The vehicle was scheduled to be delivered to Vosco Labs to be fitted with the Locarno Drive unit. Vosco was in North Carolina, and would have provided a pilot, but Matt couldn’t resist delivering it himself. In preparation for the event, he’d renewed his license. He strode out under stormy skies with Jon Silvestri trailing behind. “Got to get my luggage,” Silvestri said, peeling off and heading for the parking lot. The attendees came out and gathered under a canopy.

Matt unlocked the vehicle and opened the hatch. He turned, waved to the spectators, and climbed inside. It was like coming home. He slid into the pilot’s seat, pushed it back a notch, and started the engine. He did it manually rather than instructing the AI to take care of it. He ran through the checklist. Fuel. Antigravs. Thrusters. Navigation. Everything seemed in order.

Silvestri came back, carrying a bag, and got in. Matt closed her up and locked down the harnesses. “All set?”

“You sure you can fly this thing, Matt?”

He answered by easing her off the ground. The people under the canopy waved, and he cut in the engine and swung around in a long arc toward the south. He didn’t have to do that. The lander could have turned on a dime. But he did it anyhow.

HE FELT FIFTEEN years younger as they soared over southern Virginia. “You okay?” Silvestri asked.

“Sure. Why?”

“You look funny.”

“Second childhood, Jon.”

THEY DELIVERED IT and returned home the next morning. Hutch asked how the test was to be conducted.

“Same as last time,” said Jon. “We’ll send it out and have it tell us when it gets there.”

“Okay,” Hutch said. “But if it works—”

“Yes?” said Jon.

“If it works, you’ll need a way to retrieve it. The school’s going to want it back, right? How are you going to handle that?”

“We’ll bring it back the same way it went out,” he said. “That’s why we have the Locarno.”

They were at Cleary’s, in the back, with Matt. A piano tinkled show tunes from the previous decade. “Can I make a suggestion?” she said.

“Sure.”

“When it comes back, it’ll be too far out to return to Union on its own. Unless you’re willing to wait a few years. Somebody will have to go get it.”

“There’ll be plenty of volunteers,” said Matt.

“I know. But I suggest you invite Rudy to do it. He’ll have the Preston available. And I think he’d like to be part of this.”

“Hutch, I thought he wanted to keep his distance from us.”

“Not really. He was just acting out of frustration. He doesn’t want to see the Foundation go under. It’s because he’s a believer, Matt.”

“Okay, I’ll ask him.”

“Good. He’ll be grateful for the opportunity.”

VOSCO, WORKING UNDER Silvestri’s direction, needed three weeks to complete the job. Silvestri looked irritated when he called Matt to say they were ready to go. “The techs are all retros,” he added. “They swear by the great god Hazeltine. They kept telling me I’d kill myself.”

Matt was in his office, after having spent a futile day showing medical buildings to people who, he now realized, had never been serious. “Maybe you can go back and say hello after we ride the lander to glory.”

“Yeah. Let them read about it.”

“So we can pick it up tomorrow?”

“They want another day or two to complete certification. Say the end of the week to be safe.”

“Okay, Jon. I’ll set up a launch date. You have any preferences?”

“Sooner the better.”

“All right. Meantime, we’ll leave it where it is until we’re ready to take it up to the station. We can do that, right?”

“Yes. That’s no problem. There’ll be a charge.”

“That’s fine. We can cover it.” He called Union Ops, got the watch supervisor, and explained what he wanted.

“Okay,” the supervisor said. “I hope it goes better this time.”

“Thanks.”

“I assume you’re speaking for the Foundation?”

“It’s not involved anymore.”

“All right.” He was studying a monitor. “Things are slow. We can do the launch tomorrow if you want.”

“We won’t be ready that quickly. We’ll need three or four days. Make it four.”

“How about Monday? Around 0900 hours?”

“Okay. That’s good. Can I arrange to have one of the scopes track the lander until it makes its jump? Like we did last time?”

“There’ll be a nominal charge.”

“Do it.”

THE CONTRAST BETWEEN the launch of the Happy Times two months earlier and the send-off given to the MacElroy High School lander could hardly have been more stark. The observation area had a decent crowd, but the tension was different. You might have said expectations were low. There was a comedy hour aspect to the proceedings.

Matt invited Hutchins, and she showed up with Rudy, but there were no other VIPs on the scene, no politicians, only one or two scientific observers. There were a few people from the Liberty Club and a delegation from the high school.

The media was represented, but they were primarily there for the sideshow aspects of the event. They were interviewing the kids and their teacher-escorts, and each other. Also on the scene were a few members of the fringe press. These were the guys who specialized in hauntings, scandal, prophecies, and celebrity marriages and breakups. One of them wanted to know whether they’d removed the AI, as Rudy Golombeck had for the earlier attempt. “After all,” he said, with a nod to his colleagues, “we wouldn’t want to hurt anybody.”

They all had a good laugh at Rudy’s expense. Pulling the AI had never occurred to Matt. It was after all just talking hardware. But he did feel a bit uncomfortable, now that he thought of it. Well, it was too late.

The questions, this time, were a bit off center. “Even if the lander makes it out to Pluto, do you anticipate the jump would have any negative medical effects on a pilot?”

“If it doesn’t work this time, do you plan to try again?”

“Did you know that some people who traveled with the Hazeltine system had a history of bad dreams on their return? Do you think that might happen with this new system?”

“Dr. Somebody had suggested the possibility that the Locarno, after it crumpled the Happy Times, took it into another reality. Did Dr. Silvestri want to comment on that possibility?”

When Matt replied that the questions were becoming strange, one reporter, from Scope, laughed and said sure they were, but all they wanted was an entertaining answer. We know nobody takes this stuff seriously.

“We’ll use the same general plan as last time,” Jon explained to the crowd. “This time the AI will be running things. It’ll take the vehicle out about forty minutes and make the jump. It’ll travel 3.7 billion miles, to the orbit of Pluto. And, if all goes well, it’ll send a radio signal back.”

He sat down in front of one of the viewports. Matt wished him luck.

“It’ll be okay,” Jon said. “I corrected the problem. This one’s going to Pluto.”

They got the call from Union Ops at 8:23 A.M. “Okay, Matt,” said the watch officer, “we’re ready to go.”

Jon sat back, nothing to worry about, and folded his arms. On-screen, the restraining lines let go and began to withdraw. Attitude thrusters fired. The vehicle moved away from the dock and redirected itself toward the exit. Launch doors opened. The MacElroy High School lander eased out of the station. When it was well away, its engine ignited, and the lander began to accelerate.

Jon took a deep breath. Somebody said, “Here we go.”

The onboard AI had been named in honor of Henry Barber. “All systems in good order,” Henry said. “Estimate thirty-seven minutes to transit.”

Matt got fresh coffee for them both. Hutch came over and gave him a calming smile. However things go, it won’t be the end of the world. Rudy huddled a few minutes with Jon. A news team from Worldwide moved in and set up.