Martyr Page 5

like it'd never been cleaned up. Andthe sweetest part of the victory pie had been the look on Paul's facethat night--

  So they'd fought, and he'd won and rubbed it in, and Paul had lost,and hated him for it, until that mysterious day--when had it reallyhappened?--when "that big-brained brother of mine" changed subtly into"Christ, man, quit floundering! Who wants engineers? They're all overthe place, you'll starve to death" and then finally, to "poor Paul."

  When had it happened? Why?

  Dan wondered, suddenly, if he had ever really forgiven Paul that blowto the jaw--

  Perhaps.

  He shook himself, scowling into the plastiglass window blackness.Okay, they'd fought it out. Always jolly, always making it out to be abig friendly game, only it never was a game. He knew how much he owedto Paul. He'd known it with growing concern for a lot of years. Andnow if he had to drag him back to Washington by the hair, he'd dragthe silly fool--

  IV

  They didn't look very much alike. There was a spareness about Paul--atall, lean, hungry-looking man, with large soft eyes that hid theiranger and a face that was lined with tiredness and resignation. A yearago, when Dan had seen him last, he had looked a young 60, closer to45; now he looked an old, old 61. How much of this was the cancer Dandidn't know. The pathologist had said: "Not a very malignant tumorright now, but you can never tell when it'll blow up. He'd better bescheduled at the Center, if he's got a permit--"

  But some of it was Paul, just Paul. The house was exactly as Dan hadexpected it would be (though he had never been inside this house sincePaul had come to Starship Project fifteen years ago)--stuffy, severe,rather gloomy, rooms packed with bookshelves, drawing boards, odds andends of papers and blueprints and inks, thick, ugly furniture from theearly 2000's, a cluttered, improvised, helter-skelter barn of atesting-lab, with modern equipment that looked lost and alienscattered among the mouldering junk of two centuries.

  "Get your coat," said Dan. "It's cold outside. We're going back toWashington."

  "Have a drink." Paul waved him toward the sideboard. "Relax. Yourpilot needs a rest."

  "Paul, I didn't come here to play games. The games are over now."

  Paul poured a brandy with deliberation. Handed Dan one, sipped hisown. "Good brandy," he murmured. "Wish I could afford more of it."

  "_Paul._ You're going with me."

  The old man shrugged with a little tired smile. "I'll go with you ifyou insist, of course. But I'm not going."

  "Do you know what you're saying?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Paul, you don't just say 'Thanks, but I don't believe I'll have any'when they give you a rejuvenation permit. _Nobody_ refusesrejuvenation. Why, there are a million people out there begging for aplace on the list. It's _life_, Paul. You can't just turn it down--"

  "This _is_ good brandy," said Paul. "Would you care to take a look atmy lab, by the way? Not too well equipped, but sometimes I can workhere better than--"

  Dan swung on his brother viciously. "I will tell you what I'm going todo," he grated, hitting each word hard, like knuckles rapping thetable. "I'm going to take you to the plane. If you won't come, mypilot and I will drag you. When we get to Washington, we'll take youto the Center. If you won't sign the necessary releases, I'll forgethem. I'll bribe two witnesses who will swear in the face of death bytorture that they saw you signing. I'll buy out the doctors that cando the job, and if they won't do it, I'll sweat them down until they_will_."

  * * * * *

  He slammed the glass down on the table, feeling his heart pounding inhis throat, feeling the pain creep up. "I've got lots of things onlots of people, and I can get things done when I want them done.People don't fool with me in Washington any more, because when they dothey get their fingers burned off at the knuckles. For Christ sake,Paul, I knew you were stubborn but I didn't think you wereblock-headed stupid!"

  Paul shrugged, apologetically. "I'm impressed, Dan. Really."

  "You don't think I can do it?" Dan roared.

  "Oh, no doubt you _could_. But such a lot of trouble for an unwillingvictim. And I'm your brother, Dan. Remember?"

  Dan Fowler spread his hands in defeat, then sank down in the chair."Paul, tell me _why_."

  "I don't want to be rejuvenated." As though he were saying, "I don'twant any sugar in my coffee."

  "Why not? If I could only see why, if I knew what was going throughyour mind, maybe I could understand. But I can't."

  Dan looked up at Paul, practically pleading. "You're _needed_. I had atape from Lijinsky last month--do you know what he said? He said whycouldn't you have come to Starship ten years earlier? Nobody knowsthat ship like you do, you're making it go. That ship can take men tothe stars, now, with rejuvenation, and the same men can come backagain to find the same people waiting for them when they get here.They can _live_ that long, now. We've been tied down to seventy yearsof life, to a tight little universe of one sun and nine planets forthousands of years. Well, we can change that now. We can go out.That's what your work can do for us." He stared helplessly at hisbrother. "You could go out on that ship you're building, Paul. You'vealways wanted to. _Why not?_"

  Paul looked across at him for a long moment. There was pity in hiseyes. There was also hatred there, and victory, long awaited, bitterlywon. "Do you really want me to tell you?"

  "I want you to tell me."

  Then Paul told him. It took about ten minutes. It was not temperedwith mercy.

  It split Dan Fowler's world wide open at the seams.

  * * * * *

  "You've been talking about the Starship," said Paul Fowler. "Allright, that's as good a starting place as any. I came to StarshipProject--what was it, fifteen years ago? Almost sixteen, I guess. Thiswas my meat. I couldn't work well with people, I worked with _things_,processes, ideas. I dug in hard on Starship. I loved it, dreamed it,lived with it. I had dreams in those days. Work hard, make myselfvaluable here, maybe I'd _get_ rejuvenation, so I could work more onStarship. I believed everything you just said. Alpha Centauri,Arcturus, Vega, anywhere we wanted to go--and I could go along! Itwouldn't be long, either. We had Lijinsky back with us after hisrejuvenation, directing the Project, we had Keller and Stark and EddieCochran--great men, the men who had pounded Starship Project intoreality, took it out of the story books and made the people of thiscountry want it bad enough to pay for it. Those men were back now--newmen, rebuilt bodies, with all their knowledge and experiencepreserved. Only now they had something even more precious than life:_time_. And I was part of it, and I too could have time."

  Paul shook his head, slowly, and sank back into the chair. His eyeswere very tired. "A dream, nothing more. A fantasy. It took me fifteenyears to learn what a dream it was. Not even a suspicion atfirst--only a vague puzzlement, things happening that I couldn't quitegrasp. Easy to shrug off, until it got too obvious. Not a matter ofwrong decisions, really. The decisions were right, but they were inthe wrong places. Something about Starship Project shifting, changingsomehow. Something being lost. Slowly. Nothing you could nail down, atfirst, but growing month by month.

  "Then one night I saw what it was. That was when I equipped the labhere, and proved to myself that Starship Project was a dream."

  * * * * *

  He spread his hands and smiled at Dan like a benign old Chips to athird-form schoolboy. "The Starship isn't going to Alpha Centauri oranywhere else. It's not going to leave the ground. I thought I'd livelong enough to launch that ship and be one of its crew. Well, I won't.That ship wouldn't leave the ground if I lived a million years."

  "Garbage," said Dan Fowler succinctly.

  "No, Dan. Not garbage. Unfortunately, we sometimes have to recognizeour dreams as dreams, and look reality right square in the face.Starship Project is dying. Our whole civilization is dying. Nimrockdrove the first nail into the coffin a hundred and thirty yearsago--lord, if they'd only hanged him when his first rejuvenationfailed! But that would only have dela
yed it. Now we're dying, slowlyright now, but soon it will be fast, very fast. And do you know who'sgetting set to land the death-blow?" He smiled sadly across at hisbrother. "You are, Dan."

  Dan Fowler sprang from his chair with a roar. "My god, Paul, you're_sick_! Of all the idiot's delights I ever heard, I--I--oh, Jesus." Hestood shaking, groping for words, staring at his brother.

  "You said you wanted me to tell you."

  "Tell me! Tell me what?" Dan took a trembling breath, and sat down,visibly, gripping himself. "All right, all right, I heard what yousaid--you must mean something, but I don't know what. Let's bereasonable. Let's forget philosophy and semantics and concepts and allthe frills for just a minute and talk about facts, huh? _Just facts._"

  "All right, facts," said Paul. "Kenneth Armstrong wrote MAN ON MARS in2028--he was fifty-seven years old then, and he hadn't beenrejuvenated yet. Fundamentally a good book, analyzing his first MarsColony, taking it apart right down to the silk undies, to show why ithad failed so miserably, and why the next one could succeed if hecould ever get up there again. He had foresight; with rejuvenationjust getting started, he had a whole flock of ideas aboutoverpopulation and the need for a Mars Colony--he was all wet on thepopulation angle, of course, but nobody knew that then. He kickedKeller and Lijinsky off on the Starship idea. They admit it--it wasMAN ON MARS that first started them thinking. They were both young,with lots of fight in them. Okay?"

  "Just stick to facts," said Dan coldly.

  * * * * *

  "Okay. Starship Project got started, and blossomed into the people'sBaby. They started work on the basic blueprints about 60 years ago.Everybody knew it would be a long job--cost money, plenty of it, andthere was so much to do before the building ever began. That was whereI came in, fifteen years ago. Building. They were looking forengineers who weren't eager to get rich. It went fine. We started tobuild. Then Keller and Stark came back from rejuvenation. Lijinsky hadbeen rejuvenated five years before."

  "Look, I don't need a course in history," Dan exploded.

  "Yes, you do," Paul snapped. "You need to sit down and listen foronce, instead of shooting your big mouth off all the time. That's whatyou need real bad, Dan." Paul Fowler rubbed his chin. There were redspots in his cheeks. "Okay, there were some changes made. I didn'tlike the engine housing--I never had, so I went along with them ahundred percent on that. Even though I designed it--I'd learned a fewthings since. And there were bugs. It made perfectly good sense,talking to Lijinsky. Starship Project was pretty important to all ofus. Dangerous to risk a fumble on the first play, even a tiny risk. Wemight never get another chance. Lijinsky knew we youngsters weredriving along on adrenalin and nerves, and couldn't wait to get outthere, but when you thought about it, what was the rush? Was it wortha chance of a fumble to get out there _this_ year instead of _next_?Couldn't we take time to find a valid test for that engine atultra-high acceleration before we put it back in? After all, we _had_time now--Keller and Stark just back with sixty more years tolive--why the rush?

  "Okay. I bought it. We worked out a valid test on paper. Took us fouryears of work on it to find out you couldn't build such a device onEarth, but never mind that. Other things were stalling all the while.The colony-plan for the ship. Choosing the crew--what criteria, whatqualifications? There was plenty of time--why not make _sure_ it'sright? Don't leave anything crude, if we can refine it a littlefirst--"

  Paul sighed wearily. "It snowballed. Keller and Stark backed Lijinskyto the hilt. There was some trouble about money--I think you had yourthumb in the pie there, getting it fixed for us, didn't you? Morerefining. Work it out. Detail. Get sidetracked on some aspect for afew years--so what? Lots of time. Rejuvenation, and all that, talkabout the Universalists beating Rinehart out and throwing the Centeropen to everybody. Et cetera, et cetera. But somewhere along the lineI began to see that it just wasn't true. The holdups, the changes, thedigressions and snags and refinements were all excuses, all part of abig, beautiful, exquisitely reasonable facade built up to obscure thereal truth. _Lijinsky and Keller and Stark had changed._"

  Dan Fowler snorted. "I know a very smart young doctor who told me thatthere _weren't_ any changes."

  "I don't mean anything physical--their bodies were fine. Nothingmental, either--they had the same sharp minds they always had. It wasa change in values. They'd lost something that they'd had before. The_drive_ that made them start Starship Project, the _urgency_, thevital importance of the thing--it was all gone. They just didn't havethe push any more. They began to look for the easy way, and it was fareasier to build and rebuild, and refine, and improve the Starship hereon the ground than to throw that Starship out into space--"

  * * * * *

  There was a long, long silence. Dan Fowler sat grey-faced, staring atPaul, just shaking his head and staring. "I don't believe it," he saidfinally. "You do maybe, because you want to, but you're mixed up,Paul. I've seen Lijinsky's reports. There's been progress, regularprogress, month by month. You've been too close to it, maybe. Ofcourse there have been delays, but only when they were necessary. Theprogress has gone on--"

  Paul stood up suddenly. "Come in here, Dan. Look." He threw open adoor, strode rapidly down a corridor and a flight of stairs into thelong, low barn of a laboratory. "Here, here, let me show yousomething." He pulled out drawers, dragged out rolls of blueprints."These are my own. They're based on the working prints from Starshipthat we drew up ten years ago, scaled down to model size. I've testedthem, I've run tolerances, I've checked the math five ways and backagain. I've tested the parts, the engine--model size. The blueprintshaven't got a flaw in them. They're perfect as they'll ever get. No,wait a minute, look--"

  He strode fiercely across to slide back a floor panel, drew up thelong, glittering thing from a well in the floor--sleek, beautiful,three feet long. Paul maneuvered a midget loading crane, guided thething into launching position on the floor, then turned back to Dan."There it is. Just a model, but it's perfect. Every detail is perfect.There's even fuel in it. No men, but there could be if there were anymen small enough."

  Anger was blazing in Paul's voice now, bitterness and frustration. "Ibuilt it, because I had to be sure. I've tested its thrust. I couldlaunch this model for Alpha Centauri tonight--and _it would getthere_. If there were little men who could get into it, _they'd_ getthere, too--alive. Starship Project is completed, it's been completedfor ten years now, but do you know what happened to these blueprints,the originals? They were studied. They were improvements. They almosthad the ship built, and then they took it apart again."

  "But I've read the reports," Dan cried.

  "Have you _seen_ the Starship? Have you _talked_ to them over there?It isn't just there, it's _everywhere_, Dan. There are only about70,000 rejuvenated men alive in this hemisphere so far, but alreadythe change is beginning to show. Go talk to the Advertisingpeople--_there's_ a delicate indicator of social change if there everwas one. See what they say. Who are they backing in the Government?You? Like hell. Rinehart? No, they're backing up 'Moses' Tyndall andhis Abolitionist goon-squad who preach that rejuvenation is the workof Satan, and they're giving him enough strength that he's evengetting _you_ worried. How about Roderigo Aviado and his Solar EnergyProject down in Antarctica? Do you know what he's been doing downthere lately? You'd better find out, Dan. What's happening to the MarsColony? Do you have any idea? You'd better find out. Have you gone tosee any of the Noble Ten that are still rattling around? Oh, you oughtto. How about all the suicides we've been having in the last tenyears? What do the insurance people say about that?"

  * * * * *

  He stopped, from lack of breath. Dan just stared at him, shaking hishead like Silly Willy on the teevies. "Find out what you're doing,Dan--before you push this universal rejuvenation idea of yoursthrough. Find out--if you've got the guts to find out, that is. We'vegot a monster on our hands, and now you've got to be Big Dan Fowlerplaying God and turning him loose on
the world. Well, be careful. Findout first, while you can. It's all here to see, if you'll open youreyes, but you're all so dead sure that you want life everlasting thatnobody's even bothered to _look_. And now it's become such a politicalbludgeon that nobody _dares_ to look."

  The model ship seemed to gleam in the dim laboratory light. Dan Fowlerwalked over to it, ran a finger up the shiny side to the pinpoint tip.His face was old, and something was gone from his eyes when he turnedback to Paul. "You've known this for so long, and you never told me.You never said a word." He shook his head slowly. "I didn't know youhated me so much. But I'm not going to let you win this one, either,Paul. You're wrong. I'm going to prove it if it kills me."

  V

  "Well, try his home number, then," Dan Fowler snarled into thespeaker. He gnawed his cigar and fumed as long minutes spun off thewall clock. His fingers drummed the wall.