“He’s back in the saddle. Your old pal Jan is waiting outside. I suggest that you go for a ride with her.”
Ten seconds later as Gale tumbled into Jan’s jeep she exclaimed. “The airfield, James! And make it snappy!”
A half hour later Gale and Jimmie were drinking hot black coffee in a cubbyhole just off of the airfield where they could talk in absolute secrecy.
“Well, Gale,” Jimmie’s smile was strange. “You asked for it. Now you’ll have to take it or leave it. I’ve got it all arranged. Don’t ask me how, just tell me yes or no.”
“You mean—” she stared at him in silence for a space of seconds.
“I think you get me.” His face sobered. “If your answer is yes—and I’m no one to blame you if it’s no, for at best it’s a rather dangerous mission—all you have to do is to dress up in these,” he placed a hand on a large rubber-wrapped bundle, “and meet me here at dawn.” He removed his hand from the bundle. Her hand took its place.
“Good girl!” His hand closed over hers. “Then we fly at dawn!”
“Yes, Jimmie!” Her voice was husky. “And Jimmie, if our ship gets it, if we’re headed for earth’s last checkout, the last roundup, you know, what shall we say? ‘Here goes nothing’?”
“No, Gale.” His face sobered. “That’s the way I used to think of it. It’s a grand gesture, but you can’t hold it. I tried it once when I thought my time had come. You can’t stick it. No one can at the last second, for you see it’s not really nothing that’s going from the earth. It’s YOU, and you suddenly decide that you don’t want to go—that you really want terribly to stay.”
“I think I know what you mean,” she said slowly. “All right, Jimmie.” She stood up. “I’ll join you at dawn.”