Martyr Page 9
peered at their credentials, and waved them through. Ahead lay along, low row of buildings, and a tall something spearing up into theclear desert night. They stopped at the first building, and hurried upthe steps.
Small, red-faced Lijinsky greeted them, all warm handshake andenthusiasm and unmistakable happiness and surprise. "A real pleasure,Senator! We haven't had a direct governmental look-see in quite awhile. I'm glad I'm here to show you around."
"Everything is going right along, eh?"
"Oh, yes! She'll be a ship to be proud of. Now, I think we can arrangesome quarters for you for the night, and in the morning we can sitdown and have a nice, long talk."
Terry Fisher was shaking his head. "I think the Senator would like tosee the ship now--isn't that right, Senator?"
Lijinsky's eyes opened wide, his head bobbed in surprise. Young-oldcreases on his face flickered. "Tonight? Oh, you can't really beserious. Why, it's almost two in the morning! We only have a skeletoncrew working at night. Tomorrow you can see--"
"Tonight, if you don't mind." Dan tried to keep the sharp edge out ofhis voice. "Unless you have some specific objection, of course."
"Objection? None whatsoever." Lijinsky seemed puzzled, and a littlehurt. But he bounced back: "Tonight it is, then. Let's go." There wasno doubting the little man's honesty. He wasn't hiding anything, justsurprised. But a moment later there was concern on his face as he ledthem out toward the factory compounds. "There's no question ofappropriations, I hope, Senator?"
"No, no. Nothing of the sort."
"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that. Sometimes our contacts fromWashington are a little disappointed in the Ship, of course."
Dan's throat tightened. "Why?"
"No reason, really. We're making fine progress, it isn't that. Yes,things really buzz around here; just ask Mr. Fisher about _that_--hewas here all day watching the workers. But there are always minorchanges in plans, of course, as we recognize more of the problems."
Terry Fisher grimaced silently, and followed them into a smallWhirlwind groundcar. The little gyro-car bumped down the road on itssingle wheel, down into a gorge, then out onto the flats. Dan strainedhis eyes, peering ahead at the spear of Starship gleaming in thedistant night-lights. Pictures from the last Starship Progress Reportflickered through his mind, and a frown gathered as they came closerto the ship. Then the car halted on the edge of the building-pit andthey blinked down and up at the scaffolded monster.
Dan didn't even move from the car. He just stared. The report hadfeatured photos, projected testing dates--even ventured a possibledate for launching, with the building of the Starship so near tocompletion. That had been a month ago. Now Dan stared at the ship andshook his head, uncomprehending.
The hull-plates were off again, lying in heaps on the ground in amammoth circle. The ship was a skeleton, a long, gawky structure ofnaked metal beams. Even now a dozen men were scampering around thescaffolding, before Dan's incredulous eyes, and he saw some of thebeaming coming _off_ the body of the ship, being dropped onto thecrane, moving slowly to the ground.
Ten years ago the ship had looked the same. As he watched, he felt awave of hopelessness sweep through him, a sense of desolate, emptybitterness. Ten years--
His eyes met Terry Fisher's in the gloom of the car, begging to betold it wasn't so. Fisher shook his head.
Then Dan said: "I think I've seen enough. Take me back to the airfield."
* * * * *
"It was the same thing on Mars," Fisher was telling him as the returnjet speared East into the dawn. "The refining and super-refining, theslowing down, the changes in viewpoint and planning. I went up thereready to beat the world barehanded, to work on the frontier, to buildthat colony, and maybe lead another one. I even worked out the plansfor a break-away colony--we would need colony-builders when we went tothe stars, I thought." He shrugged sadly. "Carl told you, I guess.They considered the break-away colony, carefully, and then Barnessdecided it was really too early. Too much work already, with just onecolony. And there was, in a sense: frantic activity, noise, hubbub,hard work, fancy plans--all going nowhere. No drive, no realdirection." He shrugged again. "I did a lot of drinking before theythrew me off Mars."
"Nobody saw it happening?"
"It wasn't the sort of thing you see. You could only _feel_ it. Itstarted when Armstrong came to the colony, rejuvenated, to take overits development. And eventually, I think Armstrong did see it. That'swhy he suicided."
"But the Starship," Dan cried. "It was almost built, and they were_tearing it down_. I saw it with my own eyes."
"Ah, yes. For the twenty-seventh time, I think. A change in theengineering thinking, that's all. Keller and Lijinsky suddenly came tothe conclusion that the whole thing might fall apart in midair at thelaunching. Can you imagine it? When rockets have been built for years,running to Mars every two months? But they could prove it on paper,and by the time they got through explaining it every damned soul onthe project was saying yes, it might fall apart at the launching. Why,it's a standing joke with the workers. They call Keller "Old JetPropulsion" and always have a good laugh. But then, Keller and Starkand Lijinsky should know what's what. They've all been rejuvenated,and working on the ship for years." Fisher's voice was heavy withanger.
Dan didn't answer. There didn't seem to be much _to_ answer, and hejust couldn't tell Fisher how it felt to have a cold blanket of fearwrapping around his heart, so dreadful and cold that he hardly daredlook five minutes ahead right now. _We have a Monster on our hands--_
VII
He was sick when they reached Washington. The pain in his chestbecame acute as he walked down the gangway, and by the time he found aseat in the terminal and popped a nitro-tablet under his tongue he wasbreathing in deep, ragged gasps. He sat very still, trying to leanback against the seat, and quite suddenly he realized that he wasvery, very ill. The good red-headed Dr. Moss would smile insatisfaction, he thought bitterly. There was sweat on his forehead; ithad never seemed very probable to him that he might one day die--hedidn't _have_ to die in this great, wonderful world of new bodies forold, he could live on, and on, and on. He could live to see the GoldenCenturies of Man. A solar system teeming with life. Ships to challengethe stars, the barriers breaking, crumbling before their very eyes.Other changes, as short-lived Man became long-lived Man. Changes inteaching, in thinking, in feeling. Disease, the Enemy, was crushed.Famine, the Enemy, slinking back into the dim memory of history. War,the Enemy, pointless to extinction.
All based on one principle: Man must live. He need not die. If a mancould live forty years instead of twenty, had it been wrong to fightthe plagues that struck him down in his youth? If he could live sixtyyears instead of forty, had the great researchers of the 1940's and'50's and '60's been wrong? Was it any more wrong to want to live athousand years? Who could say that it was?
He took a shuddering breath, and then nodded to Terry Fisher, andwalked unsteadily to the cab stand. He would not believe what he hadseen at Starship Project. It was not enough. Collect the evidence,_then_ conclude. He gave Fisher an ashen smile. "It's nothing. Theticker kicks up once in a while, that's all. Let's go see what Carland Jean and the boys have dug up." Fisher smiled grimly, an eagergleam in his eye.
Carl and Jean and the boys had dug up plenty. The floor of offices Danrented for the work of his organization was going like WashingtonTerminal at rush hour. A dozen people were here and there, workingwith tapes, papers, program cards. Jean met them at the door, hustledthem into the private offices in the back. "Carl just got here, too.He's down eating. The boys outside are trying to make sense out of hisinsurance and advertising figures."
"He got next to them okay?"
"Sure--but you were right, they didn't like it."
"What sort of reports?"
* * * * *
The girl sighed. "Only prelims. Almost all of the stuff is up in theair, which makes it hard to evaluate. The ad-men have to be figuringwhat they're going to d
o next half-century, so that they'll be therewith the right thing when the time comes. But it seems they don't likewhat they see. People have to buy what the ad-men are selling, or thead-men shrivel up, and already the trend seems to be showing up.People aren't in such a rush to buy. Don't have the same sense ofurgency that they used to--" Her hands fluttered. "Well, as I say,it's all up in the air. Let the boys analyze for a while. The suicidebusiness is a little more tangible. The rates are up, all over. Butbreak it into first-generation and Repeaters, and it's pretty clearwho's pushing it up."
"Like