"We did," said Cochrane. "And the sun's a fifth magnitude star from where we've got to—which is no place in particular. And I've just found out that we started off at random and Jones and the pilot he picked up are now happily about to do some pure-science research!"
Holden closed his eyes.
"When you want to cheer me up," he said feebly, "you can tell me we're about to crash somewhere and this misery will soon be over."
Cochrane said bitterly:
"Taking off without a destination! Letting Babs come along! They don't know how far we've come and they don't know where we're going! This is a hell of a way to run a business!"
"Who called it a business?" asked Holden, as feebly as before. "It started out as a psychiatric treatment!"
Babs' voice came from the side of the saloon where she sat at a vision-tube and microphone. She was saying professionally:
"I assure you it's true. We are linked to you by the Dabney field, in which radiation travels much faster than light. When you were a little boy didn't you ever put a string between two tin cans, and then talk along the string?"
Cochrane stopped beside her scowling. She looked up.
"The press association men on Luna, Mr. Cochrane. They saw us take off, and the radar verified that we traveled some hundred of thousands of miles, but then we simply vanished! They don't understand how they can talk to us without even the time-lag between Earth and Lunar City. I was explaining."