In the days that followed there was no time for rest. Thanks to the smaller prototype which had already gone into space, no elaborate tests were required of the new ship. Moreover, the scientists had taken centuries to go over the Old Ship, bolt by bolt, part by part, wire by wire. Improvements had been made, but these had been incorporated into the little prototype which was now successfully berthed within a cavern somewhere on the moon. Over thirty men and women had gone with it. Wolden was constantly in touch with them and daily growing more envious of their position.

Odin knew little of such matters, but he sat daily at the council table where progress reports and squawk-sheets were examined and discussed. The speed with which they were developing the new ship was amazing. There was one innovation to be noted.

Wolden referred to it as the Fourth Drive. Odin gathered that the Old Ship had been equipped with such a drive, but new principles and new mechanics had been added. Odin showed him a little book, which had been privately printed in the world above some fifteen years before. It was entitled: “Einstein and Einsteinian Space, with Conjectures upon a Trans-Einsteinian concept.” Wolden said it had been written by a young refugee from the Nazis, and he doubted if over two or three copies of the manuscript were now in existence. Memories of concentration camps, poverty, and the internecine battles of the professors in a small college where the refugee was an assistant in the Physics Department, had finally driven the poor fellow to suicide.

“He was grasping at something new,” Wolden explained. “His concept was only nascent. But such a mind! The book has been invaluable. Still, it is nothing but a starting point but such a starting point!”

Time passed. It was like working in a dream, where no sooner was one task done than another was ready. Odin ached. His head spun with all the information that Wolden had given him the basic principles behind those machines that had gone into the ship.

Then, at last, it was finished. A young girl who reminded him of Maya was hoisted up on a scaffold to the highest bulge of the hour-glass shaped craft. Workers and visitors stood below by the thousands while she spoke into a tiny microphone and swung a ruby-colored bottle against the ship.

“You are christened The Nebula,” she cried. “Go out into space ”

They had used a bottle of red wine for the christening. A shower of ruby-glass and winedrops came sprinkling down. They fell slowly like drops of blood, and the onlookers, who were by nature opposed to crowds, began to disperse.

“That girl,” Odin grasped Gunnar’s arm “Who is she?”

Gunnar looked at him curiously. “Her name is Nea. A distant cousin of Maya’s. Also, a distant cousin to Grim Hagen.”

Nothing else was said. But Odin suddenly realized that since the day he had been unwillingly carried back to the world above in the elevator he had not noticed any girl at all.

That night Jack Odin could not sleep, although he had never slept more than five hours at a time since returning to Opal. Getting up he found a little radio and turned it to a frequency which occasionally caught some of the stations above. A hill-billy band was playing, and a comic was singing: “So I kissed her little sister and forgot my Clementine.”

He turned off the radio with a curse and finally got to sleep, and dreamed of star spaces and emerald worlds ruled by beautiful Brons girls who looked like Maya or maybe a bit like Nea. Until the worlds streaked across the dark sky like comets. And Gunnar was shaking him by the arm and a streak of light was coming in at the window.

“Ho, sluggard. We start to load the ship today. How long have you waited for this? We were going to savor each moment, remember! And you lie here like a turtle in the sun.”

Odin yawned. “The lists are ready. Everything is packed. I, myself, have checked the lists.”

Gunnar laughed. “How much time have your people spent checking lists? You are the world’s best list-checkers. And the worst. I wish we were just a handful of warriors going out for a fight. But whole families are coming along. Apparently the Brons intend to sow their seed among the stars. And with families. I’ll wager that your lists are not worth a darning needle. Something will be left behind. A slice of some bride’s wedding cake. Little Nordo’s favorite toy. Papa’s best pocket-knife. Mama’s button-box.” The strong little man made a wry face. “Bah, this is no trip for families. They want too much. They are never satisfied. With warriors it is much different. They can take things as they are and grumble a bit or if they grumble too much, Gunnar can slap them silly. But families on a trip like this. No!”

“Well, they’re going,” Odin retorted. “From what I hear, you were the only one who voted against them. So you had better get ready to listen to the patter of little feet, and squalling babies, and Mamas and Papas arguing over whose idea it was to make the trip anyway.”

“Oh, well, it does not matter. I am not of the Brons, but I go because of a promise.” Gunnar shrugged and his face appeared sad and seamed. “My Freida and the boys will be here today. I want you to meet them. I have spent over half my days a-wandering, Jack Odin, but now I have a sick feeling inside me. And I think to myself if I could go back to the farm with Freida and the boys, I could work there, and die an old, old man as my father and his father did before me. But the wanderlust is heavy upon me. Freida understands. And I swore that I would go after Grim Hagen and after Maya. But this way, I die up there among the stars some day, and no one unless it be you and Maya will think of Gunnar.”

Odin slapped his arm across Gunnar’s shoulders. “You are chief among the Neeblings. Stay here with your family. I will go out there to the stars, and I will always remember Gunnar. Faith, man, you owe us nothing. The debts are ours ”

But Gunnar shook his head. “I swore by my sword. And I go.”

A few hours later, they stood at the water’s edge and waited for Freida and the boys. It was not long before a boat hove into sight. And soon Gunnar was helping Freida and the three sons upon the landing.

Family meetings always made Odin ill at ease. He stood there, shuffling his feet.

Freida was a short, broad woman, with big breasts and broad hips. Her eyes, the palest blue, were still beautiful. Odin guessed that when she was young her face had matched her eyes. But the face was worn and the hand that she offered him was calloused. She was dressed in linsey-woolsey, and the overalls of the three sons were also home-spun.

The three lads, miniature copies of Gunnar, stood there solemnly. Each wore a new straw hat with a black and red band around it. They were barefooted. Odin guessed that the hats had been bought special for the occasion.

For the next three days Odin was kept busy by Ato. There were a million things to go on the ship. The Brons had done a wonderful job of warehousing. All was packaged and tagged. A place for each box or machine was already marked and numbered on the prints of The Nebula. The tunnel had been cleared for two lanes of trucks and tractors. Steadily the line of laden cars moved down to the ship and steadily another line came back for more supplies.

Odin was assigned to superintend one of the warehouses, and he was both annoyed and pleased to find that the girl Nea was his assistant. She was a hard worker and pleasant enough, though she said little to him. And the only time he saw her flustered was when she ordered a young man of the Brons out of the building. Jack felt a bit sorry for the fellow. He was scarcely out of his teens and was all shook up because Nea was going out there into space instead of staying here in Opal with him.

So the work went on at a furious pace, and before he realized that three days had gone he was back at the improvised docks with Gunnar and his family.

The parting was a quiet one. Gunnar told the boys to mind their mother and not stay out late at night. “Get strong muscles on your legs and shoulders,” he told them. “A man is not too good at thinking, and he never knows what will happen next. The muscles will keep him going, and after the muscles are gone a fighting heart will carry him a little farther.”

No tears were shed. They talked of little things, and laughed at old jokes that Gunnar’s grandfather had told them. One of those family jokes that never seem very funny to an outsider.

After that, Freida worked the conversation around to the voyage that Gunnar would soon be making.

“They say it is cold out there,” she ventured cautiously.

“Oh, yes. Very cold.” Gunnar agreed.

“Then you wrap up good, Gunnar. We wouldn’t want you to have a chill.”

Gunnar scoffed, “I never had a chill in my life.”

“Oh, such talk. Don’t pretend to be so big. I have nursed you through many a chill.” Then she produced her parting gift a muffler that would have swathed poor Gunnar from chin to belt.

“You promise you wear this if it gets cold,” she urged.

“I tell you, mama, I don’t need such things. You don’t know how tough old Gunnar is.”

“Yes, I know. You promise to wear the muffler ”

Gunnar took it as he cast a sheepish look at Odin. “All right. All right. I’ll take it ”

After Freida’s boat had disappeared, Gunnar tried to joke about the muffler. But he was a bit proud of it too, and put it around his neck. The ends almost brushed the ground, but it was so warm that he soon had to roll it up and carry it with him.

The two went for a meal. But Gunnar ate little, grumbling at the food. Once he assured Odin that he had never had a chill in his life that Freida was too thoughtful about him

“Sure. Sure.” Odin agreed.

Then, finally, Gunnar cleared his throat and spoke the things that were in his mind.

“Friend Odin,” he began, looking down at his plate as though he expected to see an answer there. “I fear that I have seen my family for the last time. We are in for a trip beyond the dreams of men. Beyond Ragnarok to the edge of the night where the mad gods make bonfires of worn-out suns where space itself serves the mad squirrel.”

Gunnar paused to mutter a few words to himself and then looked up at Odin with the old smile on his broad face. “Oh, well, a man must go as far as his heart will take him ”

But for all his big talk, Gunnar tossed and muttered that night. And once, Odin heard him cry out “So, Hagen, the stars swing right at last, and you are mine for the taking. Oh, my lost little boys and my lost little girl ”

And Gunnar, the strong one, sobbed in his sleep.

The ship was loaded at last. The time for departure was near. The crew of The Nebula over two hundred men, women and children went quietly into the tunnel. Thousands of relatives and friends had come to the Tower to see them off. There was little weeping though most of the faces were sad and lined.

Ato and Wolden had some last words with the captains who were working upon the rebuilding of Opal.

“We can talk to you from the moon,” Wolden was saying. “Beyond that, when we swing into the Fourth Drive, we cannot. May your work prosper.”

The last man had filed up the ramp to the sphere at the center of the hour-glass shaped craft. The door was finally closed and sealed.

There were no portholes in the Nebula. But at least a dozen screens were mounted at convenient locations. These showed the outside world as clearly as a window.

The ship moved along its rails to the Great Door. The door opened. Then it closed behind them. The second door the one that opened upon the sea slowly parted and slid back into the walls of the tunnel. The water poured in. For a second or two, all that Odin could see was swirling bubbling water. Then water was all around them. Seaweed still swirled in mad little whirlpools. A fish swam close to an outside scanner, and seemed to peer closer and closer at them until there was only one great staring eye upon the screen. Then it flirted its tail at them and sped away.

The ship moved on. Far out upon the floor of the Gulf, it paused. There were twenty minutes of last-minute checking.

Then, swiftly, as a cork bobs upward, the Nebula arose through the parting waters.

Then the sea was below them and they were still rising. The scanner showed the sea receding. They were looking down at a segment of a curved world. Far away was land, and Odin saw two dark specks in the distance which he thought were Galveston and Houston. The world below them became half of a sphere that filled the viewer. And then it was a turning globe, growing smaller and smaller. As it diminished, the stars winked out on the screen’s background.

The sensation of rushing upward was no worse than being in a fast elevator. And yet, as Odin watched the earth recede, he realized that they must have risen from the water at a speed much faster than a bullet.

Soon the earth appeared no larger than a basketball. The viewers were changed. The moon appeared upon it a growing sphere, with its mountains and craters all silver and black in the reflected light.

Wolden turned to Odin. “See how it is done. We left there quietly. Not a drop of water entered Opal. We left so fast that I doubt if your world even noticed us. Grim Hagen always loved the sensational. There was no need for the havoc that he made ”

In less than an hour, the onrushing moon filled the screens. And with scarcely a quiver of excitement the Nebula circled it swiftly and landed.