Redevelopment

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

John McBride hung the phone on the hook and wiped his face. This face-wiping was not the usual gesture of a man whose face is dirty, or covered with perspiration. It was the dazed sort of gesture made by a man who has just been subjected to a surprise, and since the wiping tended to remove the awed look, replacing it with a slightly dazed smile, the surprise must not have been too unpleasant.

He shook his head, as though to clear it, and then made his way through Station 1 of the Plutonian Lens to the landing platform. Just inside the gigantic lock, a medium-sized space-ship stood, and sitting on the edge of the space lock, swinging her feet, was Sandra Drake.

"Hello," she said brightly.

"Hi," said John. This was entirely new. Sandra Drake was not usually given to greeting men as anything but absolute imbeciles. "What brings you out here? And how did you make it?"

"Oh," said Sandra lightly, "I remembered the charge on Station 1 and brought along a charge-compensator. We hardly sparked when we lit."

One of the attendants said, in a low aside: "About three hundred amperes! She'd call a major explosion a snap of the fingers! You could hide an egg in the crater she made."

But Sandra was still talking. "John," she said in a voice that would have caused Shylock to give her his last gold piece, "I want help."

"You need help? What can we do for you?"

"It's pretty big," warned Sandra. Her low contralto dared him to ask what it was--and also dared him to deny it to her.

"Look, Drake, you did us a favor not too long ago. I think we owe you one."

Sandra smiled uncertainly. "I was afraid that that little stunt was only repaying you for the first meeting we had."

"Shucks," said McBride. "Anyone can make a mistake. Forget it."

"But being pilot for you on the Haywire Queen did me a lot of good, too, you know. I got my license back for that one. We both gained."

"I know. I'm glad we did. But what can you possibly want that is so big that you're afraid to ask?"

"Well, and maybe it isn't too big, either. Steve is a friend of both of us, isn't he? I'd do anything for Steve--and wouldn't you?"

"Yes. If any favors are owing, I think it is both of us to him."

"That's what I'm getting at. I need help--for Steve."

"You sure go a long way around to get it," grinned McBride. "Why didn't you tell me that first instead of warning me about a favor?"

"It's pretty big. But look, John, Steve took the Haywire Queen on a run to Sirius more than six weeks ago. He took along enough stuff to stay a week; he said he'd be back after one hundred and seventy hours of stay at, on, or near Sirius. This was just a trial hop to try the new drive you cooked up and a longer, better equipped expedition would be made later."

"He did say something about it the last I saw him. He said he wasn't particularly interested in exploring a new system. He'd leave that for the explorers. He was interested in the drive and so on, and after he'd paved the way for getting to the stars and had proven his drive, he'd turn it over to those interested in colonization. But six weeks ago, you say? Gosh, that's a long overstay, isn't it?"

"It is. I happen to know he didn't take more supplies than he needed. So I'm worried about him."

"And where do I come in? You want me to go and help you look for him?"

Sandra smiled wanly. "Hardly. I'm sure Enid would enjoy that, too. No, John, what I want is for you to hook up the stuff I've got in the Lady Luck to make me one of those drives you invented so that I can go myself."

"You're taking a chance, you know."

"That's where the favor part comes in. I want to go and look for Steve Hammond. I need your drive. And if you don't help me, I'll go out in space and tinker with the junk until I get it. I was there when you cooked it up, remember, and I have a good memory for details."

"But it's dangerous."

"Is it? 'Might be dangerous' is what you mean. And I've been taking harebrained chances for a long time, now. Do I or don't I?"

McBride thought for a long time. "You get it," he said at last. "On one condition. That you return in not less than one month. If you do not, I'm going to take it upon myself to follow. So no matter what you find, get back. Is that a promise?"

"It is."

"O.K., Sandra." McBride went to the wall of the big lock and spoke over the communicator. "Tommy! Get Al and Westy and tell 'em to bring their tools to the landing lock. We're going to juggle a few generators around."

To Sandra, he said: "I hope you've got plenty of what it takes."

"I have," she said, sensing his meaning. "Matter of fact, I've got the latest thing in alphatrons--two of 'em. And all the E-grav generators we'll need are all tacked into what I think are the right places to make this crate into a super-speed job. There are spares for all three fields, and a couple of spare cupralum bars, too. Even part of the wiring is done. I got just so far and then realized that I don't know too much about gravitics. That's when I decided to come here for help."

"Good thing," said McBride. "You might have killed yourself."

Sandra didn't answer, and at that moment, McBride's men came with their tools. Wordlessly, they nodded to Sandra and then followed McBride into the Lady Luck.