Reactionary thinking, he told himself. The poor are always with us. He was not right-wing enough to be able to forget them, especially in view of the fact that he would soon be one of them, in the same boat with the starving millions. Where had it all gone wrong? All he wanted was to work in space, perhaps do a little bit to help halt man’s galloping breeding, perhaps, eventually, to help man escape the overcrowded planet into richer pastures.
The man who built the Folly was feeling guilty. Enough money had been spent building her to expand the mining on Mars tenfold, to produce enough phosphates to fertilize half of the farmlands of the world. An achievement in pure science had come at the expense of many more needed projects. Once the whole story of Folly was known, the impact would kill the space program. Even if the civil war was won by government forces there would continue to be criticism of Folly as long as man hungered for food.
For a moment Dom wondered if it wouldn’t be best for the hull to fail or a thruster to burn, leaving Folly to perish, never to be seen by human eyes again. But to have Folly plunge into the depths of Jupiter would not erase the knowledge that she had been built. Dead or alive, the ship, the ultimate achievement of the Department of Space Exploration, would be the instrument used by opponents of space spending to cripple the program for decades, perhaps forever.
The man who had engineered Folly went to his cabin as Neil brought her out into space through the thinning zone of frozen ammonia. From his bunk, he felt the power which sent the ship swooping upward and outward past the lonely moons, so powerful she did not feel the burden of Jovian soup in her hold.
He could not hide from his part in it. He went back into the control room. He called the picket ship and said, “It’s over. We’re headed home. Do you have fuel for Mars?”
“Affirmative,” came the reply. “Congratulations, J.F.K.”
Dom made a grimace and did not acknowledge. He could feel the acceleration. He was tired. As far as he was concerned the ship could be put on auto and left to her own devices. At the moment he didn’t care much about anything. He was thinking of the war, American killing American. He tried to gauge the impact of the news that the Folly’s mission, made possible by the expenditure of billions, was a waste. The news could not be suppressed for long. An organization which could plant a fanatic on Mars, DOSE’s most secure stronghold, could ferret out the news that Folly had been sent on a fool’s errand and had come back with a load of noxious things from deep inside Jupiter.
He went back to his quarters and fell heavily onto his bunk. Doris was still at station and would be there until the flight plan was finalized and double-checked. When he heard a knock on his door he didn’t answer, but the door was not locked.
J.J. stuck his head in. “Want to talk a minute, Flash?”
“I’d rather not right now,” Dom said.
J.J. closed the door behind him. “It was a dirty trick, wasn’t it?”
“J.J., just get out, huh?”
“In a minute.” J.J. sat down. “Would it make you feel better to take a poke at me?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“I wouldn’t even put you on report,” J J. said. “Are you ready to listen, or are you still feeling sorry for yourself?”
“Do I have a choice?” Dom growled.
“You got the idea, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Dom said. “I got it. My God, J J., you faked an alien ship and spent billions of dollars to chase a fairy tale.”
“I had to fake the ship,” J.J. said. “I had to do something so that practical types, like you, could relate to it. I thought the idea was rather brilliant, didn’t you?”
“J.J., I’m damned tired. Why don’t you go take a nap?”
“Who would have listened if I’d told them the real reason?” J J. asked. “It took a powerful incentive, like the prospect of finding a free sublight drive, to get anyone to listen.”
“Yes,” Dom said wearily.
“No need to put into Mars on the way home, huh?”
“No.”
“We go in Moon Base, darkside.”
“What difference does it make? Wherever we put her down she probably won’t ever lift off again.”
“She’ll lift,” J.J. said, “and dozens of others like her.”
“Go away,” Dom said.
“Promise me one thing.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Promise me that no matter what you won’t dump the cargo. Promise me that.”
“What difference does it make?” Dom asked. “OK, we’ll haul it back. It’ll make a fine temporary cloud when we dump it out behind the moon.”
“I’ve got something better to do with the cargo,” J. J. said.
“Sure,” Dom said, “you can supply the last two living scientists with enough Jovian atmosphere to last the few remaining days of their lifetimes, until the mobs catch them and tear their arms off.”
J.J. was standing. “I can see you’re a nonbeliever. Look up, boy. Peace and plenty lie ahead.”
Dom heard the click of the door. He dozed and was wakened by the communicator.
It was Neil. “J.J. is calling a crew meeting in the lounge. I thought you’d want to listen.”
“Might as well,” Dom said. He splashed water into his eyes and walked heavily, still tired, through the half gravity of the corridors. He checked in at control. The ship was on auto. She was a good ship. Behind them, visible on the stem viewers, was the mass of Jupiter. It was still an awesome sight. He felt a flash of pride in having, in a small way, conquered the mass of the second-largest object in the solar system, but his pride faded quickly.
He made one final visual check on instruments. The autos were clicking and humming nicely, making mere man unnecessary, running the ship with a precision which man could never match. He walked toward the lounge slowly, dreading to see J.J. reveal his madness further.
The door was open. He halted just outside and heard Doris laugh. Neil was seated so that he could face the lounge instrument board, thus keeping his eye on important ship’s functions. Doris was standing beside J.J. at the bar, serving drinks from J.J.’s personal bottle. They were all there except Jensen. Dom stood outside and watched. Ellen accepted a drink. Doris laughed at something Ellen said. They all drank and laughed. Nero, fiddling while Rome burned around him. Dom didn’t want to face it.
Still, sooner or later the others would have to hear the full story. He went in, resolved to see it through, then he changed his mind. Jensen wasn’t there, and if they were not all there to hear it it would be told again, and one more telling was all Dom could stand.
He had passed through control only a couple of minutes before, but it was automatic to look around. His eyes made a scan and halted on a trouble light. Alerted, he punched the scan and was relieved to find that the problem was with nothing more important than the venting system in the hold. It wouldn’t hurt to lose a few tons of Jupiter into space. He activated the self-examination system. The problem was in the control-room panel. He lifted a section and smelled burning insulation. It was nothing serious. All important systems were redundant. Even the venting system had backup. Down in the atmosphere, the venting system was all-important. He punched a complete check and got a second trouble light. Strange, but still not serious. When a third system went red in the stern section, a system designed for manual venting in the unlikely event that both venting systems went haywire, he got suspicious. The odds against two systems going out together were astronomical, but it had happened in space. For three to go without help was a little weird. He was not overly concerned yet, as he went toward the stern with the double purpose of finding Jensen and of checking to see what the hell had happened to the venting system. It was not a critical malfunction, or he would have alerted the crew. The shorted circuits in the central control room could be repaired easily, and the other malfunctions could be repaired at leisure, since the venting system would not be needed until they had reached the moon and received word to dump the useless cargo into space. He would merely check back in the stern; gather up Jensen, and then return to the lounge to allow J. J. to tell his pathetic story.