“You’re not going to leave us, are you, Cap?”

Two of his passengers were seated on the other side of the dining area. They looked over, saw Cap, and waved. He waved back. “She refused even to come up to meet me. She’s never done that before.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there were something we could do.”

“I do, too, Rudy.” He turned his attention to Jon: “Is it going to work?”

Jon’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh, yes,” he said.

“How fast is it?”

“We aren’t sure yet. Have to conduct some tests first.”

“Well,” he said, “it would be a godsend to have something that would move a bit faster than what we have now.”

Rudy held his gaze. “Cap, this is a bad time to ask, but after we finish the testing, and we’re sure it’ll do what we want it to, would you be open to piloting the first mission?”

“Rudy,” he said, “I don’t think so. If I were to do something like that, Carrie would file for separation. I think I’ve reached a point where I should pull the plug.”

“We just lost François,” said Jon.

“I’m sorry to hear it. What happened?”

Rudy sighed. “He decided we didn’t have a future. So he got another job.”

“Piloting?”

“Shuttling.”

“That’s a comedown.”

“Money’s probably a good bit better,” said Rudy.

“Yeah. I guess.” The wine arrived. They uncorked the bottle, poured three glasses, and drank to the Foundation. To each other. And to the Locarno.

RUDY TOOK ADVANTAGE of the opportunity to inspect the Happy Times. The engineers were not entirely pleased to see him, and especially not Jon, but they brought them on board, and their supervisor explained that they were conducting the first set of calibration tests for the QDU. The Quantum Disruption Unit. Rudy had no idea what it was or what it would do. Neither, he suspected, did the supervisor.

“It’s what will give us access,” said Jon. He explained its function, which had something to do with spatial manipulation. While they talked, results were coming in. Jon parked in front of one of the displays, followed the operation, looked up periodically to give Rudy an encouraging nod, and, after a half hour or so, broke into a wide smile. “It’s going to work, Rudy,” he said.

JON SILVESTRI’S NOTEBOOK

…Happiest day of my life…

—Sunday, April 29

PART TWO

locarno

chapter 8

HAD HE BEEN able, Rudy would have kept the media away from the test run. But there was no way to do that. Interest was high, and journalists crowded into the launch area and spilled out into the passageway. The networks, always hungry for news and ready to expand any sort of event into a major story, had begun broadcasting live two hours before Rudy arrived on the scene.

Also present were a few politicians who had championed the cause, and who had been actively trying for years to get the government to support an interstellar program. And, of course, Rudy had saved room for the Foundation’s five board members. Hutch and a few other supporters were also on hand.

The first question had come when reporters had spotted him in the main concourse. “Dr. Golombeck, why did you remove Doris?” Doris was the test vehicle’s AI. He’d known that issue would surface. The action had already turned him into a cartoon figure, depicted rescuing toasters and reading lamps from trash collectors.

He was tempted to point out that several religious groups had raised the possibility that AIs had souls. But hardheaded scientific types were supposed to be tougher than that. Reasonable. The Voice of Truth had commented that the next thing anybody knew, “These weak-kneed do-gooders would be representing us in the greater galaxy, and giving whatever might be out there the impression we’re ripe for plucking.” So he simply explained that they’d made test modifications on Doris, that they did not want to have to repeat the process, and that she was not necessary to run the test. So he’d pulled her clear. Just in case. It didn’t satisfy everyone, but it would do.

THE HAPPY TIMES waited serenely in its bay.

When they were a few minutes from launch time, Rudy asked for quiet, thanked everyone for their support, called Jon to his side, and introduced him as “the man everybody here already knows.” He gazed contentedly out across his audience. He loved moments like this. Whatever concerns about failure he’d entertained had drifted away. What the hell. If you tried to climb Everest, there was no disgrace in not making the top. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he continued, “we’ll be operating the Happy Times from here. Since Dr. Silvestri’s drive has never been tested, there’ll be no one on board the ship when it goes into transit.

“It will launch from Bay 4”—he checked his watch, tapped his earpiece for effect—“in approximately eleven minutes. Forty-two minutes later, after the system has charged, we’ll trigger the Locarno, and the Happy Times will enter a set of dimensions we haven’t previously penetrated.” His smile grew larger. “We think.” Jon, still beside him, grinned and said he hoped so. It got a round of laughter.

“If all goes well, it will reappear 3.7 billion miles from here before you can count to six. A standard vehicle, using the Hazeltine, would complete the jump in just under a minute.”

Somebody wanted to know how far 3.7 billion miles was? Saturn? Uranus?

“Think Pluto,” he said.

“Rudy.” George Eifen, of Science News, stood near the door. He’d grown a beard since the last time Rudy had seen him. “Is that really correct? Six seconds?”

Rudy smiled contentedly. “George, we’ve been doing one minute to Pluto for the better part of a century. Nobody notices because nobody ever goes to Pluto. We make these runs out to Rigel or wherever, and it takes a few hours, or a few days, so the rate of passage is lost. People don’t see what Ginny Hazeltine accomplished. Well, with the Locarno, we hope to do even better.”

He smiled again, but he tried to appear uncertain. Hopeful. Don’t want to look smug. Make sure the thing works first. “When it arrives, it’ll send a radio signal back here. It’s now”—he checked the time—“almost noon.” Greenwich Mean Time, of course. “If all goes well, it’ll be on the edge of the solar system at about 12:45. The radio signal will need six hours to get back here.” He glanced around the room. “By seven or so this evening, we’ll know whether it’s been a success.”

A small man off to one side waved a hand. “There’s no chance it would hit Pluto, is there?”

Rudy chuckled. “Pluto isn’t there at the moment,” he said. “So there’s no danger of a collision. In any case, there’s a matter detector on board. It would prevent the Happy Times from trying to materialize in the same space as a solid object.”

They directed a few questions at Jon. How did he feel? How confident was he? In an era when the urge to travel in deep space seemed to have gone away, did he foresee a practical use for this kind of drive?

Jon explained that he didn’t believe the current malaise was permanent. When he finished, Rudy pointed at the clock. They were down to four minutes. “Dr. Silvestri,” he said, “will launch for us.”