Adam March had dreamed all of his life of being at the control of a
deep-space ship. Now he had the privilege, now his dream had come true.
He felt the surge of vast power at the control of his finger tips as
the ship moved out of the hangar. He did not hear the crashing of the
big doors. The slight bumps they made in falling was not transmitted
through the ship to him. Before him were the bright clear skies of deep
space. He pointed the ship upward.
In the long run, he knew what the answer would be. The Sorodromes would
certainly conquer him. If they didn't do that, they would clamp down
over him the same strange control they had exercised over the men of
the _Andromeda_.
He did not anticipate that the long run would ever come into being. No!
There were men on Pluto who knew what to do and who would do it.
But, even so, he could savor this moment, when a ship of deep space was
under his fingers, taking him upward in a blaze of rising glory.
She was still taking him upward when the tracking Z-beams struck her.
She exploded in a blaze of light that was visible over most of the
Solar System.
* * * * *
The screens in the command center of the station revealed the flare of
light that marked the passing of the _Andromeda_. The room was silent.
General Stanley turned back to Craig and Mary, asking them to repeat
again the story that had moved him to take this action.
Dazed, the general listened. When they had finished, he turned again to
Captain Martin.
"But this immortality you talked about on Star Goal?" he questioned.
"The immortality is there all right," Captain Martin answered. "It is
both real and unreal. There is no question that the Sorodromes can slow
changes in body cells which produces immortality. But the process they
use to do this gives them almost complete control over you. And the
immortality and the control go together. Once the control is broken,
the increased life span goes too. Also, if the control is broken, you
begin to age very rapidly, until you come up to your actual age. Thus
within the next year every man who flew with the _Andromeda_ will find
his body processes catching up with his chronological age."
The captain's face had become etched with lines during the past few
minutes, mute evidence of the process now beginning in him. But he did
not seem to mind the immortality he had lost, the price he had paid for
it had been too high.
"There's one blessing anyhow," the general said. "Nuoy went with the
ship." His eyes glowed at the thought of that. The Solar System would
be a better place to live for many men because Nuoy was no longer in
it.
"But I still don't understand about Adam March," Craig persisted. "He
knew too much about the _Andromeda_."
"Not too much," Captain Martin said. "He designed and built her."
"What?" Craig gasped.
The captain nodded. "In those days he was a deep-space ship designer.
His life's dream was to fly one of them, a dream he was too old to
realize. But he designed and built the _Andromeda_. The next best thing
to flying her, for him, was to have me fly her."
The general's face showed sudden interest.
"I see," Craig said. "If he designed the _Andromeda_, then he would
know about her." His brows wrinkled as a new thought came into his
mind. "But he was working here as a janitor. How--"
"Maybe several reasons," the captain answered. "His real life was the
_Andromeda_. He probably came here and took any job he could get,
because this would be her first landing if she ever returned to the
system. If she ever came back, he wanted to be on hand to welcome her."
"Oh," Craig said. In that brief explanation, most of the puzzle of Adam
March's actions became clear. "But how did he know that something was
wrong on the ship?"
Captain Martin's face grew grim. "I didn't see him when I came off the
ship, but I think he saw me. At the sight of me, he knew something was
wrong, knew it in a way that made it impossible for him to be mistaken.
He took her off alone, not only to save the station, but to save me."
"What?" Craig gasped. "He knew you, twenty years ago, before the
_Andromeda_ jumped into deep space?"
"Slightly," Captain Martin answered. "His name wasn't March then, it
was Martin. He was my father."