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any of those other reporters who have been prowling around and phoning in do." Elshawe shrugged silently and puffed at his pipe. Malcom Porter's ego was showing through. He was wrong on two counts. Elshawe didn't like him; the man's arrogance and his inflated opinion of himself as a scientific genius didn't sit well with the
anything but a rocket motor in that hull outside. A new, more powerful kind of rocket perhaps--otherwise Porter wouldn't be trying to take a one-stage rocket to the Moon. But a rocket, nonetheless. "I don't want to go back to prison," Porter continued, "but I'll risk that if I have to. But I won't risk death just yet. Don't worry; the Army won't know I'm even gone until I'm halfway to the Moon." "Foo!" said Elshawe. "Every radar base from Albuquerque to the Mexican border has an antenna focused on the air above this ranch. The minute you get above those mountains, they'll have a fix on you, and a minute after that, they'll have you bracketed with Cobras. "Why don't you let the Government inspectors look it over and give you an O.K.? What makes you think they're all out to steal your invention?" "Oh, they won't _steal_ it," Porter said bitterly. "Heaven's-to-Betsy _no_! But this invention of mine will mean that the United States of America will be in complete control of the planets and the space between. When the Government wants a piece of property,
they try to buy it at their price; if they can't do that, they condemn it and pay the owner what they think it's worth--not what the owner thinks it's worth. The same thing applies here; they'd give me what they thought I ought
to have--in ten years or so. Look what happened to Fermi. "No, Elshawe; when the Government comes begging
to me for this invention, they can have it--on _my_ terms." "Going to keep it a secret, eh? You can't keep a thing like that secret. Look what happened with atomic energy after World W
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