“I assume if you were to bet—”
“I’d say the odds against it are substantial. But the truth is, with something like this, there’s no way to know until you try it.”
JON HAD DINNER at Brinkley’s Restaurant across the park and came back to another flurry of messages. “There’s one that might be of interest,” Herman said. “Do you know a Mr. Matthew Darwin?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He wants to know if you need a new test vehicle.”
Jon was planning on spending the evening watching Not on Your Life, a Broadway comedy. He needed something to laugh at. “What have you got on Darwin, Herman? Who is he?”
“A real estate agent, sir.”
He snickered. “You sure? Have we got the right guy?”
“That’s him.”
“A real estate agent.”
“There’s something else of interest.” There was a sly pause. “He used to pilot superluminals, mostly for the Academy.”
“Really? You think he knows where we can lay our hands on a starship?”
“I don’t know, sir. It might be worth your time to ask him.”
“Did he indicate whether he was representing someone?”
“No, Jon.”
“All right, let’s get him on the circuit and hear what he has to say for himself.”
MATT DARWIN WAS seated by a window. He looked too young to be a guy who’d been piloting for years, then built another career in real estate. It was hard to tell a person’s age this side of about eighty if he took care of himself and got the treatment. These days, of course, everybody got the treatment. Darwin could have been in his twenties.
He looked efficient rather than thoughtful. A bit harried rather than at ease. He had black hair, brown eyes, and there was something in his manner that suggested he had no doubts about himself. “I appreciate your calling, Dr. Silvestri,” he said. “I’m sure this has been a hectic time for you.”
Jon was in no mood for idle chitchat. “What can I do for you, Mr. Darwin?”
“I might be able to do something for you, Doctor. I’ve been watching the reports about the Locarno. I’m sorry things went wrong yesterday.”
“Thank you.”
“It sounds as if the Foundation won’t try again. Is that true?”
“It looks unlikely.”
“Okay. Clear something up for me, if you will. This propulsion method, the Locarno: Its power source, I take it, is different from the Hazeltine.”
“I’m sorry, Darwin. I’m really worn-out. This has been a long few days.”
“Doctor, I can imagine how difficult it must be to come by another starship to test your system. If you’d be kind enough to answer my question, I might be able to make a suggestion.”
He was tempted simply to say good night, but something in Darwin’s manner implied it might be a good idea to continue. “The Hazeltine is powered by the main engines,” he said. “You know that, I’m sure. The Locarno carries its own power pack. It has to, because the power flow has to be carefully modulated. You need a rhythm. Trying to control the power flow from a starship’s engines simply isn’t practical.”
“So you really don’t need a set of engines?”
“Only to charge the power pack.”
“Can’t that be done in advance?”
“Sure. But it goes flat with each jump.”
“All right. But you don’t need a starship’s engines, right?”
From the mouths of real estate dealers. “No,” he said. “Actually, we don’t.”
“Okay.” Darwin allowed himself a smile. “Why did you use a starship in your test? Why didn’t you try a shuttle? Or a lander? Something a little cheaper?”
Jon had no answer. Using a different kind of vehicle had never occurred to him. Jumps were always made by starships. Not by landers. But he saw no reason they couldn’t have done it that way. “You’re right,” he said. “That probably would have been a better idea.”
“Okay,” said Darwin. “So all you need for the next test is a lander.”
Or for that matter, a taxicab. Well, maybe not. They’d need something that could navigate a little bit. “Thank you, Mr. Darwin. You may be on to something.” Even a lander, though, would not come cheap.
“I might be able to supply one, Doctor.”
“A lander? You could do that? Really?”
“Maybe. Are you interested?”
“How much would you want for it?”
Darwin’s face clouded with disapproval. “You have an ultimate drive, and you can’t spring for a lander?”
Jon laughed. “Probably not at the moment.”
“Let me look into it. I’ll get back to you.”
“MATT,” SAID JULIE, “that’s goofy.” They were sitting in Cleary’s, over lunch, while a soft rain pattered against the windows. “They won’t do it.”
“How do you know?”
“Look, it’s a great idea. But they’re a school board. They aren’t usually tuned to great ideas.”
“What can we lose by asking them?”
“Oh,” she said, “by all means, ask them. I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t. But I’d hate to see this guy blow up our lander. And the board is going to feel the same way.”
“Maybe I can give them a reason to take the chance.”
“I hope you can. But I can tell you they won’t be happy.” She was eating roast beef on rye, with a side of potato salad. She took another bite and chewed it down. “Six thousand physicists can’t be wrong,” she said. “That’ll be their position.”
“Julie, you know most of the people on the school board.”
“Yes, but I don’t have any influence over them. They don’t take teachers very seriously.”
“You don’t think there’s a chance they’d go along?”
She lifted her iced tea and jiggled the cubes. “What you’d have to do is persuade them they’d get something out of it. They’re politicians, Matt. Maybe you could tell them what it would mean to their careers if they took a chance with the lander, and it worked. Next step—”
“The governor’s house. Beautiful. I like that.”
She grinned and took another bite out of the sandwich. “I’ll be there to watch the show.”
“Julie,” he said, “how long has the school system had the lander?”
“Six years. No, wait, I think it’s more like five. It was my second year here when they got it.”
“All right,” he said. “Thanks. You have any idea what kind of shape it’s in?”
“Not very good, I wouldn’t think. I mean, there’s no maintenance program. It’s just been sitting on the lawn, getting rained on.” Her eyes sparkled, and he read the message: You’d just love to get back out there, wouldn’t you?
“Can you arrange to open it up for me? Let me take a look at it?”
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