k had changed._"

Dan Fowler snorted. "I know a very smart young doctor who told me that
there _weren't_ any changes."

"I don't mean anything physical--their bodies were fine. Nothing
mental, either--they had the same sharp minds they always had. It was
a change in values. They'd lost something that they'd had before. The
_drive_ that made them start Starship Project, the _urgency_, the
vital importance of the thing--it was all gone. They just didn't have
the push any more. They began to look for the easy way, and it was far
easier to build and rebuild, and refine, and improve the Starship here
on the ground than to throw that Starship out into space--"

* * * * *

There was a long, long silence. Dan Fowler sat grey-faced, staring at
Paul, just shaking his head and staring. "I don't believe it," he said
finally. "You do maybe, because you want to, but you're mixed up,
Paul. I've seen Lijinsky's reports. There's been progress, regular
progress, month by month. You've been too close to it, maybe. Of
course there have been delays, but only when they were necessary. The
progress has gone on--"

Paul stood up suddenly. "Come in here, Dan. Look." He threw open a
door, strode rapidly down a corridor and a flight of stairs into the
long, low barn of a laboratory. "Here, here, let me show you
something." He pulled out drawers, dragged out rolls of blueprints.
"These are my own. They're based on the working prints from Starship
that we drew up ten years ago, scaled down to model size. I've tested
them, I've run tolerances, I've checked the math five ways and back
again. I've tested the parts, the engine--model size. The blueprints
haven't got a flaw in them. They're perfect as they'll ever get. No,
wait a minute, look--"

He strode fiercely across to slide back a floor panel, drew up the
long, glittering thing from a well in the floor--sleek, beautiful,
three feet long. Paul maneuvered a midget loading crane, guided the
thing into launching position on the floor, then turned back to Dan.
"There it is. Just a model, but it's perfect. Every detail is perfect.
There's even fuel in it. No men, but there could be if there were any
men small enough."

Anger was blazing in Paul's voice now, bitterness and frustration. "I
built it, because I had to be sure. I've tested its thrust. I could
launch this model for Alpha Centauri tonight--and _it would get
there_. If there were little men who could get