Part 5 (1/2)

”We are wrecking our buildings for this s.h.i.+p,” Wolden mourned. ”Given time, my experiments would have made worlds and s.p.a.ce unnecessary. But it has been voted that we go after Maya and punish Grim Hagen, even though we drive to the edge of s.p.a.ce. So be it. We are now building in weeks what it would once have taken years to do. Those on our experimental s.h.i.+p who have already gone out into s.p.a.ce, they have helped us immensely. Daily they report the results of their tests to us. The good points--the bad ones--the improvements. Oh, when this is finished it will be a greater s.h.i.+p than we ever dreamed of. I did dream of such a s.h.i.+p when I was young. But now I find that I do not want it. Even so, I will go out among the stars. Wolden was never a coward, nor his fathers before him.”

”So be it,” Odin answered and he leaned his head back and looked high up at the scaffolding where the welders' torches flashed like stars. ”So be it, Wolden. But I would have gone anyway.”

And Gunnar spoke: ”I would have gone beside you. My sword is thirsty.”

High up on the hour-gla.s.s shape a bit of magnesium caught fire and burned brilliantly for a second, its sparks flas.h.i.+ng out and down. A worker, who was no more than a shadow, smothered the flame.

The sparks drifted downward like lost suns seeking a course that they could find no more. They sparkled and burned. Then they winked out, and there was nothing left upon the scaffolding but lancing flames and scurrying shadows.

All about them now, the smiths were beating out old chanteys on the ancient anvils and the newer, clas.h.i.+ng machines.

CHAPTER 6

In the days that followed there was no time for rest. Thanks to the smaller prototype which had already gone into s.p.a.ce, no elaborate tests were required of the new s.h.i.+p. Moreover, the scientists had taken centuries to go over the Old s.h.i.+p, bolt by bolt, part by part, wire by wire. Improvements had been made, but these had been incorporated into the little prototype which was now successfully berthed within a cavern somewhere on the moon. Over thirty men and women had gone with it.

Wolden was constantly in touch with them and daily growing more envious of their position.

Odin knew little of such matters, but he sat daily at the council table where progress reports and squawk-sheets were examined and discussed. The speed with which they were developing the new s.h.i.+p was amazing. There was one innovation to be noted.

Wolden referred to it as the Fourth Drive. Odin gathered that the Old s.h.i.+p had been equipped with such a drive, but new principles and new mechanics had been added. Odin showed him a little book, which had been privately printed in the world above some fifteen years before. It was ent.i.tled: ”Einstein and Einsteinian s.p.a.ce, with Conjectures upon a Trans-Einsteinian concept.” Wolden said it had been written by a young refugee from the n.a.z.is, and he doubted if over two or three copies of the ma.n.u.script were now in existence. Memories of concentration camps, poverty, and the internecine battles of the professors in a small college where the refugee was an a.s.sistant in the Physics Department, had finally driven the poor fellow to suicide.

”He was grasping at something new,” Wolden explained. ”His concept was only nascent. But such a mind! The book has been invaluable. Still, it is nothing but a starting point--but such a starting point!”

Time pa.s.sed. It was like working in a dream, where no sooner was one task done than another was ready. Odin ached. His head spun with all the information that Wolden had given him--the basic principles behind those machines that had gone into the s.h.i.+p.

Then, at last, it was finished. A young girl who reminded him of Maya was hoisted up on a scaffold to the highest bulge of the hour-gla.s.s shaped craft. Workers and visitors stood below by the thousands while she spoke into a tiny microphone and swung a ruby-colored bottle against the s.h.i.+p.

”You are christened The Nebula,” she cried. ”Go out into s.p.a.ce--”

They had used a bottle of red wine for the christening. A shower of ruby-gla.s.s and winedrops came sprinkling down. They fell slowly--like drops of blood, and the onlookers, who were by nature opposed to crowds, began to disperse.

”That girl,” Odin grasped Gunnar's arm ”Who is she?”

Gunnar looked at him curiously. ”Her name is Nea. A distant cousin of Maya's. Also, a distant cousin to Grim Hagen.”

Nothing else was said. But Odin suddenly realized that since the day he had been unwillingly carried back to the world above in the elevator he had not noticed any girl at all.

That night Jack Odin could not sleep, although he had never slept more than five hours at a time since returning to Opal. Getting up he found a little radio and turned it to a frequency which occasionally caught some of the stations above. A hill-billy band was playing, and a comic was singing: ”So I kissed her little sister and forgot my Clementine.”

He turned off the radio with a curse and finally got to sleep, and dreamed of star s.p.a.ces and emerald worlds ruled by beautiful Brons girls who looked like Maya--or maybe a bit like Nea. Until the worlds streaked across the dark sky like comets. And Gunnar was shaking him by the arm and a streak of light was coming in at the window.

”Ho, sluggard. We start to load the s.h.i.+p today. How long have you waited for this? We were going to savor each moment, remember! And you lie here like a turtle in the sun.”

Odin yawned. ”The lists are ready. Everything is packed. I, myself, have checked the lists.”

Gunnar laughed. ”How much time have your people spent checking lists?

You are the world's best list-checkers. And the worst. I wish we were just a handful of warriors going out for a fight. But whole families are coming along. Apparently the Brons intend to sow their seed among the stars. And with families. I'll wager that your lists are not worth a darning needle. Something will be left behind. A slice of some bride's wedding cake. Little Nordo's favorite toy. Papa's best pocket-knife.

Mama's b.u.t.ton-box.” The strong little man made a wry face. ”Bah, this is no trip for families. They want too much. They are never satisfied. With warriors it is much different. They can take things as they are and grumble a bit--or if they grumble too much, Gunnar can slap them silly.