"No. He hasn't changed." Wade said softly. "Don't let it throw you, Wade. You've done a good job. We both know that nothing counts but the Project." _Nothing counts but the project._ Personal feelings, ideals, not even human lives. _Nothing counts but the project._ How many times had he said that to himself, trying to be convincing. "It's Tomer. Isn't it?" the Secretary said. Wade's eyes locked with those of the older man. There was no sense going over that now. They had had it out a dozen times already. "That and other things," he said. "Like Ackerson's attitude, I suppose." "Like Ackerson's attitude." The Secretary gave a tight smile. "We all have reasons for doing things, Wade. To you this is a military feat that could spell security for years to come. To me it does that and more. It could be the opening of a new frontier, something that will provide a new outlet for humanity instead of war." Wade said: "And to Ackerson it will mean fame and fortune. Nothing more. His name will go in the history books. There will be personal appearances, contracts, money. He has no feelings at all about what this will mean to his country." The Secretary nodded. "You're a professional military man, Wade. You're making it your life. I understand how you feel." Wade laughed bitterly, inside. _Did_ Harry know how he felt? Did he think that military men were just brass and polish with no feelings, no friends to worry about, no cares outside of regulations and orders! "Eight minutes." The voice came again. Wade left the Secretary, went to the mike resting on the communications desk. "_Starfrost._ This is Mother," he said. "Go ahead, Mother." Ackerson recognized his voice. "Double check everything. Repeat. Double check everything, oxygen, hammock straps, loose objects, everything." "Relax, Mother! You sound like you're going to have another baby." Ackerson laughed over the loud-speaker. Wade gave the mike back to the radio man carefully. He walked back to the small television screen and sat down. The _Starfrost_ looked like a silver monument standing alone out there on the sand. Soon there would be nothing there but sand. Wade felt like a mother hen waiting for her first egg. He adjusted the contrast, brightened the picture. Perhaps the Secretary was right. Everyone had their reasons for doing things. He wondered what Tomer's were? "Do you think he will make it, Wade?" 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.