made. It’s true that I joined the project because I’ve loved you for years.”
“You have nothing to . . .
“Let me finish while I still have the courage.” Only a slight tremor in her almost
inaudible voice and the rigidity of the fists clenched in her lap betrayed the intensity of
her emotion. “I thought I could handle it. Damned fool that I was, I thought I could
handle anything. I was sure I could handle myself, under any possible conditions. I was
going to put just enough into the act to keep any of these other harpies from getting her
hooks into you. But everything got away from me. Out here working with you every
day-knowing better every day what you are-well, that Rigoletto episode sunk me, and
now I’m in a thousand feet over my head. I hug my pillow at night, dreaming it’s you,
and the fact that you don’t and can’t love me is driving me mad. I can’t stand it any
longer. There’s only one thing to do. Fire me first thing in the morning and send me
back to Earth in a torp. You’ve plenty of grounds … ”
“Shut-up.”
For seconds Hilton had been trying to break into her hopeless monotone; finally he
succeeded. “The trouble with you is, you know altogether too damned much that isn’t
so.” He was barely able to keep his voice down and his eyes front. “What do you think
I’m made of-superefract? I thought the whole performance was an act, to prove you’re a
better man than I am. You talk about dreams. Good God! You don’t even know what
dreams are! If you say one more word about quitting, I’ll show you whether I love you or
not-I’ll squeeze you so hard it’ll flatten you out flat!”
“Two can play at that game, sweetheart.” Her nostrils flared slightly; her fists
clenched-if possible-a fraction tighter; and, even in the distorted medium they were
using for speech, she could not subdue completely her quick change into soaring, lilting
buoyancy. “While you’re doing that I’ll see how strong your ribs are. Oh, how this
changes things! I’ve never been half as happy in my whole life as I am right now!”
“Maybe we can work it-if I can handle my end.”
“Why, of course you can! And happy dreams are nice, not horrible.”
“We’ll make it, darling. Here’s an imaginary kiss coming at you. Got it?”
“Received in good order, thank you. Consumed with gusto and returned in kind.”
The show ended and the two strolled out of the room. She walked no closer to him
than usual, and no farther away from him. She did not touch him any oftener than she
usually did, nor any whit more affectionately or possessively.
And no watching eyes, not even the more than half hostile eyes of Sandra Cummings
or the sharply analytical eyes of Stella Wing, could detect any difference whatever in
the relationship between worshipful adulteress and tolerantly understanding idol.
The work, which had never moved at any very fast pace, went more and more slowly.
Three weeks crawled past.
Most of the crews and all of the teams except the First were working on side
issues-tasks which, while important in and of themselves, had very little to do with the
project’s main problem. Hilton, even without Sandra’s help, was all caught up. All the
reports had been analyzed, correlated, crossindexed and filed-except those of the First
Team. Since he could not understand anything much beyond midpoint of the first tape,
they were all reposing in a box labeled PENDING.
The Navy had torn fifteen of the Oman warships practically to pieces, installing Terran
detectors and trying to learn how to operate Oman machinery and armament. In the
former they had succeeded very well; in the latter not at all.
Fifteen Oman ships were now out in deep space, patrolling the void in strict Navy style.
Each was manned by two or three Navy men and several hundred Omans, each of
whom was reveling in delight at being able to do a job for a Master, even though that
Master was not present in person.
Several Strett skeleton-ships had been detected at long range, but the detections were
inconclusive. The things had not changed course, or indicated in any other way that
they had seen or detected the Oman vessels on patrol. If their detectors were no better
than the Omans,’ they certainly hadn’t. That idea, however, could not be assumed to be
a fact, and the detections had been becoming more and more frequent. Yesterday a
squadron of seven-the first time that anything except singles had appeared-had come
much closer than any of the singles had ever done. Like all the others, however, these
passers-by had not paid any detectable attention to anything Oman; hence it could be
inferred that the skeletons posed no threat.
But Sawtelle was making no such inferences. He was very firmly of the opinion that the
Stretts were preparing for a massive attack.
Hilton had assured Sawtelle that no such attack could succeed, and Larry had told
Sawtelle why. Nevertheless, to keep the captain pacified, Hilton had given him
permission to convert as many Oman ships as he liked; to man them with as many
Omans as he liked; and to use ships and Omans as he liked.
Hilton was not worried about the Stretts or the Navy. It was the First Team. It was the
bottleneck that was slowing everything down to a crawl . . . but they knew that. They
knew it better than anyone else could, and felt it more keenly. Especially Karns, the
team chief. He had been driving himself like a dog, and showed it.
Hilton had talked with him a few times-tried gently to make him take it easy-no soap.
He’d have to hunt him up, the next day or so, and slug it out with him. He could do a lot
better job on that if he had something to offer . . . something really constructive . . .
That was a laugh. A very unfunny laugh. What could he, Jarvis Hilton, a specifically
non-specialist director, do on such a job as that?
Nevertheless, as director, he would have to do something to help Team One. If he
couldn’t do anything himself, it was up to him to juggle things around so that someone
else could.
Chapter 6
For one solid hour Hilton stared at the wall, motionless and silent. Then, shaking
himself and stretching, he glanced at his clock.
A little over an hour to supper-time. They’d all be aboard. He’d talk this new idea over
with Teddy Blake. He gathered up a few papers and was stapling them together when
Karns walked in.
“Hi, Bill-speak of the devil! I was just thinking about you.”
“I’ll just bet you were.” Karns sat down, leaned over, and took a cigarette out of the box
on the desk. “And nothing printable, either.”
“Chip-chop, fellow, on that kind of noise,” Hilton said. The team-chief looked actually
haggard. Blue-black rings encircled both eyes, His powerful body slumped. “How long
has it been since you had a good night’s sleep?”
“How long have I been on this job? Exactly one hundred and twenty days. I did get
some sleep for the first few weeks, though.”
“Yeah. So answer me one question. How much good will you do us after they’ve
wrapped you up in one of those canvas affairs that lace up the back?”
“Huh? Oh . . . but damn it, Jarve, I’m holding up the whole procession. Everybody on
the project’s just sitting around on their tokuses waiting for me to get something done
and I’m not doing it. I’m going so slow a snail is lightning in comparison!”
“Calm down, big fellow. Don’t rupture a gut or blow a gasket. I’ve talked to you before,
but this time I’m going to smack you bow-legged. So stick out those big, floppy ears of
yours and really listen. Here are three words that I want you to pin up somewhere
where you can see them all day long: SPEED IS RELATIVE. Look back, see how far up
the hill you’ve come, and then balance one hundred and twenty days against ten
years.”
“What? You mean you’ll actually sit still for me holding everything up for ten years?”
“You use the perpendicular pronoun too much and to the wrong places. On the hits it’s
‘we,’ but on the flops it’s ‘I.’ Quit it. Everything on the job is ‘we.’ Terra’s best brains are
on Team One and are going to stay there. You will notrepeat NOT-be interfered with,
pushed around or kicked around. You see, Bill, I know what you’re up against.”
“Yes, I guess you do. One of the damned few who do. But even if you personally are
willing to give us ten years, how in hell do you think you can swing it? How about the