The Secretary sat down on the edge of the desk. He looked out of place. He should have been behind one, a large mahogany one.
"I think he will," Wade said softly. "The test ship we sent made it. There is no reason to believe a ship with a man in it should fail."
"Do you want him to make it?"
The words jarred Boeman. He searched the Secretary's face. "Of course I do. What makes you say a thing like that?"
The Secretary toyed with his tie. He said nothing.
Wade got up. He could feel the anger begin to seep through his body. "You know what this trip means to me—to the country." He faced the gray-haired man squarely. "If you're insinuating that I want him to fail because I disagree with his reasons for volunteering, you're wrong. Dead wrong."
Wade found himself lighting a cigarette. "Sure. I dislike Ackerson. Dislike him violently. I've taken more lip from him in the past months than I've taken during my entire life. And when he returns that will be finished or I'll finish him. One way or another." Wade inhaled deeply. "It's the project that counts. Only the project. It's bigger than one man ... it's bigger than all of us put together."
Lowe smiled. His face seemed younger. "I knew you felt that way, Wade. I just wanted you to say it for your own benefit. Perhaps it will make this entire thing easier for you."
The Secretary moved then, over to the communication panel.
"Three minutes," someone said.