given the CEO a three-day growth of beard in the time it took to drive to East Atherton. It had taken maybe five minutes on Rudy’s desktop to reprogram a few parameters.

"Yeah, I was impressed! I’m sure we’ll be in the air by the time they figure out he’s not a vagrant."

"Fingerprints!" Rudy said suddenly. "I knew I overlooked something. I sure hope East Atherton is too poor to have one of those new scanners, or they could identify him from his DMV records even before he wakes up. My brain really isn’t in gear yet."

"Buddy, if that’s the worst flaw in your plan, I can’t wait to see what you can do once you’ve had your second cup of coffee."

"He won’t dare to press charges, right?"

"Let him. They’d have to get Texas to extradite us."

"What if we ever have to come back to California to escape from Texas law?"

"Were you planning to do something illegal in Texas?"

"Every night," Rudy said with a grin. "If you’re willing."

"Since I’m willing, and an adult," Trojan laughed, "it’s legal, even in Texas. Has been since 2011. How backward do you think we are? This is the 21^st century."

"Good. I’m glad we have that settled."

They got Rudy his coffee, and Trojan insisted on taking over the driving while he drank it.

"I suppose this means George won’t sell me Angstrom’s technology now?"

"It wouldn’t have worked anyway. Wish I’d been man enough to tell you right away. I can recommend a few companies that have better-suited technology. But I don’t think any off-the-shelf product is going to suit your needs, without months of development to adapt it."

"I guess I’ll have to hire my own nanotech engineer, then. Know anyone who’s looking for a job? It would have to be someone who’s really top-notch. And good at thinking under pressure. But willing to take a big pay cut. And relocate to Houston, with our sweltering summers. But he would be helping human explorers to reach Mars."

Slowly, Rudy said, "I’d be honored. But if our personal relationship doesn’t work out like we hope…?"

"You’ll still have the job. The job offer that’s contingent on us being lovers comes later."

"Huh?"

"We’re designing for four. The crew so far consists of me and two close friends of mine: a geochemist named Jennifer, and her husband Jim, who’s our paleontologist and medic. Notice anything missing?

"Someone who can actually fix things when they break?"

"We’ll need someone with a solid engineering background who can get us out of jams and won’t cave in under pressure. It also has to be someone we can all get along with in very close quarters for a long time. So far we’ve only found three qualified candidates, and they’re all straight males. I can tell Jim is really uneasy about that, not to mention Jenny."

"So if things do work out between us…"

"Don’t get your hopes up yet, pal. Let’s see if you hit it off with Jim and Jenny over the next few months. I’ll also have to ask you a hundred nosy questions about your medical history, and so on. And test your performance. Outside the bedroom, I mean."

The GPS announced the exit. They’d reach the airfield in ten minutes. Trojan added, "Your first test is to see if you can stand being pressed against me in a tiny private plane for several hours." Rudy looked forward to the challenge.

They spent the last few miles listening to a song from Rudy’s favorite opera, from just last century. The notion of turning anyone’s head with talk of summertime in Houston made them exchange ironic grins. They started singing along.

"That’s ‘say the word and I will follow you,’" he laughingly corrected Trojan, "not ‘swallow’!"

They didn’t sing the duet the way it was meant to be sung – they both wanted Raoul’s part – but Rudy thought they sounded great together, harmonizing on the final lines: "Anywhere you go, let me go too! That’s all I ask of you."