the world will be upon her. How little a thing
interplanetary travel seems if we match it against the weeks and the months and the
years of the great voyages of the past!
“Everything is relative, and the time will surely come when our minds embrace the
Solar System as now they do the Earth. Then, I suppose, when the scientists are looking
thoughtfully toward the stars, many will cry: ‘We don’t want interstellar flight!
The nine planets were good enough for our grandfathers and they’re good enough for
us!’”
Dirk laid his pen down with a smile and let his mind wander in the realms of fantasy.
Would Man ever face that stupendous challenge and send his ships into the gulf between
the stars? He remembered a phrase he had once read: “Interplanetary distances are
a million times as great as those to which we are accustomed in everyday life, but
interstellar distances are a million-fold greater still.” His mind quailed before
the thought, but still he clung to that phrase: “
Everything is relative
.” In a few thousand years, Man had come from coracle to spaceship. What might he
yet do in the eons that lay ahead?
Five
It would be false to suggest that the five men on whom the eyes of the world were
now fixed regarded themselves as daring adventurers about to risk their lives in a
stupendous scientific gamble. They were all practical, hard-headed technicians who
had no intention of taking part in a gamble of any kind—at least, where their lives
were concerned. There was a risk, of course, but one took risks when one caught the
8.10 to the City.
Each reacted in his own way to the publicity of the past week. They had expected it,
and they had been well prepared. Hassell and Leduc had been in the public eye before
and knew how to enjoy the experience while avoiding its more annoying aspects. The
other three members of the crew, having fame thrust suddenly upon them, showed a tendency
to huddle together for mutual protection. This move was fatal, as it made them easy
meat for reporters.
Clinton and Taine were still sufficiently unused to the experience of being interviewed
to enjoy it, but their Canadian colleague Jimmy Richards hated it. His replies, none
too helpful at the beginning, became progressively more and more brusque as time went
by and he grew tired of answering the same questions
ad nauseam
. On one famous occasion, when harried by a particularly overbearing lady reporter,
his behavior became somewhat less than gallant. According to the description later
circulated by Leduc, the interview went something like this:
“Good morning, Mr. Richards. I wonder if you’d mind answering a few questions for
the
West Kensington Clarion?”
Richards (bored but still fairly affable): “Certainly, though I have to meet my wife
in a few minutes.”
“Have you been married long?”
“About twelve years.”
“Oh: any children?”
“Two: both girls, if I remember correctly.”
“Does your wife approve of your flying off from Earth like this?”
“She’d better.”
(Pause, during which interviewer realizes that, for once, her ignorance of shorthand
is going to be no handicap.)
“I suppose you have always felt an urge to go out to the stars, to—er—place the flag
of humanity upon other worlds?”
“Nope. Never thought about it until a couple of years ago.”
“Then how did you get chosen for this flight?”
“Because I’m the second best atomic engineer in the world.”
“The first being?”
“Professor Maxton, who’s too valuable to risk.”
“Are you at all nervous?”
“Oh, yes. I’m frightened of spiders, lumps of plutonium more than a foot across, and
anything that makes noises in the night.”
“I mean—are you nervous about this voyage?”
“I’m scared stiff. Look—you can see me trembling.” (Demonstrates. Minor damage to
furniture.)
“What do you expect to find on the Moon?”
“Lots of lava,
interplanetary travel seems if we match it against the weeks and the months and the
years of the great voyages of the past!
“Everything is relative, and the time will surely come when our minds embrace the
Solar System as now they do the Earth. Then, I suppose, when the scientists are looking
thoughtfully toward the stars, many will cry: ‘We don’t want interstellar flight!
The nine planets were good enough for our grandfathers and they’re good enough for
us!’”
Dirk laid his pen down with a smile and let his mind wander in the realms of fantasy.
Would Man ever face that stupendous challenge and send his ships into the gulf between
the stars? He remembered a phrase he had once read: “Interplanetary distances are
a million times as great as those to which we are accustomed in everyday life, but
interstellar distances are a million-fold greater still.” His mind quailed before
the thought, but still he clung to that phrase: “
Everything is relative
.” In a few thousand years, Man had come from coracle to spaceship. What might he
yet do in the eons that lay ahead?
Five
It would be false to suggest that the five men on whom the eyes of the world were
now fixed regarded themselves as daring adventurers about to risk their lives in a
stupendous scientific gamble. They were all practical, hard-headed technicians who
had no intention of taking part in a gamble of any kind—at least, where their lives
were concerned. There was a risk, of course, but one took risks when one caught the
8.10 to the City.
Each reacted in his own way to the publicity of the past week. They had expected it,
and they had been well prepared. Hassell and Leduc had been in the public eye before
and knew how to enjoy the experience while avoiding its more annoying aspects. The
other three members of the crew, having fame thrust suddenly upon them, showed a tendency
to huddle together for mutual protection. This move was fatal, as it made them easy
meat for reporters.
Clinton and Taine were still sufficiently unused to the experience of being interviewed
to enjoy it, but their Canadian colleague Jimmy Richards hated it. His replies, none
too helpful at the beginning, became progressively more and more brusque as time went
by and he grew tired of answering the same questions
ad nauseam
. On one famous occasion, when harried by a particularly overbearing lady reporter,
his behavior became somewhat less than gallant. According to the description later
circulated by Leduc, the interview went something like this:
“Good morning, Mr. Richards. I wonder if you’d mind answering a few questions for
the
West Kensington Clarion?”
Richards (bored but still fairly affable): “Certainly, though I have to meet my wife
in a few minutes.”
“Have you been married long?”
“About twelve years.”
“Oh: any children?”
“Two: both girls, if I remember correctly.”
“Does your wife approve of your flying off from Earth like this?”
“She’d better.”
(Pause, during which interviewer realizes that, for once, her ignorance of shorthand
is going to be no handicap.)
“I suppose you have always felt an urge to go out to the stars, to—er—place the flag
of humanity upon other worlds?”
“Nope. Never thought about it until a couple of years ago.”
“Then how did you get chosen for this flight?”
“Because I’m the second best atomic engineer in the world.”
“The first being?”
“Professor Maxton, who’s too valuable to risk.”
“Are you at all nervous?”
“Oh, yes. I’m frightened of spiders, lumps of plutonium more than a foot across, and
anything that makes noises in the night.”
“I mean—are you nervous about this voyage?”
“I’m scared stiff. Look—you can see me trembling.” (Demonstrates. Minor damage to
furniture.)
“What do you expect to find on the Moon?”
“Lots of lava,
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