But Thorsten was going on, and now he'd gotten to the part I wanted to know. "There's got to be a change, Holcomb. Humanity isn't fit to go out to the stars the way it is. It's not ready for the hyperspatial drive. "It's not going to get it." I was beginning to understand. Most important, I could finally understand what was wrong with Thorsten. I could see the Messiah complex building up in front of my eyes. The laugh--the easy, chuckling, self-assured laugh--the laugh of a man who was never wrong, and knew it. "I've got the drive, Holcomb, and I'm going to use it. _I'll_ be the standard-bearer of the human race among the stars. There won't be any fumbling and bumbling--no bureaucrats, Holcomb, no splinter groups, no special interests, no lobbies." The dream was like a banner in his eyes. "Nobody but you, right?" I said. "Right!" the palm went down on the table again. The wine was beginning to loosen him up. His voice was losing the first fine edge of control. * * * * * And I finally understood about Pat. She was looking at Thorsten, and the same dream was plain on her face. That was all she saw--that, and the man. She couldn't see the gray rockets bellowing above the burning cities. "_Have_ you got the drive?" "Damn right! Those technicians I lifted from Titan are working on your ship now. Then a test flight, and after that, a whole fleet--my fleet, equipped with the drive and ready for the jump. "There's a planet out there, Holcomb. The Titan Project found it. A planet, Holcomb! Earth-type! Do you think I'd let those idiots on _Earth_ have it!" That locked it up. He was completely paranoid. Pat was still looking at him, lost in the dream. She couldn't be bought, and she couldn't be taken. But she could be in love. Maybe, as a man, I stacked higher up with her than Thorsten did--but I couldn't rival the Dream. "Seems to me a thing like that will take more supplies than generations of intercepting freight would give you. Where'll you get your equipment?" I asked. I'd timed it right. A lot of Burgundy had gone down, followed by Sauterne and Chablis. "That's where my Martian--friends come in," he said. Pat leaned forward. This was a part she'd never heard before, an answer to a question nobody but an old hand at expeditionary forces would ask.