Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,6

his speech.

"No. Just making conversation. That's our second largest city up ahead. You can have it, though. I'm from the other end of the country."

"To me it doesn't matter. One end. The other end. As long as I'm here. It will be ..." He didn't finish the sentence but there was a sadness in his eyes.

Breaking away is hard, thought Grant, even when you feel you must. He said, "We'll see to it you have no time to brood, professor. We'll put you to work."

Benes retained his sadness. "I'm sure of that. I expect it. It is the price I pay, no?"

"I'm afraid so. You caused us a certain amount of effort, you know."

Benes put his hand on Grant's sleeve. "You risked your life. I appreciate that. You might have been killed."

"I run the chance of being killed as a matter of routine. Occupational hazard. They pay me for it. Not as well as for playing a guitar, you understand, or for hitting a baseball, but about what they feel my life is worth."

"You can't dismiss it so."

"I've got to. My organization does. When I come back, there will be a shake of hands and an embarrassed `Good work!' -You know, manly reserve and all that. Then it's: `now for the next assignment and we have to deduct for that band-aid you have on your side. Have to watch expenses."'

"Your game of cynicism doesn't fool me, young man."

"It has to fool me, professor, or I would quit." Grant was almost surprised at the sudden bitterness in his voice. "Strap yourself in, professor. This flying junkheap makes rough landings."

The plane touched down smoothly, despite Grant's prediction, and taxied to a stop, turning as it did so.

The Secret Service contingent closed in. Soldiers leaped out of troop-carrying trucks to form a cordon about the plane, leaving a corridor for the motorized stairway steering its way toward the door of the plane.

A convoy of three limousines rolled to near the foot of the stairway.

Owens said, "You're piling on the security, colonel."

"Better too much than too little." His lips moved almost silently in what the astonished Owens recognized to be a quick prayer.

Owens said, "I'm glad he's here."

"Not as glad as I am. Planes have blown up in mid-flight before this, you know."

The door to the plane opened and Grant appeared momentarily at the opening. He looked about, then waved.

Colonel Gonder said, "He seems in one piece anyway. Where's Benes?"

As though in answer to that question, Grant flattened to one side and let Benes squeeze past. Benes stood there smiling for one moment. Carrying one battered suitcase in his hand, he trotted gingerly down the stops. Grant followed. Behind him were the pilot and co-pilot.

Colonel Gonder was at the foot of the stairs. "Professor Benes. Glad to have you here! I'm Gonder; I'll be in charge of your safety from this point. This is William Owens. You know him, I think."

Benes' eyes lit up and his arms went high as he dropped his suitcase. (Colonel Gonder unobtrusively picked it up.) "Owens! Yes, of course. We got drunk one night together. I remember it well. A long, dull, boring session in the afternoon, where all that was interesting was precisely what one could not say, so that despair settled on me like a gray blanket. At supper, Owens and I met. There were five altogether of his colleagues with him, but I don't remember the others very well.

"But Owens and I, we went to a little club afterward, with dancing and jazz, and we drank schnapps, and Owens was very friendly with one of the girls. You remember Jaroslavie, Owens?"

"The fellow who was with you?" ventured Owens.

"Exactly. He loved schnapps with a love that passeth understanding, but he was not allowed to drink. He had to stay sober. Strict orders."

"To watch you?"

Benes signified assent by a single long vertical movement of his head and a sober out-thrusting of his lower lips. "I kept offering him liquor. I said, here, Milan, a dusty throat is bad for a man, and he had to keep refusing, but with his heart in his eyes. It was wicked of me."

Owens smiled and nodded. "But let's get into the limousine and get down to Headquarters. We'll have to show you around, first, and let everyone see you're here. After that, I promise you that you'll sleep for twenty-four hours if you want to before we ask you any questions."

"Sixteen will do. But first," he looked about anxiously. "Where is Grant?