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of its prow to the double jet and upright fin at the rear.
Owens said, “I’ll get in first. When I signal, the rest of you come in.” He moved up the ladder.
“It’s his ship,” muttered Grant. “Why not?” Then he said to Michaels, “He seems more nervous than we are.”
“That’s just his way. He
looks
nervous all the time. And if he is, he has reason. He has a wife and two young daughters. Duval and his assistant are both single.”
“I am, too,” said Grant. “And you?”
“Divorced. No children. So you see.”
Owens could be seen plainly, now, in the bubble-top. He seemed intent on objects immediately before him. Then he waved the come-in gesture. Michaels responded and moved up the ladder. Duval followed him. Grant motioned Cora to enter ahead of himself.
All were in their seats when Grant ducked through the small one-man chamber that made up the hatch. Above, in the lone upper seat, was Owens at the control. Below were four more seats. The two in the rear, well on either side, were occupied by Cora and Duval; Cora on the right near the ladder that led up to the bubble, Duval on the left.
In the bow were the other two seats, close together. Michaels had already taken the one on the left. Grant sat down next to him.
On either side were workbenches and a set of what looked like auxiliary controls. Underneath the benches were cabinets. In the rear were a pair of small rooms, one a small workroom, the other for storage.
It was still dark inside. Michaels said, “We will put you to work, Grant. Ordinarily we would have had a communications man in your place—one of our own, I mean. Since you have communications experience you will handle the wireless. No problem, I hope.”
“I can’t see it very well right now …”
“Say there, Owens.” Michaels called upward. “How about the power?”
“Right away. I’m checking a few items.”
Michaels said, “I don’t believe there is anything unusual about it. It is the only non-nuclear-powered object on the ship.”
“I don’t expect any problems.”
“Good! —Relax, then. It will be a few minutes yet before we can be miniaturized. The others are busy and if you don’t mind, I will talk.”
“Go ahead.”
Michaels adjusted himself in his seat. “We all have our specific reactions to nervousness. Some light cigarettes—no smoking on board, by the way …”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Some drink, some bite their nails. I talk—provided, of course, I don’t choke up altogether. Right now, it’s a near squeak between talking and choking. You asked about Owens. Are you nervous about him?”
“Should I be?”
“I’m sure Carter expects you to be. A suspicious man, that Carter. Paranoid tendencies. I suspect that Carter has brooded over the fact that Owens was the man in the car with Benes at the time of the accident.”
Grant said, “That thought has occurred even to me. But what does it mean? If you’re implying that Owens might have arranged the incident, the interior of the car was a poor place to be.”
“I don’t suggest anything of the sort,” said Michaels, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m trying to penetrate Carter’s reasoning. Suppose Owens was a secret enemy agent, converted to Their side on one of his trips to scientific conferences overseas …”
“How dramatic,” said Grant, dryly. “Anyone else on board attend such conferences?”
Michaels thought a moment. “As a matter of fact, we all have. Even the girl attended a short meeting last year, one at which Duval presented a paper. But anyway, suppose itwas Owens who was converted. Let us say that he was assigned the task of seeing to it that Benes was to be killed. It might be necessary for him to risk his own death. The driver of the collision car knew he was going to die; the five men at the rifles knew they would die. People don’t seem to mind dying.”
“And Owens may be prepared to die now rather than let us succeed? Is that why he is
Owens said, “I’ll get in first. When I signal, the rest of you come in.” He moved up the ladder.
“It’s his ship,” muttered Grant. “Why not?” Then he said to Michaels, “He seems more nervous than we are.”
“That’s just his way. He
looks
nervous all the time. And if he is, he has reason. He has a wife and two young daughters. Duval and his assistant are both single.”
“I am, too,” said Grant. “And you?”
“Divorced. No children. So you see.”
Owens could be seen plainly, now, in the bubble-top. He seemed intent on objects immediately before him. Then he waved the come-in gesture. Michaels responded and moved up the ladder. Duval followed him. Grant motioned Cora to enter ahead of himself.
All were in their seats when Grant ducked through the small one-man chamber that made up the hatch. Above, in the lone upper seat, was Owens at the control. Below were four more seats. The two in the rear, well on either side, were occupied by Cora and Duval; Cora on the right near the ladder that led up to the bubble, Duval on the left.
In the bow were the other two seats, close together. Michaels had already taken the one on the left. Grant sat down next to him.
On either side were workbenches and a set of what looked like auxiliary controls. Underneath the benches were cabinets. In the rear were a pair of small rooms, one a small workroom, the other for storage.
It was still dark inside. Michaels said, “We will put you to work, Grant. Ordinarily we would have had a communications man in your place—one of our own, I mean. Since you have communications experience you will handle the wireless. No problem, I hope.”
“I can’t see it very well right now …”
“Say there, Owens.” Michaels called upward. “How about the power?”
“Right away. I’m checking a few items.”
Michaels said, “I don’t believe there is anything unusual about it. It is the only non-nuclear-powered object on the ship.”
“I don’t expect any problems.”
“Good! —Relax, then. It will be a few minutes yet before we can be miniaturized. The others are busy and if you don’t mind, I will talk.”
“Go ahead.”
Michaels adjusted himself in his seat. “We all have our specific reactions to nervousness. Some light cigarettes—no smoking on board, by the way …”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Some drink, some bite their nails. I talk—provided, of course, I don’t choke up altogether. Right now, it’s a near squeak between talking and choking. You asked about Owens. Are you nervous about him?”
“Should I be?”
“I’m sure Carter expects you to be. A suspicious man, that Carter. Paranoid tendencies. I suspect that Carter has brooded over the fact that Owens was the man in the car with Benes at the time of the accident.”
Grant said, “That thought has occurred even to me. But what does it mean? If you’re implying that Owens might have arranged the incident, the interior of the car was a poor place to be.”
“I don’t suggest anything of the sort,” said Michaels, shaking his head vigorously. “I’m trying to penetrate Carter’s reasoning. Suppose Owens was a secret enemy agent, converted to Their side on one of his trips to scientific conferences overseas …”
“How dramatic,” said Grant, dryly. “Anyone else on board attend such conferences?”
Michaels thought a moment. “As a matter of fact, we all have. Even the girl attended a short meeting last year, one at which Duval presented a paper. But anyway, suppose itwas Owens who was converted. Let us say that he was assigned the task of seeing to it that Benes was to be killed. It might be necessary for him to risk his own death. The driver of the collision car knew he was going to die; the five men at the rifles knew they would die. People don’t seem to mind dying.”
“And Owens may be prepared to die now rather than let us succeed? Is that why he is
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