Hunters Out of Space Part 5

"We are wrecking our buildings for this s.h.i.+p," Wolden mourned. "Given time, my experiments would have made worlds and s.p.a.ce unnecessary. But it has been voted that we go after Maya and punish Grim Hagen, even though we drive to the edge of s.p.a.ce. So be it. We are now building in weeks what it would once have taken years to do. Those on our experimental s.h.i.+p who have already gone out into s.p.a.ce, they have helped us immensely. Daily they report the results of their tests to us. The good points--the bad ones--the improvements. Oh, when this is finished it will be a greater s.h.i.+p than we ever dreamed of. I did dream of such a s.h.i.+p when I was young. But now I find that I do not want it. Even so, I will go out among the stars. Wolden was never a coward, nor his fathers before him."

"So be it," Odin answered and he leaned his head back and looked high up at the scaffolding where the welders' torches flashed like stars. "So be it, Wolden. But I would have gone anyway."

And Gunnar spoke: "I would have gone beside you. My sword is thirsty."

High up on the hour-gla.s.s shape a bit of magnesium caught fire and burned brilliantly for a second, its sparks flas.h.i.+ng out and down. A worker, who was no more than a shadow, smothered the flame.

The sparks drifted downward like lost suns seeking a course that they could find no more. They sparkled and burned. Then they winked out, and there was nothing left upon the scaffolding but lancing flames and scurrying shadows.

All about them now, the smiths were beating out old chanteys on the ancient anvils and the newer, clas.h.i.+ng machines.

CHAPTER 6

In the days that followed there was no time for rest. Thanks to the smaller prototype which had already gone into s.p.a.ce, no elaborate tests were required of the new s.h.i.+p. Moreover, the scientists had taken centuries to go over the Old s.h.i.+p, bolt by bolt, part by part, wire by wire. Improvements had been made, but these had been incorporated into the little prototype which was now successfully berthed within a cavern somewhere on the moon. Over thirty men and women had gone with it.

Wolden was constantly in touch with them and daily growing more envious of their position.

Odin knew little of such matters, but he sat daily at the council table where progress reports and squawk-sheets were examined and discussed. The speed with which they were developing the new s.h.i.+p was amazing. There was one innovation to be noted.

Wolden referred to it as the Fourth Drive. Odin gathered that the Old s.h.i.+p had been equipped with such a drive, but new principles and new mechanics had been added. Odin showed him a little book, which had been privately printed in the world above some fifteen years before. It was ent.i.tled: "Einstein and Einsteinian s.p.a.ce, with Conjectures upon a Trans-Einsteinian concept." Wolden said it had been written by a young refugee from the n.a.z.is, and he doubted if over two or three copies of the ma.n.u.script were now in existence. Memories of concentration camps, poverty, and the internecine battles of the professors in a small college where the refugee was an a.s.sistant in the Physics Department, had finally driven the poor fellow to suicide.

"He was grasping at something new," Wolden explained. "His concept was only nascent. But such a mind! The book has been invaluable. Still, it is nothing but a starting point--but such a starting point!"

Time pa.s.sed. It was like working in a dream, where no sooner was one task done than another was ready. Odin ached. His head spun with all the information that Wolden had given him--the basic principles behind those machines that had gone into the s.h.i.+p.

Then, at last, it was finished. A young girl who reminded him of Maya was hoisted up on a scaffold to the highest bulge of the hour-gla.s.s shaped craft. Workers and visitors stood below by the thousands while she spoke into a tiny microphone and swung a ruby-colored bottle against the s.h.i.+p.

"You are christened The Nebula," she cried. "Go out into s.p.a.ce--"

They had used a bottle of red wine for the christening. A shower of ruby-gla.s.s and winedrops came sprinkling down. They fell slowly--like drops of blood, and the onlookers, who were by nature opposed to crowds, began to disperse.

"That girl," Odin grasped Gunnar's arm "Who is she?"

Gunnar looked at him curiously. "Her name is Nea. A distant cousin of Maya's. Also, a distant cousin to Grim Hagen."

Nothing else was said. But Odin suddenly realized that since the day he had been unwillingly carried back to the world above in the elevator he had not noticed any girl at all.

That night Jack Odin could not sleep, although he had never slept more than five hours at a time since returning to Opal. Getting up he found a little radio and turned it to a frequency which occasionally caught some of the stations above. A hill-billy band was playing, and a comic was singing: "So I kissed her little sister and forgot my Clementine."

He turned off the radio with a curse and finally got to sleep, and dreamed of star s.p.a.ces and emerald worlds ruled by beautiful Brons girls who looked like Maya--or maybe a bit like Nea. Until the worlds streaked across the dark sky like comets. And Gunnar was shaking him by the arm and a streak of light was coming in at the window.

"Ho, sluggard. We start to load the s.h.i.+p today. How long have you waited for this? We were going to savor each moment, remember! And you lie here like a turtle in the sun."

Odin yawned. "The lists are ready. Everything is packed. I, myself, have checked the lists."

Gunnar laughed. "How much time have your people spent checking lists?

You are the world's best list-checkers. And the worst. I wish we were just a handful of warriors going out for a fight. But whole families are coming along. Apparently the Brons intend to sow their seed among the stars. And with families. I'll wager that your lists are not worth a darning needle. Something will be left behind. A slice of some bride's wedding cake. Little Nordo's favorite toy. Papa's best pocket-knife.

Mama's b.u.t.ton-box." The strong little man made a wry face. "Bah, this is no trip for families. They want too much. They are never satisfied. With warriors it is much different. They can take things as they are and grumble a bit--or if they grumble too much, Gunnar can slap them silly.

But families--on a trip like this. No!"

"Well, they're going," Odin retorted. "From what I hear, you were the only one who voted against them. So you had better get ready to listen to the patter of little feet, and squalling babies, and Mamas and Papas arguing over whose idea it was to make the trip anyway."

"Oh, well, it does not matter. I am not of the Brons, but I go because of a promise." Gunnar shrugged and his face appeared sad and seamed.

"My Freida and the boys will be here today. I want you to meet them. I have spent over half my days a-wandering, Jack Odin, but now I have a sick feeling inside me. And I think to myself if I could go back to the farm with Freida and the boys, I could work there, and die an old, old man--as my father and his father did before me. But the wanderl.u.s.t is heavy upon me. Freida understands. And I swore that I would go after Grim Hagen--and after Maya. But this way, I die up there among the stars some day, and no one unless it be you and Maya will think of Gunnar."

Odin slapped his arm across Gunnar's shoulders. "You are chief among the Neeblings. Stay here with your family. I will go out there to the stars, and I will always remember Gunnar. Faith, man, you owe us nothing. The debts are ours--"

But Gunnar shook his head. "I swore by my sword. And I go."

A few hours later, they stood at the water's edge and waited for Freida and the boys. It was not long before a boat hove into sight. And soon Gunnar was helping Freida and the three sons upon the landing.

Family meetings always made Odin ill at ease. He stood there, shuffling his feet.

Freida was a short, broad woman, with big b.r.e.a.s.t.s and broad hips. Her eyes, the palest blue, were still beautiful. Odin guessed that when she was young her face had matched her eyes. But the face was worn and the hand that she offered him was calloused. She was dressed in linsey-woolsey, and the overalls of the three sons were also home-spun.

The three lads, miniature copies of Gunnar, stood there solemnly. Each wore a new straw hat with a black and red band around it. They were barefooted.

Odin guessed that the hats had been bought special for the occasion.

For the next three days Odin was kept busy by Ato. There were a million things to go on the s.h.i.+p. The Brons had done a wonderful job of warehousing. All was packaged and tagged. A place for each box or machine was already marked and numbered on the prints of The Nebula.

The tunnel had been cleared for two lanes of trucks and tractors.

Steadily the line of laden cars moved down to the s.h.i.+p and steadily another line came back for more supplies.

Odin was a.s.signed to superintend one of the warehouses, and he was both annoyed and pleased to find that the girl Nea was his a.s.sistant. She was a hard worker and pleasant enough, though she said little to him. And the only time he saw her fl.u.s.tered was when she ordered a young man of the Brons out of the building. Jack felt a bit sorry for the fellow. He was scarcely out of his teens and was all shook up because Nea was going out there into s.p.a.ce instead of staying here in Opal with him.

So the work went on at a furious pace, and before he realized that three days had gone he was back at the improvised docks with Gunnar and his family.

The parting was a quiet one. Gunnar told the boys to mind their mother and not stay out late at night. "Get strong muscles on your legs and shoulders," he told them. "A man is not too good at thinking, and he never knows what will happen next. The muscles will keep him going, and after the muscles are gone a fighting heart will carry him a little farther."

No tears were shed. They talked of little things, and laughed at old jokes that Gunnar's grandfather had told them. One of those family jokes that never seem very funny to an outsider.

After that, Freida worked the conversation around to the voyage that Gunnar would soon be making.

"They say it is cold out there," she ventured cautiously.

"Oh, yes. Very cold." Gunnar agreed.

"Then you wrap up good, Gunnar. We wouldn't want you to have a chill."

Gunnar scoffed, "I never had a chill in my life."

"Oh, such talk. Don't pretend to be so big. I have nursed you through many a chill." Then she produced her parting gift--a m.u.f.fler that would have swathed poor Gunnar from chin to belt.