"Speaking unprofessionally," said Holden, "he's a worm with wants. He
hasn't anything but cravings. Why?"

Cochrane grinned again, his head cocked on one side.

"He wouldn't take part in an enterprise to reach the stars, would he?"
When Holden shook his head, Cochrane said zestfully, "I'd guess that the
peak of his ambition would be to have the credit for it if it worked,
but he wouldn't risk being associated with it until it had worked!
Right?"

"Right," said Holden. "I said he was a worm. What're you driving at?"

"I'm outlining what you're twisting my arm to make me do," said
Cochrane, "in case you haven't noticed. Bill, if Jones can really make
a ship go faster than light--"

"I can," repeated Jones. "I simply didn't think of the thing in
connection with travel. I only thought of it for signalling."

"Then," said Cochrane, "I'm literally forced, for Dabney's sake, to do
something that he'd scream shrilly at if he heard about it. We're going
to have a party, Bill! A party after your and my and Jones' hearts!"

"What do you mean?" demanded Holden.

"We make a production after all," said Cochrane, grinning. "We are going
to take Dabney's discovery--the one he bought publicity rights to--very
seriously indeed. I'm going to get him acclaim. First we break a story
of what Dabney's field means for the future of mankind--and then we
prove it! We take a journey to the stars! Want to make your reservations
now?"

"You mean," said West incredulously, "a genuine trip? Why?"

Cochrane snapped at him suddenly.

"Because I can't kid myself any more," he rasped. "I've found out how
little I count in the world and the estimation of Kursten, Kasten,
Hopkins and Fallowe! I've found out I'm only a little man when I thought
I was a big one, and I won't take it! Now I've got an excuse to try to
be a big man! That's reason enough, isn't it?"

Then he glared around the small laboratory under the dust-heap. He was
irritated because he did not feel splendid emotions after making a
resolution and a plan which ought to go down in history--if it worked.
He wasn't uplifted. He wasn't aware of any particular feeling of being
the instrument of destiny or anything else. He simply felt peevish and
annoyed and obstinate about trying the impossible trick.

It annoyed him additionally, perhaps, to see the expression of
starry-eyed admiration on Babs' face as she looked at him across the
untidy laboratory table, cluttered up with beer-ca