Happily, Tuck stared through the observation bay that opened almost to the floor alongside his feet. He was a sturdy-looking youth, rather slight of build, but wiry, and browned from the West Coast sun. His gray eyes were lively in a grave, thoughtful face, and his short brown hair had succumbed to a neat combing, perhaps for the first time in months, and only after long and diligent persuasion. As the jet motors hummed in his ears, he was far too excited to sleep again, and the minutes passed slowly. Far, far below, through the blanket of hazy white clouds, he caught a glimpse of the long, straight double ribbons of silver crossing the broad plains, the New York-Los Angeles Rolling Roads that carried the huge volumes of overland freight across the continent. Far to the north the Rocky Mountains were giving way to rolling plains, and by squinting a good deal and watching closely he could just make out the great glowing dome of the Montana Solar Energy Converter. He had visited this great plant once, during the years at Prep, and he knew several of his classmates who had been accepted at the Solar Energy School in Helena, to study the theory and engineering behind Solar Energy Conversion. The great plants all over the world converted the enormous energy of the sunlight into heat, light and power to supply the luxurious cities and quiet suburban towns, and the ruthenium from the lonely outpost mining colony on Titan was the catalyst which made this energy conversion possible.
Yet for all its importance and complexity, Tuck could never have become interested in Solar Energy work as a career. For him there was only one field, only one work of importance, and he itched with impatience to get started, to begin the studies that would lead him to his goal.
It was not that there was anything so wonderful and new about rocket travel. The first rocket from Earth had reached the moon well over two hundred years before, in 1976. In a.d. 2180, the year that Tuck was born, the rocket ship Planet Nine had returned from Pluto, the farthest planet from the sun, with a complete file of maps, surface data, exploratory notes, and astronomical data on Pluto, as well as astro-photographs of the tenth planet that had been discovered skimming its frigid course still farther out in the blackness of space. A large farming colony had been thriving on Mars for a hundred and fifty years, and the great Solar Converter being built on Venus would soon be at work reconverting those arid deserts and windswept crags into a lush tropical paradise for farmers and vacationers. The exploration of the Solar System was almost complete, except for the mopping up—but there were other frontiers, greater frontiers, and these were the frontiers that excited Tuck. For beyond the limits of the Solar System lay the black wastes of deep space, the unbridgeable gulf that led to the stars. And someday, Tuck knew, some man would find a way to go to the stars—
Tuck sat back in his seat, fingering the letter of acceptance to the Polytechnic Institute excitedly. Some man would learn a way, some man would discover how to take a rocket ship and leave the Solar System light-years behind, and go to the stars. And all his life Tuck had dreamed that he might be that man—
The liner landed just at dusk. From the bay Tuck strained his eyes trying to see his father’s familiar figure, waiting in the crowd behind the blast barrier, but the bright lights threw the people into darkness. Carefully he checked his bags with the automatic redcap, punching the address of his father’s apartment on the metal consignment tape; then he gathered up his coat and followed the crowd down the gangway onto the smooth concrete of the landing platform, still trying to peer ahead into the darkness. And then he saw Colonel Benedict, standing tall and straight, his gray hair crisp, blue eyes wrinkled into a quizzical smile. Tuck let out a cry, and broke into a run, working his way through the crowd, and then he was wringing his father s hand, and the two of them were trying to talk at once as they made their way down into the Terminal Building.
“But you said in your last letter that it might be two more years—I had no idea that you’d be back so soon—”
The Colonel’s eyes twinkled. “I just wanted to see if you could still take a surprise.”
“Surprise! I almost dropped through the seat!” Tuck regarded his father proudly. “Dad, it’s wonderful. You couldn’t look better.”
“Feel great, too. I don’t like getting out of bed in the morning as much as I used to, but I’m probably getting old—”
Tuck grinned, “Then I’m getting old, too. How was the passage home?”
“Not bad. They don’t jockey those ships around like they once did—steady, responsible hands at the wheel, you know, now that the Mars-Earth run is just a trip around the block. Feels fine to be back Earthside, though—those ships have plenty of good clean air and all that, but there’s nothing to compare with a breeze in off the ocean.”
“And the Mars job is all finished? Everything done, and you can stay home for a while now?” Tuck’s eyes were eager. “Just think, we could spend the whole summer here in New York, and maybe we could get in a fishing trip up North, if you could get away. Remember how we used to fish, Dad?”
“Yes, I remember. I could never forget.” The Colonel’s face was suddenly grave, and he started down into the taxi terminal, effectively cutting off further conversation. Minutes later they were settling back in the taxi seat, waiting for the little jet car to pull out of the terminal into the broad Middle Level thoroughfare. Finally the Colonel said, “I know a quiet place for supper. You were on your way up to Catskill for the Exhibit, weren’t you?”
Tuck nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. The Forty-Seventh International Rocketry Exhibition. I’ve heard it’s really great this year. They’re showing all the latest model Interplanetaries, and I’ve also heard that they’re exhibiting the blueprints of the big Venus converter plant.” He looked up at his father. “They’re also making formal announcements of the Polytechnic Institute scholarship winners for this year—”
Colonel Benedict looked up sharply. “Scholarship winners?”
Tuck nodded. “All tuition and expenses paid for five years of study, and a guaranteed position in mechanics, engineering, or research when you’re through. You remember—I wrote you about the competition. I took the qualifying exams in March, and they’ve already notified the winners informally—”
The Colonel’s eyes were wide. “Do you mean—”
Tuck handed him the letter, his face glowing. “This came the day before graduation. I got one, Dad. No hitches, nothing to go wrong. I can start with the incoming class in September.”
The Colonel took the letter, and read it very carefully, then reread it. When he finally looked up, his face held a curious expression. “That’s great, son—I’m proud of you. I—I really am.”
“Well, you don’t sound very proud!”
“Believe me, I am, even if I don’t sound it. I know how much you wanted it.” He stared at the letter, and his face suddenly looked very tired.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
After a long moment the Colonel looked at Tuck, and grinned. “Let’s wait until after supper,” he said finally. “Then we can talk it over.”
The dinner was top-rate, but Tuck couldn’t enjoy a bite of it. His father valiantly managed to keep the conversation on light subjects, commenting on the problem of keeping the feet warm on Mars, talking about the new plan for extension of the Rolling Roads, inquiring about the summer’s baseball line-up, waxing enthusiastic about the plans for an underwater freight conveyer to Europe—talking of a dozen things while Tuck sat silent, a thousand doubts plaguing him and spoiling the taste of the food. Finally he could stand it no longer. “You’ve got bad news, Dad. Let’s have it.”