“Thanks, but we don’t need it.  We aren’t getting paid for that!  All we need is a modicum of appreciation for a neurotic son-in-law of a partner of Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe!  A public-relations job is all that’s required.  You give West the theory, and Jamison will do the prophecy, and Bell will write it out.”

Jones said calmly: 

“I will like hell!  Look!  I discovered this faster-than-light field in the first place!  I sold it to Dabney because he wanted to be famous!  I got my pay and he can keep it!  But if he can’t understand it himself, even to lecture about it ...  Do you think I’m going to throw in some extra stuff I noticed, that I can fit into that theory but nobody else can—­Do you think I’m going to give him starships as a bonus?”

Holden said, nodding, with his lips twisted: 

“I should have figured that!  He bought his great discovery from you, eh?  And that’s what he gets frustrated about!”

Cochrane snapped: 

“I thought you psychiatrists knew the facts of life, Bill!  Dabney’s not unusual in my business!  He’s almost a typical sponsor!”

“When you ask me to throw away starships,” said Jones coldly, “for a publicity feature, I don’t play.  I won’t take the credit for the field away from Dabney.  I sold him that with my eyes open.  But starships are more important than a fool’s hankering to be famous!  He’d never try it!  He’d be afraid it wouldn’t work!  I don’t play!”

Holden said stridently: 

“I don’t give a damn about any deal you made with Dabney!  But if you can get us to the stars—­all us humans who need it—­you’ve got to!”

Jones said, again calmly: 

“I’m willing.  Make me an offer—­not cash, but a chance to do something real—­not just a trick for a neurotic’s ego!”

Cochrane grinned at him very peculiarly.

“I like your approach.  You’ve got illusions.  They’re nice things to have.  I wouldn’t mind having some myself.  Bill,” he said to Dr. William Holden, “how much nerve has Dabney?”

“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.”