a section of the metal It swung inward. It had been cut into a rude door.
“There ‘tis,” cried Tom. “There ‘tis.”
At first we could see nothing because our crowding into the door shut out all the light that came from behind us; then Tom shuffled forward and the shaft of light followed him. He stopped and fumbled, then turned to us, lifting his burden triumphantly. “Here ‘tis,” he repeated. “You gotta put it in the ship. Here’s the key to the compartment. I’ll go get my son.”
Remy grasped and almost dropped the thing Tom had given him. It was a box or something like a box. A little more rectangular than square, but completely featureless except for a carrying handle on each end and a smooth, almost mirrorlike surface on the top.
“What is it?” I asked. “How does it work?”
“I don’t know.” Remy was hunkered down by it on the floor, prodding at it with curious fingers.
“Maybe it’s a solid fuel of some kind. It must be. Tom says it’s the fuel.”
“But why such a big fuel compartment if this is all that goes in it?” I had sensed the big empty chamber several times-padlock and all.
“Well, the only answer I have to that is let’s go put it where it belongs and maybe we’ll see.”
We carried the object between us, back to the ship and into the fuel compartment-at least what was so labeled on the plans. We put it down on the spot indicated for it and fastened it down with the metal clamps that were situated in just the right places to hold the object. Then we stepped back and looked the situation over. The object sat there in the middle of the floor-plenty of room all around it and above it. The almost mirror surface reflected cloudily the ceiling above. There were no leads, no wires, no connections, nothing but the hold-clamps and they went no farther into the structure of the floor than was necessary to hold them secure.
“Remy?” I looked at his mystified face. “How does it work? Do the plans say?”
“There aren’t any plans about this room,” he said blankly, searching back in his memory of the plans that were available. “Only a label that says ‘fuel room.’ There’s one notation. I couldn’t figure it out before. It says, ‘After clamps are secure, coordinate and lift off!!!!’ With four exclamation points. That’s all. You see, Tom had only the plans for finishing the ship. Nothing for the actual trip.”
“And you thought you could-” I was horrified.
“Oh, relax, Shadow,” said Remy. “Of course I could see how everything fitted into everything and what the dial readings meant after we got started, but-” His voice stopped and his thoughts concentrated on the plans again. “Nowhere a starter button or lever-” He bit his lip and frowned down at the object. In the silence we heard a clatter of rock and Tom’s voice echoing eerily. “Come on out, Son. It’s time to go! Rise and shine!”
Both of us listened to Tom’s happy chant and we just looked at each other.
“What’ll we do, Shadow?” asked Remy helplessly. “What’ll we do?”
“Maybe Tom knows more about this,” I suggested.
“Maybe we can get him to talk.” I shuddered away from the memory of his hand in mine.
So we went to Tom where he was clawing at the broken rock, trying to free his son, the tiny flag still standing upright in the little mound of earth. Tom was prying at a rock that, if he freed it, would bring half the slide roaring down upon him.
“Tom!” Remy called. “Tom!” And finally got his attention.
“Come down here. I need help.”
Tom scrambled awkwardly down the slope, half falling the last little way. And I let him stumble because I couldn’t bear to touch him again.
“Tom, how does that fuel work?” Remy asked.
“Work? Why just like you’d think a fuel would work,” said Tom wonderingly. “You just install it and take off.”
“What connects it to the engines?” asked Remy. “You didn’t give me that part of the plans.”
“What engines?” grinned Tom.
“Whatever makes the ship go!” Remy’s patience was running out rapidly.
“My son makes the ship go,” said Tom, chuckling.
”Tom!” Remy took him by his frail shoulders and held him until the wander-eyes focused on his face. “Tom, the ship’s all ready to go, but I don’t know how to start it. Unless you can tell me, we-can’t-go!”
“Can’t go?” Tom’s eyes blinked with shock. “Can’t go? We have to go! We have to! I promised!” The contours of his face softened and sagged to a blur under the force of his emotion. “We gotta go!” He took Remy’s hands roughly off his shoulders and pushed him staggering away. “Stupid brat! ‘Course you can’t make it go! My son’s the only one that knows how!” He turned back to the heap of stone. “Son!” His voice was that of a stern parent. “Get outa there. There’s work to be done and you lie there lazing!” He began tearing again at the jagged boulders.
We moved away from him-away from the whirlwind of his emotions and the sobbing, half vocal panting of his breath. We retreated to the ladder that led up to the cabin, and, leaning against it, looked at each other.
“His son’s been under there for months-maybe a year,” Remy said dully. “If he uncovers him now-” He gulped miserably. “And I can’t make the ship go. After all your fussing about making the trip, and here I am stuck. But there are engines-at least there are mechanisms that work from one another after the flight begins. I don’t think that little box is all the fuel. I’ll bet there was liquid fuel somewhere and it’s all evaporated or run off or something.” He gulped again and leaned against the foot of the ladder.
“Oh, Shadow,” he mourned. “At first this was going to be my big deal. I was going to help Tom find his dream- and all on my own. It was my declaration of independence to show Father and Ron that I could do something besides show off-and I guess that was showing off, too. But, Shadow, I gave that all up-I mean showing them. All I wanted was for Tom-” His voice broke and he blinked fast. “And his son-” He turned away from me and my throat
