Wayland opened his mouth to protest further, then closed it with a
snap. "Very good, sir. Six ascensions, sir." He seized a lever to the
left of the control board, moved it to neutral, then shoved it hard
over. Six red lights glowed suddenly on the board. For a moment nothing
happened, then deep in the bowels of the great ship a low, almost
inaudible whine started. Like a siren it rose in pitch and tone, until
it sounded like a hundred banshees screaming and wailing. A great
shudder passed through the ship from stem to stern. Like a wounded
beast struggling to rise she strained upward from the bottom of the
icy ocean until it seemed she must tear herself to flying, screaming
fragments. Wayland's eyes were filled with fear. Paulette stared
unblinkingly, breathless, at Adam. Little beads of sweat stole out on
his forehead, but with a calm he didn't feel he forced himself to keep
his eyes on the panel before him. "Let me know the moment we're clear,"
he ordered. For a long minute no one spoke. Then from the control board
a voice: "We're clear, sir."
Wayland's eyes lost their wild look. A great sigh heaved from his lips,
and he slumped to trembling relaxation. Paulette uttered a single, glad
cry, then sank gently to the floor, while great sobs racked her bowed
head and trembling shoulders. "Reduce to two ascensions, Mr. Wayland."
Adam's voice was hoarsely unsteady. "In two minutes plot your course
and shift your engines. We're heading home." Then in two steps he was
beside Paulette, was bending over to pick up the sobbing girl. He held
her close, with her arms curved tightly around his neck, and her head
buried in his broad shoulder.
* * * * *
It was a quiet group that gathered some two hours later in the main
cabin of the _Goddard_. Every member of the crew was there. Deep
within the great hull the engines were running smoothly. Outside the
glassed ports the dark blue heavens stretched away on all sides. Like
the shimmer of a thousand diamonds against a velvet backdrop the suns
of the Milky Way danced and glowed. At Adam's side sat Wayland and
Paulette. Adam looked at those before him. "At ease, gentlemen. With
the grace of good fortune we are on our way home. The expedition is
a success. A success, that is, materially. As you all know, we have
lost Captain McCausland and Dr. Reuter. If I am correct, you all know
also the reason, and the manner in which we lost them. Perhaps Captain
McCausland is not entirely to blame. Perhaps it is given to every great
man to fail once. Whatever the reason, he has always been--up to this
trip--a hero to all of us, and to the world. I must of course make
a complete report of his death. That report will be: 'Killed by the
Plutonians in defense of his ship and his crew.'"
For a long moment no one spoke. Then Paulette, with tears of happiness
dimming her eyes, turned and gripped Adam's hand in her own. "My
dear," she smiled, "thank you." As Adam turned to her, he felt Wayland
gripping his other hand tightly. "I understand, sir. Nothing will be
said." Adam smiled tenderly at Paulette, then his eyes turned anxiously
to search those of his crew. On every face was a commending grin of
approval. In every pair of eyes was a promise that had been given, and
would be kept. With a suspicious huskiness in his voice, Adam drew
himself erect. "Thank you gentlemen," he said softly. The crew filed
out.
With his arm around Paulette, he drew her gently to the starboard port,
and pointed to a dim, fast-receding, silver-green orb. "There it is,
darling. I don't know whether to curse it or bless it." He grinned at
her quizzically. She came close to him, and her arms stole gently about
him. "I'll bless it as long as I live," she breathed.
He held her close. His head bowed to meet her soft, red lips.
"Beg pardon, sir." Wayland's voice sounded far away.
"Yes?" Adam did not turn his head.
"The course it set, sir. Any further orders, sir?"
"Yes, Mr. Wayland. One."
"Yes, sir?"
"Get out, Mr. Wayland."