No smiles. It was too bitterly painful. The money had been squeezed out of these people dollar by dollar; it had been turned over to the Society with hope, faith and agonizing doubts.

"I wish John Preston were here," Cartwright said. "He'd be glad to see this, if he were alive. He knew it would come, some day." He examined his watch and then finished what he had to say. "Good luck! You're on your way. Hold your charms and let Groves do the steering."

It took a moment to sink in. Then the roar of shock billowed up and slapped him violently.

"You son of a bitch!" Ralf Butler screamed in terror. "You're not coming with us!"

It was amazing, Cartwright thought in a detached way, how fast the mood of a group could change.

"You're afraid!" Butler shouted. "You want us to go out there but you won't come with us."

"What's going on?" Bill Konklin demanded suspiciously. There was apprehension, mixed with growing anger. "Explain, Leon."

"I'm not coming," Cartwright admitted. "You'll be in Groves's hands. He's a good navigator."

"Isn't there anything out there?" Janet Sibley asked anxiously. "Don't you believe any more? Have you changed your mind, Mr. Cartwright?"

"You know the reason," Jack McLean snorted. "Nobody wants to die out there in dead space. Nobody wants to wander around with those space monsters."

"There's nothing out there," Flood snapped con­temptuously. "He knows why those astronomers back in 'forty saw nothing. They tried to find it; they did every­thing they could."

"Tell us why you're not coming," Jereti said. He raised his gnarled hands for silence. "He must have some good reason."

Cartwright took a deep breath of dry, stale air. "Sorry," he said. "I can't tell you my reason."