Bobby Denton nodded. “Yes!” he said. “And if anybody thinks his God is mean for putting things out in space to stop us from flying out there, just let him remember the space ship God already gave us. And we don’t have to buy the fuel for it, and worry and fret over what kind of fuel to use. No! God worries about all that.
“God told us what we had to do on this wonderful space ship. He wrote the rules so anybody could understand them. You don’t have to be a physicist or a great chemist or an Albert Einstein to understand them. No! And He didn’t make a whole lot of rules, either. They tell me that if they were to fire The Whale, they would have to make eleven thousand separate checks before they could be sure it was ready to go: Is this valve open, is that valve dosed, is that wire tight, is that tank full? — and on and on and on to eleven thousand things to check. Here on God’s space ship, God only gives us ten things to check — and not for any little trip to some big, dead poisonous stones out in space, but for a trip to the Kingdom of Heaven! Think of it! Where would you rather be tomorrow — on Mars or in the Kingdom of Heaven?
“You know what the check list is on God’s round, green space ship? Do I have to tell you? You want to hear God’s countdown?”
The Love Crusaders shouted back that they did.
“Ten! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you covet thy neighbor’s house, or his manservant, or his maidservant, or his ox, or his ass, or anything that is thy neighbor’s?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Nine! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you bear false witness against thy neighbor?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders. “Eight! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you steal?” “No!” cried the Love Crusaders. “Seven! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you commit adultery?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Six! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you kill?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Five! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you honor thy father and thy mother?”
“Yes!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Four! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy?”
“Yes!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Three! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you take the name of the Lord thy God in vain?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Two! — ” said Bobby Denton. “Do you make any graven images?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“One! — ” cried Bobby Denton. “Do you put any gods before the one true Lord thy God?”
“No!” cried the Love Crusaders.
“Blast off!” shouted Bobby Denton joyfully. “Paradise, here we come! Blast off, children, and Amen!”
“Well — ” murmured Malachi Constant, there in the chimneylike room under the staircase in Newport, “it looks like the messenger is finally going to be used.”
“What was that?” said Rumfoord.
“My name — it means faithful messenger,” said Constant. “What’s the message?”
“Sorry,” said Rumfoord, “I know nothing about any message.” He cocked his head quizzically. “Somebody said something to you about a message?”
Constant turned his palms upward. “I mean — what am I going to go to all this trouble to get to Triton for?”
“Titan,” Rumfoord corrected him.
“Titan, Triton,” said Constant. “What the blast would I go there for?” Blast was a weak, prissy, Eagle-Scoutish word for Constant to use — and it took him a moment to realize why he had used it. Blast was what space cadets on television said when a meteorite carried away a control surface, or the navigator turned out to be a space pirate from the planet Zircon. He stood. “Why the hell should I go there?”
“You do — I promise you,” said Rumfoord.
Constant went over to the window, some of his arrogant strength returning. “I tell you right now,” he said, “I’m not going.”
“Sorry to hear that,” said Rumfoord.
“I’m supposed to do something for you when I get there?” said Constant.
“No,” said Rumfoord.
“Then why are you sorry?” said Constant. “What’s it to you?”