Chapter 12

He felt a little emotional pang, something like nostalgia, as the Valhalla came into sight, standing by itself tall and proud at the far end of the field. A cluster of trucks buzzed around it, transferring fuel, bringing cargo. He spotted the wiry figure of Dan Kelleher, the cargo chief, supervising and shouting salty instructions to the perspiring men.

Alan tightened his grip on Steve’s arm and moved forward. Kelleher shouted, “You men back there, tighten up on that winch and give ‘er a hoist! Tighten up, I say! Put some muscle into--” He broke off. “Alan,” he said, in a quiet voice.

“Hello, Dan. Is my father around?”

Kelleher was staring with frank curiosity at the slumped figure of Steve Donnell. “The Captain’s off watch now. Art Kandin’s in charge.”

“Thanks,” Alan said. “I’d better go see him.”

“Sure. And--”

Alan nodded. “Yes. That’s Steve.”

He passed between the cargo hoists and clambered onto the escalator rampway that led to the main body of the ship. It rose, conveying him seventy feet upward and through the open passenger hatch to the inner section of the towering starship.

He was weary from having carried Steve so long. He put the sleeping form down against a window-seat facing one of the viewscreens, and said to Rat, “You stay here and keep watch. If anyone wants to know who he is, tell them the truth.”

“Right enough.”

Alan found Art Kandin where he expected to find him--in the Central Control Room, posting work assignments for the blastoff tomorrow. The lanky, pudgy-faced First Officer hardly noticed as Alan stepped up beside him.

“Art?”

Kandin turned--and went pale. “Oh--Alan. Where in blazes have you been the last two days?”

“Out in the Earther city. Did my father make much of a fuss?”

The First Officer shook his head. “He kept saying you just went out to see the sights, that you hadn’t really jumped ship. But he kept saying it over and over again, as if he didn’t really believe it, as if he wanted to convince himself you were coming back.”

“Where is he now?”

“In his cabin. He’s off-watch for the next hour or two. I’ll ring him up and have him come down here, I guess.”

Alan shook his head. “No--don’t do that. Tell him to meet me on B Deck.” He gave the location of the picture-viewscreen where he had parked Steve, and Kandin shrugged and agreed.

Alan made his way back to the viewscreen. Rat looked up at him; he was sitting perched on Steve’s shoulder.

“Anyone bother you?” Alan asked.

“No one’s come by this way since you left,” Rat said.

“Alan?” a quiet voice said.

Alan turned. “Hello, Dad.”

The Captain’s lean, tough face had some new lines on it; his eyes were darkly shadowed, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept much the night before. But he took Alan’s hand and squeezed it warmly--in a fatherly way, not a Captainly one. Then he glanced at the sleeping form behind Alan.

“I--went into the city, Dad. And found Steve.”

Something that looked like pain came into Captain Donnell’s eyes, but only for an instant. He smiled. “It’s strange, seeing the two of you like this. So you brought back Steve, eh? We’ll have to put him back on the roster. Why is he asleep? He looks like he’s out cold.”

“He is. It’s a long story, Dad.”

“You’ll have to explain it to me later, then--after blastoff.”

Alan shook his head. “No, Dad. Steve can explain it when he wakes up, tonight. Steve can tell you lots of things. I’m going back to the city.”

“What?”

It was easy to say, now--the decision that had been taking vague form for several hours, and which had crystallized as he trudged across the spacefield toward the Valhalla. “I brought you back Steve, Dad. You still have one son aboard ship. I want off. I’m resigning. I want to stay behind on Earth. By our charter you can’t deny such a request.”

Captain Donnell moistened his lips slowly. “Agreed, I can’t deny. But why, Alan?”

“I think I can do more good Earthside. I want to look for Cavour’s old notebooks; I think he developed the hyperdrive, and if I stay behind on Earth maybe I can find it. Or else I can build my own. So long, Dad. And tell Steve that I wish him luck--and that he’d better do the same for me.” He glanced at Rat. “Rat, I’m deeding you to Steve. Maybe if he had had you instead of me, he never would have jumped ship in the first place.”

He looked around, at his father, at Steve, at Rat. There was not much else he could say. And he knew that if he prolonged the farewell scene too long, he’d only be burdening his father and himself with the weight of sentimental memory.

“We won’t be back from Procyon for almost twenty years, Alan. You’ll be thirty-seven before we return to Earth again.”

Alan grinned. “I have a hunch I’ll be seeing you all before then, Dad. I hope. Give everyone my best. So long, Dad.”

“So long, Alan.”

He turned away and rapidly descended the ramp. Avoiding Kelleher and the cargo crew, for goodbyes would take too long, he trotted smoothly over the spacefield, feeling curiously lighthearted now. Part of the quest was over; Steve was back on board the Valhalla. But Alan knew the real work was just beginning. He would search for the hyperdrive; perhaps Hawkes would help him. Maybe he would succeed in his quest this time, too. He had some further plans, in that event, but it was not time to think of them now.

Hawkes was still standing at the edge of the field, and there was a thoughtful smile on his face as Alan came running up to him.

“I guess you won your bet,” Alan said, when he had his breath back.

“I almost always do. You owe me a hundred credits--but I’ll defer collection.”

They made the trip back to York City in virtual silence. Either Hawkes was being too tactful to ask the reasons for Alan’s decision or else--this seemed more likely, Alan decided--the gambler had already made some shrewd surmises, and was waiting for time to bear him out. Hawkes had known long before Alan himself realized it that he would not leave with the Valhalla.

The Cavour Hyperdrive, that was the rainbow’s end Alan would chase now. He would accept Hawkes’ offer, become the gambler’s protege, learn a few thing about life. The experience would not hurt him. And always in the front of his mind he would keep the ultimate goal, of finding a spacedrive that would propel a ship faster than the speed of light.