STARDATE -331186.81: March 9, 1992

Phil hefted the four-hundred-pound bar to his shoulder and shoved it above his head. He began to grunt and moan beneath the weight. He paused, repositioned his hands, scratched his nose, and put his free hand back.

"Philip," Khan said with a tilt of his head.

Phil shook his head and tossed the bar down. It hit off angle and cracked a groove into the floor. Khan picked up the bar in one hand and walked back to Phil. He put his hand on Phil's shoulder.

"I understand your feelings, Philip, but we must do what is necessary." He set the bar down in front of Phil. "They are not ready for the full knowledge of us. Please continue."

Phil took a water bottle and squeezed an amount into his mouth. "I don't care if they ever know," he said.

Khan's perpetual smile froze, and his eyes tightened. "They will know well enough, Philip. They will welcome us."

"They will welcome you. I'm just a guy who's good with numbers."

"Well said!" Khan laughed and knocked him in the shoulder. "One of the foremost physicists of our era."

"Hawking has me beat any day," Phil replied.

Khan exhaled through a determined smile. "Yes," he said, his mouth still in its smile. "He is very good. The world is lucky to have you both."

Phil pressed a towel into his face, dabbing sweat he did not have. "I think luck only applies to one of us."

"True enough," Khan said. "But the world will be pleased with you both."

"Perhaps they will," Phil said. "I need to go. I'm meeting the cadets."

"That's not for some time."

"I want to look my best."

"I want you ready for the exhibition," Khan said.

Phil shrugged. "I was born ready."

Khan laughed well, but his eyes never lost focus.

Sometime later, two dozen hopeful cadets stared up the dry brown length of the unpainted launch engines of the DY-70 planetary transport. Far in the back, one cadet raised his hand and looked at Keegan.

"Why a submarine?" he said.

"Submarines make the most efficient use of space," Phil replied. "We could copy their schematics almost exactly into the design of the transport."

A woman raised her hand. "How important is the physical portion of the training?" Some of the cadets laughed.

"Very," Keegan replied. "We have no idea how difficult the trip will be for the crew. All the knowledge in the world can't help you if your body won't do the job."

"Equal importance, then," she said.

"Yes," Keegan said. "Any more questions?"

"Will we be training on the space station?"

"No," Keegan said sharply. "I'm sorry. We'll be using a mock-up."

"How long will the trip take?"

Phil sighed. "If the ion drive works, only a few weeks."

"How will selections be made?"

He sighed again. "Highest scores for the first trip to improve the chances of success. I'll let you look at the ship now. You can't go in yet, but it doesn't hurt to look at it." The cadets picked around the engines and massaged the ship.

"Well done," Khan said beside Phil. "They are a good group."

Phil turned around. "What's that?" he said of the bundle under Khan's arm.

"The new uniforms. Do you like them?"

"It's not really my color."

Khan smiled and slapped him on the shoulder. "You'll look fine."

"Doctor Keegan?" a cadet said. She was pretty, with Chinese features and a warm smile.

"I'm not a doctor," Phil said.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I read your last paper. I just assumed..."

"I'll have my doctorate by the end of the year."

"Of course," she said. "Anyway, it's a pleasure working with you. Your work is brilliant. I hoped I could discuss your paper with you. I wrote an analysis of it, you know."

"Yes, I read it," Keegan said. "You failed to account for some of the infinities in your results."

"Really?" She looked hurt. "Well, it will be something to work on during the trip, won't it?"

"If you manage to get a spot."

"Will you be going on the mission?" she asked.

"No," Phil said. "As an instructor, I'm not eligible."

"Oh, that's unfortunate." She stalled against her thoughts. "Well, I would still like to discuss your work. If you'd like. If you have the time."

"Yes, I would like that."

"And, Doctor Singh!" she said. "I know you're a doctor. It's an honor to meet you."

"Thank you, my dear. And congratulations. Only the best and brightest are allowed in here."

"Yes." She looked at Phil. "The very best."

Khan slapped Phil's shoulder again. "I am very proud of my cousin."

"Cousin?"

"By marriage," Phil said flatly, as if by rote.

"Now, my dear, you should return to the others," Khan said. "There's much more to do."

She nodded and walked away.

"I don't think Gescilene would mind," Khan said in a low voice, his eyes on the cadet.

"Gesci would cut them off, sew them back on and cut them off again."

Khan chuckled. "Never lament a strong-willed woman, Philip."

"I'll remember that."

"Be happy, Philip. That vessel will soon take humanity to Mars. That attractive young woman may be among them. It is better, don't you think, for them to prepare the way for us?"

"As you wish, Khan."

"Philip, Philip," he tsked. "I thought you loved them. Are your passions so easily turned?"

"No, Khan. I am glad for them." He looked at the cadet. "I wish them all the best."

"And they will thank us for that. Their gratitude, their love, is not so unpleasant."

"Yes, Khan, you're right. I have all that you've described. I have everything they could want. All they need to do is ask for it."

Khan nodded. "Well said, Philip," he whispered gently. "Well said indeed."

Many hours later, Phil stood alone in the gymnasium. He tapped the top of a CD player and one of his brother's concertos began to play. He jumped up to the rings and began his routine. He was not in the gymnastics competition, but he enjoyed the rings as an exercise. He moved so the crack of the straps matched the beat of the music. At one point, when inverted, he saw the door of the gymnasium close and a figure move into the room. He twisted as he fell so he faced her when he landed.

"That was very impressive," the cadet said.

"It's a hobby," Phil replied. "You're not supposed to be here this late."

"Really?" she said. "I was told it was allowed. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry. It won't get you kicked out." He leaned over and turned off the music.

"That was nice," she said.

"I'll tell my brother you liked it."

She shook her head. "You have an amazing family."

"Thank you," he replied and picked up the player.

"Truly amazing. In everything you do. I mean that."

"Yes, I know. Thank you. Did you want to use the equipment?"

"I just wanted to say..." She took a breath. "How proud I am to work with someone like you."

"Yes. Thank you." He threw a towel over his shoulder. "I'm proud to work with someone like you, too."

"Someone like me?"

"I had a privileged upbringing. You earned your place here. I envy that."

She put her hand on his arm. "I really, really mean what I'm saying. I'm very glad I'm working with you."

He put his hand over hers, holding it against his skin. "Do you dance?" he said.

"Yes," she said quickly.

He put the player down and selected a track. A waltz began to play. Phil pulled her into position. She laid her head against his chest and they began to move.

Two hours later, she clutched his chest and whimpered in pain as he carried her into the ER. He called out for help and laid her on a gurney.

"What is it?" a doctor said, the last doctor he wanted to hear.

"I think her pelvis is broken," he replied.

"How did this happen?" Gesci asked.

Before Phil could reply, the cadet yelped. Gesci saw to her injuries, gave her a pain killer and called for x-rays.

"You'll be fine," Gesci said.

"What..." the cadet winced. "How..."

"It's okay. My brother only does this with women he likes."

"Brother?" the cadet said in a surprisingly clear voice.

"By marriage," they replied together.

"Oh," she said and waited. "The...mission."

"You're not off the team, but you won't recover in time for the first trip," Phil said. "I'm sorry."

"I understand. I just... Why did you do that?"

"I got excited," he said.

"We're taking you to x-ray, now," Gesci said.

"Thank you, Doctor."

A man took hold of the gurney, said some reassuring words, and pushed her down the hall.

"Phil," Gesci said. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Gesci?" He said and followed her to a locker room. "Gesci, let me apologize."

Once the door shut, she yelled, "Mother-fucker!" and punched a locker. Her fist yanked the locker door from its hinges and pushed it two inches into the back panel and into the locker behind the first. The lockers wobbled from the impact.

"It's this again," Phil said.

"Shut up, Phil."

"Tell me."

"SHUT UP!" She threw her fist at him. He caught her punch and held it until she pulled her hand away.

"Tell me, Gesci," he said, shaking the sting out of his hand. She panted against his words. "Damn it!" he yelled and hit the lockers with his fist. He dented the corner four inches deep and twisted the lockers hard against their base. "What is it? It's two damn years of this. I want to know."

"That goddamn bastard."

"That's a given," he said. "Did he know you were on duty?"

"God, Phil, he called me in." She sat down with a shudder.

"And I thought this was all for me."

She laughed, dry and empty. "Why fuck over one when you can fuck over a hundred?"

He dropped to his knees in front of her. "Tell me," he whispered. "Please."

She closed her eyes and twitched at the memories. "He was awake," she said.

"Who?"

"The saboteur from the fifty launch. I gave him enough sedative to knock out even you. None of it worked. He was awake through everything I did, watching me." She took a breath. "And Zi, never one to leave a blade untwisted, told me how much he admired my technique."

"Gesci—" Phil said.

"Doctor Amarel?" an orderly asked, walking into the room. "Is everything all right? Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, Tony," she said.

"Are you sure?" He looked at the room.

"Yes," she replied.

"Should he be in here?" Tony asked.

"Yes, Tony. My brother would never hurt me."

"Brother?"

"Yes, Tony," she said. "If you don't mind, this is family business."

"I'm...sorry, Doctor. If you need me, call."

"Thank you, Tony."

He turned to leave, but more hospital staff had crowded against the door. One, a surprisingly young and well-built Chief of Staff, examined the damage to the lockers.

"Gescilene, are you having some difficulties?" he asked with a smooth lilt.

"No," she said.

"Philip?"

Phil was still on his knees, struggling not to hold his sister. "None at all."

"I don't think you should be in here, Philip," the Chief of Staff said.

Gesci stood and smoothed her coat. "I need to check on my patient."

When she passed the other doctor, he said, "One of Philip's cadets, isn't she?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Do your best, Doctor Amarel. We want her ready for space."

Phil remained on the ground until the room emptied. He left the hospital with his hands crushed into fists and looked for something to break. He found Tony.

"I don't like the way you treat her," Tony said.

"I'll keep it in mind," Phil said. Tony had two inches and thirty pounds on Phil. He made his weight known.

"I don't want Doctor Amarel hurt the way you hurt that girl."

"God, if you only knew," Phil whispered.

"What?" Tony asked.

"You're not her type, Tony," Phil said. "Give it up."

Phil tried to move around him. Tony put a finger against Phil's chest. "I don't want you hurting her. Do you understand?" Tony said.

Phil took Tony's finger and squeezed. Tony winced, then cringed, then gasped, then grunted and began to drop. He finally cried out in increasing volume as he slid down, pounding Phil's stomach all the way.

"What are you doing?" Gesci said, walking toward them.

"Crushing his distal phalanx," Phil replied without turning.

"I can see that. Why?"

"He irritated me."

"This doesn't help. Let him go."

Phil released the mangled finger.

"Go back inside, Tony," Gescilene said.

"Doctor—" he began. She grabbed his shirt and yanked him up. His eyes widened when his feet left the ground. He landed standing but mute.

"Go inside and get that looked at," she said. "And my brother was right. You don't stand a chance with me."

Phil waited until Tony went back inside. "Gesci—" he began.

"Don't. Don't bother."

"What?"

She laughed, tired and painful, an increasingly familiar sound among Phil's siblings. "After the—" she said. "Dissection, I wanted to be with someone who wasn't one of us. A surgical resident was kind enough to accommodate me."

"He said you wouldn't mind," Phil said. "I should have known."

"None of us have been at our best for a while."

"I know."

They stood in silence, close but not touching.

"Tell me," she said.

"Tell you what?" he said casually.

"What did Grandfather say to him? I know you were there."

"Nothing."

She sighed. "It's your turn. I get a secret."

"It was nothing."

"Well, I want to know what the nothing was. Before—" She took a deep breath. "Before he transfers us. I don't think it will hurt if I know."

Phil looked one way down the road then back. He looked at the small white buildings of the base and at the hospital entrance. He leaned close to his sister's ear and whispered.

"'You turned out well enough for an early batch.'"

She cried out and fell against him. "Oh, god," she whimpered. He tried to hold in her shaking. "How bad will it be?" she said after a while.

"He doesn't want petty revenge. Not really."

"Why did he say it?" she asked.

"Grandfather? Why does Grandfather do anything?"

"And us?" she said. "What about us? When...?" She took a breath. "When?"

"After Barcelona, if we're very good."

"Long enough for Kas to have her baby."

He nodded. "I've been trying to draw it out. He's been busy, but that won't last."

She hugged her head against his chest. "I want to meet tomorrow. Make the time."

"I will," he replied. "And the cadet—"

"She'll be fine. I'll be damned if I do anything different because of him."

"I meant treat her well. I want her to make it to Mars."

"God, you have a hard-on for that place."

He groaned at her. "Tomorrow, after classes."

"Yes."

"And damn the rumors."

She smiled. "Finally."

He held her until they called her back inside.

The metal legs of the horse cracked and moaned beneath the energetic manipulations of its rider. Philip Keegan, at the door of the gym, watched Joachim in his routine. The blond man finished his spinning and dropped to the ground.

"Careful," Phil said. "You might just win."

"It's my Barcelona routine. I haven't trained in the exhibition routine for a month."

"That should work."

"Join me?" Joachim said, motioning to another horse. Phil shrugged and walked to the apparatus. Joachim began his routine again. Phil mirrored his movements exactly. At a handstand, Joachim stopped. "You and Gescilene have been very public lately," he said.

"Not much need to hide anymore." Phil followed Joachim through more moves.

"Odd, because she seemed upset a few weeks ago."

"That was nothing. We had a spat over the cadet."

Joachim stopped at the edge of the horse. "Of course," he said. He continued his routine. "Tell me, were you there when Grandfather left?"

"I was on the other side of the room from you. You might have missed me."

"Oh, that's right." He continued the routine. "What do you suppose Grandfather thinks about?"

"I wish I knew," Phil said and meant it.

"Yes," Joachim said. "So do I." He twisted off the horse and landed. "Perhaps you should do gymnastics. They could hardly deny the uniqueness of someone your size winning."

"What does Khan think?"

Joachim shrugged. "I'll ask."

Phil nodded. "I need to train for tomorrow."

"Of course. I'll leave the gym to you." He picked up his things. "What were you thinking, second?"

"That was the plan, so I'll look like a dark horse."

"Good luck."

"Thank you," Phil said.

"You'll need it," Joachim said with a smile.

The next day, Phil stood at the edge of the deck watching the fifth place lifter push the bar above his head. The successful lift moved him to fourth place. The man, trailing a scent of chalk dust, walked past Phil with a scowl. Phil was at the lowest weight for the category but the tallest of all of them. He looked gangly next to the other athletes. And he was in second place. The smiles and mentor like comments that met him when he arrived were gone. Phil watched the board. Third place was too close. His adjustments within the gap between the two spots felt like the fine vibrations of a violin string. He watched third place push his bar into place with enough weight to hold the spot.

"Good luck," a man said next to him, Scaios Savakis, first place and the silver medalist in Seoul. He whispered a curse Phil pretended not to understand and walked away.

"He seems nice," Joachim said. He was dressed like a coach and smiled like Khan. "Are you ready?"

"Ready enough," Phil said. He walked to the bar and took hold of it. He repeated many of the warm-up actions of the other lifters while playing in his mind the struggle he must affect. He pulled the bar up and felt a problem. Not until he shoved it above his head did he know. The bar weighed too much, far too much. Joachim must have disguised the plates. Momentum carried the weight into position before he could decide what to do. He dropped the bar, too smoothly, and looked at the board. Savakis could never make that up. The audience, seeing the weight, applauded.

"Well done, Philip," Joachim said.

"Yes," Phil replied.

Savakis tried and failed to pass Phil and earned fourth place. Phil, to applause and positive commentary, took first. Reporters spoke with him. He was tested for steroids three times and passed each. "The most unexpected event of the exhibition." and other such phrases bounced around the airwaves. But this was weightlifting. Not many people heard. Phil, when the interviews ended, found a bottle of the best wine. He drank and appreciated all of it but felt nothing from it.

Savakis, on the other hand, was well in the bag when he found Phil.

"You, skinny cheat," he yelled out. His voice ricocheted off the buildings in the empty street.

Dark and quiet and far too late at night. Phil was not in the mood.

"What is it?"

"You tell them you cheated."

"Fine, I'll do that tomorrow."

"I knew it," Savakis said. "I knew you cheated. What did you use? Blood doping? A new steroid?"

"Nothing you could use," Phil said. He tried to walk away.

"You tell me what you used."

Phil cursed at him in Greek and turned away. That was too much. A heavy fist struck him across the jaw.

"Stupid, fucking human!" Phil said and caught Savakis in the face. Locking his knee, he pushed from the ground, up his leg, through his torso, down the length of his arm, hard enough to lift Savakis from his feet, pushing the weight lifter's head into the wall behind him, stopping only when he felt the crunch.

He wanted to wait. He wanted to confess. He wanted to tell everyone. He did none of that. He returned to his hotel room and waited for the sunrise. The policia knocked on the door soon after.

At the trial, another Greek athlete testified about the victim's state of mind. He was new to the sport but did surprisingly well in his exhibition matches. He carried with him a disturbing smile.

"He was very angry," the translator said. "He said the defendant cheated in the match and bribed the judges."

"Did he have proof?" the prosecutor asked.

"No, but he said no skinny Irishman could lift so much."

"What did you do?"

"I tried to calm him down. I told him this was not the Olympics. The Olympic judges could not be bribed. He would be exposed. Savakis would not listen. He was very angry."

"Did you try to stop him?"

"To stop him from what? I thought he was returning to his room. I told him this was one match, and the Irishman was very lucky. He told me he would go. He told me he would not let this Irishman ruin his day. I did not know to stop him."

"What did you do after he left?"

"I finished my bottle and returned to my room. I did not know he was gone. We do not share a room. I knew nothing else."

"Thank you," the prosecutor said.

"So," Joachim said, standing. "You never saw my client with Savakis. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Savakis lost to Señor Keegan, yes? How much stronger is he than Savakis?"

"He is not. The competition measures what percentage of your own weight you lift. The defendant lifted more of his own weight, but Savakis was much stronger."

"Thank you," Joachim said.

Later in the trial, the defense brought in a forensics expert. She was very attractive and remarkably young for someone so respected in her field. Phil wondered how many more of them would appear in this farce. He felt genuinely sorry for the balding judge and the overweight prosecutor.

"Describe your findings, please," Joachim said.

The witness removed a large photo of the back of Savakis' skull. A woman cried out in the back of the court. Pitch and tone implied a mother. Phil ground his teeth against the noise.

The witness explained the amount of damage to the skull and the force required. She described the post-mortem indentation of the face.

"Cylindrical and metallic. It did not create the initial wound, but it crushed the bone and tissue to such a degree that it is impossible to identify the murder weapon."

Prosecution experts confirmed her findings. Insufficient evidence. The body was too clean. She did it. Phil knew as he listened. She had watched him and cleaned the body when he left.

When Phil was acquitted, the prosecutor apologized. Savakis' mother was carried out. Joachim patted him on the shoulder and told him, "Well done."

He found Gesci, Nate and Kas in his room when he returned.

"I'm sorry it had to be you," Nate said.

"So am I," Phil said.

"I was looking forward to Barcelona," Gesci said.

"So was I," Nate replied.

"Where are the others?" Phil asked.

"Paired off and trying to find someplace pleasant," Kashmira said.

"We're not getting that, are we?" Phil said to Gesci.

"I won't let anyone else deliver this child," Kas said, touching her belly.

Phil shook his head. "I don't blame you." He took hold of Kas and kissed her deeply. "We still have a good legacy," he said.

"We need to go," Nate said. Phil nodded. The brothers hugged. Nate and Kas left.

"Phil—" Gesci began. Phil pushed his mouth over hers to stop her.

"If you weren't my sister," he said.

"Shut up, Phil," she said. "Just shut the fuck up."

They had an hour. Not the whole night. Silence and hunger and nothing else. She dressed and left while he packed. Phil rented a car and drove south. He would be easy to find but hard to catch. He'd make them work. The two from the trial he was sure. He'd give time to those that needed it. So would the others with no reason to wait. He bore east. The Riviera, maybe. He always enjoyed it there.

The man came to Phil, days later, when he stopped for lunch far off the road.

"Philip?" he said.

Phil turned without shock or anger. The man was average height with a slim build. He had dark hair and Mediterranean skin and eyes as grey and sharp as flint arrowheads.

"Hello, Grandfather."

"How is my favorite grandchild?"

"She's fine. She's in Australia training."

The man laughed. "You always had the best sense of humor."

"It never did me much good." Phil turned to the wide Mediterranean Sea. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"I made a comment to Kahn. He did the rest. I'm sorry. I needed to know."

"I didn't. You could stop them."

"I used to do things like that. It never turned out well."

"Can you do anything?" Phil said. "As a personal request from your second favorite grandchild? Or wherever I am on your list. Can you do one thing for me?"

"The children will be fine. I'll even help you retain your anonymity. You'll be remembered for the good you did or not at all."

"And Kahn?"

"I don't think humanity will need my help."

"Humanity has always needed you, Grandfather, even if they didn't want to." He sighed at the waters. "Did you love us, even a little?"

"I loved all of you."

Phil nodded. "Care for some lunch?" he said.

"Certainly."

A week later, again in the middle of nowhere, Phil lay on a sleeping bag and stared at the stars. He saw one detach and approach him.

"What the hell is that?" he said.