"No reason, really. We're making fine progress, it isn't that. Yes,
things really buzz around here; just ask Mr. Fisher about _that_--he
was here all day watching the workers. But there are always minor
changes in plans, of course, as we recognize more of the problems."
Terry Fisher grimaced silently, and followed them into a small
Whirlwind groundcar. The little gyro-car bumped down the road on its
single wheel, down into a gorge, then out onto the flats. Dan strained
his eyes, peering ahead at the spear of Starship gleaming in the
distant night-lights. Pictures from the last Starship Progress Report
flickered through his mind, and a frown gathered as they came closer
to the ship. Then the car halted on the edge of the building-pit and
they blinked down and up at the scaffolded monster.
Dan didn't even move from the car. He just stared. The report had
featured photos, projected testing dates--even ventured a possible
date for launching, with the building of the Starship so near to
completion. That had been a month ago. Now Dan stared at the ship and
shook his head, uncomprehending.
The hull-plates were off again, lying in heaps on the ground in a
mammoth circle. The ship was a skeleton, a long, gawky structure of
naked metal beams. Even now a dozen men were scampering around the
scaffolding, before Dan's incredulous eyes, and he saw some of the
beaming coming _off_ the body of the ship, being dropped onto the
crane, moving slowly to the ground.
Ten years ago the ship had looked the same. As he watched, he felt a
wave of hopelessness sweep through him, a sense of desolate, empty
bitterness. Ten years--
His eyes met Terry Fisher's in the gloom of the car, begging to be
told it wasn't so. Fisher shook his head.
Then Dan said: "I think I've seen enough. Take me back to the air
field."
* * * * *
"It was the same thing on Mars," Fisher was telling him as the return
jet speared East into the dawn. "The refining and super-refining, the
slowing down, the changes in viewpoint and planning. I went up there
ready to beat the world barehanded, to work on the frontier, to build
that colony, and maybe lead another one. I even worked out the plans
for a break-away colony--we would need colony-builders when we went to
the stars, I thought." He shrugged sadly. "Carl told you, I guess.
They considered the break-away colony, carefully, and then Barness
decided it was really too early. Too much work already, with just one
colony. And there was, in a sense: frantic activity, noise, hubbub,
hard work, fancy plans--all going nowhere. No drive, no real
direction." He shrugged again. "I did a lot of drinking before they
threw me off Mars."
"Nobody saw it happening?"
"It wasn't the sort of thing you see. You could only _feel_ it. It
started when Armstrong came to the colony, rejuvenated, to take over
its development. And eventually, I think Armstrong did see it. That's
why he suicided."
"But the Starship," Dan cried. "It was almost built, and they were
_tearing it down_. I saw it with my own eyes."
"Ah, yes. For the twenty-seventh time, I think. A change in the
engineering thinking, that's all. Keller and Lijinsky suddenly came to
the conclusion that the whole thing might fall apart in midair at the
launching. Can you imagine it? When rockets have been built for years,
running to Mars every two months? But they could prove it on paper,
and by the time they got through explaining it every damned soul on
the project was saying yes, it might fall apart at the launching. Why,
it's a standing joke with the workers. They call Keller "Old Jet
Propulsion" and always have a good laugh. But then, Keller and Stark
and Lijinsky should know what's what. They've all been rejuvenated,
and working on the ship for years." Fisher's voice was heavy with
anger.
Dan didn't answer. There didn't seem to be much _to_ answer, and he
just couldn't tell Fisher how it felt to have a cold blanket of fear
wrapping around his heart, so dreadful and cold that he hardly dared
look five minutes ahead right now. _We have a Monster on our hands--_