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dollars.
    CAPT. MENNINGER. Yes, sir. But as the vice-president announced in his message to the Tenth General Assembly of the World Conference on Exobiology, we already have such a launch vehicle. It can be used for a large number of missions.
    MR. GIANPAOLO. But as the vice-president also announced, the time of that vehicle is fully booked. Prelaunch aiming time is as much as thirty days.
    CAPT. MENNINGER. Yes, sir.
    MR. GIANPAOLO. But your schedule calls for a launch to this— what is the name of it?
    CAPT. MENNINGER. It has been referred to as "Son of Kung," sir, but that name is not official.
    MR. GIANPAOLO. I hope not. You want a launch every ten days.
    CAPT. MENNINGER. Yes, sir. Essential backup.
    MR. GIANPAOLO. Which means canceling the mining survey mission to Procyon IV. I am sure you know that this planet has been identified as having a very dense core, with therefore a good potential for supplies of uranium and other fissiles for our power plants.

    The British had sent that probe out. Meticulously they had announced that under existing international agreements they were making the telemetry public. That was all public knowledge. Gianpaolo was just getting on the record.

    CAPT. MENNINGER. Yes, sir. Of course, that works out as a very marginal operation, considering the investment necessary to mine and refine uranium and to ship it to us back here. The Bes-bes Geminorum planet has much more potential—as I have already testified.
    MR. GIANPAOLO. Yes, Captain Menninger, you have made us aware of your opinions.

    And that was all hogwash. What the British had not announced, but what both Marge and Gianpaolo knew from previous briefing, was that British scintillation counters had found no ionizing radiation to speak of in Procyon IV's rather unpleasant atmosphere. Uranium there might be, but if so, it was thousands of meters deep. Marge was getting on the record too, although this particular record was private.
    By the time she was through testifying, she was satisfied that things were moving in the right direction.
    There remained the problem of Senator Lenz. He had far more muscle in the committee, and in the Senate generally, than anyone else—even the chairman. He had to be dealt with individually and privately, and Marge had plans for that.
    She booked her return to Houston the long way around, by way of Denver. Her father drove her to Dulles Airport in his own car. Well, actually it wasn't his own. It belonged to a government agency. So did Godfrey Menninger, when you came right down to it. The car was both a perquisite of rank and an indispensable necessity in what he did for the agency; twice a day, other employees of the agency went over it with electronic sniffers and radio probes to make sure it had been neitheHbombed nor bugged.
    God Menninger told his daughter, "You did pretty well at the hearing."
    "Thanks, poppa. And thanks for that Pak's report."
    "Had what you wanted in it?"
    "Yep. Will you talk to the minority leader for me?"
    "Already have, honey."
    "And?"
    "Oh, he's all right. If you get past Gus Lenz, I think you've got the committee taken care of. He didn't say much at the hearing."
    "I didn't expect him to."
    Her father waited, but as Marge did not go on he did not pursue the question. He said, "There's a follow-up on your Pakistani friend. He's at some kind of a meeting at K'ushui, along with some pretty high-powered people."
    "K'ushui? What the hell is a K'ushui?"
    "Well," said her father, "I kind of wish I could give you a better answer than I know. It's a place in Sinkiang province. We haven't had, uh, very full reports yet. But it's not far from Lop Nor and not too far from the big radio dish, and Heir-of-Mao's been there five or six times in the past year."
    "It sounds as though they're going to move."
    "I would say so. I plugged in your estimates, and the best interpretation is that Heir-of-Mao's starting to do what you want us to do."
    "Shit!"
    "Not to worry," said her father. "I told