A year, two years, but if a solution wasn't found… Even if onewas found, it would likely take time to implement. They needed something that would give Ares more breathing space right now. Even just one more load, evenhalf a load onNike or one of the other similar vessels being constructed, and Ares could make three or four years-enough to probably get past the pinch. But half a load was over seven hundred tons, far beyond Ares' means… Suddenly she was on her feet, bouncing across the room to grab her uniform and pull it on. "Where are you going, Maddie?" Madeline smiled, all her momentary uncertainty gone. Hughes' overly genial communication had sent a message as clear as if he'd recorded it straight out: do whatever you have to. "Not far at all. Just got to send a few messages. But I have to look my best for the job interview."

"She can't do that!" Director Hughes had to restrain a rather unprofessional grin. Truth be told, he had been anticipating this moment ever since the president, through Jensen, had revealed their plan to perform a genteel railroading, followed by a private tar-and-feathering, of his best and favorite agent. "I'm afraid that's not true, Mr. Jensen. She's a free woman in a free country. There's nothing in her contract that requires that she accept a promotion to assistant director of the HIA. True, it's a hell of a career move, but if she wants to stay on that godforsaken rockball as a glorified security guard, there's nothing I can do to stop her." He was very deliberately exaggerating his sympathetic tones. Jensen was the National Security Advisor he had come to detest more than any other who'd held that post in twenty years. George P.D. Jensen's long, narrow features were twisted with sour anger. His eyes narrowed.

"Don't you get cute with me, Hughes! She knows way too much-" "It doesn't work that way, Mr. Jensen, and you know it perfectly well.

Americans don't give up their rights when they go to work on behalf of national security.