"Suppose that you gave up Bernard and all close association with other men on Perry's account and that the two of you were living together. Suppose Perry decides to pay Olga a visit of a few days and you can't go along. Aren't you likely to find yourself fiercely resenting Olga?"

"Maybe I would. It's hard to imagine myself resenting anyone as nice as Olga."

"I see that Perry is becoming very interested in rocketing. Olga tells me that both of you wish he wouldn't because of the physical hazards of the work. Are you going to demand that he give it up?"

Diana looked surprised. "How can I? He must decide for himself and find his self fulfillment in his own way. I must not interfere."

"Yet you plan to give up or greatly modify your own career to fit his delusions. Aren't you likely to tell him someday that, since you have sacrificed the best years of your life for him that the least he can do is to stay out of danger?"

"I'd never say that. It wouldn't be right. Oh dear, perhaps I would. I don't know. It's very difficult."

Hedrick smiled and patted her hand. "Let not your heart be troubled, my daughter. The situation isn't at all serious. I've just been showing you some of the possibilities in order that you might understand the implications of your decisions. In the first place your young man will have a complete cure. He is doing very well, very well indeed. You can revise your plans accordingly. You are suffering from a slight touch of atavism, a regressive false identification, which you contracted from him. The layman doesn't realize that these non-lesional mental disorders can be as contagious as diphtheria or whooping cough. More so, in fact. In the old days one man sometimes infected a whole nation, particularly after the advent of radio. You have a slight touch. Physically you are well and strong, a beautiful example of a civilized girl, but mentally you have slipped back in part to the stone age woman, squatting on your haunches before the fire and cowering in fear of the unpredictable displeasure of your semi-bestial mate. Now that you know what the trouble is, correct it. Perry will be all right, so you need no longer concern yourself about him. Go ahead. Live your own life. Make your own decisions in your own way. Associate with men and women as freely as you did before you knew Perry, and don't worry."

Diana stood up, smiling, and put out her hand. "Thanks a lot, Master. I'll try it. Anyhow I've decided to take that contract."

"That's fine. If you become worried again, come back and we'll talk it over."

"Thanks again. I can go home and sleep now."

XIV

Perry was very poor company for the next couple of weeks. He threw himself into the study of the arts of rocketry and astronautics, determined to make up quickly his century-and-a-half handicap in technical knowledge. He could easily be persuaded to quit his studies and enter a sky car, but he always insisted on setting the controls for the Moon Rocket Station. This suited neither Diana nor Olga. In time they became reconciled to his single-minded enthusiasm and compromised by insisting that he take regular exercise and eat his meals on time.

Perry found that catching up was not so much of a job as he had feared. In engineering matters he had the simple empirical point of view and consequently was not disturbed by changes in theory. The mathematics of ballistics and astronautics were simpler, rather than more complicated, than the ballistic formulae that he had once used in predicting fall of shot. In particular the Siacci-Vernet method of variable exponents was a much simpler description of the action of a moving body in a gaseous medium than the cumbersome empirical formulae used by Siacci himself. Metallurgic chemistry and explosive chemistry naturally were enormously advanced over his day, but with the advance of knowledge, theory was, as usual, simpler, and he soon found himself able to understand and appreciate the technical publications of the day. He looked for and failed to find any description of the use in rockets of the high explosives of his own day. He made a mental note of this for it seemed possible that he might have some things to teach these latter day engineers.

Late in April Perry received a call from Cathcart. To Perry's surprise, he had a business proposition. Cathcart related that he'd been hired to give technical advice in the recording of an historical adventure drama laid in the United States during Perry's period. Several scenes called for airfighting of the contemporary type and neither Cathcart nor the producer were satisfied with the laboratory process shots. So Cathcart was calling from Hollywood to see if Perry thought he could fly a museum piece airplane. Perry considered, then asked what sort of a plane it was. Cathcart didn't know, but switched to the hangar circuit and let Perry see for himself. It was a Douglas light bomber with a Pratt-Whitney engine, probably 750 horsepower. Perry estimated a top speed of around 250 miles per hour. She'd land pretty hot. He looked the plane over and nodded.

"If she's in shape or can be put in shape, I'll fly her down a rain pipe and out the spout."

A few hours later, he was in Hollywood running loving hands over the controls of the plane. His preliminary inspection had been both pleasing and disappointing. Pleasing, for the craft was in essentially good shape, and disappointing because so much would need to be done before it would fly. Perry condemned the wing fabric and the controls. The metal structures would need to be rayed and tested, and portions would probably need to be replaced. Worst of all no gasoline was available and it was necessary for him to dig out old technical publications and explain what was needed to the young chemical engineer assigned to the job. The Smithsonian Institute, which had lent the plane in the first place, located a parachute which served as a pattern for a new one. Perry packed it himself, there being no one else alive who knew how. Before the plane was ready to fly, Perry had acquired a local reputation as a miracle man, as Cathcart had guarded the secret of the source of Perry's knowledge. The day arrived when he climbed into the cockpit, buckled his safety belt and started his engine. He taxied around the field and, satisfied, pulled back the stick and took off. The roar was startling after the mild whir of a sky car, but it was good to feel the wind pressure burn his cheeks, good to feel the power under the throttle. He turned and passed back over the field, swooping low. Tiny figures ran about and waved. He knew that they were cheering. He took the old crate up a couple of thousand feet and tried her out, loops, inverted flight, flipper turns, spin, falling leaf. She responded like a well trained horse. Finally he returned, landed and taxied back to the hangar. The engine coughed and was quiet. He was pulled out of his seat, pounded on the back and escorted inside by a cheering, red-faced throng.

Two weeks later he made an early start for Tahoe with a pleasant sense of accomplishment. The actual work had been easy and safe as houses in his opinion. Any military pilot of his day performed incredibly harder assignments as a matter of routine. But his associates had regarded his skill as phenomenal and had treated him with great respect. Several rocket pilots had come out from the port to watch him work and he had had the pleasure of taking several of them up on joy hops. The thing that amazed them the most was his admission that he could not pilot rockets. He was assured that he would have no difficulty at all in acquiring the coveted shooting star of a licensed pilot. To add to his general satisfaction he carried a credit draft in his belt that would raise his account to several times its previous level. He thought of the times he had risked his neck in over-sea patrol for ten dollars a day more or less, and chuckled. The law of supply and demand had been in his favor. They had forced the money on him.