Duran turned, grinned, and reached for the man's hand.
"Great, Wayne," he answered, recognizing an old friend who had been of no small aid during his earlier years in politics. "Say, I'd ask you over for dinner if we weren't going to the Governor's tonight. Molly would love to see you. Unfortunately I'm leaving for Washington again in the morning."
"Why doesn't Molly move to D.C. with you, Vance?" the journalist asked.
Duran hesitated. "Maybe in a year or so. After the boys are out of highschool. If I get the job again."
The smile on the younger man's face was heartening.
"Don't play coy with me, Vance. You know you've got this state sewed up." Then came the slight frown of doubt. "Just one thing, though. A lot of people are wondering why the hold up on the colony project. You're bound to get a little of the criticism. What the hell's wrong, anyway?"
"Can't you guess?"
"Yeah. I can guess. There's only one possibility, since the government scientists assure us they've ironed out all the technical wrinkles. But it's pretty hard to believe that out of the thousands of people who volunteer every week, not even a couple of hundred are acceptable."
Duran considered his answer carefully before voicing it.
"Ever ask yourself who volunteers, Wayne?"