Phipps nodded. "Thanks-if that is the word I want. I'll ask Sir Isaac."

"Do, please. I'd like to listen."

Despite the proof that the lab crew had been able to jury-rig at least part of the equipment described by the message in the two wires, Don's jitters got no better. Each day the sign in the mess hall reminded him that time was running out-and that he was sucking his thumb while it did so. He thought no more about trying to get them to send him back to the war zone; instead he began to make plans to get there on his own.

He had seen maps of the Great South Sea and knew roughly where he was. To the north there was territory uninhabited even by dragons-but not uninhabited by their carnivorous cousins. It was considered impassable. The way to the south around the lower end of the sea was much farther, but it was dragon country all the way right up to outlying human farms. With whistle speech and food enough to last at least a week he might get through to some settler who could pass him along to the next. As for the rest he had his knife and he had his wits and he was much more swampwise than he had been when he had made his escape from Bankfield's men.

He began to sneak food out of the mess hall and cache it in his room.

He was within a day and a night of attempting his break when Phipps sent for him. He considered not showing up but decided that it would be less suspicion-arousing to comply.

Sit down," Phipps began. "Cigarette? No-I forgot. What have you been doing with yourself lately? Keeping busy?"

"Not a darn thing to do!"

"Sorry. Mr. Harvey, have you given any thought to what sort of a world we will have when this is over?"

"Well, no, not exactly." He had thought about it, but his own imaginings were too poorly worked out for him to care to express them. As for himself, someday the war would be over-he supposed-and then he would carry out his long-postponed intention of seeking out his parents. After that, well...

"What sort of world would you like it to be?"

"Uh? Well, I don't know." Don pondered. "I guess I'm not what you call `politically minded.' I don't much care how they run it-except, well, there ought to be a sort of looseness about it. You know-a man ought to be able to do what he wants to, if he can, and not be pushed around."

Phipps nodded. "You and I have more in common than you may have thought. I'm not a purist in political theory myself. Any government that gets to be too big and too successful gets to be a nuisance. The Federation got that way-it started out decently enough-and now it has to be trimmed down to size. So that the citizens can enjoy some looseness. "

Don said, "Maybe the dragons have the right idea-no organization bigger than a family."

Phipps shook his head. "What's right for dragons is not right for us. Anyhow, families can be just as oppressive as government-take a look at the youngsters around here; five hundred years or so to look forward to before they can sneeze without permission. I asked your opinion because I don't know the answer myself-and I've studied the dynamics of history longer than you've been alive. All I know is that we are about to turn loose into the world forces the outcome of which I cannot guess."

Don looked startled. "We've got space travel now; I don't see what important difference it will make to make it faster. As for the other gimmick, it seems to me a swell idea to be able to put a lid on a city so that it can't be atom-bombed."

"Granted. But that is just the beginning. I've been making a list of some of the things that will come about-I think. In the first place you vastly underestimate the importance of speeding up transportation. As for the other possibilities, I'm stumped. I'm too old and my imagination needs greasing. But here's one for a starter: we might be able to move water, lots of water, significant amounts, from here to Mars." His brow wrinkled. "We might even be able to move planets themselves."

Don looked up suddenly. Somewhere he had heard almost those same words... the memory evaded him.

"But never mind," Phipps went on. "I was just trying to get a younger, fresher viewpoint. You might think about it. Those laboratory laddies won't, that's sure. These physicists-they produce wonders but they never know what other wonders their wonders will beget." He paused and added, "We are resetting the clock, but we don't know what time it will be."

When he added nothing more Don decided with relief that the interview was over and started to get up. "No, no, don't go," Phipps put in. "I had another matter on my mind. You've been getting ready to leave, haven't you?"

Don stuttered and stammered. "What gave you that idea?"

"I'm right. Some morning we would wake up and find your bed empty. Then I'd be put to a lot of trouble when effort can't be spared to try to find you and bring you back."

Don relaxed. "Conrad snitched to you," he said bitterly.

"Conrad? No. I doubt if the good doctor ever notices anything larger than an electron. No, credit me with some sense. My business is people. True, I did badly with you when you first arrived-but I still plead that I was bone weary. Tiredness is a mild insanity. The point is: you're leaving and I can't stop you. I know dragons well enough to know that Sir Isaac wouldn't let me if you wanted to go. You're `his' confounded 'egg'! But I can't let you go; the reasons are just as compelling as before. So-rather than let you go, I'd have to try to kill you."

Don leaned forward, shifting his weight onto his feet. "Do you think you could?" he said very softly.

Phipps grinned. "No, I don't. That's why I've had to think up another scheme. You know that we are making up the ship's crew. How would you like to go along?"

XVIII Little David

Don let his mouth drop open and left it that way. To his credit, while he had thought about it, he had never given it the slightest serious consideration; he was not conceited enough to think that he would be allowed to hitch a ride, just to suit his personal wishes, on this trip.

Phipps went on, "Frankly, I'm doing it to get rid of you, to put you on ice, safe from the Federation's inquisitors, until it no longer matters. But I think I can justify it. We want to train as many as the Little David can carry on this trip as cadres for more ships. But my choice is limited-most of our group here are too old, or they are near-sighted, narrow-chested -young geniuses suitable only for laboratories. You are young, you are healthy, your reflexes are fast-I know! -and you are space-wise from babyhood. True, you are not a qualified shiphandler, but that won't matter too much; these ships will be new to everyone. Mr. Harvey, how would you like to go to Mars and return as `Captain Harvey,' master of your own ship-a ship strong enough to strike at these Federation vermin orbiting around Venus?

"Or executive officer, at least," Phipps qualified, reflecting that in a two-man ship Don could hardly be less.

Like it? He'd love it! Don's tongue got twisted trying to accept too quickly. Then almost at once he was struck by a cold thought; Phipps saw from his expression that something was wrong. "What's the matter?" Phipps said sharply. "Are you afraid?"

"Afraid?" Don looked annoyed. "Of course I'll be afraid! I've been afraid so many times that I am no longer scared to be afraid again. That's not the trouble."

"What is it, then? Speak up!"

"It's just this-I'm still on active duty. I can't go gallivanting off a hundred million miles or so. Properly speaking, it would be desertion. Why, when they laid hands on me, they'd probably hang me first and ask questions afterwards."

Phipps relaxed. "Oh. Perhaps that can be managed. You let me worry about it."