Dan stared into the gaunt face, and burst out laughing. He had never actually been so close to John Tyndall before, and he did not like the smell, which had brought on the laugh, but he knew all about Tyndall. More than Tyndall himself knew, probably. He could even remember the early rallies Tyndall had led, feeding on the fears and suspicions and nasty rumors about rejuvenation that had grown up in the early days. It was evil, they had said. This was not God’s way, this was Man’s way, as evil as Man was evil. If God had wanted Man to live a thousand years, he would have given him such a body—
Or:
They’ll use it for a tool I A political football. They’ll buy and sell with it. They’ll make a cult of it, they’re doing it right now! Look at Walter Rinehart. Did you hear about his scheme? To keep it down to five hundred a year? They’ll make themselves a ruling class, an immortal elite, with Rinehart for their Black Pope. Better that nobody should have it—
Or:
Immortality, huh? But what kind? You hear what happened to Harvey Tatum? That’s right, the jet-car man, big business. He was one of that Noble Ten they’re always bragging about. But they say he had to have special drugs every night, that he had changed. That’s right, if he didn’t get these drugs, see, he’d go mad and try to suck blood and butcher children. Oh, they didn’t dare publish it, had to put him out of the way quietly, but my brother-in-law was down in Lancaster one night when—
All it really needed was the right man, and one day there was “Moses” Tyndall. Leader of the New Crusade for God. Small, at first. But the ad-men began supporting him, broadcasting his rallies, playing him up big. Abolish rejuvenation, it’s a blot against Man’s immortal soul. Amen. Then the insurance people came along, with money. (The ad-men and the insurance people weren’t too concerned about Man’s immortal soul—they’d take their share now, thanks—but this didn’t bother Tyndall too much. They were misguided, but they were on God’s side. He prayed for them.) So they gave Tyndall the first Abolitionist seat in the Senate, in 2124, just nine years ago, and the fight between Rinehart and Dan Fowler that was brewing even then had turned into a three-cornered fight.
Dan grinned up at Tyndall and said, “Go away, John. Don’t bother me.”
“You’re on to something,” Tyndall snarled. “What is your flunky Carl Golden nosing around the Tenner Agency for? Why the heat on Metro Insurance? Why the sudden bounding interest in Nevada? Two trips in three days, what are you trying to track down?”
“Why should I tell you anything, Holy Man?” The parchment face wrinkled unpleasantly. “Because it would be very smart of you if you did, that’s why. Rinehart’s out of it now. Washed up, finished, thanks to you.
Now it’s just you or me, one or the other. You’re in my way, and you’re going to be gotten out of my way when you’ve finished up Rinehart, because that’s when I’m really going to start rolling. Go along with me now and you won’t get smashed, Dan.”
“Get out of here,” Dan snarled, sitting bolt upright. “You gave the same story to Carl, a long time ago when he was with you, remember? Carl’s my boy now—do you think I’ll swallow the same bait?”
“You’d be smart if you did.” The man leaned forward. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I’ve had a—vision—you might say. There are going to be riots and fires and shouting, around the time of the Hearings. People will be killed. Lots of people—spontaneous outbursts of passion, of course, the great voice of the people rising against the Abomination. And against you, Dan. A few Repeaters may be taken out and hanged, and then when you have won against Rinehart, you’ll find people thinking that you’re really a traitor.”
“Nobody will swallow that,” Dan snapped.
“Just watch and see. I can still call it off, if you say so.” He stood up quickly as Dan’s face went purple. “New Chicago,” he said smoothly. “Have to see a man here, and then get back to the Capitol. Happy hunting, Dan. You know where to reach me.”
He strode down the aisle of the ship, leaving Dan staring bleakly at an empty seat.
Paul, Paul—
He met Terry Fisher at the landing field in Las Vegas. A firm handshake, clear brown eyes looking at him the way a four-year-old looks at Santa Claus. “Glad you could come tonight, Senator. I’ve had a busy couple of days. I think you’ll be interested.” Remarkable restraint in the man’s voice. His face was full of things unsaid. Dan caught it; he knew faces, read them like typescript.
“What is it, son?”
“Wait until you see.” Fisher laughed nervously. “I almost thought for a while that I was back on Mars.”
“Cigar?”
“No thanks. I never use them.”
The car broke through darkness across bumpy desert pavement. The men sat silently. Then a barbed wire enclosure loomed up, and a guard walked over, peered at their credentials, and waved them through. Ahead lay a long, low row of buildings, and a tall something spearing up into the clear desert night, two hundred yards away—the Starship itself. They stopped at the first building, and hurried up the steps.
Small, red-faced Lijinsky greeted them, all warm handshake and enthusiasm and unmistakable happiness and surprise. “A real pleasure, Senator! We haven’t had a direct governmental inspection for quite a while. I’m glad I’m here to show you around.”
“Everything is going right along, eh?”
“Oh, yes I Shell be a ship to be proud of. Now, I think we can arrange quarters for you, and in the morning we can sit down and have a nice, long talk.”
Terry Fisher was shaking his head. “I think the senator wants to see the ship note—isn’t that right, Senator?”
Lijinsky’s eyes opened wide, his head bobbing in surprise. Young-old creases on his face flickered. “Tonight? Well, of course, if you insist, but it’s almost two in the morning! We only have a skeleton crew working at night. Tomorrow you could see—”
“Tonight, if you don’t mind.” Dan tried to keep the sharp edge out of his voice. “Unless you have some specific objection.”
“Objection? No—” Lijinsky seemed puzzled, and a little hurt. But he bounced back: “Tonight it is, then. Let’s go.” There was no doubting the little man’s honesty. He wasn’t hiding anything, just surprised. But a moment later there was concern on his face as he led them out toward the towering scaffolds. “There’s no question about appropriations, I hope, Senator?”
“No, no. Nothing of the sort.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that. But I can’t help worrying. Sometimes our contacts from Washington are a little disappointed in the ship, you know.”
Dan’s throat tightened. “Why?”
“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 wheels, 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. Paragraphs 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 up and down at the scaffolded monster.
Dan didn’t even get out of the car. He just stared. The Progress 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.