soon as we work it out.  It means that the inertia-mass which increases with speed—­Einstein’s stuff—­is not a property of matter, but of space, just as the air-resistance that increases when an airplane goes faster is a property of air and not of the plane.  Maybe we need to work out a theory that all inertia is a property of space.  We’ll see if we need that.  But anyhow, just as a plane can go faster in thin air, so matter—­any matter—­will move faster in this field as soon as we get the trick of it.  You see?”

Holden shook his head.

“What’s that got in it to make Dabney famous?” he asked.

“Jamison will extrapolate from there,” Cochrane assured him.  “Go ahead, Jamison.  You’re on.”

Jamison said promptly, with the hypnotic smoothness of the practiced professional: 

“When this development has been completed, not only will messages be sent at multiples of the speed of light, but matter!  Ships!  The barrier to the high destiny of mankind; the limitation of our race to a single planet of a minor sun—­these handicaps crash and will shatter as the great minds of humanity bend their efforts to make the Dabney faster-than-light principle the operative principle of our ships.  There are thousands of millions of suns in our galaxy, and not less than one in three has planets, and among these myriads of unknown worlds there will be thousands with seas and land and clouds and continents, fit for men to enter upon, there to rear their cities.  There will be starships roaming distant sun-clusters, and landing on planets in the Milky Way.  We ourselves will see freight-lines to Rigel and Arcturus, and journey on passenger-liners singing through the void to Andromeda and Aldebaran!  Dabney has made the first breach in the barrier to the illimitable greatness of humanity!”

Then he stopped and said professionally: 

“I can polish that up a bit, of course.  All right?”

“Fair,” conceded Cochrane.  He turned to Holden.  “How about a public-relations job on that order?  Won’t that sort of publicity meet the requirements?  Will your patient be satisfied with that grade of appreciation?”

Holden drew a deep breath.  He said unsteadily: 

“As a neurotic personality, he won’t require that it be true.  All he’ll want is the seeming.  But—­Jed, could it be really true?  Could it?”

Cochrane laughed unpleasantly.  He did not admire himself.  His laughter showed it.

“What do you want?” he demanded.  “You got me a job I didn’t want.  You shoved it down my throat!  Now there’s the way to get it done!  What more can you ask?”

Holden winced.  Then he said heavily: 

“I’d like for it to be true.”

Jones moved suddenly.  He said in an oddly surprised voice: 

“D’you know, it can be!  I didn’t realize!  It can be true!  I can make a ship go faster than light!”

Cochrane said with exquisite irony: