Journey for Seven

Chapter VII Date with a Star

Dickinson drummed nervously on his desk and looked at his watch with irritation. He buzzed the girl and said, “Haven’t you located Dr. Bellbight yet?”

He forced a smile. The two men from New Mexico sat near the windows. In the four chairs drawn up close to his desk were Jennilou, Shirley, Stan Weaver and Bill Dorvan.

Dickinson cleared his throat. “Well, we’ll begin without Dr. Bellbight. Thanks to Mr. Weaver and Mr. Dorvan we took McGoran into custody ten days ago. He was placed in a cell where the walls carried a heavy enough charge of current to stun him if he touched them. It was quite obvious that McGoran was insane. Four hours ago he died of what apparently was a cerebral hemorrhage.”

Jennilou looked faintly ill. Shirley gasped. Weaver swallowed hard. Dorvan said softly, “As good a way as any.”

“Thus, of the original seven, two are dead. And Mrs. Thompson is out of our reach. Her legal talent is too... ah... fast on its feet. So there are just the four of you. Doubtless you have been puzzled by the tests that you have undergone during the past ten days.”

“To put it mildly,” said Shirley Sanger.

“Dr. Lamont and Mr. Sherman have prescribed those tests. They came here on a hunch. The hunch has paid off. Oh, there you are, Tom. Sit down. I was just getting to the tests. Want to take over?”

Bellbight nodded. He was very pale.

His voice was harsh and nervous as he said, “We have established the fact that you four can stand extremes of heat and cold far in excess of normal. On the whirl test Mr. Dorvan had the best record. He blacked out at thirty-one G’s. To the human in perfect physical condition twelve G’s usually results in serious internal injuries, temporary blindness, sometimes death. Take over, Dr. Lamont.”

Lamont stood up and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. He had an ugly, likeable face. “In New Mexico we do not publish our little triumphs. Our work is top secret. However, this is so important to us that I must divulge to you certain topsecret information.

“Fourteen months ago we put a small rocket in orbit around the earth. First practical application of atomic power for rocket propulsion. We used a booster set-up with chemical fuel to clear the atmosphere, then a hard burst of atomic drive to take the speed up to the necessary five miles per second to establish the rocket as a satellite of earth.

“Six months ago, using the same technique, we drove a rocket to the moon. That meant achieving a take-off speed of seven miles per second. Our press releases speak of achieving hundred-mile altitudes. Believe me, they are enormous understatements.

“Now we have come to a barrier. That particular barrier is the limitation on unmanned rockets. Until two weeks ago we thought it an insuperable obstacle. Take-off speed would pulp the average human. But you people could stand it.

“I have four releases here. I will not attempt to sell you anything. Frankly, we want to take the four of you to New Mexico. You’ll get no publicity. There will be no medals. I can’t promise that you’ll live through the flights.

“There will be a year of training while the rockets are under construction. If all goes well, which it probably won’t, you’ll be the first humans in space. So your choice is either to continue to exist here as sort of laboratory animals or come to New Mexico and have something to do with what I like to call mankind’s manifest destiny.”

He sat down. Jennilou said softly, “No! No, I can’t leave.”

Weaver shrugged. “Brother, once you’ve driven an interurban bus, you can stand anything. I’d like a change in routes. Get your moon transfers here. Step to the rear of the rocket, please.”

“Funny like a crutch,” Shirley said. She turned and put her hand on Bill Dorvan’s arm. “It’s a corny old line, William, but whither thou goest—”

Dorvan smiled weakly. “We’ll take two of those papers, Doc.”

“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” Shirley said softly.

Bellbight said suddenly, his voice still tense, “Before you sign you’d better know that it’s going to be more than that.”

“Shut up, Tom!” Dickinson said.

“You can’t shut me up. Listen. It isn’t going to be any little trip of a week or a month. At first, yes. But not later. And for the last little jaunt you may go so far that a lifetime won’t be long enough to make a round trip.

“You ought to know that. You ought to know that you may live out what remains of your life in the hulk of a rocket resting on some unknown world. You’ll be pioneers, certainly. But there won’t be any cakes and ale.”

Lamont said angrily. “What are you trying to do, Bellbight.”

Tom’s voice was so low as to be almost a whisper. “It’s hard to understand some things. Why should that transmitter have tipped when it did? Who can either affirm or deny some definite plan in the universe?

“Are we nasty little freaks of nature, biological accidents, running around in our mechanical anthill just prior to blowing it to bits, or is there something, some force, some entity that watches over us, that makes a transmitter tip, that creates a new form of man strong enough to weather space?

“For ten days I’ve been reading genetics. You know what, Lamont? This aberration goes deep. Bill and Shirley are in love. They’ll breed true. That’s one of your questions, isn’t it? I’d stake my life on the answer to that one.”

“Very noble language, Bellbight,” Sherman said wryly.

“Staking my life?” Tom said. He laughed. “I’m talking like this, you see, because I know all the facts. Ten days ago somebody talked about a glass wall. They couldn’t get through it or over it. So I began to wonder if I could cross over to her side.”

“Tom!” Jennilou said.

He was at her side in two long strides. He tilted her chin up roughly and bruised her lips with his. He straightened up. “So it can be done, you see. It was a gamble I had to take. I’ll leave complete records here, Dick, so that you can duplicate it without killing the patient.”

“Leave?” Dickinson said in a dazed tone. “Where?”

“Dick, you’re being dull! Shirley talked about whither thou goest. That phrase makes sense to me. Jennilou and I have a date with a star.”

“It would be a good thing to have a physicist in the crew,” Sherman said slowly.

Weaver stood up and leaned across the desk.

He waved his finger under Dickinson’s nose. He said, “My Madge is a miserable woman. She’s got a voice like a rusty crosscut saw but I miss her like the devil. What Tom can do to himself you can do to Madge. So help me, I’ll talk her into it. If you say no, Dickinson, I’ll take this whole plant apart with my bare hands. And don’t think I can’t.”

“Better agree, Dick,” Tom said.

“Okay,” Dickinson said weakly.

Shirley was the one who wrapped it up. She looked at Jennilou’s glowing face and then she looked into Bill Dorvan’s eyes.

She said softly, “A big blonde going nowhere fast. That was Shirley. And then I’m a freak. At least it was a change. And now, all of a sudden, I’m no freak. All of a sudden I feel as if this was meant to be. It makes me feel proud — and kind of humble. Kids, let’s go buy some of the toughest steaks in town.”