The People

As I followed Tom down the drift I was trying frantically to find some way out of this horrible situation. Finally I smiled, relieved. "We just won't go," I said aloud. "We just won't go-"
And then I saw the ship, curving gently up into the darkness of the covered shaft. It was almost with a feeling of recognition that I saw and sensed the quiet, efficient beauty of her, small, compact, lovely, and I saw inside where everything flowed naturally into everything else, where one installation merged so logically and beautifully into another. I stood and felt the wonderful wholeness of the ship. It wasn't something thrown together of tags and leftovers. It had grown, taking into itself each component part and assimilating it. It was a beautiful, functional whole, except for
I followed the unfinished feeling and found Tom and Remy where they were working together. Tom's working consisted of holding a corner of a long sheet of diagrams while he dozed the facile doze of age and weariness. Remy had wound himself around behind some sort of panel and was making mysterious noises.
"Finally get here?" His voice came hollowly. "Take a look at the plans, will you? Tom left his reading specs in the shack. See where-" and his speech went off into visualization of something that was lovely to look at but completely
incomprehensible to me. I gently took the sheet from Tom.
He snorted and his eyes opened. He half grinned and closed his eyes again. I looked at the sheet. Lines went all over it. There were wiggly lines bisecting other lines and symbols all over it, but I couldn't find anywhere the thing Remy had showed me.
"He must have the wrong paper," I said. "There's nothing here like you want. There's only-" and I visualized back at him.
"Why, it's right there!" And he showed me a wiggly sign and equated it to the picture he had given me.
"Well, how am I to tell what's what when it's put down in such a mysterious way!" I was annoyed. Remy's feet wiggled and he emerged backward.
"Ha!" he said, taking the sheet from me. "Anybody knows what a schematic diagram is. Anybody can see that this"-he waved it at me-"is this." And he showed me mentally a panel full of complications that I never could have conceived of.
"Well, maybe anyone can, but I can't," I said. "When did you learn to read this? In school?"
"'Course not in school," said Remy. ''Tom showed me all the plans of the stuff that was left to do. He couldn't figure them out, so I'm doing it. No sweat."
"Remy," I said, pointing to a cluster of symbols on the page. "What's that?"
"Why, this, of course." And he visualized back the things that were symbolized.
"Had you ever seen any of those parts before?" I asked seriously.
"No." Remy put down his tools and his own seriousness matched mine. "What use would they be around The People? They're things Tom's son brought."
"But you looked at all this-this-" I waved the page at him. "And you knew what went where?"
"Why, of course," said Remy. "How could I help it when there the thing is before me, big as life and twice as natural. Anybody-"
"Stop saying 'of course' and 'anybody,'" I said. "Remy, don't you realize that to most people these marks are nonsense until they put in hours and even years of study? Don't you realize that most people can't see three dimensionally from something two dimensioned? Don't you know even with study it takes a special knack to see the thing complete when you're working with blueprints and diagrams? A special knack-" My voice slowed. "A special Gift? Oh, Remy! "Special Gift?" Remy took the plan from my hand and looked at it. "You mean you can't see this solid enough that you could almost pick it up off the paper?"
"No," I said. "It's just lines and odd marks."
"And when we looked at the plans for the addition to the cabin the other night, couldn't you see that funny little room sitting on the paper?"
"No," I said, smiling at the memory. "Is that why you pinched at the paper?"
"Yes," Remy grinned. "I was trying to pick it up, to show Father that it wasn't quite right along the back wall, but he found the mistake in the plans and changed it. That straightened the back wall out okay."
"Remy," I caught his eyes with mine. "Maybe you do have a special Gift. Maybe this is what you've been looking for! Oh, Remy!"
"Special Gift " Remy's eyes were clouded with speculation. "Special Gift?"
I looked around the compartment where we were. "You changed some things, didn't you?"
"Not much," he said absently, still busy with his thoughts.
"A few minor shapings that didn't look right-didn't fit exactly."
"That's why it all goes together so wonderfully, now. Oh, Remy, I'll bet you've found your Gift!"
Remy looked down at the paper. "My Gift!" His eyes glowed. "And it's to take me into Space!"
"But not back?' Tom's shaken voice startled us. "Strictly a one-way trip. We've got a capsule-"
"Yeah, Tom, yeah," said Remy, rolling his eyes at me.
"Strictly a one-way trip."
I felt an awful cave-in inside me and my lips were stiff with fear. "Remy, you can't mean that! To go into Space and never come back!"
"It'd be worth it, wouldn't it?" he asked, beginning to crawl back behind the panel again. ''Tom, will you go get my yellow-handled screwdriver? I left it in the drift by the tool chest."
"Sure, sure!" Tom scrambled to his feet and shuffled away.
"For Pete's sake" hissed Remy, his eyes glaring around the end of the panel. "Go along with the gag! Don't get into an argument with Tom. I tried it once and he nearly died of it-and so did I. He got his shotgun again. He's going out to Space, like making a trip to the cemetery. He knows he'll never make it back and he wouldn't want it any other way.
All he wants is that little flag on the moon and his body somewhere out there. But he wants it so much we've got to give it to him. I'm not fool enough to want to leave my bones out there. Give me credit for a little brains!"
"Then it's okay? There is a way to bring the ship back?"
"It's okay! It's okay!" Remy's voice came muffled from behind the panel. "Hand me back the screwdriver when Tom gets here with it."
So the days went, much too fast for us. We were working against the deadline of summer's ending and the fatal moment when Father and Mother would finally question our so-long absence from the cabin. So far we'd skipped the explanations. So it was that I felt a great release of tension on the day when Remy put down a tool, wiped his hands slowly on his jeans, and said quietly, "It's finished."
Tom's face went waxen and I was afraid he'd faint. I felt my face go scarlet and I was afraid I'd explode.
"Finished," whispered Tom. "Now my son can go into Space. I'll go tell him." And he shuffled off.
"How are we ever going to talk Mother and Father into letting us go?" I asked. "I doubt that even with the ship all ready-"
"We can't tell them," said Remy. "They don't have to know."
"Not tell them?" I was aghast. "Go on an expedition like this and not tell them? We can't!"
"We must." Remy had put on a measure of maturity he had never showed before. "I know very well they'd never let us go if they knew. So you've got to keep the secret-even after we're gone."
"Keep the secret! You're not going without me. Where did you get such a fool idea! If you think for one minute-" I was shrieking now. Remy took hold of my arm.
"Be quiet!" he said, shaking me lightly. "I couldn't possibly let you go along under the circumstances. You've got to stay-"
"Under the circumstances," I repeated, my eyes intent on his face. "Remy, is there a way to bring the ship back?"
"I said there was, didn't I?" Remy returned my look steadily.