The guard made a clumsy pass at fluffing up her back hair and giggled. “Duty comes first, dearie. Angela, just lock that door, will you?” The other guard scrambled unevenly to her feet and weaved over to the door. It was locked before Ross or Bernie could move.
The big guard stood up too, leering at Bernie. “Wow!” she said. “New merchandise. Just be patient, dearie. We’ve got a little something to attend to in a couple of minutes, but we’ll have lots of time after that.”
Then things began to happen rapidly. There was Angela the guard, inarticulate, falling-down drunk; she waved bonelessly at a brightly flickering light on the far side of the lockroom. There was the other guard, reaching out for Bernie with one hand, pawing at a bottle with the other. There was Ross, a paralyzed spectator.
And there was Bernie.
Bernie’s eyes bulged wide as the guard came toward him. He babbled hysterically, “No! Nonononono! I said I’d kill myself and I——”
He stiff-armed the big guard and leaped for the lock door. Ross suddenly came to life. “Bernie!” he bellowed. “Hold it! Don’t jump!”
But it was too late. The one guard sprawling, the other staggering helplessly across the floor, Bernie was clear. He scrabbled at the lockwheels, spun them open. Ross tensed himself for the sudden, awful rush of expanding air; he leaped after Bernie just as Bernie flung the lock door open and jumped.
Ross jumped after.
There was no rush of air. They were not in space. Around them was no ripping, sucking void, no flaming backdrop of stars; around them were six walls and a Wes-ley board, and Helena peering at them wide-eyed and delighted.
“Well!” she said. “That was fast!”
Ross said, “But——”
Helena, hanging from the acceleration loops, smiled maternally. “Oh, it was nothing,” she said. “Ross don’t you think we’re far enough away yet?”
Ross said hopelessly, “All right,” and cut the drive. The starship hung hi space hi the limbo between stars. Azor, “Minerva,” and the rest were light-years behind, far out of range of challenge.
Helena wriggled free from the loops and rubbed her arms where the retaining straps had gripped them. “After all,” she said demurely, “you told me how to run the ship, and really, Ross, I’m not quite stupid.”
Ross said, “But——”
“But what, Ross? It isn’t as it I were some sort of brainless little thing that had never run a machine hi her life. My goodness, Ross——” She wrinkled her nose. “You should remember. All those days hi the dye vats? Don’t you think I had to learn a little something about machines there?”
Ross swore incredulously. To compare those clumsy constructs of wheels and rollers with the subtle subelec-tronic flows of the Wesley force—and to make it work! He said, unbelievingly, “And the ‘Minerva’ helped you vector hi? They gave you the co-ordinates and radared your course?”
“Certainly.” Helena turned to Bernie, who was staring dazedly around him. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked.
Ross turned his back on them and faced the Wesley Christmas tree of controls. Don’t question it, he told himself; take a miracle for what it is. God wanted you out of “Minerva”—and God moves hi most mysterious ways His wonders to perform.
Anyway, they had to get going. When the court had exiled Helena hi the starship they had gone through the customary rituals; not only was everything that looked like a weapon gone, along with all but a teacup of fuel for the auxiliary jets, but the food locker was stripped entirely. He put everything else out of his mind and began to calculate a setting.
Bernie said over his shoulder, “Home, huh? That place you call Halsey’s Planet?”
Ross shook his head. “Not this tune. I got this far and
I’m still alive; maybe I can finish the job. Anyway, I’ll try. The first solid suggestion I’ve had ever since I took off was what that half-witted old moron——” He ignored a little gasp from Helena. “———said back on ‘Minerva.’ If Flar-ney had lived, he would have gone there; we’ll go there now.” He finished manipulating the calculator and began to set it up on the board. He said, “The name of the place is—Earth.”