“I think so. Just one thing, Lee. You want me to play these, so I gather you _do_ think there’s something--” He smiled. “--something ‘worth working on?’” “I’d rather not say what _I_ think before--” “I didn’t ask you to. I told you what _I_ think, right now. It’s just that it’s the way you talk about the whole business that makes me think so. So I play these tapes, see? And let’s say _I_ think there’s something there--let’s say, at a minimum, something that needs to be looked into more?” He paused. “Lee, you’re not forgetting that Johnny’s coming? He’ll be here tonight. I don’t know what happens after that. Neither do you. I just don’t see the news story on why he’s coming. Why in hell would he come up here for McLafferty if he wouldn’t for you or Chris?” “Phil--” She put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Listen first, will you? I’ve heard them. _I know_ there’s _something_ that--well, just listen, will you? We’ll talk later. But I haven’t forgotten about Johnny, _believe_ me. That’s partly why I wanted to give you the tapes now--_before_ he gets here. And partly why I guess I don’t want to talk about it _right now_. I can’t decide anything much till he comes anyhow. And--well, whatever happens, I’d like to think that--I mean, let’s say I back out of the whole thing and go home and never say bad words like ESP again--_If_ there’s anything in this thing, I have a hunch it’s not _me_ especially. I just happen to be the one it--_happened to_? That’s as good a way as any to put it. So--so shut up and listen first, will you?” “Right.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “One other thing, Lee--while the saying’s still good. Don’t forget I made an offer?” “I won’t,” she said. She stepped forward quickly inside his arm, kissed him, and turned and left. “I’ve got a class for the next hour,” she said at the door. “Then I’ll be in my room till about two or three. After that, I’ll be out at the Shack, if you want to talk to me about any of the stuff there.” _Zeroville--11:15_ A.M. (_C.S.T._) The morning had been all right. He’d never had more than theoretical training on ion drive; there was no working ship with one when the _Colombo_ took off. Now, roaming on invitation between the rocket rooms and control centers, he began to realize just what a monumental accomplishment the _Messenger_ was. It was one thing to have the figures in your head: thrust and cost, tonnage, performance, all that. But for John Wendt, at least, nothing convinced but performance. The math told you what to expect--what your chances were. After that, metal and plastic and power, and flesh and blood and brains made it _work_. If it worked, it was time to believe in it; not until then.