Cochrane laughed unpleasantly. He did not admire himself. His laughter
showed it.

"What do you want?" he demanded. "You got me a job I didn't want. You
shoved it down my throat! Now there's the way to get it done! What more
can you ask?"

Holden winced. Then he said heavily:

"I'd like for it to be true."

Jones moved suddenly. He said in an oddly surprised voice:

"D'you know, it can be! I didn't realize! It can be true! I can make a
ship go faster than light!"

Cochrane said with exquisite irony:

"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?"