Jan did not answer.

"It would perhaps be better for you to cooperate." The Prophet glanced meaningfully toward the African.

"It's no secret. About 100 passengers and a crew of 50."

"About standard size. I suppose about half of your men are on duty."

"Yeah."

"And that is enough to man the ship on a peaceful mission?"

"I have no intention of manning the ship right away."

"I will decide that. We blast off as soon as we can get to Chicago."

"You'll get mighty hungry in space. The ship isn't provisioned."

"We have an airtruck loaded with standard rations. There is no use discussing the matter. You and your men will cooperate or die. Brother Samuel, take charge of the prisoner."

The Prophet arose and walked slowly to the platform beside the Crescent. The singing stopped.

"The time for departure has come. The chosen ones will come forward. Sister Jessie, will you 'phone the hangar?" Brother Samuel marched Jan over to the chosen group.

Jan looked at the hundred men and women and decided that it would be hard to find a better band of pioneers. They were stalwart, healthy, very serious young people.

The multitude began a great throbbing hymn of farewell. It continued until two huge airtrucks, one for passengers and one loaded with freight, arrived, landing carefully at the edge of the crowd.

Jan had been looking for his friend of the night. Finally he found her standing between two powerful females. She did not see him. She seemed to be looking and listening to something far away. Jan realized that she had discovered a new meaning in existence. "Goodbye, baby," he said to himself.

Each pioneer was being issued a blaster as he or she entered the passenger airtruck. The African, Jan, and the Prophet were the last to enter. The Prophet stood for a moment on the last step and raised his arms in benediction. They took off 

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