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apparently nonplussed by his torrent of sarcasm, “They did contact us, which indicates a wish to share.”
    “Share what? His Ten Commandments?” Trip was referring to the famous ten televids that Azaes sent, before disappearing altogether. Each vid had condescended to outline an Eosian virtue to which humans could strive. The vids had, indeed, been rather humiliating, and cemented the certainly in most people’s minds that Eosians were not so much interested in sharing as dominating.
    “Perhaps they’re as curious about us as we are about them,” Genevieve on screen offered. “And they hope to learn as much as we could.”
    “Ah,” he sneered. “Like what not to do!” he snorted. “I heard a rumour that you haven’t even told them that you’re coming. Hoping to slip through their defenses, unnoticed until it’s too late?”
    “Well, I’m not the sociologist on the team or the mission commander.”
    “Or maybe you don’t intend for them to know. Perhaps it’s some kind of covert job. I wouldn’t put it past Zeta Corp to steal.”
    “I think you should consult with Dr. Howard Bragg, Mission Commander,” Genevieve insisted, cutting him off.
    “Oh, come on!” he remonstrated. “Surely you know something of the mission,” he insisted in a gruff voice and waved a hand, clearly impatient with her. “You’re the captain of the ship, for God’s sake! You must be aware of the contingencies, the dangers. You can’t be running on empty, girl!”
    She clasped her hands together on her lap, ringing them together nervously. Genevieve remembered wishing herself away at that point.
    “Like I said, I’m not the mission commander,” she defended herself. “I’m in charge of getting us there. Then Dr. Bragg will be in charge. I won’t even be leaving the ship once we reach orbit.” If they reached orbit, she remembered thinking. “I’ll remain with Zac, orbiting Eos, while the landing party, led by Dr. Bragg, takes our shuttle, the Chimera , to the planet’s surface.” Trip kept his stern gaze on her and she finally relented with, “I can only say that they do indeed know we’re coming. Our recent communications with them have been friendly. But we haven’t yet received a formal invitation.”
    “Ah,” Trip nodded. “And did your husband and his crew receive an invitation five years ago?”
    Genevieve saw herself swallow hard before answering. “No, they didn’t.”
    “Has anyone ever received an invitation?” he drove home.
    Genevieve watched herself lower her eyes in surrender and felt her shoulders sag, like her image onscreen did. “No.”
    Trip nodded to himself, as though he’d just verified something in his mind. “I heard that you did everything possible to get on this mission, despite significant reservations from your boss, Jim Frost. Why would that be?”
    She remained staunchly silent. She’d decided not to answer his rhetorical question. It didn’t require an answer, as far as she was concerned. It was only a rousing remark and she refused to take the bait.
    He tried something else. “So, is there a man in your life now?”
    She inhaled sharply, about to retort that it was absolutely no business of his, then quelled the urge and with a deep exhale answered calmly, “No, there isn’t.”
    “Not yet?” he prompted, taking the question too far, she thought, as though he had a personal interest. “Or are you still chasing ghosts?”
    Genevieve threw herself back in her pilot’s chair with an exasperated cry. “What an asshole!” she steamed. “Look at me just sitting there. I can’t believe my self-control!”
    “I can’t either,” Zac heartily agreed. “You actually had self-control back then?”
    “Funny,” she groaned. Beneath her fury, Genevieve felt an undercurrent of discomfort seize her throat. What was she chasing? Or running away from?
    After several other thrusts and parries, Trip ended the session, looking a little exhausted. Genevieve had managed to