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our veto, the Republicans will be calling it a train wreck.”
    â€œAnd they won’t be wrong,” said Taylor. “But I’m not going to get anyone else killed.”
    â€œThat was my fault, Mr. President.” He reached into his suit coat and produced a second envelope.
    â€œPut it away,” Taylor told him.
    â€œI appreciate your willingness to keep me on board, sir. But somebody’s going to have to take the fall.”
    â€œSomebody already has.”
    â€œMr. President—”
    â€œShut up, Harry. If I let you go, I’ll look like all those other sons of bitches who make dumb-ass calls, then try to blame it on somebody else. That might have worked in the old days, but not anymore. So just back off.”
    â€œOkay, sir. Thank you. But where do we go from here?”
    The Roundhouse was a unique global problem. People were terrified of what might happen if its technologies became generally available. Some regional economies were already in a shambles. The auto-parts industry in Morocco was close to collapse. Oil prices had begun to sink, which was not necessarily a bad thing. The stock market was down. Gold was up. Capital investment everywhere had slowed to a crawl.
    â€œI’ve talked with Walker, Harry. What we need to do is demonstrate stability. Ride it out. He’s in agreement. He understands what could happen. He knows we can lend him engineers or whatever the hell else he needs to get through this. We’ll do what we can for him. Meantime we hang on, avoid explosions, and eventually everything’ll work out.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    W ALKER RETURNED HOME and slept for a few hours until his wife, Carla, woke him. “I just couldn’t wait any longer, Jim,” she said. “It’s all over the TV.”
    He needed a minute to think about it. “Oyate?”
    â€œYes. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but they’re going on as if we landed on the Moon again.”
    â€œBeautiful,” he said. Carla, like himself, was putting on too much mileage. But
unlike
him, she still looked good. Dark hair, gleaming eyes, and the dazzling smile he’d fallen in love with at the Rez school a hundred years ago. “Thanks, babe. I guess we can still do something right.”
    He watched the cable news while he ate breakfast. Then he headed for his office in Fort Totten. Its walls were decorated with tribal motifs, war bonnets, medicine wheels, and ceremonial pipes. His father’s hunting bow was mounted beside the door, and framed photos of Carla and the kids were on the desktop. The boys were ten and eleven, and he wondered what they would see during their lifetimes. The world was changing so fast.
    Miranda called. “Mr. Fleury’s here,” she said.
    Jason was his White House contact. “Congratulations, Mr. Chairman. It looks as if you and the Sioux are going to decide what the future looks like.”
    â€œThat would be nice, Jason,” he said. “But I always get a bit uncomfortable when everything seems to be running in the right direction.” He pointed at a chair.
    Jason sat down and looked at Walker through his horn-rimmed trifocals. He possessed a casual manner that one seldom found in a high-level government official. He had consistently shown an ability to relax under pressure unlike anyone Walker had seen during his working career. Jason had been largely responsible for calming everyone down after the shooting that had occurred when the government had tried to seize the Roundhouse a few weeks before. “Anyhow, finding out where Eden is—that’s great. The scientific world is deliriously happy.”
    â€œI couldn’t help noticing, though, that they gave all the credit to the astronomers. I don’t recall anyone mentioning the tribe.”
    â€œThe astronomers are more visible than the Spirit Lake Sioux. But it’ll be there, Mr. Chairman. The