Chapter 2

Corriston was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wished that the girl would say something instead of just continuing to stare at him. She seemed to be interested in his uniform. She appeared to be gazing at him interrogatively, as if she wanted to know more about him before promising anything.

He wondered what her unconscious purpose was. Did she see in him the quiet, determined type who was all set to accomplish something important. Or was she regretting he wasn’t the hard-living, cynical type who had been everywhere and done everything?

Well, one way to find out was to be himself: a man average in every way, but with a hard core of idealism in his nature, a creative mind and enough independence and self-assurance to give a good account of himself in any struggle which brought his central beliefs under fire or placed them in long-range jeopardy.

And so Corriston suddenly found himself talking about the Station again.

“Not many people have grasped the importance of it yet,” he said. “One station will service our needs, instead of fifty-seven, one tremendous central terminal and re-fueling depot for all of the ships. Do you realize what that could mean?”

Abruptly there was a startling warmth in the girl’s eyes, an unmistakable look of interest and encouragement.

“Just what could it mean?” she asked.

“Any kind of steady growth across the years leads to centralization, to bigness. And that bigness becomes time-hallowed and magnified out of all proportion to its original significance. The Space Station is no exception. It started with the primitive Earth satellites and branched out into fifty-seven larger stations. Now it’s tremendous, a single central station that can impose its influence in ship clearance matters with an almost unanswerable finality.”

A shadow had come into the girl’s eyes. “But not completely without checks and balances. The Earth Federation can challenge its supremacy at any point.”

“Yes, and I’m glad that the challenge remains a factor to be reckoned with. As matters stand now the Station’s prestige can’t be implemented with what might well become the iron hand of an intolerable tyranny. As matters stand, the Station is actually a big step forward. People once talked of centralization as if it were some kind of indecent human bogey. It isn’t at all. It’s simply a fluid means to an end, a necessary commitment if a society is to achieve greatness. If the authority behind the Station respects scientific truth and human dignity--if it remains empirically minded--I shall serve it to the best of my ability. No one knows for sure whether what is good outbalances what is bad in any human institution, or any human being. A man can only give the best of himself to what he believes in.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” an amused voice said, “but the captain wants you to join him in a last-minute celebration: a toast, a press photograph--that sort of nonsense. A six hour trip, and he hasn’t even been introduced to you. But if you don’t appear at his table in ten minutes he’ll throw the book at me.”

Corriston looked up in surprise at the big man confronting them. He had approached so unobtrusively that for an instant Corriston was angry; but only for an instant. When he took careful stock of the fellow his resentment evaporated. There was a cordiality about him which could not have been counterfeited. It reached from the breadth of his smile to his gray eyes puckered in amusement. He was really big physically, in a wholly genial and relaxed way, and his voice was that of a man who could walk up to a bar, pay a bill and leave an everlasting impression of hearty good nature behind him.

“Well, young lady?” he asked.

“I’m not particularly keen about the idea, Jim, but if the captain has actually iced the champagne, it would be a shame to disappoint him.”

Corriston was aware that his companion was getting to her feet. The interruption had been unexpected, but much to his surprise he found himself accepting it without rancor. If he lost her for a few moments he could quickly enough find her again; and somehow he felt convinced that the big man was not a torch-carrying admirer.

“I’ll have to stop off in the ladies’ lounge first,” she said. She had opened her vanity case and was making a swift inventory of its contents. “Two shades of lipstick, but no powder! Oh, well.”

She smiled at the big man and then at Corriston, gesturing slightly as she did so.

“We’ve just been discussing the Station,” she said. “This gentleman hasn’t told me his name--”

“Lieutenant David Corriston,” Corriston said quickly. “My interest in the Station is tied in with my job. I’ve just been assigned to it in the very modest capacity of ship’s inspection officer, recruit status.”

The big man stared at Corriston more intently, his eyes kindling with a sudden increase of interest. “Say, I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes. When my friends ask me I’d like to be able to talk intelligently about the terrific headaches the research people must have experienced right from the start. The expenditure of fuel alone...”

“See you in the Captain’s cabin, Jim,” the girl said.

She moved out from her chair, her expression slightly constrained. Was it just imagination, or had the big man’s immoderate expansiveness grated on her and brought a look of displeasure to her young face? Corriston couldn’t be sure, and his brow remained furrowed as he watched her cross the passenger cabin and disappear into the ladies’ lounge.

“I’m Jim Clakey,” the big man said.

Corriston reseated himself, a troubled indecision still apparent in his stare. Then gradually he found himself relaxing. He nodded up at the big man. “Sit down, Mr. Clakey,” he said. “Ask me anything you want. Security imposes some pretty rigid restrictions, but I’ll let you know when you start treading on classified ground.”

Clakey sat down and crossed his long legs. He was silent for a moment. Then he said: “You know who she is, of course.”

Corriston shook his head. “I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“She isn’t traveling under her real name only because her father is a very sensible and cautious man. You’d be cautious too, perhaps, if you were Stephen Ramsey.”

Clakey’s gaze had traveled to the ladies’ lounge, and for an instant he seemed unaware of Corriston’s incredulous stare.

“You mean I’ve actually been sitting here talking to Stephen Ramsey’s daughter?”

“That’s right,” Clakey said, turning to grin amiably at Corriston. “And now you’re talking to her personal bodyguard. I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize her, though; very few people do. She doesn’t like to have her picture taken. Her dad wouldn’t object to that kind of publicity particularly, but she’s even more cautious than he is.”

The door of the ladies’ lounge opened and two young women came out. They were laughing and talking with great animation and were quickly lost to view as other passengers changed their position in front of the viewscreen.