The Rolling Stones (29 page)

“Mother!”

“Yes, Son?”

“What’s your real reason? Why do you want to go?”

“Why? Why does anybody want to go anywhere? Why did the bear go round the mountain? To see what he could see! I’ve never seen the Rings. That’s reason enough to go anywhere. The race has been doing it for all time. The dull ones stay home—and the bright ones stir around and try to see what trouble they can dig up. It’s the human pattern. It doesn’t need a reason, any more than a flat cat needs a reason to buzz. Why anything?”

“When are you coming back?”

“I may never come back. I
like
free fall. Doesn’t take any muscle. Take a look at old Charlie. You know how old he is? I did some checking. He’s at least a hundred and sixty. That’s encouraging at my age—makes me feel like a young girl. I may see quite a few things yet.”

Dr. Stone said, “Of course you will, Mother Hazel.”

Roger Stone turned to his wife. “Edith?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s your opinion?”

“Well…there’s actually no reason why we should go back to Luna, not just now.”

“So I was thinking. But what about Meade?”

“Me?” said Meade.

Hazel put in drily, “They’re thinking you are about husband-high, hon.”

Dr. Stone looked at her daughter and nodded slightly. Meade looked surprised, then said, “Pooh! I’m in no hurry. Besides—there’s a Patrol base on Titan. There ought to be lots of young officers.”

Hazel answered, “It’s a Patrol
research
base, hon—probably nothing but dedicated scientists.”

“Well, perhaps when I get through with them they won’t be quite so dedicated!”

Roger Stone turned to the twins. “Boys?”

Castor answered for the team. “Do we get a vote? Sure!”

Roger Stone grasped a stanchion, pulled himself forward. “Then it’s settled. All of you—Hazel, boys, Meade—set up trial orbits. I’ll start the mass computations.”

“Easy, son—count me out on that.”

“Eh?”

“Son, did you check the price they’re getting for single-H here? If we are going to do a cometary for Saturn instead of a tangential for Earth, it’s back to the salt mines for me. I’ll radio New York for an advance, then I’ll go wake Lowell and we’ll start shoveling gore.”

“Well…okay. The rest of you—mind your decimals!”

All stations were manned and ready; from an instruction couch rigged back of the pilot and co-pilot Meade was already running down the count-off. Roger Stone glanced across at his mother and whispered, “What are you smiling about?”

“And
five
! And
four
!” chanted Meade.

“Nothing much. After we get to Titan we might—”

The blast cut off her words; the
Stone
trembled and threw herself outward bound, toward Saturn. In her train followed hundreds and thousands and hundreds of thousands of thousands of restless rolling Stones…to Saturn…to Uranus, to Pluto…rolling on out to the stars…outward bound to the ends of the Universe.