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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83dea25 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69299 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69299) diff --git a/old/69299-0.txt b/old/69299-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3241af2..0000000 --- a/old/69299-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6217 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Men into space, by Murray Leinster - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Men into space - -Author: Murray Leinster - -Release Date: November 6, 2022 [eBook #69299] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN INTO SPACE *** - - - - - - MEN INTO SPACE - - By Murray Leinster - - COPYRIGHT © 1960 BY ZIV TELEVISION PRODUCTIONS, INC. - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any - evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - _All rights reserved_ - - BERKLEY EDITION, OCTOBER, 1960 - - _BERKLEY MEDALLION BOOKS are published by - The Berkley Publishing Corporation - 101 Fifth Avenue, New York 3, New York_ - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - - _IN OUTER SPACE_ - -There was no sensation of weight. Nothing weighed anything. Nothing -could be considered light or heavy. The difference in weight between -a copper penny and the ship itself was imaginary. They had different -masses, but both would weigh the same--zero. McCauley suddenly turned -off the silent air-circulator of the cabin. He struck a match. The -flame flared, but not as a rising leaf-shape. It was a perfect ball of -incandescence. But it did not continue to burn. It went out, and a ball -of white smokiness remained where the flame had been.... - - - - _MEN INTO SPACE_ - - - - - _1_ - - - (When Ed McCauley was a very young officer--in fact, a new-made - first lieutenant, space travel was restricted to robots. They did - good work, for robots, but it wasn't enough. No man had ever gone - up in a rocket. Nobody had ever gone up--let alone land safely. So - the time came when somebody had to. And in those very early days - McCauley volunteered for the job and managed to get it.) - -First Lieutenant Ed McCauley opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, -wondering drowsily why this morning seemed so much more satisfying -and important than any other. He'd had a good sleep, even though he -remembered vaguely that he'd had a hard time dropping off. Now the -sunlight came through the window blind in slatted streaks, the wall was -a pale tan, and he was lying on an iron cot, his uniform neatly draped -over a chair. Then he heard voices and the clattering of china, and -suddenly he remembered where he was and what was important about today. - -Today was the day of the shoot. The rocket shoot. It wasn't going to -be big and spectacular, with a multiple-stage giant looming so high -that a man couldn't see the payload capsule on top without his neck -creaking. There'd be no giant gantry crane hovering over a slim but -monstrous missile with its hundreds of plugged-in wires recording -the performances of some tens of thousands of separate parts, all of -which had to work perfectly if one part were to be any good. Even the -electric wires had to pull clear perfectly when the gantry crane rolled -back a matter of seconds before the end of the count down. - -No. This shoot wouldn't be spectacular. There weren't even any -reporters around. Official Service cameramen would record what -happened; and if all went well there'd be plenty of excitement about -it later, and if all didn't go well it wouldn't matter too much. This -time there was no publicity buildup. Nobody'd be disappointed if things -went wrong. The only person who'd feel badly was First Lieutenant Ed -McCauley, and he wouldn't feel it too keenly. In fact, he wouldn't feel -anything. - -He'd be dead. - -He considered the idea for a moment, but when a person is First -Lieutenant McCauley's age, dying is something that happens to somebody -else. You can't imagine it happening to you. It's a sort of reverse of -being born, but you can't imagine that either, though it happened. - -He sat up and kicked his feet over the side of the cot. He felt a -little bit relieved. He was excited, now that he remembered what was -in the works for today, but it wasn't a solemn feeling. He got up and -looked at himself in the small square mirror over the washstand. He -looked exactly as he always did. He felt the same way. Well-l, maybe -a little more awake and alive than usual, because he'd been horribly -afraid that something would happen and the shoot would be called off. -But it hadn't--so far. - -He went down the hall to the showers, trailing a towel over his -shoulder. He showered, thinking zestfully about the prospects. There'd -be no trouble about the weather. At this base clouds were exceptional -and a cloud cover that hindered even visual tracking was almost -unknown. Suddenly he wanted to sing, but he restrained himself. As -lucky as he felt, it might sound like showing off. - -The door of the shower room opened and somebody came in. - -"Hi, National Hero. You in there?" It was Randy's voice, slightly -sardonic. - -"Ain't nobody here but us chickens, boss," McCauley answered -cheerfully. "Nary a hero." - -Randy grunted. - -"How d'you feel, Ed?" - -"Wet," said McCauley. He turned off the shower and began to towel -himself. When he emerged, Randy searched his face, his anxiety showing -on his own. - -"Nope," said McCauley, "the condemned man's got a good appetite for -breakfast. Quit worrying about me, Randy!" - -"If you'd only slipped on your soap and broken your doggone neck," -Randy complained, "a good guy might've gotten a chance to take your -place!" - -McCauley grinned. Randy would give his eyeteeth to take his place -today. Anybody would. McCauley still worried that even now something -would spoil things, but he'd been worrying for months. He'd been jumpy -ever since the rumor first went around that sometime soon somebody was -going up in a rocket and coming down again. Nobody ever had. Up to this -morning it was still waiting to be done. But somebody--in fact, he -himself--should do it today. This was why today was the most special -day of his life. - -Back in his quarters he shaved, marveling at the luck of the man he saw -in the mirror. Three--four--five months ago he'd been telling himself -that he didn't have a chance of being picked, even though he was sure -he'd put in for it as soon as anybody had. He'd hoped he'd been the -first to apply, but actually he was one of two hundred. They'd winnowed -the applicants, though, and four months ago twenty were left, and then -only ten. Now there was only himself in first place, with four other -bitterly envious characters--Randy was one of them--wishing he'd break -his neck so they could go in his place. - -But nothing like that would happen if he could help it. Washing the -shaving soap off his face, he found himself praying that everything -would go all right. He didn't think of asking that he come down safely; -after all, he could insure his safety by backing out. He just asked -that he'd be all right when they checked him over, and that the count -down would go all right, and that he'd get up to where the sky turned -purple and then black and he saw the stars shining bright, with the sun -among them as the nearest and greatest star of all. And he prayed that -he'd do the right things while he was up there so the shoot would be a -success. - -He settled his uniform and went to breakfast. Randy had ordered for him -and was waiting. Randy still looked worried. He'd tried hard for the -job for himself, but now he was afraid that his friend McCauley might -not check out. That the rocket might not check out. That when he got -up there something might go wrong. That coming down would be bad. - -"Soft-boiled," said McCauley appreciatively, breaking an egg. "My -favorite fruit!" - -"Do you really feel okay, Ed?" asked Randy. - -McCauley grinned again, which was answer enough. Maybe he felt too -good. He probably should tone down a little. After all, this shoot -with a man as the payload wasn't a pleasure trip. It was research. It -was an operation to verify other research. The medicos believed they -knew what the psychological, physiological, and emotional effects of -long-continued weightlessness would be. They needed to know how a -normal man like McCauley would react to the unparalleled environment -of nearer space. It was high-altitude research, primarily to enable -planes to fly faster. A plane could be powered right now so that its -wings would melt at sea level because of the heat its speed produced. -The only way to reach theoretical top speed in a plane was to fly it -away up. There was a thermal barrier to really high-speed flight. The -only way around this barrier was over it, and it was necessary to -find out how a man would make out in that detour. The Service had a -long-established custom of spending a dollar instead of a man; now it -had not to spend a man perhaps, but to risk one. And McCauley was the -man. - -He felt remarkably good, knowing that presently he should be where no -man had ever been before, seeing with his own eyes that the earth was -round. It struck him suddenly that everybody else in the world had only -indirect evidence for believing this. He'd be the first man to know -this for a fact simply because he'd gone up to where he would see the -earth as a ball. - -"No shivers?" asked Randy presently, as if in envy. "Wouldn't you -rather not and say you did? I'll take over for you!" - -"Don't tempt me!" said McCauley, pushing his cup across the table. "And -how about some more coffee?" - -Randy grunted. Maybe he'd been ordered to do some kidding, so McCauley -wouldn't get the wind up. But it didn't matter to Ed. If only -everything went all right at the blockhouse everything would have to -go all right all along the line. But the chance that things might -be fouled up there made him want to keep his fingers crossed. Yes. -The blockhouse was the big hurdle. Anything that happened after that -wouldn't be failure on his part. He wanted to pray again, this time -about the blockhouse. But he didn't. - -The two men left the officers'-quarters building together. There was a -jeep waiting, with Sergeant Hall at its wheel. - -"Mornin', Lieuten't. How you feeling?" - -The sergeant looked at McCauley with the same combination of envy and -anxiety that Randy had shown--envy for what McCauley had ahead of him, -anxiety for whether he felt all right so that he could go through with -it. - -"Look!" said McCauley, annoyed. "I'm all right! There's nothing to -worry about! The thing's been done before with instruments, dummies, -monkeys, and now it's me. I'm just another ape. That's all! For the -love of Saint Aloysius stop worrying!" - -Sergeant Hall let in the clutch. - -"Okay, Lieuten't," he said mildly. "I was just going to wish you good -luck." - -"Cross your fingers against the medics," said McCauley dourly. "I never -liked doctors. I've got to get by some of them." - -He settled back in the jeep and it went bolting out into the already -blazing sunlight beyond the shadow of the building. - -The landscape wasn't pretty--sun-baked clay and sand on the road, -and mesquite and more mesquite all around. The sunshine was hotter -here than anywhere else in the world. It was still long before noon, -but already the horizon shimmered in the heat and occasional little -sand-devils rose up half-heartedly and then subsided as if it were too -hot even for whirlwinds. Far away there were the mountains. McCauley -had gone over there once, and they'd towered impossibly toward the sky. -But presently he'd have trouble picking them out because they'd be -so small and the ground so nearly flat. Heat beat up from the ground -and through the windshield. After a quarter of an hour he could see -the spindly launching tower--no gantry cranes here!--above one of the -ridges over which the jeep went rolling, kicking up a monstrous cloud -of yellow dust behind it. - -McCauley didn't mind the heat. He felt remarkably aware of being alive -and breathing, of the sunlight, and of a wrinkle in his pants on the -jeep seat. After a little he saw the flat roof of the blockhouse. Then -he felt scared. He was afraid of the blockhouse. There'd be a last -checkup to make sure he was perfectly all right, perfectly normal, no -more tense than the doctors decided was allowable, and so on. His heart -began to pound a little and he agonized over it. If they decided it was -acting queer.... - -He found himself praying again. Please, God, don't let them find -anything wrong with me! I want so much to do this! - -Randy didn't look at him. A good guy, Randy. He'd know it was panic -over those doggone doctors poking stethoscopes at him and going off to -mutter together about what they'd heard. - -"Randy, if I look scared, it's because I am," McCauley said between -his teeth. "There's a medic in that blockhouse who wanted his -brother-in-law to get this job. He'd be just the kind to mess me up -now!" - -Randy offered a cigarette. McCauley shook his head. - -The blockhouse was sunk in the dry earth. It was concrete, yards thick, -with nothing visible from this side except a deep-sunk door in the -wall. On the other side there was a narrow slit to look out of, and -there were periscopes and in a pit over yonder the close-by trackers. -There were other trackers in other spots--as far away as the mountains. -But there wasn't much of anything to be seen here. - -... No. There was the rocket. One of the new big Aerobees. Nothing -fancy about it. The Atlas and the long-distance jobs generally -got all the publicity these days. But the Aerobees were solid and -workmanlike, veteran performers. Fancy hardware broke the records and -was what people meant when they talked about missiles and rockets, but -Aerobees were the workhorses that went up without fanfare, got the -information they were sent up for, and got it back down again. It was -an Aerobee that had proved matter-of-factly that most of the stuff in -the textbooks about the upper air simply wasn't so. Aerobees were the -first to disprove the belief that the tropopause was a motionless, -featureless calm belt up aloft. Aerobees brought back conclusive -evidence of vertical currents in that supposed utter calm, currents -that shot upward at three hundred meters per second. And it was -Aerobees that brought back proof of ultraviolet light reaching Earth -on its dark side, so the theory boys could go quietly mad figuring out -where the light came from. - -Yes. The pointed nose and sleek shape of the Aerobee was a comfort, -standing by its straight-up launching tower. McCauley'd seen dozens of -shoots of Aerobees. He felt the affection a man feels for something -that does its job competently and casually, day in and day out, when -called upon to do it. - -The jeep stopped. Randy got out and McCauley followed him. The sergeant -opened his mouth but thought better of it. He drove away without saying -anything more about luck. - -The doorway of the blockhouse was cool. Inside, as the door closed -behind him, McCauley felt the air-conditioned chill and the clatter -of the place almost as if he'd been struck a blow. There were people -everywhere. Practically everybody wore a phone headset and chest -microphone and everybody was talking to somebody somewhere else, paying -no attention to anyone nearby. - -McCauley stood still, waiting to be told where to go. Somebody called -to him: - -"The docs aren't ready for you yet, Lieutenant. You're early." - -"Okay," McCauley said. "Where'll I go to get out of the way?" - -It didn't look as if anybody else could possibly wait around in the -blockhouse without further fouling up the already-present confusion. - -"Let's go look at the transportation," Randy suggested. - -McCauley shrugged and followed Randy outside. It was comforting that -nobody paid any attention to him. At least the people in charge of the -shoot weren't worrying about his not being okayed for the job. - -In the sunshine again, he saw familiar things. The close-by trackers -in their pits, sunk below ground level in case something blew. The -telemeter receivers looked like huge wire bowls, decorated with rolls -of toilet tissue, aimed at the sky. They moved back and forth, testing. -They'd get back telemetered information and sort it out and make -tapes of it, and whoever read those tapes would know more about what -was happening than McCauley did. A telemetering system will sample a -practically indefinite number of instrument readings three hundred -times a second and send back the information in wild banshee howls or -else in scratchy noises that sound like all the static in the world -coming out of one loud-speaker. - -Even so, things were better than they used to be, for there was a -time when not nearly so much information got back. For that matter, -McCauley'd heard about the tame German scientist--formerly of -Peenemünde--who used to stand out in the open behind the blockhouse -when those first rockets went up, sweating and squinting and saying, -"Goot!" "Goot!" as long as he could see that things were going well, -and sputtering despairingly and unintelligibly in German when they went -wrong. - -They went wrong pretty often in the beginning, back ten years or so -ago. There was the time a rocket went up and simply vanished. All the -trackers lost it and nobody had the least idea where it'd gone. All the -men sat around biting their nails and wondering where in blazes it was. -Finally there'd been a telephone call from a woman in Alamogordo. She'd -managed to reach someone with authority to route her call though to the -blockhouse. - -"Ah hear you folks are shootin' up rockets," she said in an indignant -drawl. "Well, you-all better come an' get your rocket outa my backyard -right now!" - -It had landed in her backyard, many miles away, and it had missed her -house by no more than twenty feet. - -Another time--a long, long while ago--a V-2 tied itself into knots and -headed for Mexico. When it came down near Juarez, all the Mexicans for -miles around came on the run with hacksaws. After they'd cut off pieces -of it for "space souvenirs," there wasn't much left to be hauled back -to base.... - -McCauley followed Randy around to the front. They walked over the hot -sandy ground to the launching tower. There was a fuel truck there, and -the sickly-sweet but bitter smell of hydrazine. The fueling gang wore -plastic coveralls with hoods and clear plastic faceplates. McCauley -knew this process; he'd helped with it. But today he kept carefully -out of the way. The fueling gang was finicky about its work. Each man -was extravagantly careful not to spill a drop of hydrazine, because if -somebody stepped on a drop that had spilled and then, later on, stepped -on a drop of nitric that had spilled, he'd have a hotfoot to end all -hotfoots--on that foot, anyhow, because he wouldn't have it any longer. - -The hydrazine topped off. The truck went away, with everything -carefully closed up lest a drop of anything spill on to the ground. The -fueling gang went to change coveralls, for they wore coveralls of a -different color when they were going to load up the nitric acid. Never -the twain--hydrazine and nitric--should meet until pumped together into -a rocket engine. - -The Aerobee was tall and sleek and smooth and streamlined, but now -there were ladders leaning against it. Somebody was working through a -door in the sidewall. McCauley went around and glanced at the guide -rail. The Aerobee used a short-time booster to start up. The booster -ran up the rail to the top of the launching tower and then landed -somewhere nearby. But the Aerobee would keep on going. By the time it -reached the top of the tower and the end of the guide rail, it should -be going fast enough for its fins to have some grip on the air. When -the air got too thin to be of any use, the steam-jets working from the -fin tips should guide it. - -The nitric acid truck came slowly into position. It didn't cross -the track the hydrazine truck had taken, and stopped in an -entirely different place; the fueling crew reappeared, in their -different-colored plastic coveralls. The precautions taken against the -premature introduction of hydrazine and nitric acid were remarkable. - -McCauley let himself look up once at the nose-cone. He'd tried it on -for size before. In it, he was going to have to take the launching jolt -of more gees than any jet pilot has to be prepared for. But he felt a -serene confidence that he could do it. - -Then somebody called: - -"Hey! Lieutenant! They want you back at the blockhouse!" - -McCauley turned back obediently. The fuel gang was pumping in the -nitric as he left. It stank, and he knew that if the smell gets under -the faceplate of your hood you throw back the hood and faceplate -together and gasp for breath. He realized that he wasn't breathing too -easily. The doctors were going to make their final check on him, and -what they said would be it. He felt the familiar panicky conviction -that they'd find something wrong with him. For instance, panic would be -something wrong. - -He caught hold of himself as he and Randy entered the blockhouse. -Somehow the confusion and busyness of everybody there were reassuring. -On the way to where the doctors waited, he heard people talking into -telephones about wind velocities and barometric pressures and how in -thunder did that civilian automobile get into the test area? Somebody -had to get it out fast, because there was a shoot on, in case nobody'd -heard. The last was pure sarcasm. - -Anyhow the technical crew thought he was all right. So McCauley -submitted himself to the doctors in a sort of truculent readiness to -put up an argument if they said anything critical of his condition or -his readiness to go where nobody had ever gone before. With everything -else all ready, they'd have a nerve to suggest anything but a go-ahead! - -They took his blood pressure and did a cardiogram, and they put a tape -around his chest and a stylus drew a crazy curve which showed the -way he was breathing. Then they took samples of his breath and his -blood and other body fluids, and his temperature and the electrical -resistance of his skin and forty-seven other things. They'd done all -this before. They'd done it while he was resting and while he was -taking hard exercise, when he was tired and when he'd just waked up -from a good night's sleep. - -They had blown-up pictures of every square inch of his skin, so they -could check for sputters at high altitude. A sputter might occur if -a cosmic particle at just the right speed happened to hit him. He -hadn't any privacy left. The docs knew everything about him, except -that he was absolutely the right person for man's first ascent in a -pure rocket, and his return to Earth in one piece. No rocket had ever -landed intact, of course. They smashed. Invariably. But a way had been -worked out to get instruments back unshattered. That was the way he'd -land. - -One of the doctors nodded. - -"With that pulse rate your system's pumping out plenty of adrenalin. -That's good!" - -McCauley relaxed a little. He watched as they checked his reflexes. He -could tell that they looked all right, anyway. They gave him a pencil -and timed him while he did a page of IQ stuff. In the past few weeks -they'd established his personal norm for all sorts of things, and now -they were checking to see whether anticipation pushed him too far -off normal. He began to sweat when he realized that he needed to act -exactly as usual, and they knew it, and he sweated more because of it. -They checked him over as they would a guinea pig before an experiment, -only he was the guinea pig. But he was desperately anxious for all this -to be over and for the experiment to start. - -Presently they finished and looked at each other and nodded. Then one -of them said, "You'll do," and McCauley went almost sick with relief. -Then, infuriatingly, he knew from their expressions that they'd looked -for exactly that reaction. He couldn't do anything they wouldn't -analyze and think about. And he burned a little, but it was all right. -Everything was all right! - -When Ed came out to the main part of the blockhouse again, Randy knew -from his expression that he'd been checked out for the flight, but he -asked politely: - -"Mother and child doing well?" - -By that time McCauley wanted to hug somebody for sheer joy, but instead -he said sedately, - -"The doc says I'm a boy." - -But just the same he was almost weak from the reaction to the ending of -his fears about what the doctors might decide. He looked at his watch. -Just about on schedule. Over in a corner somebody with a headphone -and chest mike was marking off items on a list he had before him. He -said, "Telemeter circuits," and paused. A voice evidently sounded in -his headphones, because he made a checkmark with his pencil. Then he -said, "Tracker circuits," and waited, and made another checkmark. As -McCauley walked on to where his voice was drowned out, he was still -saying toneless things into his chest mike and making checkmarks after -unhearable replies. - -Randy closed the door of the cubicle where McCauley would put on the -grav-suit. It was skin-tight and festooned all over with stray bits of -equipment. Randy helped him get into it. - -"Lucky son-of-a-gun!" he said conversationally. "How do the Irish get -all the breaks?" - -"Clean living," McCauley told him, "and a drag with the top brass." - -It wasn't so, of course. Not the top brass part, anyhow. - -His arm caught in the right sleeve and Randy helped him straighten -it. There were peculiar tubes built into the fabric. They were all -hooked to a grav-valve that would let compressed air into them at a -suitable pressure to tighten the suit and fight the tendency of his -blood and inner organs to be left behind when his bones and flesh were -accelerated by the full thrust of the rocket. A man wasn't built to -stand the acceleration he had to take. But the grav-suit would make up -the difference. - -He turned slowly around, and Randy inspected everything with the -jealous care of somebody who'll never forgive himself if anything goes -wrong. Presently he said: - -"Flip it--but be careful!" - -McCauley touched the test-stud. The tubes expanded. The suit tightened. -It felt as if it were going to try to squeeze his whole body out -through the neck. He lifted his hand and the squeezing stopped. Randy -screwed up the test-stud so it couldn't flip on by accident. He felt -of the chute-pack that was part of the suit, with the wide straps that -went around McCauley's body and thighs. He checked the four trailing -cables--each with a different-shaped plug on its end--that would pass -along all the suit-instrumentation news to the telemeter transmitter. - -Then Randy nodded worriedly and gave McCauley a cigarette. - -"It looks okay," he said. But he fretted. - -"Everything's okay," said McCauley. - -He puffed contentedly. When the cigarette was half-smoked, somebody -tapped on the door. - -"You can get aboard, Lieutenant." - -McCauley stood up. Randy opened the door for him and he went ambling -clumsily through the blockhouse toward the exit. He heard a toneless -voice say: "Crash wagon two"; then the man listened and made a -checkmark. Somebody else snapped: "Tell the idiot that we're trying to -keep him out of range of a few tons of hardware that'll be coming down -out of the sky presently. Sit on his head!" That would be the official -response to the civilian motorist's objection to being kept safely off -the test site when a shoot was on. - -McCauley went on out into the open air. He felt weighty and clumsy -and cumbersome. He went around the blockhouse and into the blazing -sunshine. The fueling crew was finished, but they hadn't left. They -waited to watch him go aboard. There was a ladder leaning against the -Aerobee. McCauley plodded heavily to the foot of it. He put his foot on -the first rung and turned to Randy. - -"Here I go." - -"Yeah," said Randy. He didn't smile. He couldn't. But he did have a -fine air of nonchalance as he said, "See you soon." - -There was no handshake. It would have been too much like saying -good-by. McCauley started up the ladder. - -It was a long climb; and three-quarters of the way up, with all the -assorted gimmicks and the clumsy chute-pack banging against his -buttocks, he began to breathe fast. Once he stepped on a trailing -cable. He looked down and was annoyed to find that the height bothered -him--a man who would presently be up many miles higher than any man had -ever been before. And this was only tens of feet, yet he felt giddy! He -didn't look down again. - -He reached the door in the nose-cone and climbed in. He'd practiced -it. He felt easier when he was inside. Up here, on top of several tons -of rocket fuel, he felt safer because there was a floor under him. He -grimaced at the foolishness of it. Rocket fuel is highly explosive; -a rocket works because a continuous explosion is taking place in its -engine. But McCauley felt safer sitting on enough hydrazine and nitric -to blow him to atoms than coming up a narrow, springy ladder. - -Laboriously he settled himself. The acceleration chair had been -tailored to fit him in this suit. He got the trailing cables clear and -made himself comfortable. Then he waited. He could stir a little, but -not much. It was, of course, extremely comforting to be able to move -his feet in even limited swings. - -The nose-cone door darkened. Somebody reached in and plugged the cables -into their proper sockets. He hauled straps from nowhere and buckled -them. - -"Here's your helmet, Lieutenant," he said. - -"Thanks," said McCauley. - -He put it on. Air began to flow past his face and he knew that all the -gadgets in his suit were hooked in, and that back in the blockhouse -they could count his breaths and tell how deep they were, they were -getting a continuous cardiogram to tell how his heart was working, and -they had a running record of his blood pressure. If he panicked now -they'd know it. The man outside the nose-cone door poked around like -a hen fussing over a solitary chick. McCauley wished he'd go away. A -voice sounded in the helmet earphones. - -"_Checking phones. Do you hear me?_" - -"Sure," said McCauley. "I hear all right." - -The phones clicked and were silent. The nose-cone door closed and -McCauley was alone. Somehow he felt naked, because he knew that -everything he felt and almost everything he thought was going on record -via telemeter in the blockhouse. It was dark here.... No, two small -electric bulbs were glowing. One was a spare. He saw the stuff laid out -for later. - -He knew what went on outside, but it was what was going on inside -him that disturbed him. He didn't want the instruments in his suit -to report anything wrong. He wanted to do this job right! For that -reason he was consciously patient while he knew that men clinging to -the launching tower were pulling away the last-minute cords that had -been reporting everything functioning just right. Then everybody'd -be getting out of the way. The Aerobee stood silent and still above -a concrete pit filled with water. Somebody would use a last few -seconds to coil up a cable that should have been put away before. -In seconds now, though, everyone would pop out of sight. Over by the -mountains they'd be working the trackers there to make sure they were -all right. There'd be the warning blast. It ought to be about now. -Ten--nine--eight-- - -A voice came into the helmet phones. - -"_Forty seconds more, Lieutenant. Everything's going fine so far!_" - -McCauley had a momentary impulse to try to make some crack or other -that would be appropriate, express how he felt, and so on. But he -didn't feel as he'd expected to. And anything like that would sound -like showing off. So he just answered matter-of-factly: - -"That's good." - -He waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. - -The voice in his helmet phones said abruptly: - -"_Ten seconds ... Nine ... Eight ... Seven ... Six ... Five ... -Four ... Three ... Two ... One...._" - -During the last second McCauley remembered to put his arms in the -armrests, because the acceleration was going to be all he could take. -_All._ If his arms hung down, the blood would engorge his fingers and -swell them to uselessness. He was already scrounged down in place, and -he had his chin in the chinrest of the helmet--the whole helmet had a -fitting to support it--so if he blacked out his tongue wouldn't slide -back down his throat and strangle him. - -Something hit him. It hit him all over at the same instant, as if he -were being slammed in a million places by a million six-ounce gloves -all at once. Something grabbed his legs and squeezed his belly and -blew air in his face, and the roar was numbing, but he didn't remember -hearing it begin. He'd expected all of it but he reacted by quite -automatically getting raging mad. He knew he was on the way up and he -felt thrilled and furious and he hurt all over, simultaneously. - -It was agony, but if he could have grinned he'd have done it. -Everything had gone off all right! Nothing was wrong! It was too late -for anything to stop the shoot now! It was happening! - -His stomach felt terrifically tight against the corset-like front of -the grav-suit. The legs squeezed--hard! That puff of wind was extra air -pressure to protect his lungs. He suffered, and he was half blind, and -he fought for breath, but that extra air pressure helped a lot. All the -blood tried to come down out of his brain and his cheeks sagged and his -ears would have flopped down if it weren't for the headphones holding -them flat against his head. - -Suddenly things were easier. The booster'd burned out and dropped -off. McCauley remembered to grunt, to say that he hadn't lost -consciousness in the first intolerable getaway acceleration. The two -small electric bulbs had seemed to turn reddish. He made a mental note -to mention it presently. The pressure was still monstrous. He seemed -to weigh tons--actually he did weigh an appreciable part of one--but -his weight was less than it had been. That first slamming was the -take-off, lasting barely seconds though it felt like long minutes. This -second-stage acceleration would last more than a minute. It would seem -like hours. - -It did. McCauley's muscles were already getting weary of lifting -his whole chest for breathing when a voice said in the phones: -"_Beautiful shoot! Beautiful! Everything's going fine!_" He grunted -in acknowledgment. It would be too much effort to talk. Also he felt -an obscure anger, which was his body's reaction to the unreasonable -suffering imposed upon it. A little green light flashed, and he was -supposed to grunt at it, and he did. - -He grunted a second time when it flashed again. Quickly. A third and -fourth and fifth time. Something would be learned from the quickness -with which he could respond to signals during this second-stage thrust. -A pause, and the green light flashed and kept on flashing too fast for -him to respond, and he said, "Cripes!" very wearily. Then it stopped. - -The roaring went on and on, and abruptly there were violent coughings -below. Instantly his head tried to split wide open because the -acceleration ceased between two heartbeats, while his heart kept on -trying to pump blood against a static head which was many times normal, -and suddenly there was no static head at all. There was no gravity to -be pumped against. There was no weight to anything. Then his heart -tried to adjust to that, and it skipped beats, and all his insides that -had been dragged downward now rose up and tried to climb out of his -throat. - -He gagged and swallowed. - -"Okay!" he panted. "In free fall! The light changed to reddish but it's -back to normal. I feel fighting mad. Over." - -"_First puzzle_," said a brisk voice in the headphones. - -McCauley reached out into the arrangement of objects before him. He -took out a puzzle. It wasn't complicated, but he had to recognize it -and then remember how to do it. He tossed it aside, finished, and his -working time was undoubtedly recorded. The voice said: - -"_Name two things in the same class among these: robin, shovel, tree, -ibis, shark._" - -McCauley answered. Again the time was noted. This was straight IQ -stuff, to see how soon and how well his brain was functioning after the -beating he'd taken in the booster-stage take-off and the second-stage -acceleration of the rocket itself. He knew what it was all about, -even when they told him to solve puzzle six, and then four, and then -asked more silly questions. He responded as well as he could, with -no idea how good that was. But he felt a great irrational anger and -indignation. When he was asked to recite a paragraph of prose he'd -memorized for the exact purpose of reciting it, on demand, he recited -it. But he was unreasonably angry. It was his body's response to the -suffering just past. - -Presently he snapped: - -"Doggone it, I want to see something!" - -"_Go ahead_," said the voice from the ground. "_But keep on talking. It -doesn't matter what you say. Talk._" - -He pressed the button that slid the port shutters aside. The shutters -were necessary. There'd been terrific heat outside when the nose-cone -flung upward through the denser lower atmosphere near ground level. He -looked eagerly out. - -For a moment he couldn't speak. He saw the horizon as an almost white -line against a star-specked black sky. It was curved! There were -innumerable flecks of whiteness--they'd be clouds--below him; they grew -thicker farther away. He saw the ocean, which was hundreds of miles -away. The world visibly tilted downwards, downhill away from him. He -looked below and it was paradoxically a bowl. Quite close he saw a -fleeting, rushing, tormented spurt of vapor which vanished instantly. -It was a steam-jet correcting yaw or spin or tumbling, up here where -the air was so thin that the fins themselves could take no grip on it. - -Years ago, when a WAC corporal made the first flight up to the then -incredible height of two hundred and fifty miles, the machine turned -end for end five times as it rose, and its tumbling made no difference. -It was practically in a vacuum. McCauley was higher than that, already. -But this Aerobee pointed straight, balanced by little puffings of -steam. It didn't even rotate. - -He could see stars all around, and then he turned to the one filtered -port and looked at the sun through it. It was a monstrous brilliance, -with writhing fire-fringes around its edges. He saw Mercury off to -its right. It was the first time in his life that he'd ever seen that -planet, and he'd had to get out of the atmosphere to do it. Not one -person in ten thousand has ever seen the sun's closest satellite, even -as a tiny speck of light in the sky. But McCauley saw it, not hidden by -the daytime sky. There was no air here to speak of. At this height a -man not in a pressure-tight cabin, trying to breathe what few molecules -of air were present, would die in thirteen seconds because of anoxia -and explosive decompression. He'd die no more quickly out between the -galaxies. - -"_Keep talking_," said the voice in the headphones. "_Keep talking, -man!_" - -McCauley found himself stammering. What he said wasn't particularly -coherent, and he knew his taped speech would be studied to find out -exactly what mental state he was in. The headphones asked questions. -Could he see this? Could he see that? He answered yes and no. The voice -asked him to write something. He did, not looking at it. He stared -out at the monstrousness of the universe, with Earth merely a dimpled -gigantic ball below him. - -He had no weight, but he did not notice. He gazed and gazed and -exulted, and absent-mindedly obeyed the orders which came insistently -to his ears. He wanted to saturate his mind and his memory with the -sight that nobody had ever seen before, except in pictures taken at -this height by robots. - -Presently the sky wasn't totally black with innumerable tiny lights in -it. It was a deep, dark purple. The stars seemed fainter. He said so. - -"_Right_," said the voice in his helmet. "_You reached peak altitude -minutes ago. You're well on the way back down, now. We're going to turn -the rocket over._" - -He realized the absolute silence about him by the fact that now he -heard trivial, insignificant noises. Steam-jets came on--hydrogen -peroxide sprayed into a catalysis chamber where it broke down instantly -into steam and gas. The product rushed out the fin-tip jets. The -universe visibly turned upside down; the sky was down beyond his feet, -and the singular, unfamiliar object which was Earth could be seen only -when he craned his neck to look upward. - -He felt no difference, of course. He'd had no weight before, and he had -none now. The appearance of Earth changed so gradually that he didn't -really realize that he was approaching it. But he knew it in his mind, -and he resented bitterly that he had passed the high point of this -achievement and was now bound back toward the commonplace, the ordinary. - -He made an effort to become his normal self. "Now I suspect I'm getting -scared," he said wryly into his helmet mike. If he admitted it he'd -be ashamed and so could fight it. But he found that he wasn't really -scared. He was apprehensive, as one is when approaching a dentist's -chair. He felt reluctant, because he knew that after he got down he'd -be due for ghastly, tedious days during which the doctors would go over -him almost with microscopes to hunt for sputters--the burned, exploded -patches that would show up where cosmic-ray particles not slowed by air -went through his body. There shouldn't be any, but there could be some. -Robot instruments said no sputters. But a man had to come up here to -make sure. - -He felt something--a featherweight of pull toward the pointed tip of -the nose-cone. The rocket had hit air which slowed it enough so he -noticed it. He was astounded that he'd come back so far so fast. True, -he was still almost unthinkably high by the standards of other men, but -he'd been out in space! - -Earth was deplorably near. At twenty miles up--a hundred-odd thousand -feet--the processes for landing him should begin. He settled himself -in his seat against what was coming.... He suddenly realized that he'd -been talking, though he didn't remember what he'd said. Undoubtedly, -though, he'd said everything that came into his head. He stopped. The -headphone voice said encouragingly, "_You're okay!_" - -"So far!" he answered. - -There was the story about the optimist who fell off a skyscraper. -Twenty stories earthward he saw someone looking out a window and -called, "Everything's fine so far!" Yes.... - -There was an explosion and he started. Then others. They came from -small, half-pound explosive charges set at carefully chosen places on -the rocket. They were there to wreck its streamlined shape; to make -it an irregular, dynamically inefficient object which would offer -enormously increased resistance to its own fall through the air. -Technically it was considered that the terminal speed-of-fall of the -shattered rocket would be less than that of a man falling free without -a parachute. What was that? A hundred and fifty miles an hour, or a -hundred and twenty? McCauley tensed himself. - -It seemed that something broke loose. The rocket reeled. It plunged. -It turned end over end and McCauley was flung intolerably this way -and that against the straps that held him in his seat. A wallop -nearly snapped his neck. But this was the way it was supposed to be. -Streamlined, the rocket would have struck nose-first and buried itself -in small fragments in the sandy soil below. This way.... - -It mushed. It wabbled. It tumbled as crazily as a maple leaf and as -dizzily. McCauley steeled himself to endure it. "_Sixteen more miles of -this!_" he thought. - -But it was nearly over. There was another flash of explosive, this -time nearby, and the nose-cone flew violently apart and a blast of -wind hit him. Then there was a thump--a terrific thump--and a no less -bone-shaking bump, and his acceleration seat was ejected and he was -flying free through nothingness. Then the straps miraculously came -loose and he was turning end for end; Earth and sky were playing -merry-go-round in all directions simultaneously, while something -ungainly and monstrous writhed crazily away from him and toward the -agile Earth. And then there was a jolt and a jerk and another jerk.... - -He swung widely, but right-side up, beneath a perfectly commonplace -government-issue parachute a mere three miles high. He was sore and -bruised and shaken and dizzy, but everything was perfectly all right. -He'd been ejected from the falling rocket just as instruments had been -ejected hundreds of times before, and an ordinary parachute had opened -to let him sink tranquilly and safely to the ground, just as it had -done with the instruments. - -He was remarkably close to solidity now. He got his breath and saw the -mountains and the vast, ridged, sun-baked, mesquite-dotted ground of -the rocket site. He could see the officers'-quarters building where -he'd had breakfast this morning. He spotted the blockhouse, with the -spindling launching tower from which he had departed so recently. - -Then he saw a trail of dust flowing across the ground below. It was the -pickup gang. He'd been tracked every second, and they'd be underneath -when he touched ground. Randy would be there, and the other men who'd -give their eyeteeth to have taken his place. But they'd be gloating -because he'd gotten back all right. They'd be grinning, swearing, -exultant, overjoyed.... - -It suddenly occurred to McCauley that it would be intolerable if they -weren't glad. He didn't feel proud himself. He hadn't done anything. -He'd just gone for a ride that they'd made possible. But all the same -he was filled to bursting with the goodness of what had happened. - -He saw the whole thing in perspective now. Swinging below the -parachute, he could estimate with fine precision just what had taken -place. It had become possible for a man to go up to the edge of -emptiness, to where he could look with his own eyes upon the sun and -stars in their own unshielded splendor. And because a man could do it, -a man had to. - -And he'd been the man. - -He felt overwhelmingly good as he settled, swaying, under the white -blossom of nylon cloth, with the pickup gang streaking in half a dozen -vehicles toward the place where he would land. Long plumes of yellow -dust followed each one. - -Earth came floating up to meet him. - - - - - _2_ - - - (When Ed McCauley was still a reasonably young officer, there were - many commonplace things that hadn't been done yet. Satellites - circled the earth from west to east and across both poles and with - other assorted orbits. There were artificial satellites in orbit - even around the sun, and every so often somebody put up a new one - for some new purpose. There'd been a landing on the moon--by - robot--and a robot station there spasmodically reported temperatures - and cosmic-ray frequency, and a surprising number of moonquakes. - - But even so, many things hadn't yet been done. Man had circled the - earth in capsules, but not yet had any man lifted his own rocketship - from Earth and set himself in orbit. Still less had any man risen - into space as the captain of his ship and brought it back to earth. - Until such a thing was done, it would be absurd to speak of - spaceships. Missiles, yes. Satellites, yes. But a ship had to take - off and land on its own before men could say there is such a thing - as a spaceship.) - -Young Major McCauley arrived at Quartermain Base in an Air Transport -ship which stopped briefly to drop him off and toss out a mail sack -which was instantly taken in charge by two side-armed noncoms and -hauled away. Then the Transport ship bellowed vociferously and took -off across the incredibly level pebbly plain, lifted and retracted its -wheels, and soared up into the infinitely blue sky of this part of -the world. It left McCauley standing in a vast emptiness, except for -unimpressive base buildings. He felt singularly lonely. - -Nobody paid any attention to him. There was nobody left around. In a -way it was a relief, because McCauley had experienced much too much -attention once upon a time, and he wanted no more of it. He'd done a -job in an Aerobee once, and now he was to try something in an X-21 that -a lot of people would have liked to try in his place. He preferred not -to be reminded of either thing. So quite uncomplainingly he trudged -across the sun-baked flat ground toward the base buildings. All around -there was astounding flatness. The low hills that rose at the far side -of this dry lakebed were conspicuous here, whereas in more rolling -country they'd never be noticed. There was a row of hangars. McCauley -picked one out with his eyes and guessed that the new ship might be -inside it. - -He reached the building behind the flagpole and shifted his bag from -one hand to the other. He went in, mopping his forehead as the door -closed behind him and the sharp chill of air conditioning hit him. - -He went to report in. The CO wasn't around. He was over in Laurelton, -the town where most of the men went when they got a pass. The OD was -off somewhere. But quarters had been assigned to Major McCauley. The -noncom in charge of the CO's office obligingly got up to show him the -way. - -"Any orders for me?" asked McCauley. "I don't suppose I'm supposed to -sit and twiddle my thumbs." - -The noncom looked at a file and said there weren't any. - -"It doesn't look too lively around here," said McCauley, "I'm supposed -to have an interest in the X-21. Could I take a look at her?" - -The noncom did a double take. - -"Oh," he said politely. "You're that Major McCauley! I should have -realized it, sir. The X-21, sir, is in the big hangar down that way. -Number seven. If you tell the sentry who you are he'll pass you in, -sir. Of course. Take-off's tomorrow noon, sir, and everything's ready. -But I'd better show you your quarters first, sir." - -McCauley blinked. He felt embarrassed, and he felt a distinct sense -of shock. He was embarrassed because he'd had to mention the X-21 and -who he was, as if he were pushing his weight around. The shock was the -take-off for tomorrow. He'd known nothing about it. - -He picked up his bag and waited to be shown his quarters. He followed -the noncom down silent halls with specklessly polished floors. He -entered the room assigned to him. It had tan plasterboard walls and an -iron bunk, and Venetian blinds to shut out the desolate outer world. It -was exactly like all other bachelor officers' quarters everywhere in -the world. McCauley should have felt at home. He didn't. - -"Just a minute," he said carefully, as the noncom was about to leave. -"You said take-off's tomorrow?" - -"Yes, sir," said the noncom. "I believe it was slated for later, sir, -but something came up and I understand that Major Furness--he's the -general's aide, sir, besides being your observer--Major Furness assured -the general that an earlier take-off would be quite all right, so the -ship was checked out yesterday for fueling. The general likes things -done ahead of time, sir. He says that if you do today all the things -you could put off until tomorrow, you can take tomorrow off." - -"Major Furness," repeated McCauley, "okayed the earlier take-off time." - -"Yes, sir," said the noncom. - -When the noncom closed the door behind him, McCauley burned. There can -be trivial things about the feel of a ship that nobody can realize but -the pilot. Certainly he should decide when an experimental ship is -right to take up. He'd been denied this right. Take-off was tomorrow. - -But on the other hand, he was vulnerable. He'd had a lot of publicity -from that Aerobee ride he'd taken. There were a bunch of people waiting -for him to put on a grand air. If he protested anything, they'd say -he was putting on an act out of self-importance. So that, short of -something glaringly wrong, he had to go along with a decision he hadn't -made or subscribed to. He was always in danger of seeming to have a -swelled head and an inflated ego and other undesirable symptoms. He -needed to avoid them carefully. Right now he smoked a cigarette to kill -time lest he seem overanxious to look at the X-21. - -He didn't expect to be surprised by the ship. Most of the time she was -building he'd been sweating out the details of the job of flying her. -In Dayton there'd been a mock-up with instruments and controls in a -cabin which exactly matched the ship that was not yet completed. An -elaborate simulator-trainer controlled the controls and dials. When he -got into the mock-up and worked it, the instrument readings, sounds, -vibrations, and sensations were exactly what painstaking calculation -foretold for the actual ship. It was an adaptation of the training -devices that equip submarine crews to function like well-oiled machines -the instant they're transferred from training to active service. It was -much, much better than the dual-control planes they used to use for -teaching fledgling pilots. The mock-up supplied not only the instrument -readings of actual flight, but the feel of it. And not only that, it -convincingly presented hair-raising emergencies. A man could experience -all the griefs of a lifetime of flying in a few hours in such a -mock-up. McCauley'd had them. - -In the nature of things, the X-21 couldn't be given a test flight. It -couldn't be tucked under a bomber's wing and lifted aloft to see how it -behaved. Nothing could be done with it but take off and try to ride it -where no other pilot-controlled ship had ever been, and then try to get -it back down again.... If possible! If everything went well, it would -be a very good job to have done. If anything went wrong, it would be -too bad. Period. - -McCauley smoked a second cigarette to kill time. Then he went out of -his room and found his way outdoors. Squinting in the glaring sunshine, -he located Hangar Seven. - -Ten minutes later he was inside, taking a look at his ship. He'd -hardly seen a soul along the line of hangars. Inside one he'd heard a -tapping where some flight mechanic was working at something or other. -From another he'd heard voices--tranquil lazy tones indicating that -whoever was within had no very urgent work on hand. It appeared that -practically all the base had been given a pass on the day before -the shoot. Which bespoke a way of running things that meant either -absolutely top management or something he'd rather not imagine. - -He looked at the ship, the X-21. It was huge. It was sleek. It was -impressive. It looked slightly insane, because it was built to -accomplish something that most people weren't even thinking about yet. -Naturally it looked improbable, like the generality of things designed -to achieve the preposterous. - -For one thing, the pilot's cabin was in the nose, and it hung down so -the pilot could look directly behind him underneath the belly of the -ship. That meant an imbalance in the wind resistance when the ship was -in flight. But the balance was restored by wings above the fuselage -top. Then there were enormous ramjets built into the wings well away -from the body; they threw the balance off again until it was restored -a second time by the wind resistance of the wheels, which did not -retract. And near the tail with its triple fins there were brackets for -Mark Twenty jatos, and behind them a very familiar conical bore, the -exhaust nozzle of the rocket engine. - -McCauley recognized everything from his preparations for flying just -this ship. She would take off on jato thrust which would get her off -the ground and traveling fast enough for the ramjets in the wings -to catch. The ramjets would take her up to the very edge of the -atmosphere. When there wasn't enough air left for even ramjets to work -with, the rocket should take over. In theory the ship might be called -a three-stage design, but in fact it didn't fit into any category. It -did, though, have one standard property of a hydrazine-nitric rocket. -If it made other than a feather-light landing with any rocket fuel -remaining, it would almost certainly blow itself to blazes. - -But the point was that if--_if_--everything went all right, McCauley -ought to get up into space with a full load of rocket fuel and a few -hundred miles an hour eastward velocity. On the way up he'd try to hit -the jetstream at thirty thousand feet or so and pick up some speed from -that. And when he started his rocket engine he was supposed to put the -ship in orbit. - -That was the trick. That was what had never been done before. Men had -orbited in missiles and gotten down again. There was a man on the -moon--or so it was believed--though he was dead before he arrived -there. There were satellites circling Earth in all directions, some of -them as much as ten years aloft. But nobody had ever yet sent a ship -up under its pilot's control, its pilot achieving an orbit and then -bringing the ship down to the surface of the earth again. When that -was accomplished, it could be said that a spaceship existed. Until -then, there were only missiles. - -McCauley worked his way thoughtfully around the monster, whistling -soundlessly as he looked it over, checking everything he saw with -what he knew, and thereby getting more information than was seemingly -possible. Presently he went in the cabin and worked the controls. They -felt just like the mock-up. - -He was back in his quarters, thinking somberly, when there was a -knock on the door. When he answered, the door was pushed open and the -remarkably personable Major Furness appeared. - -"Hi," he said. "They tell me you got here." - -"Yes," agreed McCauley. "I did." - -"They tell me you looked over the ship," said Furness exuberantly. -"Good, eh?" - -"It looks good," agreed McCauley. - -"Were you surprised when you heard take-off's tomorrow?" - -McCauley nodded reservedly. - -"That's my doing," said Furness proudly. "I told the general we'd be -ready. He was cussing a blue streak. An intelligence report had come -through, saying that--um--there's to be an attempt abroad to lift a -rocket up and set it down again on its own tail. Lift and land. No -rocket's ever landed unsmashed, you know." - -"I know," said McCauley. - -Furness grinned. Engagingly. - -"So it won't look good if us Americans get our eye wiped by somebody -else doing something with a rocket that we can't do. The general made -the air blue. So I said, 'General, McCauley's been training for our -job for months, off there in Dayton. He's all set to do his stuff. The -ship's practically ready to go. We could get it ready to take off the -day after McCauley gets here. Why not do it?' And the General said, -'Furness, if we could....' And I said, 'General, we can!' So he began -to give orders right and left. And that's it. Tomorrow noon. Twelve -hundred. Get it over with, eh?" - -McCauley opened his mouth. He closed it. Anger swept over him and he -opened it a second time. - -Then he shut up. For him to protest anything short of plain suicide -would be considered pomposity and self-importance. But he should have -had a chance to look over the ship before take-off. He'd had a glance -at it, hardly more. Yet he couldn't afford to stand on his dignity or -his rights because too many people envied him. - -Furness looked at him and flushed a little. The cordiality that should -exist between two men who are going to risk their necks together was -totally missing. Furness felt it. His expression grew almost defiant. - -"Look here!" he said. "That was all right, wasn't it?" - -"I don't know," said McCauley. "Anyhow it's done." - -Furness stared at him. - -"What else was there to do?" - -"I wouldn't know," said McCauley. "The ship can't be test-flown, of -course--not in any ordinary sense of the word. You can't test-fly a -hydrazine rocket, and among other things that's what this ship is. You -just have to take it up. But--hm--how were the tests on the rocket -motor?" - -"They gave four per cent over the maximum expected thrust," said -Furness, exuberant again. "Nothing wrong there!" - -"They were cut in and out frequently?" asked McCauley. - -That was one of the tricky items. A rocket motor is cut off, in a -ballistic rocket, and cut in again after a pause in its firing. It -isn't a sensible thing to do ordinarily, but it would be necessary -in flying the X-21. It was a point about which McCauley had certain -reservations. A rocket motor is very nearly a device for producing a -continuous explosion, the recoil from the explosion constituting the -thrust. Rocket motor design is pretty well worked out, but there are -occasional failures, as in any high-precision apparatus. And the motor -of the X-21 would need to cut in and out, often. It would burn fuel at -the rate of more than two thousand gallons per minute. It would have -to start instantly, with full pressure and full flow of two dissimilar -liquids, and they would have to meet at exactly the proper spot in the -rocket motor cavity and burn completely on contact. When the rocket was -cut off, the fuel would have to stop flowing instantly, without the -fraction of a fraction of one per cent of either liquid left unburned, -or there would be trouble when the motor started again. The bare fact -that the X-21's motor would have to fire and stop and fire again -meant that absolute perfection was needed in all sorts of auxiliary -equipment. The pumps. The fuel flow lines. There was the possibility -of hydraulic hammer. There could be turbulence in the tanks because of -intermittent flow. Decidedly the motor should be tested intensively for -flaws in cut-in and cut-out operation, and it should be tested in the -ship and not merely in a static-thrust frame. - -Furness frowned. - -"I don't know what the tests were," he said with a trace of impatience. -"They tested everything. They say everything's all right. I'm no -reaction motor technician! I'm a pilot! They give me a ship and I fly -it! I leave the other stuff to the slide-rule boys!" - -"Who are plenty good," agreed McCauley, "and since the take-off's -scheduled, that's that. We take off at 1200 hours tomorrow." - -He had complete confidence in the adequacy of his training in the -mock-up back in Dayton, but it did assume that the ship would function -according to its design. He'd have preferred to verify the point he'd -raised. The record of rocket shoot failures includes at least one -rocket that didn't leave the launching pad because a certain valve -closed three one-thousandths of a second late. It took two months to -repair the damage so the rocket could be tried again. Then it worked -perfectly. - -Everything might have been--should have been--almost certainly had -been--foreseen. But the chance of trouble was certainly greatest in the -cut-in and cut-out feature that was necessary if the X-21 was to make -its flight successfully. - -"I'm sorry," Furness said elaborately, "that I was more concerned about -meeting a situation that bothered the brass than guessing at questions -you might raise. I told the general we'd be ready to take off. I'll -tell him I was mistaken, that you're not ready." - -McCauley grew impatient. - -"Confound it, man!" he protested. "There are patrol ships taking -position! The monitor stations will be alerted! There've been too many -shoots called off or postponed! This one can't be postponed! I asked a -question. You can't answer it. The answer would almost certainly be -that there were plenty of cut-out trials. I withdraw the question. It's -canceled! But it wasn't unreasonable to ask!" - -Furness bit his lip. - -"Just the same," Furness said sourly, "you're not satisfied that I said -we'd be ready to go without asking you first. Look here! Would you -rather have somebody else fly observer with you?" - -"I didn't suggest such a thing," said McCauley angrily, "and it's -ridiculous to think of it. No! Forget the whole business!" - -"It looks to me as if you resent my action," Furness said stiffly. "I -shouldn't have spoken for you without written authority. I'll try to -remember, hereafter, that you're the pilot and I'm only the observer." - -McCauley controlled his temper with difficulty. - -"This is lunacy!" he said shortly. "The thing's settled. We take off -at noon tomorrow. I'm told the ship will fly. I'm ordered to fly it. -You're ordered to fly with me. That's that, so far as I'm concerned!" - -Furness said as stiffly as before: - -"That's quite all right with me too. I should tell you, though, that my -wife wanted me to invite you for dinner tonight. The general was to be -there too, for a private talk over the prospects and so on. And I've -got a son who's been fairly jumping with excitement over the prospect -of meeting Major McCauley, the first man ever to take off in a pure -rocket and get down to ground again. But you'll hardly accept that -invitation, feeling as you do. I'll say you declined because you want -to get some extra sleep tonight since you intend to watch the fuel-up -tomorrow." - -McCauley blinked at him in amazement. Furness went out. - -When he'd gone, McCauley swore to himself. This was more of the -attitude he disliked, expecting him to feel self-important. It was one -of the penalties of having done something that got publicity. But there -was absolutely nothing he could do about it. - -Certainly it had been reasonable to mention the one thing that bothered -him! The X-21 would take off on jatos, ride to the limit of the -atmosphere on ramjets, and have the rocket motor take over there. To -get the exact course and speed he needed, he'd undoubtedly have to use -the rocket engine in a series of bursts after the original acceleration -run. He'd have to turn it off between times. And while an alcohol-lox -rocket motor had been turned off and on in flight, no hydrazine-nitric -rocket ever had been. Nobody had ever needed to. McCauley would. And -the idea was hair-raising. - -Rocket fuel is tricky stuff at best. In the earlier X-series ships, -alcohol and lox--liquid oxygen--and in one or two cases ammonia and -lox, were used in the engines. They could be jettisoned in case a -dead-stick landing was necessary. But nobody in his senses would -think of jettisoning nitric and hydrazine as an emergency measure. -That was the pair, though, that was being used in the X-21. Their -great advantage is that they do not need to be ignited. Their great -disadvantage is that they become active when they are combined. -McCauley had inspected the fuel delivery system and he was concerned -about it. In the static runs of the ship's rocket engine everything had -gone well. If all went well in space, everything would be fine. But if -something didn't.... - -McCauley couldn't tell what would happen. His training in the mock-up -hadn't included meeting that emergency, because there wasn't any way to -meet it. - -"If it happens," he muttered, "I'll know it because I'll hear St. Peter -say, 'Hello, Ed! Come in!'" - -He stirred restlessly. The light on the closed Venetian blinds was -ruddy now. He found that he didn't feel hungry, but he ought to. He -asked the way to the officer's mess and found that it was nearly empty. -Most of the base was on leave until nine o'clock, which might be the -base commandant's way of boasting that sending off the first actual -spaceship on her test flight was duck soup for a well-run organization. - -McCauley sat alone. There were a few other officers at dinner. Some -of them nodded to him. None came over. He'd gotten a little too much -publicity from that Aerobee job. Nobody would come near him lest he -seem to want to shine in the reflected glory of a man who was already -famous and was scheduled to become more so in the next twenty-four -hours--unless he turned out to be fragments of nothing in particular -out in space. He was left alone. - -There was nothing to do but go back to his quarters. On the way he -stopped at the newsstand and bought stuff to read. - -He was very, very lonely. He was acutely conscious that he hadn't acted -in the best possible way about Furness' action in speaking for him -about the take-off. It was true that he should have been consulted. It -was true that he hadn't intended to stand on his dignity. It was even -true that he'd asked for reassurance rather than information, because -the tests should have been complete. But Furness took it wrongly, and -there was no way to mend the matter. - -He couldn't read the stuff he'd brought. He smoked and brooded until -he noticed the pile of cigarette butts he'd built up. He looked at -his watch and dourly went to bed. He couldn't sleep. At long last he -managed to doze off by reciting the names, capitals, and principal -products of all the fifty states. He made himself so boring he went to -sleep. - -But when he slept he dreamed, and in the dream the ship was out of -its hangar and being fueled. And McCauley dreamed that the fueling -was being done all wrong. Horribly wrong. There were two tank trucks -beside the ship. One was the hydrazine truck and the other the nitric. -And they were pumping the two liquids into the ship at the same time. -In his dream, McCauley's hair stood up straight on end. He tried to -protest, but words wouldn't come. The hoses were being handled exactly -as hoses at a filling station were in fueling a car. A man held -each hose negligently, and from time to time squinted down past the -nozzle to see how nearly full his tank was. McCauley knew that it was -impossible and unthinkable, but in his dream it was both possible and -plausible. - -He saw bubbling, fuming nitric acid spout out of the filling tube and -go splashing down on the ground. The nitric acid man looked at it -stupidly as more splashed down after it. And then McCauley managed to -cry out--and the dream disaster happened. The hydrazine overflowed too. -It poured down.... - -And in his dream McCauley saw a sheet of purest fire leap up. Both -trucks detonated in white-hot flame, and the ship crumpled and blew -into atoms.... - -He found himself sitting up in his bunk, gasping, with the memory of -the bubbling sounds he'd made which had waked him. - -It was a good dream to wake up from. He sat up and heard small noises -outside in what should have been the wholly silent night. He went to -the window and tilted a slat of the Venetian blind. - -The ship was out of the hangar. Men swarmed about it. Trucks towed -it. It was being hauled well away from the buildings on the base. The -preparations for take-off had begun. It would be a long time before -fueling started, though. The ship would be towed for a couple of miles -over the crunching pebbly ground, just in case something went wrong -at the take-off. Then there'd have to be a checkover of everything -from the tires to the wingtips to the instruments to the communication -systems and the igniters for the ramjets, and so on indefinitely. Hours -would be consumed in the simple final inspection. The ramjet fuel -would go in. The jatos would be mounted and their circuits tested--the -jatos would drop off after they'd done their stuff--Then on and on, -endlessly. It would be long after sunrise before anybody began to think -of the rocket fuel trucks. - -He looked at his watch again. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep, but -he wouldn't get dressed. He stood by the tilted slat of the Venetian -blind, watching the disturbance in the moonlight go farther and farther -away until it was lost in the vagueness of the partly lit plain. - -He sat down, but didn't turn on the light in his room. He allowed -himself one cigarette. He tried to relax, but his mind was tense. He -managed a rueful grimace over his dream. That wasn't a good sign. -He hadn't been worried before the Aerobee shoot, or so it seemed to -him now. But in that shoot he'd had nothing to do but take a ride. -Everything connected with the functioning of the rocket was somebody -else's worry. Now everything was up to him. - -He wondered uncomfortably how Furness felt. Probably like the devil.... - -With such discomfortable reflections, McCauley did not feel bright and -chipper when there came footsteps outside his door and then a knock. -He waited for the knock to be repeated, and then said, as if drowsily: - -"What's the matter?" - -"Time to get up, sir," said a noncom's voice, "if you want to watch the -fuel-up of your ship, sir." - -McCauley timed his pause and then said, less sleepily: - -"Oh. All right. I'm awake. I'll get up right away." - -He waited until the footsteps moved off. Then he swore. He'd put on an -act himself. He was ashamed of being keyed up. He'd posed as a man with -iron nerves, sleeping soundly before the take-off of the first ship -ever to try a piloted orbital flight. - -When he went out of his room he disliked himself very much. - -It was an hour later, and the morning sunshine was bright, when he came -out of the officers' quarters and got into the jeep that was waiting -for him. Furness, he learned, was already out at the ship. The general -was there too. Things were moving smoothly. - -The jeep rolled over the flat ground, the picked-up pebbles making a -thunderous rattling against the mud-guards and a vast plume of yellow -dust trailing it. - -And presently there was the ship. It was a singular spectacle--the -huge, seemingly clumsy object with its dropped-down cabin shining in -the slanting morning light. It seemed peculiarly isolated, out here -on the featureless plain. There was nothing near it to account for -its existence. Empty, board-flat ground stretched out for miles in -every direction. The buildings at the base seemed tiny from here. The -ship was alone like a steamer in the middle of the ocean, except that -men clustered about its wheels, and there was a pickup truck that -had brought ladders, and tiny dark figures swarmed over the still, -glistening aluminum body. - -The jeep drew near. It swung in a slightly exaggerated curve and came -to a stop. - -"The general's yonder," said the jeep driver, pointing. - -McCauley walked over. The general faced him, and McCauley saluted. - -"Ah, McCauley," the general said cordially. "You look fresh and rested." - -"Yes, sir," said McCauley. He saw Furness nearby. He felt very much -like a heel. - -"It was a good idea to get a good night's sleep," said the general. - -"Yes, sir," said McCauley. - -"You've got your orders," said the general. "They give you a lot of -leeway." - -"Yes, sir," said McCauley. - -"It's hoped you'll pass over the setup checkpoints, of course," said -the general. "But the satellite watching stations will pick up your -signal in any case. The main thing is to make a straight orbit. -Anything short of a full twenty-four-thousand-mile course will cost you -an impossible amount of fuel." - -"Yes, sir," said McCauley. "I'm aware of it, sir." - -It was one of the paradoxes of the flight that it would take much -more fuel to make a shorter flight than a longer one. A course around -the northern hemisphere, for example, not crossing the equator and -the antipodes, would be extravagant in terms of the fuel required -simply to stay aloft. But if McCauley established a proper orbit, he'd -use fuel only to take off and to land. Landing would be as tricky a -job as taking off, or even trickier. But McCauley had tried all the -alternative landing processes in the training mock-up. His orders -permitted him to choose the landing process himself, but it was not -likely that he'd have any actual choice. The decision would be made by -events. - -Meanwhile there was nothing to do. McCauley stood around and watched -as the general was doing. Figures moved here and there about the -ship a hundred yards away. Men came up to a truck parked near it and -handed in completed checklists and were given other lists to check. -Once there was earnest discussion and a jeep went rushing away to the -base and came rushing back, and a man took a small object over to the -ship, where somebody had evidently decided that something had better -be replaced. Furness avoided McCauley's eye. The whole process grew -tedious. The officers, including the two who would presently fly the -ship, simply stood at a distance to be out of the way and vigilantly -watched men who knew what they were doing. The general had an air of -vast satisfaction as matters progressed with no delays and no lack of -decision at the proper level. When something is well-prepared, the -commanding officer's job is finished when the action starts. The -general in command of Quartermain Base had prepared things well. - -The men around the ship moved away from it. They piled into personnel -trucks and rolled off toward the base buildings. Other trucks came -out with men in fueling suits. They took their places briskly. The -hydrazine truck came up. It rolled into place as if on a railroad -track, so great was its precision. The fueling crew briskly and deftly -loaded the ship with its full portion of hydrazine. The tanks topped -off. The truck coiled its hose and moved away. - -"We'll move the ship a couple of hundred yards," said the general -curtly, "before loading the nitric." - -This was precaution carried to an extreme. Surely nothing could be -spilled on the ground here! But to fuel the nitric from an entirely new -site would make assurance doubly sure. The ship's position was shifted. -The group of officers moved with it. The nitric truck came out, with a -fresh crew of fuelers who loaded the nitric tank. - -"Now," said the general, "you and Furness can get into your flight -suits, McCauley. Then I give no more orders. You'll be on your own." - -"Yes, sir," said McCauley. - -A jeep came up and stopped. McCauley got in the front seat. Furness -got silently into the back. The jeep raced toward the base. Crunching -pebbles and raising dust, it created an extraordinary effect of -self-importance and busyness. - -The flight suits were in the building behind the flagpole. There -were noncoms to help them don the clumsy, tight, intricately -gadgeted outfits which provided protection against the effects of -high acceleration, abrupt decompression, heat, cold--everything but -sudden death. There were helmets. There were oxygen bottles and -parachute-packs and mikes and headphones. When the two of them were -completely outfitted, they looked like oversized robots. - -Furness did not speak on the way back to the ship. McCauley made one -half-hearted attempt to end the constraint between them. - -"Isn't your wife coming out to watch the take-off?" he asked. - -"She'll know when we go," said Furness without expression. - -He said no more. McCauley carefully did not shrug his shoulders. But -now the immediate problems of the take-off had to be thought over for -the thousandth time, and he could spare no more thought for Furness' -injured dignity. - -They reached the standing group of officers. The ship's fuel was all -aboard. The jatos were mounted. Now one man was working alone at the -very tail of the ship. He was bleeding the air out of the fuel lines -between the tanks and the rocket engine. He came away with a small -bucket. Unlike a more normal rocket which would stand nose up and -have its fuel tanks vertically above the motor, in the X-21 a certain -amount of fuel had to come through the lines almost to the engine, to -make certain that the pumps would deliver the two fuel elements at -absolutely the same instant for self-ignition, the instant the rocket -motor was turned on. - -"Take that stuff," ordered the general, "and carry it well away from -the ship." - -A noncom ran to get the bucket. It might be nitric or it might be -hydrazine. He carried it away a hundred yards or so. The lone man by -the ship now stripped off his plastic coverall, including the gloves. -He walked twenty yards from the ship, put on a fresh outfit, and went -back to the ship. Presently he came away with another small bucket. - -"Get that out of the way, too," commanded the general. He turned to -McCauley. "Now, McCauley, it's all yours." - -"I'd like," said McCauley, "to give the engine a one-second run. Just -to make sure. I'd like everybody else away." - -The general nodded. McCauley lumbered clumsily across the several -hundred yards between the general and the ship. Furness started to -follow, but the general said briskly: - -"McCauley's right, Furness. Only one man's needed. Come along." - -The general and the others moved to a position less directly in line -with the body of the ship. It was a completely sensible thing to do. If -he did not notice that the small buckets of bled-away fuel were closer -to him and the other officers than they'd been before, he could be -excused for it. - -McCauley reached the ship and climbed up. He carefully inspected the -instruments. Then he set the rocket timer for a one-second blast, threw -off the safety, and pressed the firing button. - -There was an instant, horrible bellow of a thousand dragons. The ship -stirred, rolled forward--and the timer cut off the fuel supply to the -rocket engine. The engine died. The ship rolled, crunching, to a stop. -McCauley nodded tensely to himself. He waited. - -His ears were a bit numbed by the sound, but after a time he turned to -look back under the belly of the ship. There was confusion back there; -the group of officers seemed agitated. There was a vast upsweep of -yellow dust. And there was a hole, a crater, in the sun-baked plain. -The dust was thicker and yellower above it. - -Furness came trudging out to the ship. It was a good two minutes before -he arrived. He climbed heavily upward and swung to close the pressure -door and dog it. He settled in his seat with a thud, and then reached -forward and flipped the communicator switch. - -"Furness reporting, X-21 to control," he said into his microphone. -"X-21 set to take off. Over." - -McCauley saw that his face was ashen white. - -"What's the matter, Furness?" he demanded sharply. "Anything wrong?" - -"All those precautions were no good," said Furness harshly. "The stuff -that bled out of the fuel lines turned over when the rocket blast hit -it. It blew. It made a hole in the ground and pebbles flew every which -way like bullets. One of them ripped the side of the general's cap -clean off. For a moment I thought the ship had gone." - -A tinny voice sounded from a speaker overhead. - -"_Control to X-21. Scheduled take-off time is now thirty-four seconds -off. I will count down for time of take-off only._" A long pause. -"_Twenty seconds._" Another pause. "_Fifteen._" A silence which seemed -ages long. McCauley settled himself. Furness held one hand oddly -against his side. McCauley held his finger over the jato button. -"_Ten_," said the tinny voice. "_Nine ... eight ... seven ... six ... -five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... take-off-ti-._" - -The last syllable was never completed. McCauley hit the jato button -and the Mark Twenty jatos flamed, instantly and together. The jolt -of the one-second blast before had been severe. This was punishment. -McCauley was slammed back into his acceleration chair with intolerable -violence. For two--five--seven seconds there was no world but weight -and bellowings. There was nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard, -nothing to be felt but the unbearable sound and intolerable pressure of -the ship's acceleration. - -On the outside, of course, more detailed impressions were possible. -From absolute immobility, the ship suddenly rushed forward with -mountainous masses of jato fumes swirling and mushrooming behind it. -The noise was deafening even at half a mile. Then the ship lifted, -flying steadily and gaining velocity at a preposterous rate. Then that -rate increased. - -McCauley knew when it happened. For six out of their life of fourteen -seconds, the jatos pushed the ship ahead at an acceleration of eight -gravities; in effect, McCauley was pushed back against his chair with -a force of twelve hundred pounds. Then the ramjets caught. The ship -was clear of the ground, with only inertia and air resistance to hold -it back. The ramjets howled, and the whole ship jerked--a little to -one side as well as ahead--and then the acceleration was ten gees. -The difference was that between the unbearable and the unendurable. -McCauley clamped his teeth fiercely and strained to survive this -monstrous assault upon his consciousness and his life. - -The jatos burned out and dropped off. The ship swept on smoothly, -and there were only two gees acceleration. But McCauley had to work -swiftly, in spite of feeling that flatirons were attached to his -fingers. He shook his head and panted, and swept his eyes around the -horizon. It was level. He grasped the stick, unlocked it, and pulled -it back. The horizon dipped downward before him and the ship rose -tumultuously toward the sky. - -He heard Furness' voice as a faint murmur above the overwhelming noise -from the ramjets. - -"X-21 reporting. Take-off complete. Everything functioning normally. -Rate of ascent...." - -His voice went on. There was a strange note in it, though. Even in his -desperate absorption in the task at hand, McCauley noted it. But he -could not spare a look at Furness. - -The ship was airborne and already two thousand feet high. McCauley put -it into a gigantic climbing sweep around a circle fully twenty miles -across. It flew with the grace and precision of a garbage scow. Now and -again it tended to wallow in flight, and he balanced it tensely, and -then delicately as he confirmed the calculated feel of its controls. - -The earth spread out below, wider and wider as the ship rose, and the -ramjets thundered a message of the flight to the empty plain and all -the rolling ground beyond it. - -Furness' voice was barely audible. He talked steadily, reading off -instrument indications into a microphone. There were telemeterings of -all these data in transmission that were being recorded down at the -base, but when the ship reached the limit to which the ramjets could -carry it and began its rocket-powered flight, continuous reception of -microwaves would be dubious. A longer wave length for a voice broadcast -was necessary if the full value of the flight was to be realized. - -The X-21 was eighteen thousand feet up when it passed Quartermain -Base on its first circle. Half the atmosphere was already beneath -it. Furness read off the fuel consumption of the ramjet.... The air -speed.... The altitude. His face was as gray as when he entered the -cabin. He kept his left hand pressed stiffly against the left side of -his abdomen. McCauley was aware of it, but could not spare the time to -think about it. - -The eastward-flowing jetstream rushed invisibly overhead. That river -of racing air, pouring west to east at three hundred miles an hour -and better, was lower than ordinary today. The ship should hit it at -twenty-eight thousand feet. McCauley had to get into it without risking -the sheering stresses the bottom part of it might exert. He had to get -into it like a man stepping onto a moving sidewalk. He adjusted the -rate of climb. At twenty thousand feet the ramjets were more effective. -The ship climbed more steeply. There was a difference in the bellowing -of the ramjets. The noise was still monstrous, but it was thinner. It -did not have the substance of thunder at ground level. But the sound -was still so tremendous that it seemed to fill all of McCauley's -consciousness. It required an effort of will to see, when he was so -battered and hammered at by sound. It was difficult to think. His -hands were heavy, and movements of which he would ordinarily have been -unconscious now required almost painful effort. - -Twenty-five thousand feet. McCauley glanced at the gyrocompass, -computed swiftly in his head, added together his known air speed and -the reported wind direction at this height, and deduced an actual -course. Then he had to guess at the angle at which to hit the jetstream -so that when its direction and speed were added to the ship's, the -result of the several forces would be a course around the globe as -nearly as possible the right one. It should pass over the most closely -placed tracking stations, and it should not be immoderately far from -the wide-spaced Navy ships which had been alerted for the flight and a -possible unscheduled descent. - -He swung the ship from its circling. He aimed it up and up, south-east -by a half east. The ship climbed. - -There was a logy wallowing when it penetrated the bottom of the -jetstream. But it kept on, and presently a clock assured McCauley -that he'd been in the stream long enough to gain all the extra speed -it could give him. He aimed the ship's nose still higher and gave the -ramjets every particle of fuel they could consume. - -The sky grew dark. Dark purple. Faint twinklings appeared here and -there. They were the stars, visible in daylight. The ramjets' tumult -was still thinner now. And little by little the rate of climb grew less. - -Presently the ship did not climb at all. It was as high as the ramjets -could take it. Now the sunshine on its aluminum body was painfully -bright, but the sky was almost black. Had there been time, he could -have traced the constellations--the same constellations that people -down below would not see for months, until this part of the heavens -shone down on Earth's dark side. - -In the pressurized cabin, Furness' voice was more nearly audible. But -this was the first of two moments of truth. Here and now McCauley -had to perform, as the act of a man, what highly complicated machines -would later compute he should have done. He had to get the X-21 into a -three-dimensional relationship to the gravitational field of Earth. He -had to point the ship not only laterally but vertically in the exact -direction that the exact timing of rocket thrust would convert into an -orbit. An error of half a degree would immediately be fatal. An even -smaller error could make the ship's course so eccentric that when he -got back into air it would be with a velocity that would burn ship and -men together as a meteor some fifty miles high. - -He sweated, in absolute absorption in his task. Not only did the ship -have to point exactly when he fired the rocket engine, but it had to be -stationary, so it would not move past that point. It had to be settled -dead center on an imaginary optimum or the rocket thrust would change -direction as the ship's nose turned. - -He flung his hand against a switch. The ramjets died. There was a vast, -furry stillness--the deafness produced by the past din. McCauley spoke -and barely heard his own voice. He shouted to Furness: - -"Settle back for rocket fire!" - -Furness nodded. He looked cadaverous. His eyes seemed filled with a -peculiar, tragic despair. But his lips moved. McCauley knew that he was -saying: - -"Ramjets off. Maneuvering for course prior to rocket firing. Over." - -But he did not stir in his seat. His left hand stayed pressed against -his side. - -The ship would be coasting downward now. Its wings still gave some -support, and its wingtips had some effect, but not enough. Now was -the time to use the steam-jets on the fins. McCauley played them -tensely as if they were a musical instrument. He struck balances of -opposing thrusts as if they were chords. The nose of the ship steadied, -steadied, steadied.... - -The timer button was set at one minute. He struck the rocket-firing -button. - -He was hurled back in his seat with a sort of vicious and unreasonable -violence. He was caught in a vise of twelve gravities pressure which -held him motionless against the seat back and tried to flatten out -his legs and body and prevent his breathing. But his flight suit was -designed to prevent exactly this. It squeezed also. His legs were -tightened unbearably. His arms were constricted past endurance. His -chest, his stomach--he was confined in the most horrible of strait -jackets. He felt his tongue curling back down his throat to strangle -him. With an utterly herculean effort he managed to turn his head to -one side. Then he could breathe, and the grav-pressure air protected -his chest from collapse, and he endured and endured and endured. - -The minute of the rocket thrust lasted for centuries. Then the engine -cut off, and his head was pure anguish from the blood spurted through -it by his still-laboring heart. He was blinded by the pain. But it went -away. - -Slowly, slowly, slowly, his sound-deadened ears regained their -sensitiveness. He heard Furness gasping: - -"--minute rocket-blast ended. Checking course now. Over." - -McCauley said absorbedly: - -"There was a goof. A twelve-gee thrust with full fuel tanks is a whale -of a lot more when they're nearly empty!" - -It was true, of course. The ferocity of a rocket thrust that would -accelerate a fully loaded ship at three hundred fifty-odd feet per -second per second would accelerate much more a ship weighing half as -much. Toward the end, McCauley and Furness had taken acceleration that -no man could live through for more than a very short time. But a man -can endure briefly a stress that would kill him if long-continued. - -McCauley plunged into the desperately necessary task of this moment. He -had to determine his present course and speed. He could not take the -time to look out of the ports at the immensity of Earth below him. Men -in capsules, orbiting, had been as high as this, but they did not have -to compute their height or guide their vehicles. McCauley had to do -both. - -The height was relatively simple. A radar screen, reduced to a vertical -slot for economy of space and weight, told him the distance to whatever -was below. A Doppler-effect velocity indicator would read off the -change in frequency of a crystal-controlled radio signal which his -speed produced. This substantially resembled the way an automobile -horn changes pitch when two cars pass each other; the pitch drops -swiftly at the moment of passing. But there was an observation which -was simpler and more direct. - -He spotted a bright star near the horizon ahead. He read off its -angular distance from the world's edge. Looking aft, under the belly of -the ship, he read another angle from the world's edge to another star. -Minutes later, he repeated the observations. The star ahead was higher, -the one behind was lower. If one star rose faster than the other sank, -he would be gaining height. If one sank faster than the other rose, he -would be falling. If one rose exactly as fast as the other dropped, he -would be in a perfect circular orbit, neither rising nor falling. That -was too good to be expected. But from even two sets of observations he -could tell the line the ship was following, and hence its speed. - -The ship did not have quite the speed necessary for a complete orbit. -It needed more. He could guess how much. - -He said curtly to Furness: - -"We've got to have a two-second push, anyhow. Maybe more later. Get -set." - -Furness did not reply, but McCauley heard him reporting. - -There was singularly little exultation in the small cabin. Furness' -face was drawn and colorless behind his helmet plate. McCauley was busy. - -Presently, after a warning gesture, he set the rocket timer and -pressed the firing button. All the ghastly impact of high acceleration -repeated itself. But, lasting only two seconds, it was not much worse -than--say--falling from a second-story window down on a hard mattress. -It lasted longer, but there was not much other difference. It did not -build up to the torture of continued rocket thrust. - -Then the ship floated on. There was utter silence. The vertical-slot -altimeter indicated a height which seemed absolutely steady. The -Doppler-effect velocity meter gave a reasonably satisfactory if not too -precise message. McCauley was working intensively on his course when -Furness said, with an effort: - -"Ground says satellite-watching stations picking up our signal report -a good course. It could be a little more to the south." - -McCauley flipped on his own microphone-to-ground switch. - -"I figure I'm still a little short on velocity," he said crisply. "I'll -have to blast again for about a second. Figure me an angle of heading -for ten minutes from now, for a one-second blast. I'll report my -figures for checking." - -He did not bother with the ship controls now, of course. The ship was -in orbit, like the numerous satellites circling Earth west to east and -north and south. It did not matter which way it pointed. There was no -air to impede its progress. As a matter of fact, a trace of rotating -motion had been produced by a slight off-centering of the rocket -thrust. The ship's center of mass had changed slightly because of fuel -consumption. - -There was silence. McCauley worked on busily. From time to time Furness -spoke as if with great effort. He relayed the altitude from the slot -radar. He relayed the velocity from the Doppler gauge. He relayed -hull temperature, cosmic frequency, ultraviolet intensity. He did not -report any physical sensations, but once he spoke as if in answer to a -question: - -"It must be out of order if it says that." - -He might be referring to the telemetering apparatus which relayed the -pulse and respiration and blood pressure readings of the two men in the -ship. - -In eight minutes McCauley reported the bearing he considered the -ship should point to so that a one-second rocket thrust, adding its -effect to all previous courses and speeds--plus a correction for the -diminished weight of fuel in the tanks--would produce an exactly -perfect orbit for the ship. Furness repeated it while McCauley took -more horizon-to-star observations to check the present line of motion. - -"Ground checks your figures," said Furness. "They say congratulations -on perfect astrogation under service conditions. It's right." - -"Okay," McCauley said absently. - -He went on with his work. The ship was two hundred eighty miles--plus -or minus half a mile--above the surface of the earth. An orbit required -a speed and rate of downward curvature just fixed so the ship would -go downward as the surface curved down, like a glider coasting down -a curving hillside and always being the same distance from solidity. -Since the earth was a globe, one could coast forever and be always -falling, without ever touching the circled world. That is an orbit. - -McCauley set the rocket timer and said: - -"Here we go." - -The rockets blasted. The ship flung itself forward. Again there was the -sensation of falling an uncomfortable distance onto a hard mattress. -But a one-second blast was a thousand times more endurable than a -one-minute one. - -The ship had now been aloft for something like thirty minutes, of -which ten was airborne flight and twenty free fall in orbit, plus two -corrections of course and speed. McCauley had had no time to gaze down -at the vastness below him. He knew it only as a huge expanse of mottled -tawny-green or blue with many white specks upon it. The specks, which -were clouds, were closer together toward the horizon, and at any given -moment the rim of the world was a ring of plain white. - -Now he checked his work once more and then took time to look at Earth -below him. At its speed, the ship should complete one revolution of the -Earth in ninety minutes, more or less. Its speed was seventeen thousand -two hundred and sixty miles per hour relative to the ground. In twenty -minutes of free-fall flight it had covered something over five thousand -and seven hundred miles, relative to the ground, and crossed eighty -degrees of longitude. The local time down below was something more than -five hours later than the local time at Quartermain Base. Sunset would -be approaching here, as the earth's shadow moved from east to west like -the dawn. - -To the right of the floating ship there was only tawny-blue ocean that -seemed much darker than ordinary because McCauley was looking down into -its depths instead of at a sky reflection from its surface. Behind -the ship there was a clumping of the white specks. These cloud masses -would be above and around the Cape Verde Islands, now tens of scores of -miles to the rear. Below and to the left there was an amorphousness, -an indefiniteness peeping up from beneath the cloud cover. That -would be Africa. McCauley could see for enormous distances over the -cloud-hidden land. He knew that he floated over Senegal and British -Guinea and French Guinea and Liberia and the Ivory Coast, all in a -matter of tens of seconds. But he could see only at intervals between -tufts of white-cottony vapor. Ahead, too, the dark-colored sea swept -in, right to left, and in half minutes or less there was no land at all -except behind him. Away ahead there was more of Africa, to be sure, -because the X-21 sped along a line which would mark the limits of the -Gulf of Guinea. The ship would cross the tip of Africa and head down -past it to Antarctica. - -But McCauley would not see Africa again. The whiteness which was the -horizon turned dim where the ship's bow aimed, and the dimness spread -to the left. The edge of the round world turned black. It was Earth's -crawling shadow creating night. Darkness sped toward the ship, still -high above the last slightest trace of atmosphere and glittering -intolerably in the unshielded glare of the sun. - -"It looks like we're all set, Furness," McCauley said with -satisfaction. "We can relax, now, for all of twenty minutes." - -Furness did not answer. There was no sensation of weight, of course. -Nothing weighed anything. Nothing could be considered light or heavy. -The difference between a copper penny and the ship itself was purely -imaginary. They had different masses, but both would weigh the -same--zero. McCauley suddenly turned off the silent air-circulator in -the cabin. He struck a match. The flame flared, but not as a rising -leaf shape. It was a perfect ball of incandescence. But it did not -continue to burn. It went out, and there was a ball of white smokiness -where the flame had been. - -"I've heard that'd happen. I wanted to try it," McCauley said amusedly. - -A match requires oxygen in which to burn. On the ground, the chemically -fostered first flame of the match-head heats the air, which rises and -is replaced, whereby fresh oxygen reaches the place of combustion and -supports it. But in the X-21, in free fall, hot air was no lighter -than cold. It did not rise. The match exhausted the oxygen around it -and went out. McCauley turned the air-circulator on again lest he and -Furness be similarly surrounded by vitiated air. - -"Queer, eh?" said McCauley. Then he looked at Furness. Furness' eyes -seemed filled with suffering. His pallor was deathlike. - -"What's the matter?" McCauley asked. - -Purely by instinct he raced his eyes across the instruments. They said -nothing they should not. - -"Furness!" snapped McCauley. "What's the matter? What's happened to -you?" - -With an air of terrible effort--though nothing weighed as much as a -hair--Furness moved his left hand away from his side. It came away -filled with blood. There was an ominous dark-red patch on the flight -suit, and something seemed to be welling slowly out of a puncture in -the cloth. The hole was the size of a bullet hole. - -"Just before ... take-off," said Furness thinly, "the rocket fuel that -was ... bled through the fuel pipes ... went off when you tested ... -the engine. It exploded. It threw pebbles like bullets. One ... ripped -the general's hat. One ... hit me." - -McCauley swore. He felt a sort of bitter anger. Of all the places where -instant medical attention for an injured man was impossible, the worst -was the close, air-tight cabin of a ship out of atmosphere, traveling -at some thousands of miles per hour and heading into night. Descending -was out of the question. It was impossible to turn back. - -"Let's look at that," said McCauley harshly. "Maybe we can check the -bleeding somehow.--Why didn't you report you were hurt? Didn't you know -you were risking your life?" - -"I suppose," said Furness weakly, but with irony, "that you aren't -risking yours!" - -Then he winced a little as McCauley's finger explored the hole in -the tough cloth. When the rocket fuel exploded on the surface of the -ground, the impact of a pebble would have the effect of a bullet. It -would numb more than it hurt. Furness knew he'd been hit, of course, -but the ship was ready to take off, and the wound might only be -trivial. To delay take-off for examination of what might be entirely -insignificant would earn him McCauley's contempt--or so Furness had -believed. And Furness was in no state of mind to risk that. Nothing -short of absolute inability to hide his injury would have made him -admit that he'd been hurt or even hit. So he'd climbed in the ship, and -done his work steadily until this instant, all the time covering the -wound with his hand lest McCauley discover it. - -There was no room in the cabin for much movement. McCauley tried to -enlarge the hole, but the cloth was reinforced with wire and could -not be torn. Furthermore, he had nothing to work with if he could get -at the wound--nothing for bandages, nothing to check the bleeding, -nothing.... He swore deeply. - -Then he felt for a familiar iron ring and pulled it. A tiny pilot chute -leaped from his chute-pack. It was designed to pull out his main chute -if he had to jump. He tore at it with his fingers. - -"We'll pack it anyhow," he mumbled as he ripped strips from the small -expanse of nylon. "At least check the bleeding." - -He rolled up a strip of white cloth. He was irritated by the insistent -feeling that he needed antiseptics he didn't have. He worked at the -recalcitrant opening in the cloth of the flight suit and packed the -wound with nylon. Then he worked more nylon about and over the packing -to make a firm pad. He tore long strips to put around Furness' body to -hold the packing fast and tied them tightly. - -It was awkward to work where there was no weight. It seemed unreal to -attempt the preposterous where there was no sound. He worked swiftly. -Suddenly there was a redness in the light reflected all about the cabin -from the sunshine that came in the ports. - -He jerked up his head, thinking foolishly of fire. Then he saw the sun. -It lay beyond a vast curved barrier that shut off all the light of all -the stars. The sun was in the act of descending, to be eclipsed by the -edge of Earth, and its light came through hundreds of miles of thick -air which turned it from a burning golden glare to flame-red, and then -crimson, and then ruby-red as he stared. Then its rim was blanked out -and it slid swiftly down to extinction. The light went from gold to -carmine to ruby and the sun was blotted out in less than ten seconds. - -Then the ship traveled through purest night. The cosmos outside -its ports was sharply divided. There was a hemisphere filled with -the coruscations of a million million stars. The other half of the -universe was the night side of Earth, but it looked like the abyss of -nothingness from which all things came, and to which it may be that all -things will return. - -McCauley reached over and switched on lights. Furness looked at him -through eyes that seemed deep-sunk in his head. - -"You tore your pilot chute," he said thinly. "You've no chance to jump, -now." - -McCauley scowled. There were various methods by which the ship could be -landed or at least its occupants might escape its crash. There was the -skip process, in which the ship could be settled down into atmosphere -just thick enough to slow it as it bounced out to space again for -another settling, another slowing, another bounce. It was considered -the most practical way for a ship to get back to Earth after an orbital -flight. To choose the final landing place, of course, was out of the -question. Also it was believed that even with the best of luck the -ship's crew might have to take to their chutes and let the ship crash. -But Furness could not make a chute-drop. Nor could McCauley, now. - -"Time for a report," said McCauley. - -He'd meant to make it, but Furness summoned all his strength. He ran -his eyes along the instruments. - -"X-21 reporting," he said as loudly as he could. "Just passed darkness -line. Altitude...." - -He went through the list of readings to be given by voice. They might -be picked up by satellite-tracking stations which did not quite pick -up the ship itself. They would almost certainly be picked up by South -African radio amateurs listening for them. - -"More comfortable?" McCauley asked gruffly. - -Furness moved his head in a fashion that might be considered a nod. -After a long time he said: - -"Is there any ... water in the ... survival kit?" - -McCauley fumbled. There was. The survival kits were the small parcels -which might conceivably mean the difference between dying and not -dying if a man had to ditch his disabled plane or jump from a burning -one. Together with an inflatable boat, they were included in the -X-21's equipment as a sort of pious wish. It was not to be believed -that this ship would end its career like a mere atmosphere plane. If -the steam-jets didn't work, the most perfect operation of the rocket -engine would never get the ship down into the atmosphere, even for -destruction. If it got down to the atmosphere there were still several -thousand things that could go wrong. It was definitely not likely that -its crew could jump to safety in case of need, or land so serenely on -water that a rubber raft would do them any good. But the survival kits -were there. - -McCauley gave Furness water. He did not comment on the complications -Furness' injury added to a landing problem that was already complicated -enough. Instead, he looked at the clock. - -"We're close to Antarctica now," he observed. "We ought to run into -moonlight, too." - -He peered out of a port. The tiny lighted cabin swam in emptiness, -without sound, without sight of anything but remote and indifferent -stars. It floated above the part of the world where the Indian and -Atlantic Oceans flow together, and where there is unbroken sea all -around the antarctic continent. A wind can blow completely around the -world there, and rather frequently it does; and the gigantic waves that -are engendered are spoken of with aversion by seamen. But McCauley -could not see any waves. There was floating ice below, but as he -thought of it it changed to the massive ice sheet of the bottom of the -world. So the tiny lighted cabin raced over mountains and plains all -buried in snow which had been there since the beginning. - -He turned from the sight of a universe divided into stars and -blackness. There was no practical measure to be taken--not now, anyhow. -McCauley might contrive a way to get himself safely down to earth, -letting Furness take his own chance with no strength to help himself. -It seemed improbable in the extreme that Furness could survive a crash -landing, even if no explosion followed. There was very little hope -that the X-21 could be landed save in a crash. But it did not occur -to McCauley that he was relieved of responsibility. A normal landing -was not really hoped for. If McCauley piloted the X-21 into orbit and -out again, he'd have done the unprecedented and the next try might go -better. But he could not imagine himself leaving Furness in a ship -headed for a landing that was bound to be a pile-up.... - -He couldn't expect to land intact himself, with his pilot chute ripped -out and torn apart. - -"I'm sorry you tore up your pilot chute," said Furness. "It about kills -your chance of getting down to the ground in one piece. And it's my -fault. You tore it up for me. But when I came on the ship I didn't -think I was hurt badly." - -"I'd have done just what you did," said McCauley. "It would have taken -two broken legs to keep me from walking over as if nothing had happened -to me." Then he remembered. "Report?" - -Furness gathered his strength and spoke in an almost natural voice: - -"X-21 reporting. We are over Antarctica at the farthest south part of -our orbit. Altitude...." - -He went through the list, and then his eyes went to the canteen from -which McCauley had given him water. McCauley gave him another drink. - -"That son of mine," said Furness abruptly. "He reveres you. When I was -picked to ride observer with you, he almost went out of his head with -pride. I was--I suspect I was a little bit jealous of you. A man likes -his son to think he's the greatest man on earth. My boy almost believed -it when I was picked for this job. But if I'd backed out...." - -McCauley nodded. - -"Under the circumstances," he agreed, "you'd walk to the ship and come -aboard if you had to carry your head in your hand. A man wouldn't -disappoint his son." - -"He'd have been so proud," said Furness, "if we'd made it! And I've -messed it all up!" - -"I'm hanged if I'll compliment you," McCauley said, "but it would -have been disgraceful if you'd done anything else. A man has to set -an example for his son. And we may make out. In any case we're just -thirty-two minutes from some very tricky stuff. I think we'd better -think of cheerier things." - -"Sorry," said Furness. He turned his eyes away. He brooded. - -Seconds ticked by in the cabin. Frost began to form on the ports. There -was no air outside, so there could not be said to be any temperature. -But the ship radiated heat into empty space and received next to none -in return. If allowed to cool until thermal equilibrium with its -surroundings was reached, the X-21 would go down to some two hundred -and fifty-four degrees below zero centigrade. But that would be in -darkness. In sunlight it would be a different matter, and the ship'd be -out of darkness in minutes. - -They were very long minutes. The altitude radar said that the ship was -maintaining the most nearly perfect circular orbit any man-made object -had achieved to date. The X-21 was a lonely mote with yellow light -glowing from its cabin openings. From time to time, invisibly, radio -waves spread out from a stiff metal rod pointed sternward, and some of -them might--with luck--be picked up by somebody. But the ship received -nothing, here. - -It passed south of Kerguelen Island in the blackness, and it was -midnight local time, though the ship was only forty-five minutes of -free-fall flight from Quartermain Base. Presently the X-21 headed -northward and crossed the meridian where it was one A.M. something less -than five minutes later. It reached a point south of Australia in under -ten minutes more. It swept above the lowermost part of Australia and -Tasmania together when the clocks on the ground said five A.M. - -It was only when the remotest rim of the blackness which was -Earth turned bright--when the dawn could be seen at the farthest -horizon--that McCauley thought to look for the moon. It shone down -coldly, but it was not bright enough to show him any pattern in the -blackness nearly three hundred miles below the ship. - -In eight minutes more, however, the sun had rolled up over the edge -of the world and below the ship there was ocean. Away off to the -left McCauley could see spiral arms of cloud, signifying a cyclonic -disturbance moving north across the Coral Sea. Sturdy steamships fought -for their lives in that typhoon, and many human beings would die in it. -The ship sped on, and there came into the headphones of both McCauley -and Furness a beamed message from the naval installation at Guam, which -dimly and fugitively could be sighted under an aggregation of white -clouds more dense than ordinary. The message said: - -"_Good work, guys! We're pulling for you!_" - -Then the Samoan Islands were far behind and dropping even farther. -And time passed, and McCauley thought intensively and very grimly, -and once again Furness asked for water. There was a clumping of cloud -masses underneath and to the east which was Phoenix Island, and almost -immediately afterward Washington Island and then Palmyra; after that it -seemed barely seconds when a most respectable massing of clouds to the -left was Hawaii. - -McCauley could see solid ground there, and he talked curtly and very -urgently into his own throat-mike, flipped into circuit with the voice -transmitter for the occasion. It was not altogether likely that his -message, relayed, would arrive ahead of the ship, but it was his only -chance to do anything practical in the way of warnings to the ground. - -He set to work. He did computations from instrument readings he -barely remembered. He included a prayerful hope that the fuel-gauge -instruments had been calibrated through their entire range. There was -so much ramjet fuel, which might or might not do what it was supposed -to do. There was so much rocket fuel, which must be expended to the -last smallest drop before the ship could risk touching ground. And -there was distance to be calculated, in terms of minutes and seconds -instead of miles. - -The clock flashed a red light and made a buzzing sound. It was a -reminder that now, according to the figure evolved on the ground -before take-off, McCauley might begin the attempt at skip landing, -the improbable but still least implausible procedure for getting the -ship on to the ground in not more than two or three pieces. It should -begin with a rocket-driven dive into the atmosphere. He was expected -to have enough fuel for that. With downward velocity established, he -should bleed out all the remaining nitric acid to emptiness. After -it had been completely expelled, and not before, he should wait the -number of seconds which would be equivalent to five hundred miles, -and then jettison the hydrazine. By that time the ship should hit the -outermost fringes of air. He should dive into it until the ship's skin -temperature began to rise--a matter of fractions of seconds--and then -let the ship bounce out again. It would have lost some velocity and -would no longer be capable of remaining in an orbit. So it would come -down into the air again, after an interval in which it would cool off, -and again it would bounce out like a stone skipping across the surface -of a pond until it has lost enough speed to settle quietly to the -bottom. - -If McCauley attempted such a landing system, his place of entry into -the air for a dead-stick landing would not be less than one thousand -miles from the point of the first bounce, and it might be three -thousand. It could not be calculated. Fractions of seconds and seconds -of arc would apply, so McCauley might start his skip-stop descent -out above the Pacific Ocean, and the X-21 might finally ditch in the -Atlantic somewhere off Newfoundland. - -Furness tried to speak. - -"Report," he said faintly. "I should report." - -McCauley threw the switch for him. Furness summoned what seemed to be -his last reserve of strength. - -"X-21 reporting," he said almost naturally. "We are well past Hawaii -and approaching the continent. Altitude...." - -He was halfway through when green solid ground with very few clouds lay -directly below, and the Rocky Mountains were a little way ahead. He -could not quite detect their height, but the pattern of the soil was -distinctive. McCauley flipped on his own throat-mike and said: - -"I interrupt. Here is the situation. My fuel tanks read...." He snapped -off the readings. "I'm going to swing the ship end for end and burn my -remaining rocket fuel to kill velocity. Then I'll adopt such skip-stop -practices as the situation requires. I doubt it will require them. -We were lucky enough to get a nearly circular orbit. In consequence -our velocity is lower than if we'd had to make an eccentric one. We -saved fuel unexpectedly in getting into space, and I'm going to use it -getting out. Over." - -He cut off and made his preparations. His figuring was extremely close. -But there had necessarily been a slight margin of fuel. A circular -orbit does not require nearly the fuel expenditure that an elliptical -one does. But McCauley had made the most efficient possible use of -fuel at the beginning. He'd used one long blast, a two-second blast, -and a one-second rocket thrust to get into nearly a perfect space -trail. He meant to collect for that partly accidental expertness. But -he meant to collect much more for an observation. - -The observation was that a one-second blast was not a thousandth -the ordeal that a sixty-second blast was. No man could survive a -long-continued twenty-gravity acceleration. But most men could take -a one-second push--and not only once, but many times. With time for -recovery in between, and a rocket engine that fired infallibly when it -was turned on.... - -He set the rocket timer. - -"This," he said over his shoulder, "may be our last chance to exchange -compliments, Furness. But I think you're the same kind of idiot as I -am. I'd have come on this trip with my insides hanging out rather than -stay behind. So would you. Very nearly, you did. It's nice to have -known you. I hope we survive." - -Steam-jets spouted at the ends of the X-21's rear fins. In emptiness, -the ship spun halfway about until the swiftly moving solidity below -ceased to move toward the pointed nose. It fled away. The ship traveled -backward where there was no air. - -"And here we go," said McCauley. - -The rocket timer was set. He pressed the blast button. A second later -he came out of near-unconsciousness and set it again. There was another -rocket blast. He almost recovered from the effect of it before he set -the timer for a third. - -Doggedly he set the timer and pressed the button, and allowed himself -three full breaths and set it and pressed again. The shocks seemed to -become more and more violent and intolerable. They were. With loss of -mass, the acceleration of the lightened ship went up to twenty-two -gees. He cut the blasts to three-quarters of a second. A rocket cannot -be throttled down. It fires full blast or it has no appreciable effect -at all. - - * * * * * - -Quartermain Base was built on a flat, flat plain that extended miles -in every direction. Its buildings, from a reasonable distance, were -only toy structures, tiny angular objects in the middle of vastness. -Overhead there was a sky of absolute blue. It was empty. Below, there -was flatness to the horizon. It contained nothing. There was no motion -of any sort anywhere. The base lay still and silent under the baking -two-o'clock sun. Nothing happened. Nothing.... - -No. Something was happening. Specks moved out of the miniature -buildings. Dots rolled out of the infinitesimal garages. The dots and -the specks seemed to mill about uncertainly and then to come to a -restless, not-quite stillness. It seemed that something was expected -to happen. But there was nothing that could. There was only a great -emptiness and a great stillness.... - -But then there came a faint roaring. It was very faint indeed. It -strengthened, and diminished, and strengthened again. - -Then a mote appeared in the sky. It came down and down and down, -bellowing. The bellowing was the unmistakable sound of ramjets. And -the thinnest of high-pitched sounds arose from the specks which were -men outside the buildings at the base. The sounds were howls of -triumph, shrieks of rejoicing, of gladness that the impossible had been -accomplished. - -The X-21 came wabbling down out of the sky and leveled off a bare -hundred feet above the pebbly plain. It lowered, and lowered, and -suddenly yellow dust spouted furiously where its wheels had touched. -The roaring cut off. The ship rolled and rolled. Later, it would -develop that less than one quart of ramjet fuel remained to be burned -before it hit ground. - -Shouting, swarming men rushed toward it. Dots which were trucks and -cars raced to greet it. - -Presently McCauley saluted very formally, standing before a general -whose cap was badly ripped on one side. - -"Sir," he said, "it looks like we did it. And I'd like to say, sir, -that I am very proud to have had Major Furness with me. He's hurt, sir, -as I radioed to Hawaii. The ambulance is rushing him to hospital. But -he stuck to his job throughout, sir, and I'll be obliged if you'll tell -his son that he should be very proud of his father." - - - - - _3_ - - - (Time passed after Ed McCauley became Major Ed McCauley, and most - people forgot him. If his name was mentioned, someone might say - vaguely: "McCauley ... McCauley? It seems to me I've heard the - name." This was because remarkable events don't stay remarkable as - time goes past. There was a two-hundred-pound satellite circling - the moon these days, industriously sending back not only pictures - of the moon's far side, but pictures of cloud masses on Earth which - told much more about Earth's weather than had been known before. A - drone missile had gone out to Mars, and its instruments suggested - that men had better not come out just yet, and other drones had - gone past Venus and said definitely that men better not come out - just yet. So something had to be done to make those journeys - possible. Men had to work in space, testing this and trying that, - staying days or weeks at a time when solar flare-particles were not - too much in evidence. This meant that there had to be a place for - them to live and work. There were plenty of men who'd done - spectacular things lately, but this needed somebody who would be - worrying not about fame, but about getting a job done right. So - Major McCauley received certain orders.) - -On as much of the Space Platform as existed so far, a working day -lasted an hour and forty minutes. There wasn't much of the Platform, as -yet. The greatest bulk was a squat, clumsy metal object which had come -up from Earth, pouring out rocket flames, to be the Platform's nucleus. -From it now sprouted spidery, flimsy metal girders which reached out -in apparent aimlessness. They formed an incomplete skeleton of joined -triangles whose final form seemed indefinite. But in time they would -form a most unlikely icosahedron traced in threads of silvery metal in -emptiness. Although the Platform was barely begun, it grew noticeably -as time went by, even though the working day was so brief. - -Some people would have challenged the word "day." There was no true -night where the first part of the Platform floated hurriedly in orbit -some three thousand miles out from the planet Earth. There was light -when the sun shone on it, which was two hours and five minutes out of -three hours and seven. Despite Luna, Earth's ancient and untidy moon, -there was abysmal darkness when the Platform plunged into Earth's -shadow. This was not nightfall. When sunlight ended, cut off by Earth's -eight-thousand-mile bulk of stone and metal, the phenomenon was an -eclipse. Once in each revolution about the world which was building it, -the Platform was eclipsed by Earth. When light returned, it was not -sunrise, it was the ending of an eclipse. - -McCauley was in charge of the Platform's construction crew, which -consisted of himself--a major--and Randy Hall--a captain--and Sammy -Breen, a second lieutenant in the Space Service. They lived after a -fashion in the cabin of the ship that had brought them and a lot of -building material up and out to the orbit the Platform was to follow. -When a work period ended, they made their way painfully to that cabin. -They made sure that they were inside it before the sun touched the -outer limits of Earth's atmosphere and turned orange and deep-red and -then disappeared, all within ten seconds. It was necessary, for in -Earth's shadow the gossamer-like framework lost heat rapidly. Long -before the end of the eclipse, the temperature of the bare metal -dropped incredibly. Even with Earth nearby to temper it, it fell to -something like two hundred and twenty-odd degrees below zero. - -So between work periods there was darkness and unthinkable cold, -and half the universe was brilliant stars--sometimes the moon was -visible--and the other half looked like a hole in emptiness leading to -nowhere. Actually, the seeming abyss was the night side of Earth, and -sometimes Randy or young Lieutenant Breen used the telescope and found -infinitesimal twinklings on it which could be calculated to be London, -or New York, or Paris, or some other metropolis. But the night lights -of cities on Earth were not remarkably bright, from three thousand -miles out in the planet's shadow. Often, too, there were clouds thick -enough to mask any man-made illumination. There was not much to see -from the Platform in darkness and at an early stage of its construction. - -But after the darkness there came light. - -It was not dawn, of course. It began as a reddish-pinkish line which -precisely outlined a half circle and formed a visible boundary between -absolute blackness and the firmament of stars. The line thickened -at its ends and then at its center. Instantly thereafter the sun -peered--deep-red--around the edge of the planet Earth. It was a -very lively sun. In seconds it reversed the color changes of its -disappearance, fading from ruby to gold and then to the furnace-flame -color it shows out of the atmosphere. And the crescent of lighted Earth -grew broader and broader and suddenly seas and continents and oceans -and islands seemed to come pouring out to cover the darkness, like -creation happening as a flood. - -Then, while the partially built Platform swept onward, without sound -or sensation of movement, nothing else happened for a certain time. -The three men inside the cabin waited for the metal to warm up from -the temperature of liquid air. During full sunshine it went up to the -temperature of low-pressure steam. When all the framework was warm -enough so it was no longer brittle, the cabin air lock opened. McCauley -came out in a silvery space suit. Captain Randy Hall followed him. -Lieutenant Sammy Breen came last. McCauley surveyed the framework. Even -a tiny meteorite could do damage, because any such object could be -expected to hit at a velocity of seven to forty miles per second. - -But when his inspection was over, McCauley slung a space rope around -a girder, straddled the metal beam, and pulled himself effortlessly -along to its first triangular junction with the other frame members. -He had no weight. Nothing had any weight. One could not fall from the -Platform, but one could very easily become lost from it. McCauley had -acquired a certain fanatical concern about precautions against loss of -contact with the only object within some three thousand miles which -would let a man go on living. - -When he reached the first junction of frame members, McCauley unlooped -his space rope from behind the junction, looped it again beyond the -joining place, and crawled over to straddle the next girder and slide -along it with equal absence of effort until he arrived at the place -where he'd left off work a little over an hour before. Randy Hall and -Sammy Breen, meanwhile, emulated him, going in other directions. Within -five minutes of coming out of the air lock they were perched at three -separate places on the absurd framework. - -With quite inadequate-looking cords they drew large metal beams -toward them from their place beside the cabin. McCauley, for example, -pulled at a thirty-foot girder with a piece of string. It stirred and -shifted and floated to him. He stopped it, his knees holding him fast. -Then--very clumsily because of its mass--he maneuvered it into place, -slipped bolts through the ready-drilled holes, and tightened up the -nuts. He finished his first girder. Randy completed his. Sammy Breen -got his section in place, and then stopped. - -"Major, sir," said his voice via space phone in McCauley's helmet -phones, "there's something wrong here. A bolt doesn't go all the way -through its hole. It won't force. The hole needs to be reamed out." - -It was a trivial but annoying happening. The parts for the Space -Platform had been cut out, shaped, and drilled on Earth. In theory they -should fit perfectly together in space. But somebody had scamped on an -inspection job and the result of his carelessness had to be repaired. -It had to be done in a nondescript, crazy framework that was hurtling -along in orbit at something over eleven thousand five hundred miles an -hour. It shouldn't have happened. - -"Memorize the part number for report," said McCauley, "and get the -reamer and clear it." - -"Yes, sir," said Breen. - -McCauley pulled gently at a cord and a second girder stirred and -floated gently toward him. - -Below, the sunlit surface of Earth had an extraordinary appearance. It -was some sixty-five degrees in diameter. At its edges the shapes of -land and water--the planetary markings--were foreshortened and crowded -together in an unparalleled fashion. A twelve-inch globe looked at -from five inches away will give something of the same effect. From one -side of the disk the markings moved toward the center, thickening and -taking recognizable form as they neared the middle. Then they went on, -distorted in a different fashion as they approached the opposite edge. -When McCauley set his second beam in place a wildly twisted Isthmus of -Panama appeared out of the misty whiteness which bordered Earth from -where he floated. In half an hour it would be directly underneath and -plainly recognizable. In another half hour it would be a new shape -entirely. Then it would vanish. Only the center of the visible disk -resembled any map-maker's representation, and that spot changed and -changed and changed as the Space Platform hurtled past. At any given -moment McCauley could see a ninth of all the planet's surface, but only -a fraction of what he saw was familiar, and that changed continuously. - -Sammy Breen slid along the Platform's frame to the cabin, the ship -which had risen to this place from Earth, but would never return to -Earth again. Arrived at the cabin, he seized a handrail, loosened his -space rope, and pulled himself to the air lock. Immediately, of course, -air would flow into the lock and he could emerge into the cabin's -interior. He'd get the tool he needed for a job that should have been -done on Earth. Then he'd come out again. - -Randy tapped on the girder he'd just bolted into place. The vibrations -passed through the metal and through McCauley's space suit to the air -within it. - -"I just happened to think," said Randy cheerfully, "that people down -on Earth are all excited about this thing we're building. They think -it's wonderful. And so it is, at the present moment. But I'm thinking -that in a little while it won't be wonderful. It'll be old stuff. And -the day'll come when it's a nuisance. There'll be complaints that it's -in the way, barging around through space. It'll be in the way of ships -taking tourists on week-end trips to Mars. They'll say it's a danger -to astrogation. They'll say it should be cleared out of space. They'll -insist that it be junked." - -McCauley grunted. Randy was probably right. But just now McCauley -held himself to a three-by-five-inch hollow metal beam, with a million -million stars shining in all possible colors at the same time as the -sun. He continued to work on, building the Platform that some day would -be considered a nuisance. Three thousand miles away, geographical -features squirmed and twisted themselves in their progress across the -disk of Earth. - -"But there'll come a time," said Randy cheerfully, "when one of my -twenty-five-times-removed great-grand-sons will be spanked by his -mother. He'll howl. It will be a very commonplace sort of happening. -The only thing odd about it will be that it won't happen down on old -Earth below us. It'll happen off somewhere on a planet that nobody's -dreamed of yet, circling a sun that nobody's bothered to name, off -yonder somewhere in the Milky Way." - -McCauley grunted again. - -"You haven't any kids yet, let alone great-great-grand-kids. You're not -even married. Why the sentiment?" - -Randy's voice came clearly in the helmet phones. - -"I've been trying to think of a reason for me to be here," he -explained, "playing with an oversized Erector set, instead of chasing -some girl down on Earth. And I realized that this Platform, which -will eventually be junked, has to be built before we can hope to -colonize the nearer planets, let alone the stars. So now I know why -I'm here. I'm doing this so my many-times-removed great-grandchildren -can get their spankings all over the galaxy instead of only on the -insignificant earth below. That's a noble purpose! I feel better." - -"Good!" said McCauley, with irony. - -He felt metallic clankings through the girder on which he was working. -He turned his head within the space helmet. Sammy Breen had come out -of the air lock, guiding himself by a handrail to a position astride a -beam. He slid swiftly along its length. He came to a junction, flipped -his space rope around to the far side of the joining place, swung over, -and slid to the next junction like someone coasting down a stair rail. -He was a cheerful young man, Sammy Breen. - -"Sammy," said McCauley, "hold everything. I'll be over." - -When people encounter each other only occasionally, there is no -particular need for them to think intensively about each other's -feelings. But three people isolated in an enforced intimacy much closer -than that of cellmates have to take thought. When one of them is -responsible for the other two, tact has to be practiced painstakingly. -When one of the three is a young man who doesn't believe that anything -can happen to him because nothing ever has, the situation calls for -extreme care. McCauley had to use his brains if Randy and Sammy Breen -were to be able to work with him under exacting conditions like these. - -He unhooked his space rope, rehooked it past a junction, and pulled -himself toward the place where Sammy Breen had come to a stop. It was, -of course, at a place where two of the frame pieces of the Platform -should join a third. They were to be bolted together and then another -long section of framework would be added, which in turn would have -yet another beam placed and bolted to it so the construction could -continue. At the moment, however, a bolt hole needed to be reamed so -the parts could be bolted together. - -McCauley arrived at the corner of a triangle. When linked to all the -others, this triangle would ultimately support the skin and hold the -interior partitions of the Platform. Again he slipped his space rope -over the junction, hooked it, followed it, and went on toward the place -where Sammy Breen was. Sammy's voice came out of his helmet phones. - -"I saw a man do this once in a circus," said Sammy. "I thought he was -wonderful. But I can do it!" - -McCauley looked up. Sammy Breen had his space rope hooked around the -girder, to be sure. But now he floated, head toward Earth, with one -finger barely touching the metal beam. A photograph would have shown -him apparently supporting his whole weight on a single finger. But here -there was no weight. Nothing drew Sammy toward either Earth or the -Platform. But for his space rope, the lightest thrust of his finger -would have sent him floating slowly, implacably, helplessly away from -the spidery floating object, to drift alone through space forever. - -"I hope you checked your rope before you came outside," McCauley said -dryly. - -"I did," said Sammy nonchalantly. "It's okay." - -He tried to pull himself back to the girder with his fingers. He -couldn't quite reach it. He was no more than half an inch from a -fingertip hold that would have been more than enough, but he couldn't -make it. He reached and reached, and his movements made his body in -its space suit revolve ridiculously upside down and otherwise. Then he -couldn't get his hand anywhere near the girder. - -McCauley watched. He was unreasonably tense. But Sammy rather -sheepishly gave a tug on his space rope and floated back to firm -contact with the Platform. - -"Not to be finicky about it," said McCauley, "that wasn't wise. There -was only one chance in ten thousand that anything could happen, but -there was no need to take it." - -"Yes, sir," said Sammy Breen. - -McCauley settled down, three feet from the end of the beam that was to -be bolted to the one that needed reaming. Sammy Breen gripped that beam -between his thighs and hauled the reamer to his hand. At work on the -Platform, in emptiness, a man did not carry things, he towed them on -cords. If he let go of any untethered object it might stay where he put -it, in mid-space, but it was much more likely to have some small motion -relative to his which would make it drift placidly out of reach forever. - -Sammy Breen set the reamer in place in the bolt hole and pulled its -trigger. It cut metal. But it dragged unreasonably at him, trying to -turn him in the direction opposite its own rotation. Tiny chips and -metal dust twinkled in the fierce sunshine. They floated away. They -would never fall to Earth. Never. The reamer went through and Sammy cut -off its power. He tried to pull it out. It stuck. - -McCauley watched. He'd made a rule that nobody should do anything in -the least out of routine without another man nearby. The three of -them did not work together at one spot ordinarily. In the kind of -conditions customary here, they'd be hopelessly in each other's way. -But he'd issued the order requiring two to be together on any unusual -job. Now, having obeyed his own rule that there must be a second man -at hand when anything beyond simple bolting was to be done, tact made -him keep silent while Sammy did it his own way. Too-close supervision -and too-constant instruction can make for inefficiency. Worse, on a -job like building the Platform, they can make for friction. McCauley -watched without comment. He'd have done this thing differently. But it -would be unwise to insist that it be done his way. - -Sammy jerked at the reamer, which meant that he also jerked himself at -it. He slid along the girder he gripped. McCauley said nothing. He'd -criticized Sammy's horse-play a moment earlier. He did not want to make -a second criticism now. - -Sammy reached out--it would not be true to say that he stood up--and -put his foot beside the reamer in the bolt hole. The position gave him -leverage. He pulled violently. It was a wholly reasonable, completely -natural, thoroughly matter-of-fact action. A man pulling something -stuck in a hole braces himself exactly that way to get a strong pull at -it. But this was on the Space Platform, where there is no weight. - -The reamer gave. It came out abruptly. Sammy Breen shot away from the -beam to the full length of his space rope--and the space rope slid off -the end of the beam. He was headed for infinity with the reamer in his -hand. - -McCauley grabbed. He never knew how he managed to make so swift a -motion in his clumsy space suit. But he hurled his body forward and -snatched at the same instant. He caught the rope. But to reach it he'd -had to lose his own leg-grip on the beam. The impetus of Sammy's leap -jerked savagely at him. He squeezed his legs together in a frantic -effort to hold fast by friction. He tried to turn his toes in to catch -hold before he slid completely clear. But the feet of space suits do -not pivot laterally so he could not turn them inward. Holding fast to -Sammy's space rope, he was jerked inexorably clear and he and Sammy -Breen floated away to emptiness together. - -It was neither a rapid motion nor a simple one. The jerk had come at an -angle rather than straight out. The two of them revolved slowly around -each other at the two ends of the rope. McCauley held on grimly, braced -for the countervailing tug of his own rope when it tightened. - -It did tighten. And then it slid. The spot where Sammy had meant to -bolt two girders together was, naturally, the point where the two -frame members would complete a new triangle. It was to form one of -the triangular facets of the twenty-sided figure the Platform would -constitute when completed. But.... - -McCauley's rope slid, and caught, and slid again. Then it came free. -Before it came free it had slowed the two of them, to be sure. It -increased the rate of their spin. But it slid off to emptiness and the -two of them went away from the Platform, revolving fairly rapidly about -each other, held together by Sammy's space rope. - -Their speed around each other was greater than the speed at which, as a -pair, they were drifting serenely away. At one point in each rotation -one of them approached the Platform while the other moved away from -it. A second later the other spun toward the Platform and the first -one moved toward emptiness. But together they drifted very, very -deliberately toward the stars. - -McCauley swore. Then he said curtly: - -"Lieutenant!" The use of the term instead of the name was wise. -Sammy Breen might be a horrified young man. But Lieutenant Breen was -something else. - -"Sir," said his voice unsteadily in McCauley's headphones, "I'm sorry, -sir. I should have...." - -"I'm going to throw you my space rope," snapped McCauley. "You will -catch it and obey my orders." - -"Yes, sir." - -"Catch!" snapped McCauley. - -He threw the rope. Because they were rotating, the first cast was wild. -Sammy Breen wasn't where he threw the rope when it got to him. It had -McCauley's own speed of rotation, so it did not go where he aimed. It -took half a dozen attempts to get the rope to where the younger man -could catch the squirming line in the stiff gauntlet of his space suit. - -"Now, fasten your reamer to the rope," commanded McCauley. "Tie on your -other tools. Give me every bit of equipment you've got except your air -tanks." - -"Y-yes, sir," said Sammy's voice in the helmet phones. - -Spinning as they were, the universe of stars and sun and the vast, -unfamiliar, brilliantly lighted object which was Earth seemed to be -engaged in a monstrous saraband. Now Sammy was a glaringly bright -object with full, blazing sunshine hitting his space suit. Again he -was lighted from the side with the brightness of Earth behind him, -racing past his body with all its features blurred. Yet again the stars -seemed not points of light but streaks, and there were moments when the -sun itself was a flashing band of intolerable brightness. But somehow -this vast and silent motion of the cosmos seemed unreal. It was like a -hallucination. It was like a nightmare in which absolutely nothing was -true; in which there was no actual sun or Earth or stars, because in -reality those things did not swing in lunatic sweeps around anybody, -anywhere. - -While the younger man blindly obeyed McCauley, they continued to drift -away toward infinity. Curiously enough, the centrifugal force caused by -their spinning gave McCauley the only sensation of weight that he'd had -since his arrival at the orbit of the Platform. - -Randy's voice came in McCauley's headphones. - -"Ed! My God!" - -His tone was anguished and hopeless. - -"Randy," said McCauley in clipped tones. "You can be useful. When we're -in line with you, say 'tip.' Say it again. Keep it up." - -Almost instantly Randy said, "Tip." Then, "Tip." Then, "Tip" again. -Sammy Breen said hoarsely: - -"All my equipment, sir, is fastened to your space rope. Everything but -my air tanks." - -"Right. Now let go of it," commanded McCauley. "Randy, how fast are we -drifting away?" - -Randy's voice came hoarse and harsh. - -"I don't know. Slowly, but you're a good hundred and fifty feet off. A -trifle more." - -McCauley calculated aloud, for his own comfort as well as the -information of Randy and Sammy Breen. - -"We've been drifting maybe half a minute. Those 'tips' of yours were -about one second apart. We're spinning once in two seconds at the ends -of a thirty-foot rope. Each of us has an angular velocity of something -over forty feet per second. Forty-five or better. Our joint speed away -from the Platform--a hundred and fifty feet in thirty seconds.... -Somewhere around five feet per second. Not much more, anyhow! We're -practically crawling away, but we're spinning like blazes." - -Randy said, dry-throated: - -"Even if we had rope, Ed, I couldn't get it to you." - -"I know," said McCauley curtly. "Lieutenant?" - -"Yes, sir," said Sammy Breen's voice, quite steady now. "I've thought -of something, sir. If we act fast and I cut the rope at just the right -instant, sir...." - -"Keep quiet!" snapped McCauley. "That's an order! Right now I want you -to push that equipment at the end of my rope away from you as hard -as you can, in the direction we're spinning. The way we're spinning! -You've got too much angular velocity. Understand?" - -"Yes, sir," said Sammy. "I'm glad, sir...." - -"Keep quiet!" snapped McCauley again. "Push!" - -The cumbersome and weighty mass of equipment, which on Earth would have -weighed nearly as much as Sammy Breen, swung away from him. It went -around until it was behind McCauley. There was now a system of three -weights on a string. The middle one, which was McCauley, did not spin -around. He only rotated. The others swung in a wide circle about him. - -"Get set, Randy," he said sharply, "and have your rope ready." - -"What...." Then Randy understood. He swore. - -McCauley let go of Sammy Breen's space rope at an instant when in his -circle around McCauley he moved toward the Platform. At that instant, -of course, McCauley still moved away. But he let go. The result was -that he sent Sammy Breen floating back toward the spidery metal -framework, and he himself moved away faster. In effect, he'd taken -to himself a large part of Sammy's momentum toward destruction. But -not quite all. There was still Sammy's equipment, which formed a new -two-weight system of masses spinning about a common center of gravity. -Yet it did look as if he'd seen the possibility of saving one of the -two of them, and had taken the action which gave that chance at life to -Lieutenant Sammy Breen. - -"Major!" Sammy cried out desperately. "This is all wrong! It was my -fault! I should have cut the rope! I protest, sir...." - -"Shut up!" rasped McCauley. "Within a minute or two you'll float to the -Platform. It's not likely you'll strike a beam direct. Get ready to -throw your rope to Captain Hall so he can pull you in!" - -Now he cut his own space rope and held its end. With Sammy Breen gone -away toward life, he and the mass of equipment at the rope's other -end still had a spinning motion. But it was a slow one. Yet he could -repeat the same trick he'd worked with Sammy, though not with the same -effectiveness. He could sacrifice the weight at the end of his rope, -just as before he'd sacrificed himself. If he chose the moment when in -their spinning the heavy objects were moving fastest toward the stars, -that would be the moment when his own motion toward annihilation was -least. - -He let go. The awkward clump of tethered space equipment went swiftly -toward nowhere. McCauley seemed to cease to drift away from where Sammy -Breen, floating steadily, made bubbling noises to himself as if he were -sobbing in shame that McCauley had given him life at the expense of his -own. McCauley was now a good six hundred feet off in emptiness from the -lacework of silvery bars. - -"How am I doing, Randy?" asked McCauley curtly. "You want to catch -Sammy when he comes through the framework. Get to where you can help -him. But when you have time, make an estimate on me." - -There was silence. The Platform hurtled on around Earth. The changing, -distorted patterns of land and sea seemed to writhe as they went past -in the intolerably brilliant sunshine. But over at the very edge of -the bright disk a little trace of blackness appeared. That would be -the night line on Earth. The Platform and its company moved separately -yet together toward that darkness. Presently it would cover half the -disk of Earth, and then it would sweep on until only a swiftly thinning -crescent of light remained, and then the Platform would plunge into -utter darkness, where most of the cosmos was only shining stars and a -pallid moon, the rest the blackness of the Pit. And of course, in this -darkness the building satellite's unprotected substance would--like -McCauley--drop to a temperature of two hundred and twenty-odd degrees -below zero. - -"Throw your rope to Captain Hall!" McCauley snapped to Sammy Breen. "I -know you'll turn somersaults. But throw it!" - -Silence again. McCauley made his own estimate. It was not good. He did -not drift swiftly away into the emptiness which would presently be -blackness and cold and death. But he had not lost all his velocity away -from the Platform. - -He took the wrench with which he fastened together the frame members -of the unlikely object which he left with such deadly deliberation. -He drew up his feet below him. He placed the wrench under them. At a -carefully chosen instant he thrust it violently away. - -He pushed the wrench toward nothingness. Its mass may have been ten -pounds on Earth. His own mass, with his space suit and air tanks -and the like, was probably thirty times as much. If he thrust the -wrench away at thirty feet per second--and he did--he would change -his own velocity by one foot per second. This might mean a slowing of -his motion away, or it might mean a terribly slow drift back to the -Platform and a chance for life. - -He took his space knife. It might weigh a pound. He threw it. -Systematically and unhurriedly he denuded his belt of the tools hanging -to it. A mass of possibly sixty pounds, thrown violently away, changed -his velocity by as much as six or--considering that he had less mass -with each bit of mass he discarded--probably seven feet per second. - -"I've got Sammy," said Randy's voice, hoarse and strained. "He's all -right.... You don't seem to be going away any more, Ed. You're no -farther than you were. Maybe I can knot ropes.... No. There aren't -enough." - -"Right," said McCauley with an odd calm. "There wouldn't be time, -anyhow. We're heading for eclipse. I've got to get back on my own--and -fast. The storybooks say rockets are used by men in space to go bobbing -around in their space suits. We know better. But I'm going to use one -air tank." - -He writhed in the harness outside his space suit. He managed to detach -one of his two air tanks. He aimed its pipe carefully. - -Air poured out with a rush when he opened the stop-cock. There was -two thousand pounds pressure to begin with. The tank had been in -unshielded sunshine for more than an hour. The effective pressure of -the air had tripled, at least, because of its rise in temperature. It -made a rocket jet of gas. McCauley could feel its quick, sharp tug at -him. - -It went empty. - -He put it under his feet and gave it the most violent of thrusts toward -the Milky Way. Now he could see that he had given the discarded things -all the momentum that had carried him away from the Platform, plus all -he had taken from Sammy Breen. He was moving toward the Platform. It no -longer dwindled as time went by. It grew in size with an intolerable, -incredible slowness. But that slowness amounted to doom. - -"You're headed back," said Randy's agonized voice in his helmet phones. -"But it's slow, Ed! It's desperately slow!" - -The blackness, which was Earth's own shadow cast upon its night-side -surface, was now fully halfway from the rim of the world toward that -halfway point which was the middle of the space that Earth occupied -within the cosmos. - -"There's about fifteen minutes left before totality," said McCauley -with deliberation. "I've one more thing I can throw away. But I need to -steer with it too, and I can't be accurate at this distance. I don't -dare to use it from so far away. I've no space rope left to throw for -you to catch. I have to throw that last thing away at the very last -instant." - -He heard confused sounds. Sammy Breen, back at the Platform, made -incoherent noises. He probably gesticulated, because Randy understood. - -"Yes," said Randy's voice harshly. "Make it quick. But take care! More -than your own life depends on your being careful now!" - -Sammy Breen gulped. McCauley heard him. Then silence again. - -It was necessary to wait. McCauley was a tiny, glistening object -in emptiness, a desperately long way from the equally glistening -Platform. He turned slowly, foolishly, as he floated. Away off -against a background of stars--but the sun moved momentarily nearer -its edge--there was a shape that now was not quite half of a circle -of brilliant light, and more than half of a circle of darkness -like that of the Abyss. It did not look like Earth. It had not the -least appearance of a world in which human beings lived and moved -and breathed and loved and died. It was a monstrosity whose details -changed their shape as half minutes and quarter minutes went by. And -continually and implacably the darkness spread over more of it. - -Randy's voice came desperately. - -"Hurry, Sammy! Give it to me and get back into the cabin. We won't have -time to wait our turns at the air lock.... Right! Now get back in the -cabin!" - -"How am I doing now, Randy?" McCauley asked calmly. "How's my line of -motion?" - -"I don't like it!" said Randy fiercely. "It's off to one side! Sammy -just brought me all the extra space ropes. He tied them together -inside. I'm checking them now. There are four of them." - -McCauley said: - -"I hate to seem overanxious, but how much will I miss the Platform by?" - -"Too much," answered Randy bitterly. "What have you got left that you -can throw away to steer by?" - -"Eighty pounds of mass," said McCauley with composure. "But I have to -wait until the last second." - -Silence again. Darkness covered three-quarters of the Earth's strange -disk. It was not the darkness of a night on Earth, with trees and -plants and men as darker shapes against starlit or moonlit ground or -sea. It was the blackness of nothingness, of annihilation. - -"You can't stay out much longer, Randy," McCauley said. "I'll have to -try it." - -"There's the moon," said Randy hoarsely. "I can see by that, ... maybe." - -Again silence. The shape which was Earth became the thinnest of -crescents. The sun blazed fiercely almost at its outer rim. - -The sun turned orange, crimson, ruby-red. It ceased to be a circle. One -edge blacked out. It was half blacked out. It was gone. - -McCauley wriggled in the harness outside his space suit. He spoke -deliberately. - -"I'm going to take all the deep breaths I can, Randy. I'll even let a -little extra pressure into my suit. Then I'll take off my last air tank -and try to steady myself with its jet of air. Then I'll put it under -my feet and jump against it, toward you. Now listen! If anything goes -wrong, it won't be your fault! Understand? Don't take any crazy risks. -If I go on past the Platform, get into the cabin fast before the cold -comes! That is my order! I expect you to obey it!" - -"Cripes, Ed!" Randy's voice broke. - -McCauley bled air into his suit. He breathed deeply and fast, -saturating his lungs with oxygen. He removed the tank and then spent -precious seconds stripping away the harness that had held tools and -extra equipment to his suit. - -He jetted away the air. In the utter silence that was the universe, the -whistle of escaping compression was conducted to his gloved hands and -so to the remaining air inside his space suit. He used the jet with -infinite care. The tank tugged briefly and his random body rotation -stopped. He saw the Platform, almost incredibly dim in the moonlight. - -He jumped against the mass of the air tank and harness together. In -seconds he could see that he was moving closer toward the silvery, -spidery framework in the moonshine. He kept himself still. Nothing he -could do now would add anything to his chance for life, and exertion -would lessen the time left before he suffocated for lack of air. - -He relaxed by an iron effort of will. He had gambled. He could win or -he could lose. But he must keep the calmness of a man who sees the -stakes down and waits for the outcome. - -The Platform was no more than a hundred and fifty yards away. No more -than a hundred. - -He would miss it. He would pass sixty feet or more beyond its outermost -edge. Randy would undoubtedly try to throw him the space ropes he'd -tied together. The odds were enormously against his being able to catch -them. - -He said nothing. If Randy thought that he'd run out of air before he -reached the point nearest the Platform, he would reproach himself less; -he'd believe he couldn't have done anything, anyhow. - -Fifty yards. Twenty. He saw glittering metal only sixty feet away. But -there was no conceivable action he could take to move himself that -sixty feet. - -Then something dark came toward him. It grew larger. It was Randy, -plunging out from the girders with a hundred and twenty feet of space -rope trailing behind him, made fast to a firmly bolted beam. - -He collided with McCauley. McCauley felt him gripping fiercely. He felt -Randy clinging to him savagely against the jerk of the rope which must -tighten presently. - -The jerk came, violent and abrupt. - -Randy gasped in relief. He took away one space-suited arm to haul -at the space rope that had checked McCauley's slow drift past to -nothingness. - -"Very nice work, Randy," said McCauley composedly, "but you took an -awful chance." - -They bumped against the substance of the Platform--one square metal -tube some three inches by five. - -"Can you hold on?" demanded Randy, panting. "I'll give you one of my -air tanks!" - -They were out at the farthermost limit of the framework of the Space -Platform. McCauley's faceplate began to frost now, with the loss of -heat to the darkness. - -"Make it fast," said McCauley. "We want to get in out of the cold." - -Fumblings. Clatterings. McCauley heard Randy's teeth chatter, which -might be cold or might be reaction from the terror he'd felt on -McCauley's account. - -"Right!" McCauley said suddenly. He felt air blowing past his face. -Randy's extra tank was connected. "I'm all set now. Let's get headed -for the cabin." - -"Hold it!" said Randy angrily. "You tie a space rope to yourself and -loop it around a beam! Do you want to take a chance on slipping away? -Maybe there is only one chance in ten thousand of getting lost, but -there's no need to take that!" - -"Okay, boss," said McCauley. "I shoulda known better." - -Hardly more than seconds later he was sliding toward the cabin, Randy -following close behind. He came to a joint where three of the beams -came together. He unlooped his space rope from the near side, looped it -around beyond the joint, crawled over, and slid again. - -The cold came fast, but they would make it. Already his mind was at -work on a matter that bothered him. He was in charge of the building -of the Platform. That meant that he had to think about the feelings of -the men under him. Randy was all right. He'd done a good job, and he -knew it. But Sammy Breen was different. He was a very young officer, -and he felt right now that he'd blundered and imperiled a senior -officer--practically killed him, in fact--and he'd be in a state of -almost hysterical self-abasement. Not a good state for young officers -to be in. - -When McCauley squirmed out of the air lock, young Sammy Breen looked at -him. He was deathly white and utterly ashamed. - -"Hm," said McCauley ruefully. "Sammy, I think I'll have to report -myself for incompetence. When a second man's standing by while somebody -does a tricky job, he ought to be sure that his space rope can't slip. -I didn't. I doggone near got you killed, Sammy. I'm sorry." - -Sammy Breen made an inarticulate sound. Then Randy came out of the air -lock. - -"For the love of Heaven, Sammy!" he said, scolding. "It's your trick to -fix food! We've got less than an hour for eating before the sun comes -back. And you haven't even got the stuff heating up! What kind of a -cook are you, anyhow?" - -Sammy swallowed. He swallowed again. Neither McCauley nor Randy -mentioned the late so nearly complete disaster. Randy was kidding him. -McCauley made a joke of it, too. - -Sammy put the food on to thaw and heat. He struggled to become worthy -of the companionship of men like McCauley and Randy Hall. Presently he -swallowed and said accusingly: - -"You characters were late for dinner. Don't blame me if it's cold!" - -He looked anxiously at them. He hoped.... - -McCauley grinned at him. Randy laughed. They laughed together. -Lieutenant Sammy Breen felt wonderfully good. And he would be very -careful hereafter. - - - - - _4_ - - - (There was high adventure on the moon when it was first colonized. - Men faced various ways of dying--all of them unpleasant--and - found that simply staying alive was a great satisfaction and a - full-time occupation. Because of this spirit--which is that of true - adventure--there came to be bases where hydroponic gardens - freshened the air and men took continued living as a matter of - course. This, obviously, was not adventure. So problems arose. Men - began to be moved by other motives than the zest they'd known at - first. But there were still a great many ways of getting killed on - the moon. So there came a time when Colonel Ed McCauley had to - insist that certain men under his command put first things first, - as adventurers do, and not act for the gratification of their - problem personalities.) - -Traveling at moon gait, which is the standard travel pace on Earth's -big moon, McCauley had ten of the last twenty miles behind him when he -saw the sledge trail in the dust. He frowned at it and looked over to -the west. He saw Earth, blue-green and glamorous, hanging as usual in -the lunar sky just above the edges of the ring mountains. But Earth -was always just there. He squinted at the sun through the faceplate of -his helmet. It was a trifle over ten degrees above the horizon and it -moved across the black, star-speckled sky at half a degree per hour. -In twenty hours, then, lunar night would fall. And here was the sledge -track that said that the relay unit for Repeater Two, carrying word to -and from Farside and the rest of the human race, had passed this way en -route to be set up; but the lack of returning footprints said that the -men with it had not come back. - -Repeater One was already in place and ready to operate. Repeaters -Three and Four had also been put in position by men from faraway -Farside Base. Repeater Two was necessary to bring Farside Base into -communication with the rest of the cosmos. Two weeks of lunar night -with no word from outside the base and not even Earth to look at in the -sky--this would not be good for the men on Farside. - -McCauley stopped. He'd been moving in that swooping, semi-flying -fashion which the lesser lunar gravity allows. He stared at the trail. -No, the men had not come back. Yet he'd ordered a party of two to set -up the relay unit. It was to be put into place on the very tip of a -mountain that was now away below the horizon. There it would be in -line of sight of Repeater One, which was relatively near, and Repeater -Three, which was farther away but which in turn could relay signals to -Four, which was farthest away of all. From Four, the relayed messages -would go on to Farside Base. When all this was accomplished, the -Grimaldi Base ten miles distant could communicate with Farside through -Repeaters One, Two, Three, and Four, and with Earth by line-of-sight -transmission; so Farside could communicate with Earth and through Earth -Relay with all the other moon bases--in short, with all humanity. But -Two should have been up and in operation by now. - -McCauley shook his head impatiently inside his space helmet. He'd been -away from his command for thirty hours, during which he'd traveled -twenty miles on foot, at moon gait, to Gerritson Bay. It wasn't a bay, -of course, but an intrusion of now-frozen lava into the mountainous -country here at the edge of the moon's earthside surface. He'd been met -by a moon jeep and had traveled seven hundred miles over a _mare_--one -of the dark areas that were once thought to be seas but actually were -dry and level--to the main lunar base near Hipparchus. He'd had a -one-hour conference with the base commander there, trying to work out -something to prevent the first murder on Earth's big satellite. The -conference was unsatisfactory. He'd come back to Gerritson Bay and now -he'd covered ten of the twenty remaining miles to Grimaldi Base. When -he reached Grimaldi the excessively irritating problem of a murder -in the making was still unsolved, and now in addition there was the -failure to complete placing the relay at the site of Repeater Two. The -sledge ought to be in its place on the peak which was invisible from -here, and the men who'd set it up should have returned. They hadn't. - -He flipped on his space radio and said curtly: - -"McCauley calling relay placing party. Come in!" - -There was no answer. He called again and again. Then he called Grimaldi -Base. Again no answer. He was out of radio contact with all humanity -on the moon--even his own base ten miles away--though by switching -frequencies he could raise Earth Relay a quarter million miles farther -away. The men with the moon sledge might only be behind a mountain wall -or anywhere in any direction below the horizon, but radio communication -on the moon is limited to line-of-sight because there is no air and -hence no layer of ions to bounce radio signals down behind obstacles or -around the moon's curvature. - -McCauley started off again, fuming. Moon gait is a highly specialized -form of travel. In one-sixth gravity a man can cover ten miles an hour -over rough ground if he knows the trick of the gait and the trail is -marked. He travels in slow-motion giant steps, with something of the -effect of an extremely deliberate ballet. He begins with a leap up and -forward, and he rises slowly and deliberately while soaring ahead. -At mid-leap he is six feet higher than at take-off. Then he descends -slowly and with dignity, touches ground and strides at the same time, -and bounds up and ahead once more. There are long seconds between steps -and long yards between strides. When a person is used to it, moon gait -is almost restful. Some people even find it familiar. They've dreamed -of such effortless half flight in their sleep. - -Now, though he was disturbed, McCauley made two miles with no other -known cause for worry than the lateness of the two men who'd placed -the relay and the prospective killing he'd had on his mind before. -He passed between precipices and over dust-strewn stone and through -winding defiles. The two men should be back.... - -Then he spotted something. Abruptly he raised his arms and extended -both feet before him. He came down to the ground and stopped short. -Then--not soaring this time--he walked back to an object on the trail. - -It was an air tank, exactly like the two tanks at the back of his own -space suit. It had been dropped from the moon sledge. It would hold air -for one man for three hours. - -Men driving a moon sledge would wear one tank on their space suits for -safety, and they'd shed one for lightness. They'd breathe from the much -larger tanks on the sledge itself while they traveled. Spare and extra -tanks like this would ride on the sledge. It was not easy to imagine -that it had dropped. One man would go on ahead of the sledge and one -would follow. It was hard to believe that the second man would not -notice the loss of an air tank. Air tanks were life. True, a sledge -party always had more air than was needed for any expected journey--a -good margin for emergency--but this tank could cut the margin for this -journey seriously. - -McCauley growled to himself. He knew the calculations for placing -the relay. The mountain beyond the horizon was an eight-hour journey -by sledge--the horizon on the moon is only two miles away instead of -eight. Breathing from the sledge, the men would arrive with one tank -on their suits untapped, another, also untapped, to be mounted; and -an extra tank for good measure. When they'd put the sledge in place -and aired its beams and set up the nondirectional auxiliary antennae, -they'd start back with two full tanks each and another one for reserve. -They'd make better time coming back--six hours, no more. And each man -had a full six hours on his back, and there were three additional hours -in the extra they'd take turns carrying. It was ample margin. But now -the spare tank was left behind. There was no margin. - -McCauley tried to lift the tank. But it had lain in the shadow of a -boulder, out of the sun's fierce glare--on moon dust, radiating heat -away toward the stars. It had cooled off to the temperature of a -shadow, two hundred and forty degrees below zero. It was frozen. The -air was liquid air. The tank was more brittle than glass was. - -It slipped, striking the boulder. It cracked and broke. A glistening -liquid poured out and evaporated instantly. Where it fell into shadow, -part of it froze and then vanished more quickly than any earthly frost. - -McCauley growled again. Air was precious on the moon. But there was no -use crying when it was spilt. He turned around and began his journey -again. He had good reason to worry now. - -He was a singular, slow-motion soaring figure in a polished silvery -space suit. Where there was a rise in the ground, he came smoothly up -from behind it, the glaring sun glowing on his space armor. Extending -one leg in what might pass as a version of a choreographer's arabesque, -he came down on the extended foot and stepped on it, floating gently -upward and forward swiftly in a continued series of seeming flights. -He went through winding passes where the sledge trail was plain in -the dust below him, he soared across preposterous areas strewn with -boulders the size of apartment houses. Once, going through a narrow gap -in the wall of an unnamed crater--a very small one, barely two miles -across--he passed a spot which showed that the two men had changed -places. The one in advance had gone to the rear, and the one who'd been -behind now led the way. - -It was just beyond the farther wall of the crater that he saw the -second air tank, dropped in the trail. - -It could not possibly be an accident. A moon sledge has racks for -carrying air tanks. It was conceivable that a tank could have slid out -and been lost unnoticed. But it was starkly inconceivable that it could -have happened twice. - -McCauley raged suddenly. He knew what had happened, he knew why it -had happened, he knew who was involved. He flipped the base-frequency -switch. - -"Holmes! Kent! Come in!" he snapped. "Grimaldi Base, come in! Holmes! -Kent! Come in! Grimaldi Base, come in!" - -He did not try to pick up the second air tank. Instead, he increased -his speed over the fantastic landscape of riven stone and upthrust -rock. He went faster, floating twenty and thirty yards at a bound and -calling angrily into the eternal silence about him. This higher speed -was not particularly safe. A stumble on any of his landings could have -meant a nasty crash and possibly a smashed helmet plate. But he raged -on. He'd just traveled nearly a quarter of the way around the moon -to try to effect the quiet and nonspectacular prevention of a murder. -Now he found his trouble wasted, his precautions nullified, and the -operation of his base imperiled. Moreover, the welfare of the men on -Farside was threatened drastically. They might have to go through an -entire lunar night, two weeks long, without any contact with other -human beings. - -Long, long minutes of speeded-up moon gait went by, the suit radio -sending out snapped calls for Holmes and Kent to answer or, failing -them, for Grimaldi Base to reply. - -He was less than five miles from the base when he got an answer to -his call. He'd climbed gradually to a high plateau which now dropped -downward again so that what seemed an infinity of explosion-scarred -desolation lay before him. He was in line of sight of Grimaldi. - -"Grimaldi answers," said a voice in his helmet phones. "Grimaldi -answers. Over." - -Words fairly burst from McCauley's lips, though the rhythm of his -twenty- and thirty-yard leaps remained unbroken. - -"How in the blistering Gehenna," he rasped, "did Holmes and Kent get -out of the base together? What fool sent them off?" - -The voice in his headphones jerked a little. - -"Why--it was your order, sir! A relay from Earth came in. Holmes was on -monitor duty. He wrote down the order, sir. You ordered him and Kent -to take the sledge with the relay unit for Repeater Two and set it up -where it belonged, sir." - -McCauley almost strangled in his wrath. - -"Have they got there yet?" - -"No, sir. They should use it to report that it's operating, sir. They -haven't." - -"When they do," rasped McCauley, "tell them that I specifically order -them to stay in communication with you until I get there! Absolutely -no excuse will be accepted for failure! I'm less than five miles off. -I should get there in a quarter of an hour--twenty minutes at the -outside. They think they're smart, but they've slipped up this time! -Tell them that!" - -"Y-yes, sir." - -The headphone clicked. - -McCauley uttered some profane words in the close confines of his space -helmet. Back at Lunar Base he'd laid the matter of Holmes and Kent -before the commanding officer, who was the ranking officer on the -moon. Kent was an able young officer, transferred to Space Service -from the Air Force. Holmes was also an able young officer, who'd been -a submariner before he transferred to the equally confining Space -Service. They'd known each other back on Earth and somehow--nobody knew -how--a bitter and inveterate enmity had sprung up between them. Perhaps -a girl was at the root of it, but if so, neither of them won her. -Perhaps, by this time, the initial cause of their hatred had nearly or -completely ceased to matter. Enmity does not often last unless things -occur that can feed and strengthen it. It is normal for two young men -to quarrel furiously and be ready to kill each other. But if they are -separated long enough, their hatred usually dies away to acute dislike. -In time the dislike fades to mere aversion or they may forget their -anger altogether. But this happens when there is nothing to sustain and -increase the quarrel. - -On the other hand, if they come across each other often enough, and -more especially if they try to harm each other, what could have -begun as mere indignation and contempt can build up into a blind and -murderous fury at the mere sight or thought of each other. How it -started does not matter then. McCauley suspected that this was the case -with Kent and Holmes. - -Swinging up and soaring ahead, touching ground with precision at each -landing and swinging up again to strange, wingless flight, McCauley -muttered to himself. - -They'd been assigned to his command. Not knowing--then--he'd introduced -them. They spoke with great politeness but did not shake hands. -Settling down to the routine and tedium of a six-man base, it became -evident that there was something wrong. There was no overt trouble, but -there was strain. It showed in a thousand trivial ways. When a party -went out on an errand which required traveling for days in roasting -sunlight, cased in space suits that were almost as confining as strait -jackets, under conditions which rasped the nerves and tried the -tempers of everybody, Holmes and Kent very nearly caused disasters. - -Hatred blazed between them. When their records arrived at Grimaldi -Base, McCauley realized that the beginning of this hatred could not -matter any more. They'd hated each other so long and so bitterly that -if they were asked the reason they'd have panted about something done -yesterday or last month or last year--and perhaps never have gotten -back to the beginning. They might even have forgotten it. But there -was a strangeness in their enmity. They did not simply want disaster -and misfortune to befall each other. They hungered to be disaster, -they thirsted to be misfortune, each for the other. And somehow there -was a demoniac pride involved. In the days of the duello there would -have been a simple and normal solution. They would have met in stately -fashion with swords or pistols, and they would have fought to the death -under the eyes of seconds and witnesses, and somehow it would have been -appropriate. - -But such things were impossible now. The code of the duello was -outmoded. So when McCauley read the records and reports on the two -men--because a commanding officer needs to know the men who serve under -him, and the more dangerous the service the better he needs to know -them--he knew that the first case of murder on the moon was in the -making. Since they couldn't fight formally, as in olden times, what -must happen would amount to murder. - -There'd been an automobile accident at Earth Base of the Space Service. -It looked very much as if it were deliberate, as if Holmes and Kent -had contrived it by agreement between themselves so that one was -bound to be killed. Both were hurt. Neither died. Then there was the -time when Kent was found with a rifle in his hand and a bullet wound -in his shoulder, ignoring the wound and passionately pursuing a hunt -for--so he said--a deer. He explained that the wound was an accident. -The records showed that Holmes was hunting in the same area at the -same time. They showed that he had a slight flesh wound--made by a -bullet. Both Holmes and Kent gave totally unconvincing accounts of -their wounds, and each denied that he had been wounded by the other. -Their stories did not satisfy their commanding officer. He transferred -them to other units, and in his confidential comment on their -records--comment they would never see--he said that he believed they'd -arranged a duel in deer-hunting country with big-game rifles, contrived -so the one who was killed would seem to be the victim of a hunting -accident. It could not be proved, but he believed it. - -There were other memos. Neither Holmes nor Kent had a mark against -him except in connection with the other man. Yet no commanding -officer--certainly none on the moon--would want either man in his base -after having read the records. The moon is too small for men who carry -their enmities with them into space. - -And McCauley had both men--able men, capable men, desirable men except -for their mutual hatred. He'd traveled a quarter way around the moon to -have one or both of them transferred out of Grimaldi Base before they -could arrange another covered-up duel which would leave one dead and -the other a murderer. But his effort had been futile. They couldn't be -transferred out immediately. They couldn't be gotten out, for it was -too close to sunset. They couldn't be gotten away at all during the -lunar night. And now they were out on Farside where there could be no -witnesses and the grave of a murdered man could never be found. - -McCauley arrived, raging mad, at the small, grubby, dust-insulated -dome that was Grimaldi Base. No report had come in from Kent or -Holmes. McCauley was bitterly sure that they'd gone out to the blasted -moonscape firmly resolved that only one of them would return. Somehow, -in the illimitable emptiness of which the fiftieth part had never -been seen by men, somehow, under the black, star-studded sky with the -setting sun casting mile-long shadows of utter blackness and absolute -cold, McCauley knew that they would have some sort of fight in which -one must die. - -But they were Space Service officers. Before they had that fight they -would set up the relay that would give Farside Base a connection to -Grimaldi, and so to Earth, and so by Earth Relay to every other human -being on the moon. They would do their duty as Space Service officers -before they did murder. - -Stooping, McCauley came out of the air lock into the base. - -"I want all the facts about Kent and Holmes!" he snapped. - -"No word from them yet, sir," said the communications officer. "But -we've picked up clickings, sir, which might be the unit being put into -operation. But Holmes and Kent have two beams to align, sir, besides -the all-direction antennae. They may be checking with Farside, sir, to -make sure the relay beam is pointed right to that base." - -McCauley stripped off his space suit. - -"They're in more trouble than they know," he growled. "They lost two -air tanks off their sledge." - -The communications officer's mouth dropped open. - -"But Colonel, sir.... They couldn't! They need those tanks to get back -with!" - -"Exactly," McCauley snapped. "Route the relay's local-antenna and -suit-radio frequencies in to me. I'll take the messages." - -He stamped through the cramped and shabby little base to the minute -compartment set aside for the Base Commander's office. It was -approximately four feet by six. He settled down in the one chair, -glowering. Automatically he glanced at the dials that reported -conditions at the base. Outside temperature facing sun, 198°. Shadow -temperature, minus 205°. Inside barometric pressure, 30.02 inches. -Inside temperature, 72°. Carbon monoxide, 28 parts per million. Carbon -dioxide, 1.8%. Oxygen, 21.2%. - -The physical state of the base was good. But there were two men out on -Farside who lacked two tanks of air they needed to get back. Although -it was their intention that only one of them should return, they'd -outsmarted themselves. Neither could get back, now. - -A clicking from a loud-speaker. A wavery voice: - -"Calling Grimaldi Base! Calling Grimaldi! Call...." - -"Calling Repeater Two," said McCauley. He was very grim. "Calling -Repeater Two!" - -"... rimaldi Ba...." Silence, then suddenly: "Hello!" - -It was Holmes' voice. McCauley recognized it. - -"Holmes!" he said curtly. "You two fools have committed suicide! You -dropped one air tank off the sledge. Remember? That meant that only -one of you could get back, and you and Kent could decide later which -one it would be. But Kent kicked an air tank off, too! Now who's coming -back?" - -There was a startled silence. - -"You heard me!" said McCauley savagely. "There were three tanks on that -sledge. They'd bring you both back with air to spare. But you threw one -away, and Kent threw one away, and so there's one left. It's six hours' -travel back to here, and you've air for two men for four and a half!" - -Again silence. McCauley could envision the scene at Repeater Two, -to which his voice was transmitted by precisely the system of beam -relay used on Earth to carry telephone messages across continents -without wires. There would be two bulky, space-suited figures atop an -irregularly level space from which the ground fell away on every side, -a drop of thousands of feet. They would be in glaring sunlight from the -lowest of low-hanging suns. Where it struck the metal of their space -armor they would glitter blindingly. Where there was shadow, there -would be the blackness of the pit. Overhead there stretched a black -sky with a thousand million stars, and around and below them there -would be long, angular, parallel ribbons of shadow with sharply defined -sides and with beginnings but no ends. And there would be the moon -sledge with the relay built solidly upon it, its runners chocked with -stony debris so it would not slide or topple. There would be the two -bowl-shaped beam reflectors, one pointing back to Repeater One--itself -a moon sledge wedged in place upon a mountain--and the other to -remoteness and to wildness and to night. - -"You could come back as you went," said McCauley. "You could bring back -the sledge, breathing air from its tanks on the trip. But if you did -that, Farside would be out of communication during the coming night. -That would have to be explained." - -Again it seemed that he could see the faraway, motionless figures of -the two men listening over their suit radios to the voice twice relayed -before it could reach their ears. - -"I would have to explain," said McCauley grimly, "that Lieutenants Kent -and Holmes intended to murder each other, and each one threw away an -air tank he expected the other man to use--but he expected to have -plenty of air for himself! I would have to explain that Farside was -isolated because two would-be murderers had outsmarted themselves and -didn't have the guts to face the consequences!" - -Kent's voice came from a speaker. He spoke from that distant mountain -peak toward which darkness crept steadily. - -"Look here, sir." His tone was defiant. - -"If that sledge is brought back," said McCauley angrily, "I'll -court-martial whoever comes back with it, even the two of you! If one -of you comes back, there'll be a court of inquiry. Maybe you've worked -out a pretty story of an accident for the survivor to tell. But you -can't use it now, because I found the air tanks you threw away! If one -of you comes back, the inquiry will end in a court-martial and a murder -verdict!" - -Holmes' voice, stiff and steady, was as defiant as Kent's had been. - -"I take it, sir, that you're advising neither of us to come back. Very -well, sir! We've a little matter to settle between us. We can settle -that and the one who's left...." - -"If neither of you comes back," rasped McCauley, "the inquiry into -your deaths will inform an interested world that two officers--and -supposedly gentlemen--of the Space Service were actually two smart, -snide, shabby killers who overreached themselves! The Service will be -proud to have it known that its officers try to murder each other by -throwing away each other's air tanks. The Service will be very, very -proud!" - -The irony of the last words was corrosive. - -"Sir...." The two voices spoke together, outraged and despairing. -"Sir," panted Kent's voice, alone. "We'd no idea of anything like that, -sir! We've always hated each other, but...." - -His voice ended in a gulp. McCauley growled. A young officer can be -very much of a fool, of course, but he can be desperately solicitous -for the honor of the Service to which he is attached. McCauley spoke -with icy precision. - -"I am not concerned with your lives or your hatreds or your intentions. -I am concerned with the good name of the Space Service. I order you -both to come back here. Alive. Together. You will start immediately!" - -A dazed silence. Then Kent said: - -"But--you don't want us to bring the sledge...." - -"And we haven't--" this was Holmes--"we haven't enough air to get back! -How can we do it, sir?" - -McCauley relaxed in his small cubbyhole of an office. Very privately he -drew a breath of relief. But his tone remained stern. - -"You will head for Repeater One. If you remember, my voice goes from -the base here to Repeater One where it is relayed to Repeater Two. If -I chose the proper frequency it would go on through Three and Four -to Farside. Can you think of any advantage in being at Repeater One -instead of Two?" - -A long pause. Then Holmes' voice, dubious: - -"It's nearer the base, sir. No more than three hours' travel, if that -much. We could make it on one tank of air apiece, sir, and have the -extra one for margin. We could make it to base from there, sir, if we -were there. But we're not, and it's three hours' travel from here! We'd -get there...." - -"You _would_ get there?" demanded McCauley ominously. "Or you _will_ -get there?" - -"_Will_, sir." But the young officer's voice was bewildered. - -"For your information," said McCauley curtly, "the Repeater One relay -unit is exactly like the relay unit at Repeater Two. I may add that -it is in bright sunshine, but will not be so indefinitely."--This was -because McCauley remembered an air tank which had lain in shadow until -its metal shivered brittlely when struck and the air inside it was a -liquid. "It was carried to its position and mounted exactly as the -relay for Repeater Two was. Now figure it out for yourself! If you -still don't understand when you get to it, call me from there. Now get -moving! Sunset's not far away." - -He clicked off his microphone, but left the receiving unit on. The -relay at Repeater Two would pick up suit-radio speech and relay it -back, the pickup being from its all-direction antennae. McCauley heard -mumblings. Then, very distinctly, Holmes spoke. - -"Understand, I'm going to cooperate with you, getting to Repeater One, -but that doesn't mean I like you any better!" - -Kent said resentfully: - -"I figured you'd have to fight me for the air to get back with. And you -pulled the same trick on me! But we'll manage eventually...." - -More mutterings. Then: - -"Cripes! Let's get going!" - -There were those peculiar noises which a microphone inside a space suit -picks up and transmits. Breathings. Clankings. Sometimes the squeak of -metal sliding on metal. - -McCauley listened. Presently the noises faded and ceased. The two young -space-suited officers had descended the mountain to where they were not -in line of sight of the relay, and consequently it could not pick up -their suit-radio communications to relay back to McCauley. - -The communications officer tapped on the office door. - -"We're through to Farside Base, sir," he reported. "The relay system's -working splendidly. Farside just asked for an Earth Relay link to Lunar -Base." - -"Give it to 'em," said McCauley succinctly. - -He waited, listening. He had Repeater One as well as Two set so it -would retransmit any local pickup on helmet-phone frequency, but it was -half an hour before anything but the peculiar singing murmurs of empty -space came from the loud-speaker. Then he heard heavy breathing. - -He heard a colloquy between Kent and Holmes, far away in the lunar -mountains. They were evidently climbing somewhere, and part of the -climb necessarily took them through deep shadow, where the temperature -of the rock was down to night temperature. Their space suits could -handle the cold for a certain length of time, but the teeth of one of -the men were chattering before he came out into sunlight at the end of -the climb. - -McCauley heard Holmes say sarcastically: - -"I needed that last pull. Want me to thank you for it?" - -Kent's voice snapped as he answered Holmes. - -"I did it solely because McCauley would court-martial me if I came in -alone!" - -A pause, then the remote, transmitted sound of space shoes on stone. -Holmes spoke. - -"There's a way I can kill you easily. All I need do is get myself -killed." - -He laughed without mirth, and Kent said bitterly, "Go ahea--" Then -there was silence. - -The communications officer brought McCauley a message from Lunar Base -congratulating Grimaldi Base for completing the communications link -between the two hemispheres of the moon. - -"All right. Forget it," McCauley said. - -He continued to listen. An hour went by. Then, without warning, there -came an explosive "Look out!" There was a crash and then panting. -Kent's voice rasped, "Have you gotten killed?" Holmes answered through -clenched teeth. "Not yet. But how will I get out of here?" More -clankings; more words, painstakingly devoid of solicitude on the one -hand, or any amiable emotion such as gratitude on the other. McCauley -could visualize exactly what was going on from the words. Holmes had -fallen into a pothole, one of innumerable such mantraps scattered at -random everywhere. - -Kent got him out. Holmes grunted to indicate that he could do without -more help. That was that. Minutes later, McCauley heard Kent say dourly: - -"Three hours to Repeater One? We're over three hours now. How's your -air?" - -"All right," Holmes snapped. "When we get to that level place, we'll -split the extra tank." - -McCauley fretted. He could not know how far or how fast the two men -were moving, off in that deadly waste of obstacles. Three hours had -seemed a fair estimate. But plainly they'd had trouble. - -Their voices cut off before they reached a spot where they could divide -the air in the tank that had to be shared. - -Then silence, for a long, long time. When McCauley heard any sound -again, it was Holmes angrily calling to Kent, demanding that he say -whether he needed help or not. And then for a full half hour McCauley -listened to the sharp-voiced, sometimes abusive exchanges between the -two. Kent had touched the keystone of an unstable rock slope. It gave -way under him and went whirling downward in one of those infrequent, -slow-motion moon avalanches that are unimaginable until one has seen -them. Kent checked himself on the edge of a precipice over which the -rolling stones fell in utter silence until after tens of seconds they -struck and split, still noiselessly. - -He could not get away. It was dangerous to help him, lest another -avalanche be started. McCauley, listening, sweated as he glanced at a -clock. But Holmes was helping Kent. - -Later--much later--he heard clatterings and Kent's voice said -snappishly: - -"Well, here's Repeater One. McCauley said to come here. What do we do -now? I've air for fifteen minutes more." - -Holmes tried to speak, but couldn't. There were clankings. - -"Doggone you," Kent snarled shrilly, "you cheated on the air! You -didn't split even! Cripes!" - -Then he panted, and suddenly there was a hissing sound, and gasps. -McCauley's hands were tightly clenched as the sounds came to him from -both faraway space-suit microphones. But at the hissing sound he -relaxed. - -A little later Holmes' voice came, astonished. - -"That was it! He said that the relay here was exactly like the relay at -Repeater Two. It's a sledge, and it was brought here by two men--and it -has air tanks that they breathed from while they traveled! Kent, you -hooked me to the air. The pressure's way up! We can refill our suit -tanks and the spare!" - -Kent said waspishly: - -"So I noticed. Get your tank full-up and let me have my share.... -McCauley said to call him from here if we needed to. What say?" - -"McCauley can go to blazes!" rumbled Holmes. "It's not two hours from -here to the base. If we fill up on air, we can get there before sunset. -To heck with McCauley!" - -In the commanding officer's cubbyhole at Grimaldi Base, McCauley -relaxed again in his chair. His expression went from strain to -contentment. He reached over and flipped off the receiver. - - * * * * * - -The deep, dark, abysmally black night had fallen. Low down at the -western horizon Earth hung, blue-green and glamorous, just above the -crests of many ring mountains. It was a little past first quarter, and -it gave only the faintest of light to the tortured and splintered rock -formations outside Grimaldi Base. When Earth was full, there would be -bright earthlight on the moon, and the moon's surface would look much -stranger than any painter of fantastic pictures could imagine. - -Inside the base, McCauley was going toward his office when a hand -touched his arm. It was Kent. He looked forbidding and grim. - -"I'd like to speak to you, sir," he said formidably. - -McCauley waved him into the tiny office and closed the door. - -"What's it all about?" he asked. He touched a switch and a desk light -glowed. He touched another, but nothing in particular seemed to happen. -"I've forgotten," he said mildly, "any unpleasant things I may have -felt it necessary to say a few hours ago." - -"It's Holmes, sir," said Kent, his lips tightly pressed together. "He -didn't play fair, sir. When we split that extra air tank he cheated on -it. He gave me more than he took himself. And when I was stuck with an -avalanche ready to finish me any second, he...." - -His voice rose shrilly. He complained bitterly that Holmes had saved -his life at least four times. - -"He had to," McCauley pointed out. "I said I'd court-martial whichever -of you came in, if one came in alone." - -"That's the devil of it," said Kent bitterly. "He didn't do it that -way! He didn't do it grudgingly. Doggone him, he made me ashamed! If -it weren't that I'm hanged if I'll ask any man to overlook things like -I've done to him--and he's done to me--if I wouldn't be asking him to -overlook so much, I'd...." - -McCauley waited. But Kent did not finish. Instead he said savagely: - -"As a matter of self-respect, sir, I have to report that Holmes ought -to be commended officially for several acts beyond the call of duty, -sir--and for a man he hates and who has hated him. That's all, sir!" - -He turned to go out. - -"Hold it!" McCauley spoke sharply. "You will listen to something. -This is an order!" He threw a switch and said: "I recorded your -recommendation, Kent. But you will listen to this!" - -There was that minute whirring noise a tape recorder makes when it's -beginning its run. Kent stiffened. A voice came out of a speaker. But -it was not Kent's voice, it was Holmes'. And Kent, staring, heard -Holmes saying stiltedly and urgently that Kent had behaved in a highly -admirable manner that rated official commendation. He'd risked his life -for Holmes on several occasions, and if it weren't that he wouldn't ask -any man to forgive him things like he'd done to Kent.... - -McCauley snapped off the recorder. The sound ceased. - -"Holmes came in here first," said McCauley dryly. "His and your -recommendations will have due attention. And I'm not going to suggest -that you go and shake hands with him, but I think he might like it." - -Kent's mouth opened and closed. - -"B ... but ..." he stammered. - -"Get out of my office!" roared McCauley. "I've got work to do!" - - - - - _5_ - - - (It seemed there wasn't much left to do in the way of space - pioneering. There was a Space Platform, and there were bases on the - moon, and drone ships had been out to Mars and sunward past Venus. - There were new and better fuels, and the problem involving the Van - Allen belts of highly charged atomic particles seemed to have been - solved. It looked as if the rest of the job of conquering space - would be just plain, slogging hard work of a strictly routine - nature. This process would be improved a little, and that would be - developed a little further, and progress toward the stars would be - made by inches. But things never work out simply. There is always - something unexpected and usually disastrous turning up. Just when - things looked brightest, somebody worked out the causes of solar - flares and devised a way to predict them. It looked like a neat and - unimportant triumph of pure theory. But when it was closely - examined, it meant that the end of all space travel was - approaching.) - -They called Colonel Ed McCauley back from the moon when Doctor Bramwell -peevishly refused to go along with the Venus shoot unless the assigned -crew was fired and replaced by more respectful men. The top brass felt -that McCauley might be able to get along with Bramwell and get the job -done. It was a highly necessary job. There was a sun-flare maximum -coming up, but if the Bramwell-Faraday screen could be improved enough, -it might not matter. Men might continue to occupy the Space Platform, -and activities at the bases on the moon might continue. All the men now -in space might not have to return to Earth to stay until the flares -died down--if they ever did. In effect, if the Bramwell-Faraday screen -could be built up to adequate strength, man's conquest of space might -continue. If the screen couldn't be built up, space travel must stop. - -And Doctor Bramwell was the key man in the project. He'd devised the -screen in the first place, and was more likely to be able to improve it -than anyone else. But he was not an amiable person. So, since he was a -civilian and couldn't be given orders, when he said peevishly that he -would not go along with the original crew, the men first assigned to -the Venus shoot were removed--swearing luridly--and Colonel Ed McCauley -came back from the moon to see what he could do. - -He had one interview with Bramwell, and was very respectful. Part of -the respect was genuine, and part was diplomacy. Bramwell did have one -of the two or three best brains on Earth, but his personality gave -McCauley reason to be disturbed. - -After the interview he consulted higher-ranking officers. He did not -think Bramwell was psychologically qualified to take part in the Venus -shoot. He thought the scientist would do better work if he stayed -home and directed somebody on the ship by tight-beam radio. McCauley -spoke forcefully. But Bramwell happened to have a near-monopoly of the -kind of brains that were required. And the psychological factor that -made McCauley doubtful made the doctor as temperamental as any prima -donna. The high brass knew all the reasons for McCauley's protest. -But if Bramwell felt himself pushed aside, he'd sulk. If he sulked, -he wouldn't do his best work. And his best work was an essential. So -McCauley was ordered to make do with Bramwell somehow. - -McCauley shrugged dubiously. He asked for Major Randy Hall to be -assigned as his second-in-command. Randy gloated when his appointment -came through, but McCauley shook his head gloomily. - -"There's no reason to feel good about it," he told Randy dourly, in -the almost completed Venus ship. "I'll be glad if you go along, but -that's not the idea. You're appointed to be the man who'll be fired if -Bramwell demands it." - -Randy blinked. The cramped, inconvenient, gadget-filled interior of the -Venus ship looked glamorous, when you thought of where it was going -and what had to be done in it. - -"The fact is," said McCauley, "--and the big brass knows it--the fact -is that Bramwell's scared. He's terrified at the idea of going out into -space. But he's ashamed to admit it. He'd rather die than let anyone -know he's in a panic. He's probably trying to keep from admitting it -even to himself. So he's making trouble to delay the moment of truth. -He's trying to keep from facing the fact that he either has to go or -else admit he won't." - -"He's afraid of going?" asked Randy incredulously. - -"Just as some people are afraid of heights, or spiders, or income-tax -forms," said McCauley distastefully. "There's nothing disgraceful about -being scared. If he'd only admit it, he could fight it or accept it. -In either case he'd be all right. But he insists to himself that he's -not only a brainy man but a normally courageous one. So he insists -he'll go, and he won't let anybody go in his place, but he can't make -himself believe he'll go. So he sets up all sorts of obstacles--crazy -ones--ridiculous ones. He doesn't realize it, but he may subconsciously -be trying to postpone the shoot until it's too late to make it. If that -happens he won't have to face the fact that he's scared." - -Randy grimaced. - -"And you expect me...." - -"To keep him busy," said McCauley. "Try to fix things so that it'll be -take-off time before he realizes it. Keep him away from me so he can't -pick a quarrel and insist that I be fired. Make yourself the one he'll -insist he can't stand, when what he can't stand is the trip." - -Randy grimaced again. - -"You're a rat," he said resignedly. "But suppose I charm him so he -doesn't insist that I be thrown out?" - -"Fine!" said McCauley. "There'll be a crew of only two, with him as the -third. I'd rather have you than anybody else. But Bramwell's devising -excuses for refusing to go. You could be one excuse." - -"I'll polish some apples," said Randy, "and fearlessly mixing -metaphors, I'll beard him in his den. Maybe I can get so popular he -won't want anybody fired." - -"Good luck to you," said McCauley skeptically. "You'll need it!" - -He plunged into the remaining preparations for the shoot, and Randy -went to take over the job of keeping Bramwell from meeting the various -people who passionately wanted to have nothing to do with him. - -The basic problem the Venus shoot was to attack was at once simple -but apparently hopeless. From time to time the sun displays "flares"; -these are violent upsurgings of its photosphere, not in the nature of -sunspots but somehow associated with them. A flare may begin without -obvious warning and in fifteen minutes become monstrously violent, -throwing off highly ionized fragments of molecules at the highest -speeds material particles can attain. Some of these particles, in time, -reach Earth; magnetic storms and auroral displays are the consequences -of their arrival. They are harmless to people who live at the bottom of -the planet's ocean of air. - -But they are not harmless to the crew of a ship in space, or to the -staff of that combined way station and observatory which is the Space -Platform, or to the occupants of the bases on the moon. The Space -Platform itself was set in orbit only three thousand miles out from -Earth because of the Van Allen belts of just such particles that have -been swung into paths around the earth and form invisible rings more or -less resembling the visible rings of Saturn. At three thousand miles -out these particles are not deadly. Farther out they are. - -It was not until the Bramwell-Faraday screen was devised that it became -possible for a man to land upon the moon. With the screen, a man could -survive passing through the Van Allen belts in screened ships and set -up moon bases. But the margin of safety was not great. It was enough, -but barely so. - -The Venus shoot was planned because this state of affairs would not -last. Astrophysicists had developed a system for predicting solar -flares. Then they'd found evidence and, later, proof that the flare -frequency was due for an enormous and probably permanent rise. Dense -clouds of flare particles would be released. The Van Allen bands -would be intensified. Within a year, any man who went beyond Earth's -protecting atmosphere could expect to get a fatal dose of radiation -burns within an hour's exposure, a flare particle being "radiation" in -the same sense as the particles thrown off by radioactive materials. -The Bramwell-Faraday screen had to be improved, or else. And the only -way to know that it was improved was to try it against stronger and -stronger streams of the deadly particles until it failed--or worked. -Which meant that somebody had to go out to where flare particles were -abundant. - -So McCauley labored on the ship that was already nearly set to dive -sunward. It would be equipped with the screen that had made Earth-moon -travel possible. It would have on board Bramwell, who'd designed the -screen to begin with. It would plunge into flare-particle radiation of -such intensity that the ship's crew _might_ survive--with the present -screen on full--but this was by no means certain. The ship would dive -sunward to Venus, swing around that planet, and drift back out to the -orbit of Earth. On the way, Bramwell would try to adapt his screen -to protect the ship and himself in it. It was a highly melodramatic -proceeding, and Bramwell looked very heroic. - -But he was a most unpleasant man. Having met him, McCauley estimated -his personal attractiveness as much less than one-tenth the personal -charm of an irritated skunk. - - * * * * * - -Ten days after his assignment to the Venus shoot, Randy came to -McCauley with a sort of grim humor in his expression. - -"I took Bramwell over the ship," he said. "Since he's going to live and -work in it, he thought he ought to see it." - -"That's reasonable," admitted McCauley. - -Randy held up his hand and ticked off on his fingers. - -"Item. He drinks a glass of orange juice, a large one, every night -before retiring. A supply of orange juice must be provided." - -"All right," said McCauley. "Anything else?" - -"Item," said Randy. "He is extremely annoyed by noise. He must have -a working area that is lined with soundproof material and has a -soundproof door so he can have absolute quiet." - -McCauley grunted. - -"If you can think of anything quieter than space with one's rockets -off.... But okay. What else?" - -"Item. He suspects he's allergic to the vegetation in the -air-freshening system," said Randy. "I promised it would be checked." - -"We'll make impressive allergy tests for him," said McCauley. "If -that's all...." - -"It isn't," said Randy. "He wants a bunk with a hard mattress. He won't -use the acceleration chair except for take-off." - -McCauley stared. - -"But didn't you tell him?..." - -"I," said Randy wryly, "am polishing apples. I want to go on this shoot -even if he does, which means I want to go very badly. No. I didn't -tell him that in free-fall flight with no gravity a steel plate is as -comfortable as a down pillow. Why start an argument with a man in a -blue funk?... He showed me the reference library he insists he has to -take with him. It weighs eight hundred pounds." - -"There," said McCauley, "he has to lose! We can't take eight hundred -pounds of excess weight. We simply can't do it!" - -Randy grinned. - -"I showed him a moon-base microfilm reader and offered him the -equivalent of four tons of books on half a dozen reels. He couldn't -refuse to buy. He only named half a dozen book titles not already on -film, and they're being filmed now." - -"Anything else?" - -"Not so far," said Randy. "He's scared and ashamed of being scared. I -don't think he'll actually get up nerve enough to back out, but I'm -sure he'll never get the nerve to go. When he finds out the actual -take-off time I look for trouble." - -"What kind?" - -"Maybe hysterics," said Randy. "I'm almost sorry for the guy, but not -quite. A man with his brains ought to face the fact that he feels -timid, and either fight it or admit it. Especially, a man ought to -realize that other people can tell what's the matter with him." - -McCauley considered, frowning. - -"For your information only," he said, "take-off will be 1400 hours -Tuesday, neither plus nor minus. We'll have to stop at the Platform -to refuel, and the Platform has a schedule. We'll need to swing very -close to Venus for its pull to change our course, and Venus has a -schedule. And we'll need to meet Earth farther along in its orbit, and -Earth has a schedule. None of them can be changed to humor Bramwell's -psychological idiosyncrasies. We take off at 1400 hours Tuesday!" - -But Randy shook his head. - -"Oh, oh! Friend Ed, we're in trouble!" - -"He won't go?" - -"He won't go," said Randy. "I'm just learning how to handle him. I -believed I could trick him into committing himself so firmly that he'd -go, no matter how much something inside of him was screaming that it -didn't want to. But Tuesday's too early. I don't think there's a chance -to get him either to go or admit he won't. Not by Tuesday." - -"That's too bad," said McCauley grimly. "We need him for our crew--him -or a reasonable facsimile. Do you know what they used to do when they -needed sailors?" - -"Pressed them," said Randy. "Press gangs grabbed them. But that was the -law then. It isn't now." - -"I wasn't thinking of a press gang," said McCauley. "Much more often, a -man got shanghaied. We've got to have that souped-up Bramwell screen!" - - * * * * * - -More days passed. Doctor Bramwell announced firmly that he would not be -ready to take off on the Venus shoot on Tuesday at 1400 hours. It was -pointed out to him that all the computations for the Venus shoot were -based on that time for departure. Doctor Bramwell said firmly that he -would not be ready to leave at that time. It was suggested that he name -someone who could take his place and work out the improved screen, of -course on the basis of his advice and suggestions tight-beamed out to -the Venus ship. Doctor Bramwell said indignantly that nobody else was -capable of doing his work. But he would not be ready to depart at 1400 -hours on Tuesday. - -There was a complete impasse. He was immovable. The shoot had to -be made at a certain time. He refused to be ready at that time. -Preparations for the shoot went on. He calmly and ponderously ignored -them. - - * * * * * - -At 1400 hours on Tuesday a hundred and eighty feet of streamlined, -fire-spouting metal plunged skyward from Cape Canaveral. At eighty -thousand feet, the first stage dropped off; at seventy miles, the -second stage. The third stage, which was the Venus ship, went whipping -on out into space. It circled Earth once, gradually overtaking the -Space Platform as it floated serenely in emptiness three thousand miles -out from the Earth's surface. With tiny, finicky jettings of rocket -fuel, and the use of steam-jets for final maneuvering, McCauley brought -the Venus ship into contact with the Space Platform. - -There was swift and efficient action. Men in space suits swarmed out -of the brilliantly sunlit, faceted artificial moon. They connected -fuel hoses and topped off the Venus ship's tanks. They floated a -second-stage unit out and bolted it in place. They painstakingly got -a giant first-stage unit out of the ship lock and set it where it -belonged. At the Space Platform, the Venus ship regained the fuel and -the ability to accelerate that it had used up getting there. - -One and a quarter hours after contact, McCauley reported back to -Canaveral that all was well, that Doctor Bramwell was in excellent -condition and making no complaints, and that all instruments and -equipment had functioned perfectly during the trip from Earth. Then he -backed the reenlarged Venus ship away from the Platform. - -There was a long, long pause while he adjusted the nose of the ship -with micrometric accuracy to an exact, particular spot and made sure -that it stayed there. The ship had drifted a good mile from the -Platform when he stabbed home the rocket-firing button. - -As usual, the instantly following sensation was that of a roof falling -in on one and several other roofs falling in on top of it. The Venus -ship accelerated for seventy-eight seconds, its nose pointed sunward. -McCauley'd set the rocket timer for that length of firing. - -When the rockets died, he floated weightless in a ship which had no -weight. His head tried to split wide open and let his aching brains run -out. His hands were puffy and swollen. His eyes felt as if they were on -fire. Beside him, Randy groaned and then growled. - -"Doggone the man who invented rockets," said Randy painfully. - -"See how Bramwell's doing," grunted McCauley. "I've got to see how we -made out." - -His headache went slowly away as he checked the ship's line of motion -against Earth, growing small behind him, and Venus and the sun ahead. -It was reasonably satisfactory. He checked the ship's velocity by -the inertia computer and by a tight-beam query back to Earth. His -query went back on microwave with a beautifully accurate piezocrystal -regulating his frequency. His speed could be determined by the Doppler -effect. Both the inertia computer and the Doppler reading indicated -that his velocity would need a slight boost later. A time and duration -of rocket firing would be computed. So far, though, so good. - -"We'd better set up housekeeping," said McCauley. "How's Bramwell?" - -"Pulse and respiration okay," reported Randy. "But I bet he busts a -button when he wakes up." - -McCauley eased out of his acceleration chair. He ached in every bone -and muscle from the effects of the two successive take-offs. But he -cast an accustomed eye about the ship. It was not a big ship, and -Bramwell's stipulated soundproof cabin took up a large part of it. It -was, actually, not much more than an oversized moonship. But there were -features to be arranged that the short-voyage ships from Earth to moon -did not bother with. - -McCauley floated over to the packed-up air system. In a space voyage -up to a week in length, it is as economical of weight to carry air as -to purify it. But the Venus shoot would last much, much longer than -a week. So McCauley unpacked the air system. The vegetation had been -padded lest it be bruised or broken in the take-offs. He set up the -unit and started the hydroponic pump. Randy adjusted the drinkables -unit. McCauley set out meals to thaw, in readiness for dinner. Randy -put the sanitary facilities and the waste-disposal unit in operation. -In effect, the ship had had to be decommissioned as a livable vessel -while it was being flung out from Earth as a projectile. Now, in far -space and going even farther, the two men transformed it into one -of those specialized environments that supply men in emptiness with -everything they require except day, night, weight, up, down, normal -sounds, and a feeling of belonging where they are. - -One homey touch appeared before the recommissioning of the ship -was complete. McCauley opened a very small box and took from it an -infinitesimal yellow object that stirred as he handled it. It was a -tiny canary which had been stowed in the equivalent of a canary-sized -acceleration chair. Now it struggled desperately in his hand. - -"You'll do, Mr. Perkins," said McCauley. "You're all right!" - -He put the panting little creature--Mr. Perkins--into a cage hardly -larger than itself. It let out a bewildered chirp when he released it. -It struggled wildly, in panic because there was no up or down. McCauley -captured it and put its groping claws against the perch. They gripped -it. He set up a curiously intricate device inside the cage. - -"He'll do," he said in satisfaction. "And it looks as if his -food-and-water system is going to work, even in no-gravity. That was a -job to design!" - -He checked two larger devices with extreme care. One was the -flare-particle counter, designed to make an audible click for every -hundred, every thousand, or every ten-thousand flare-particle -penetrations registered. McCauley set it for hundreds. It clicked every -three or four seconds, which was a high concentration but still within -the tolerance limit. The other device was the oxygen-supply flutter -valve. The plants in the air system would absorb carbon dioxide from -the air as the men's breaths produced it, and release oxygen to replace -it. But it was not quite a hundred per cent replacement. From time to -time more oxygen had to be added from storage tanks to keep the air -volume constant and the oxygen percentage right. The flutter valve took -care of all this. It made a curiously irritable, buzzing sound when it -worked. - -The ship went on. Ahead and off to the right lay the steady, -last-quarter crescent of Venus. Above and below and on every hand -there were stars. Nobody on Earth ever sees the stars as they appear -in space. At the bottom of Earth's atmosphere, the keenest eye can -see no more than three thousand stars at any one time. Out here one -could count as many in a circle no larger than the sun's disk. They -shone in innumerable colors. The Milky Way was not a filmy mist across -the heavens, but a ribbon of jewels set in pure light; Earth was a -glamorous blue-green gem with white spots at its top and bottom, and -the moon was a shining smaller circle. - -Randy looked outside, as McCauley did. Then Randy yawned, to hide the -awe that every man feels when he looks upon the immensity that men -impertinently intend to conquer. - -"Well, now," said Randy. "We're well started and maybe a bit of a nap -is sensible. Anyhow, Bramwell's sleeping sweetly. Should I loose him?" - -"Wait till he wakes," said McCauley. "Things feel pretty good," he -added. - -Randy was silent, and they savored the feel of the ship together. -It was strictly a feeling for technically-minded men. There were -innumerable instruments, and all of them registered well within the -limits of what it was proper for such instruments to read. The ship was -on course, floating in immensity. It had ample reserves of fuel. It had -left the Space Platform with all its take-off-from-Earth fuel replaced. -Besides, having been launched from the Platform at the proper instant, -it had the Platform's orbital speed converted to sunward velocity and -reinforced by blasts from the new first-stage booster which was not yet -fully expended. The replaced second-stage had not been touched, and -there was a third stage in reserve. The air system was functioning. The -oxygen flutter valve made a consoling noise toward the ship's stern. It -sounded like a staccato Bronx cheer. There was plenty of oxygen stored -under tremendous pressure. There were resources of food. And there was -all the equipment that Bramwell could possibly need for the development -and replacement of the ship's present Bramwell-Faraday screen, so that -men could stay in space and go farther and farther from home. - -It was while they felt the fine contentment of men with a job to do and -the material for doing it that Bramwell awoke. At the beginning he was -starkly bewildered. He remembered drinking his glass of orange juice -the night before. But he remembered nothing more until he found himself -trussed up in an acceleration chair, in no-weight, in space, in the -one situation he'd been unable to nerve himself to face. - -When he realized what had happened to him, he went into blind, -screaming, fighting hysterics. - - * * * * * - -They were three days on their way when McCauley said patiently: - -"I've told you. You can use the communicator back to Earth and protest -that you were kidnaped. You can arrange for us to be arrested when we -return. But we can't turn back. It isn't possible. I wouldn't if I -could. Anyhow you're not nearly as scared as you were. You can think -straight, now, certainly! And you can see how ridiculous you'll look -if you become known as the man who had to be shanghaied for a space -trip because he'd neither the nerve to go nor the intestinal fortitude -to admit the fact and let another man try to do his work. If you want -to be known as a complete ass, you can. But do you?--Do you want to be -known as an utter ass?" - -Bramwell glared at him. Nobody can stay panicked for days on end. If a -man had had a Damoclean sword hanging over his head for days, he'd wind -up accustomed to it. He wouldn't like it, but he couldn't stay scared. -Fear is an emergency mechanism to increase the pulse rate and release -adrenalin and tone the muscles for combat or flight. It is inherently a -limited response. It has a maximum duration. - -And Bramwell was now past the limit of the time a man can stay -hysterically terrified. He didn't like space. He didn't like no-weight. -But most devastatingly and bitterly--now that he was no longer -terrified--he was ashamed. McCauley and Randy had seen him in babbling, -incoherent frenzy. His dignity was utterly gone. And he hated Randy -and McCauley poisonously because they'd seen what he would not admit -to himself--that he was afraid. It was humiliation to face them. It -was an intolerable rasping-raw of his vanity to be in their presence. -They knew he'd been afraid and that he'd bluffed to hide it. They'd -seen him crack up when he found himself in space. He was shamed -beyond endurance. Therefore he raged, and therefore he hated them -irreconcilably. - -McCauley went on as patiently as before: - -"You can do your work now, and it will never be known that you had to -be forced to it like a scared little boy. Or you can not do it, and it -won't get done, and the history books will say that men once started -for the stars but had to come home because Doctor Bramwell's pride -prevented him from working on the problem he was the only man who could -solve." - -Randy, watching, nodded to himself. McCauley was doing a good job of -argument. That last "only man who could" was flattery, and Bramwell -ought to respond to it. - -"I shall charge," said Bramwell spitefully, "that you two prevented me -from doing my work by imposing impossible working conditions on me!" - -"Name possible ones," said McCauley patiently, "and you'll get them if -they're available." - -The canary, Mr. Perkins, chirped from its cage. The bird was upside -down in relation to Bramwell, but it seemed to have adjusted admirably -to the conditions of space travel. - -"The soundproofed room," said Bramwell triumphantly, "is ridiculously -small. I need more space. But above all I need quiet! I need to be -isolated from the society of fools and from noises I cannot endure!" - -Mr. Perkins chirped again. The canary was still bewildered, but at -least it could see now, and it'd found out how to get at its food and -water, and it felt quite cheerful. - -"... And you might start," rasped Bramwell, "by strangling that blasted -canary! I abominate canaries!" - -"Things are looking up, Ed," Randy said cheerfully. "There can't be -anything very much wrong with a man who hates dogs, children, and -canary birds!" - -But McCauley had begun thoughtfully to examine the layout of the -interior of the ship. - - * * * * * - -They were two weeks on the way toward Venus. The flare-particle counter -clicked every second and a half. The sun's disk, ahead, was appreciably -larger and Venus was a thinner crescent than before. Earth was a small -object, though still larger than Venus, and the moon was very small -indeed. At this distance the Space Platform was, of course, invisible. -But the changes inside the ship were more marked than those outside. - -The interior of the ship was now divided into two parts. McCauley and -Randy had pulled down the small cubicle made of soundproofing material -that had been built for Bramwell to work in. They had used the same -material to wall off a full half of the ship. There was a door in the -wall, and part of the air-freshening system operated through sound -baffles so that the air in the walled-off space was changed, quite -silently, with the same regularity as the air in the forward end of the -ship, where McCauley and Randy did their work. - -But McCauley was vaguely disturbed. It had developed gradually, but -he did not feel right. Even though he could not become physically -exhausted in a total absence of gravity, he felt dull and weary. There -were measurements of flare-particle frequency to be recorded, both from -outside the ship where the Bramwell-Faraday screen did not operate, and -from inside where it did. The figures were curiously difficult to copy. -But there was no reason for him to feel weak and stupid. The air system -worked perfectly. The food was adequate. The ship moved steadily, -silently, perfectly on its way at a certain number of miles per second, -which was increasing a trifle because of the sun's gravitational field. -Everything seemed perfect. But he didn't feel right. Randy was not -himself, either. And Mr. Perkins sang only half-heartedly. - -The canary began, now, what started out to be a beautifully executed -trill, but which died away after half a dozen tremolos. - -"Mr. Perkins isn't in good voice today. What's troubling him?" Randy -spoke with a certain effort. - -McCauley concentrated on the report he was filling out. He shook his -head and looked again; he was startled. - -"Look here!" he said sharply. "We had the screen on when we left the -Platform. It kept out the radiation when we went through the Van Allen -belt. But now we're nearer the sun. Stuff's coming through the screen! -It's been coming through for days! And we haven't noticed it! What's -the matter with us?" - -"I wouldn't know," said Randy listlessly. - -"We're not on the ball," said McCauley. "We've got to do something -about this!" - -He rose from his chair. It took but the slightest of effort, and he -floated free. He reached out his hand to the wall and directed the -motion of his whole body. He approached the soundproof barrier that now -divided the ship into two separate parts. He caught a handhold on the -door and knocked. - -Minutes later the door opened. There was no gravity, so Bramwell did -not stand in the opening. He floated there, scowling. He and McCauley -faced each other, very much like swimmers, except that they swam in air. - -"Radiation's coming through the screen," said McCauley. "It shouldn't. -Not this early, anyhow. Shouldn't something be done? I'm ordered to -consult you about all adjustments of the screen." - -He was vaguely dissatisfied with himself for asking. He should not have -to ask anyone for instructions. He was ordered to in this case, but -decisions were his job. - -"Turn it up!" said Bramwell peevishly. Then he seemed to notice that -he had not been actively unpleasant. He moved quickly to correct the -omission. "How many times," he demanded furiously, "have I told you not -to disturb me! Noise upsets me! Leave me alone! Isn't it enough that I -have to share the ship with clods, without having you bang on my door?" -He glared around the forward part of the ship. Mr. Perkins sang again, -a half-hearted attempt at a warble. "Noise! Noise! Noise!" rasped -Bramwell. - -He pulled the door shut. McCauley floated lethargically to the screen -unit and made an adjustment. - -Nothing important apparently happened, but something ceased to happen -so often. The sharp, slightly irregular clicking of the particle -counter seemed to stop. It was a full five seconds before it clicked -again, six before it clicked a second time, and five before it clicked -a third. - -"I wish," said McCauley lethargically, "that I'd been a little more on -the job. Why didn't we notice the radiation count going up, Randy?" - -"Bramwell complains if we touch the side of the ship because it makes -noises inside his sanctum," Randy answered. "Maybe we've been trying -not to think for fear the noise would disturb him." - -McCauley considered the comment carefully, which was itself an -indication that he was not up to par. - -"No," he said slowly, "it's not that. But we don't feel right. Maybe -we'd better take our temperatures. It would be ghastly if we were -getting sick! Bramwell couldn't feed himself, let alone get the ship -around Venus!" - -With some effort he found a clinical thermometer. But they did not have -any fever. In fact, their temperatures were considerably lower than the -98.6° F. which is considered the norm for men in good health. - - * * * * * - -They were two weeks and five days on their way. McCauley shook his -head to clear his mind. He reread what he had just written in the -ship's log, vaguely puzzled because it did not seem to make sense. With -enormous effort he checked each word and found that he had left one -out here and another one there. With great determination he put them -in. Somewhere in his mind there was a feeling that he needed to do -something very urgently, but he could not think what it was. - -"Randy," he said, and something in his brain noted that his voice was -plaintive, "I can't seem to think straight! There's something I ought -to do! What is it?" - -Randy shook his head. He floated in the straps of his acceleration -chair; not that the chair was needed, but because it held him still so -that there was no possible chance of his striking against the unmuffled -wall of the ship and so sending a solid-conduction sound back to -Bramwell. - -"I don't know," said Randy flatly. "I don't feel too bright myself." - -The soundproof door of the after compartment opened. Bramwell came out. -Somehow he looked pathetic and frustrated, but he essayed rage. - -"I have to have silence!" he cried ferociously. "You are making noises! -I cannot think! And I must think! I have to have silence!" - -McCauley said numbly: - -"I'm sitting here, and Randy's in his chair. There's no noise." - -"There is noise, or why can't I think? You are doing something to keep -me from thinking!... That canary! It has been singing! That's it! You -must wring its neck so I can think!" - -"No," said McCauley, "it hasn't been singing. It hasn't sung for a -long time. It did, but it doesn't any more. Why?" - -"Something is the matter!" insisted Bramwell desperately. "I'm stupid! -I'm as stupid as you! And I must use my brains!" - -"You've got everything we can give you," said McCauley without -particular emphasis. "We can't seem to do our work right either." - -"There is some new condition we do not know about," Bramwell said, in -a sort of puny panic. "There is something in space which is working to -destroy us! Here! Send this message back to Earth!" McCauley took the -slip of paper on which words were written in an erratic, spidery hand. -"But _I_ think you are making noises!" - -Bramwell pulled himself back into his soundproof half of the ship. The -door closed behind him, but not quite in time to cut off the beginning -of an agitated whimpering sound. - -McCauley pushed the beam-on button. He should have checked the time, -Earth time, to see if Canaveral were on the side of Earth from which -it could pick up the beamed message from space. It wasn't, but he -didn't think to check. He read, in a monotone, the message Bramwell had -written out: - - _I feel the purpose impossible probable effect similar to X-rays - with this is vital to further but I have no instruments._ - - _Bramwell._ - -He was vaguely puzzled but he read it faithfully. Then, without -checking for reception, he turned off the transmitter. He went back -to the painful task of trying to make the ship's log entry at which -he'd been working for a long time. He assured himself that though the -message did not mean anything to him, they'd understand it back on -Earth. - -But they didn't. It didn't get back to Earth. The Venus ship had been -pointed very accurately so that the parabolic reflector for the tight -beam to Earth was perfectly aligned. But Bramwell had protested the -faint, faint hum of the gyros which kept the ship pointed correctly. -McCauley had turned them off. He'd meant to re-align the ship for each -period of communication, but his mind was confused and he forgot. - -Earth had received no message from the Venus ship for six days past. -There was consternation in the Space Service. - -It wouldn't have lessened any had Bramwell's message been picked up. -He'd meant to say that he felt that achievement of the Venus ship's -purpose was impossible because of something which doomed the men in -it. He thought it probable that some previously unnoticed effect of -radiation, perhaps similar to X-rays, was destroying their capacity to -think. This effect should be studied. It was vital to further space -exploration. But he had no instruments that could detect it. - - * * * * * - -They were three weeks out from Earth. The Bramwell-Faraday screen was -turned up to full strength, and still the radiation counter clicked -and clicked. It now indicated a higher frequency of radiation-particle -penetration than was experienced in any of the Van Allen bands around -Earth. Bramwell was a pitiable figure. Enough of his mental capacity -remained to inform him of his intellectual degeneration. Now and again -he popped into the forward part of the ship, trying to catch McCauley -or Randy at some activity that was stealing his brain power away. When -he failed to do so, he reacted with rages that would have been alarming -except that he had not the energy for anything more than words. - -McCauley struggled against a massive indifference. One part of his -mind stood aside and knew that the occupants of the ship were doomed, -but he could not care. Mr. Perkins no longer moved about its cage. -Its feathers fluffed, the bird might be dead on its perch. McCauley -tried painstakingly to write up the ship's log, but what he wrote -was confused, meaningless. Even his handwriting grew steadily more -illegible. - -Then, at three weeks and one day, the leak alarms rang stridently. They -made a frightful clamor all over the ship. The few compartment doors -closed tightly. - -"Leak," muttered McCauley to himself. "Prob'ly meteorite. Got to get in -suit and fix leak...." - -Fighting an overwhelming lethargy, he floated toward the space suit -rack, missed it by yards, doggedly made his way back to it, and numbly -began to get into a suit. Randy worked at the same task. He stopped to -rest. - -"Randy," said McCauley protestingly. "Get in suit! Leak!" - -He himself was incredibly feeble. Had there been weight in the ship, he -could not have lifted his helmet to his head. He settled it over his -shoulders, but his fingers failed to turn the thumbnuts tight. Even so, -there was the familiar feel of air blowing across his face. - -Strength came to him. Not instantly, but with the first breaths of -air from the suit tank his head seemed to clear a little. After more -breaths, his hands moved assuredly. He began to realize the change -in himself and gulped down deep lungfuls of the dry, curiously -flat-smelling stored air. - -Randy hadn't finished getting into his suit; he seemed to have gone to -sleep. But when McCauley approached him in the space suit, Randy's eyes -turned toward him incuriously. - -McCauley thrust him into the space suit and clamped down the helmet. -Randy suddenly stared. - -"Something's been wrong with the ship's air!" snapped McCauley, feeling -more like himself every second. "It's no good! Breathe deep, Randy! -Breathe deep!" - -Randy obeyed. His eyes cleared. - -"Bramwell!" snapped McCauley. "Get him in a suit! He hasn't sense -enough to do it himself!" - -He flung himself at the control board. The leak was.... - -But there was no leak. The leak alarm had rung, but every pressure -indicator in every part of the ship showed the same figure. It was.... -McCauley gazed incredulously at the dials. The ship's interior pressure -was 12.8 pounds to the square inch as against a normal 14.7. The -difference was enough to set off the leak alarm, but a thinning of the -air like this was not enough to cause the stupidity, the lethargy, the -confused and helpless thinking which McCauley--marveling--realized had -appeared during the past three weeks. - -He heard a howling noise between the clamors of the gongs. It was -Bramwell. - -"You're making a noise!" wailed Bramwell. "I can't have a noise! I must -have quiet...." - -McCauley spoke crisply into the transmitter, sending a tight-beam -message back to Earth. It would be minutes before it was received, as -against the less-than-two-second lag in a message sent from the moon to -Earth. - -"We were suffering from oxygen starvation," said McCauley briskly. "The -plants in the air-system's hydroponic garden absorbed carbon dioxide -and gave off oxygen, but not quite cent per cent. There was a steady -small loss of oxygen in the ship, caused by the use of oxygen as well -as carbon by the growing plants. This small loss should have been -made up by the addition of oxygen to keep the volume of the ship's -air constant. But it happened that the oxygen flutter valve became -jammed...." - -He heard an explosive sigh of relief behind him, but he carefully did -not look up at Bramwell. Bramwell was very silent these days, and he -practiced extreme self-control. He realized now that he'd let too many -things bother him. But he was still bothered, and horribly so, by the -memory of his inability to make up his mind to face the journey in -space, or to arrange for somebody to substitute for him, so he'd had to -be shanghaied. He was even more bothered by the memory of his behavior -when he found himself in a ship off for a swing in to Venus and out -again. McCauley and Randy ignored these past happenings, and Bramwell -would never be able to bring himself to mention them. But he was very -much ashamed. - -The thing that disturbed him most, however--the thing that made -him extremely conscientious and extremely self-controlled--was the -consequences of not facing things and of trying to cover up his own -shortcomings. When he got over his hysterics he wanted to get even -with McCauley and Randy by defying them. But he hadn't dared defy them -openly. He'd been peevish and ashamed and humiliated. To him the bronx -cheer of the oxygen flutter valve had seemed a mockery. But he still -felt superior to pieces of machinery. So when the flutter valve went -"_Tht-tht-tht-tht!_" at him, he angrily turned it off. And the human -race almost had to stay on Earth forever because of it. The three of -them came very close to dying. - -McCauley continued talking matter-of-factly into the transmitter. - -"As a result of the jammed valve, there was a steady lowering of the -oxygen content of the air, but the carbon dioxide content did not -increase. The air was getting closer and closer to pure nitrogen all -the time, but we didn't notice, because a person feels suffocated by an -excess of carbon dioxide rather than by a lack of oxygen. We were all -dying quite comfortably when the leak alarm went off because the air -pressure was dropping as the oxygen left us. When the alarm went off, -we found the trouble and brought the oxygen concentration up to what it -should be. We think there should be no more trouble. In fact...." - -He stood up and handed the microphone to Bramwell. Bramwell hesitated a -moment. Then he spoke. - -"I have to report that the problem of a stronger Bramwell-Faraday -screen field seems to be solved. This particular accident suggested -a theory. Quite coincidentally, the theory resembled one aspect of -charged-particle theory. It led to an idea. The new screen has a very -gratifying reflex action which uses the velocity of the flare particles -themselves to increase the screen's resistance. The charged particles -are tricked into defeating themselves. I will have a detailed account -of the theory and the apparatus shortly." - -Mr. Perkins, in its cage against the wall, burst into song. The canary -began with a trill and went on to a warble; then Mr. Perkins essayed a -glocken. He accomplished it triumphantly. Bramwell scowled at it from -habit. But then he carefully smoothed out his forehead as he handed the -microphone back to McCauley. He nodded at the tiny cage. - -"Not bad," he admitted. "Not bad at all!" - - * * * * * - -The Venus ship got back to its rendezvous with Earth some four months -and eighteen days after take-off. At that time, this was the longest -space journey ever made by man. But it was not only the longest trip. -As a result of it, the reflex Bramwell screen had been developed along -a new principle: The higher the velocity of a charged particle, the -firmer the screen's resistance to its passage. Since the screen could -stop even the highest-energy cosmic particles, the effect of such -particles upon living matter could be determined by comparing exposed -organisms--human beings and all other living things on Earth--to other -organisms shielded from cosmic radiation. The ship, too, had made -some close-range infrared photographs of Venus and prepared a fairly -complete map of the planetary features underneath the cloud bank. The -length of Venus' day was established. The.... - -It was a highly successful expedition from all standpoints. - -But Randy insisted that the most remarkable result was the change in -Bramwell. There was no doubt that Bramwell had one of the best brains -in the solar system. Even when they disliked him most, both McCauley -and Randy had respected his brains. But after Bramwell found out that -they'd never refer to the way he acted before and immediately after he -was shanghaied, the fact that he was so ashamed of himself improved him -as far as human society was concerned. - -He improved so much, in fact, that by the time they got back to Earth, -McCauley and Randy were not much more polite to him than they were to -each other. - -Which was high honor. - - - - - _6_ - - - (As a brand-new lieutenant, McCauley had been the first man to - ride a rocket out of atmosphere. As a major, he was in the first - piloted space craft to achieve an orbit and land again in one - piece, and he helped to build the Space Platform. But it seemed - likely that after he made colonel he was likely to be stuck with - administrative tasks and go on no more trips. There was the affair - of the Bramwell-Faraday screen, to be sure, but that was pure luck. - He gloomily expected nothing more exciting than desk duty in some - deadly tedious minor base upon the moon. But it happened that the - asteroid Eros--very small, very irregular in shape, and very, very - eccentric in its orbit--was due to pass close to Earth again as it - went out from the sun. It had passed within two million miles of - Earth in the 1930s, and nothing happened. But now McCauley was - looking for an excuse to be more than a desk Colonel. He added up - Eros and Mars and drone rockets, and the resources of the Space - Service and a certain amount of imagination. He came up with - something the Space Service had believed was still twenty years - in the future. He'd worked out a way to get back from Mars. So - he was assigned to try it.) - -The Personnel Ship of the First Martian Expedition was within two -million miles of Mars when McCauley missed his watch. Everything had -gone along as predicted, up to that moment. The ship had taken off from -Earth and headed outward for its rendezvous with the tiny asteroid -Eros. It burned rocket fuel lavishly to get the necessary velocity for -the journey. Then it floated interminably while Earth grew small and -far away behind it, and the sun dwindled and its heat lessened. Then -Eros appeared like the tiniest pinpoint of light, and the ship drew -up to it and braked--it had very little fuel left for its braking--and -touched, and then moored itself to the half acre of previously moored -bales and cases and special drones that the asteroid had ferried out -from Earth. The ship's crew went outside in space suits, each one -separately tethered to the ship by a long cable. They began to check -the condition of their waiting supplies. Everything had to be examined -because it had lain--hung--rested for two years on Eros' surface in the -network of cables and drill rods needed to hold it there. The condition -of the stores was satisfactory. So Colonel Ed McCauley took a shower. - -In its way, even that was an adventure. The ship, of course, had no -gravitational field, and Eros was very small indeed. Of almost solid -nickel-iron, it was five miles by two by three; and though it dwarfed -the ship, its gravity pull was on the order of one five-millionth that -of Earth. So taking a shower in a ship moored to Eros was something -special. It meant holding fast to handholds in a furious fan-made -gale that blew water against one and then blew it off and to a water -collector where it could be filtered and sterilized and pumped around -to the showerhead again. It was quite different from a bath on Earth, -but McCauley was much refreshed. He toweled himself and put on his ship -clothes again--and his watch was gone from the pocket he'd put it in. - -It made no sense at all. - -He was still looking for the watch in every corner of the compartment -outside the shower tank, when Major Randy Hall came in, propelling -himself in that extremely unlikely fashion which has to be used in zero -gravity. - -"Randy," said McCauley vexedly, "I've lost my watch." - -"I lost mine a week ago," said Randy. He caught a handhold and pulled -himself to a sitting position, resting on nothing whatever. "Hathaway -lost his the week we started out. Fallon told me privately that -somebody'd swiped his wallet only a day or so after we started out." - -McCauley swung around to face him. - -"That's nonsense!" he said angrily. "It's lunacy! Who'd want to steal -in a space ship?" - -"I thought it was lunacy, too," said Randy, "until a few minutes ago. -Now I'm more credulous. From checking supplies outside, it appears that -some very fancy small instruments are missing. A case was broken open. -Since we tied up here." - -McCauley stared at him. On the face of it, Randy's statement was flatly -impossible. Personal character aside, it was unthinkable that a member -of the Expedition should steal from another member or from its stores. -Nobody could use a stolen article in a ship containing exactly five -other men. Nobody could sell stolen goods to his fellow crewmen. And -nobody could hope to take any loot back to Earth. If all went well, -the men themselves might hope to get back to Earth at some problematic -future time. But every ounce of Earth-bound cargo would be scientific -material, mostly microfilm. Stolen goods couldn't be used or sold or -taken back to Earth. Money itself wasn't worth stealing. Nothing was. -Many millions of dollars' worth of equipment now outside the ship had -lain unguarded and untouched for two years in empty space. Nobody had -stolen any of it before. There was no sense in stealing it now. - -But somebody was. - -It was a serious matter because of its implications rather than the -facts themselves. The First Martian Expedition needed everything -its members could give it for the safety of them all. If somebody -considered himself apart from the rest, if one member of the crew was -willing to injure the others by stealing from them, the situation -was very, very bad. In fact, having a thief among the six was like a -serious accident occurring to the Expedition's equipment. It would be -comparable to a vital defect in the miniature atom-pile which was to -supply energy for them to live by when they reached Mars' surface. - -In a sense, though, the Expedition itself was the result of an accident -of a different sort. The first part of this coincidence was the fact -that some two years earlier the asteroid Eros had passed close to Earth -on its elongated elliptical orbit around the sun. Eros is one of those -rock and metal fragments which are found most often in orbits between -Mars and Jupiter. Some people maintain that they are fragments of a -planet which exploded some hundreds of millions of years ago, and -there is some evidence to back this view. For one thing, some circle -the sun in extremely eccentric paths. Eros swings out at its farthest -between Mars and Jupiter, but when nearest the sun it dives in between -Earth and Venus. Sometimes--rarely--it comes close to Earth in its -passage across Earth's orbit. This had happened two years ago. - -The second part of the coincidence was the purely fortuitous fact that -only two Earth-years later Eros would pass even closer to the planet -Mars. The two accidents added up to an opportunity, when McCauley added -rockets and other resources of the Space Service. And the Service -seized it. - -So two years ago Colonel Ed McCauley had landed a ship on the asteroid, -then close to Earth. He'd led a work crew which drove drill holes -into the asteroid's solid metal substance. They made anchorages to -fasten supplies to, and McCauley'd anchored the supplies. Then he -took his ship back to Earth. On the way he'd passed other ships going -out to Eros. They also anchored supplies on it. In one hectic month, -the Space Service unloaded on the tiny asteroid all the supplies and -equipment--some two hundred-odd tons of it--that the First Martian -Expedition would need not only on Mars, but in getting back from Mars, -which was equally important. Then the Space Service waited. - -Nearly two years later, but now some months ago, the ship that was -now moored to Eros took off from Earth. Enormous amounts of fuel were -required for the journey out to Mars. No ship could carry fuel for -the trip and the landing, much less a return trip. But if a ship made -a rendezvous with Eros when the asteroid was close to Mars, it could -refuel from the stores waiting on Eros. It could guide drone rockets -from Eros to landings on Mars, carrying more supplies. The drones would -not even need to be ships. They could be mere outlines of ships, with -motors and guidance systems, their cargo lashed to their framework. -So the asteroid would serve as a cargo carrier for the supplies the -Expedition required, and also as the landing craft needed to put them -ashore on the red planet. - -So far, everything had worked out. Very shortly the first of the -drones would be sent off to land the first cargo near an oasis close -to the summer pole of Mars. Others would follow till all had been -sent out; then the ship, refueled, would leave Eros and overtake the -equipment that had preceded it. Its crew would recover the landed -rocket cargoes, set up a base, be well equipped and amply supplied for -several months of Martian exploration, and then have adequate fuel for -the voyage home. More than that, it would leave a base that was ready -to function, and fuel for return flights, for a reasonable number -of other ships in the future. In fact, the passage of Eros close to -Earth and then to Mars had provided a freight service that meant the -difference between men going to Mars and staying home. - -But there was a thief among the six men making the first trip. There -was McCauley and Randy Hall and Fallon and Brett and Soames. Hathaway -was the meteorologist who would learn all that was to be known about -Mars' atmosphere. Fallon was the atom-power mechanic. Brett and Soames -had their specialties, but all had been trained in the remote control -of drone rockets with their loads of precious material. All were needed. - -"Hmmm," said McCauley, frowning. "You say Hathaway and Fallon lost -things, the one a watch and the other a wallet. You and I ... I lost an -electric watch. It runs on a battery the size of a pea. I never have -to wind it." He looked up. "Are you sure Brett and Soames haven't lost -anything?" - -Randy looked curiously at McCauley. - -"Come to think of it, Brett asked me if I'd seen his fancy gold pen. -That was weeks ago. He uses an issue pen now. And I think--I _think_ -Soames was turning things upside down once, looking for some sort of -gold luck-piece he carries. Yes. He did." - -"I'll find the stuff," said McCauley, frowning, "but I'm bothered." - -He looked out a port at the crew members on the surface of the -asteroid. Randy followed his eyes. The four other members of the -Expedition, in bulky space suits, worked busily in a landscape--or an -Eros-scape--too fantastic to be real. All of them now accepted the -view that Eros was an explosion-created fragment of something much -larger, and that that something must have been remarkable. Nine-tenths -of the surface of Eros was solid metal such as forms the core of -all the heavier planets. Now, metal rods stuck here and there out -of drill holes in the raw, glistening crystalline mass. Between the -drill rods ran cables holding nets under which objects were tethered. -There were drone rockets by the dozen, and bales and boxes and tanks -seemingly by the hundred. They would drift away to nowhere but for the -nets which held them fast. They'd been held thus during two years of -unaccompanied, uneventful cartage from the orbit of Earth out to the -orbit of Mars. Most of the stuff needed only to be sorted and loaded -on the drones, which would take off under control by the drone-master -keyboard on the ship. There was an enormous mass of supplies. There -could be a loss of up to fifty per cent in transit without irreparable -damage being done to the Expedition's purposes. - -When Randy looked back from the laboring, space-suited figures outside, -he was alone. McCauley had gone to the ship's small workshop, all of -whose tools would be left in the base on Mars. Frowning, he connected -a microphone and an audio amplifier and a headset and went back to -explain to Randy. But Randy was no longer there. He'd gone outside to -carry on as second-in-command. His business was largely finding things -to worry about and telling McCauley, who made them turn out all right. - -McCauley went purposefully through the ship with his -microphone-amplifier unit, touching it here and there against the -fabric of the vessel. The idea was perfectly simple. If there was a -thief on board, he would certainly not keep his loot on his person -or in his locker. He'd have a hiding place for it. The loot included -McCauley's watch, which would not run down for months. And solid things -conduct sound much better than air does. The ticking of a watch which -can't be heard at five feet, in air, can be heard through fifty feet of -wood or metal if the watch is in contact with the farther end. - -So McCauley methodically listened for the ticking of a watch conducted -through the metal of a spaceship. There was no one else on board. -There was no operating machinery to make extraneous noises. Presently -he heard the five-times-a-second click-click of his watch. He traced -it to its loudest, unscrewed a floorplate, and found three watches, a -very expensive gold pencil, and a luck-piece that was a gold coin some -hundreds of years old. There were also three small and very expensive -instruments that came from a smashed case on the asteroid. - -McCauley put them in his pocket and went to the compartment that was -his sanctum as commander of the ship. He pulled out the personnel -report on one member of the crew. It was not believable.... Then he -thought of something. He pushed the outside-communicator button. - -"Fallon," he said, "report to the ship. A job for you." - -He drummed on the desk before him as he waited for Fallon. This was a -singularly unpleasant situation. - -Fallon came in, still in his space suit. He opened the faceplate and -grinned. He was an exuberant personality, this Fallon. - -"Reporting in, Colonel." - -Without a word, McCauley brought out the three watches, the -instruments, the elaborate gold pencil, and the luck-piece. He picked -out his own watch and the instruments and waved his hand toward the -rest. - -"Get these back where they belong," he ordered. "I'll take care of the -instruments. Don't let anybody know they're being returned. Let it -appear they've been found misplaced." - -Fallon stared. Then he went white and licked his lips. But he said -nothing. - -"I found this stuff," said McCauley, "as soon as I looked for it. I -knew you'd hidden it, because you said your wallet was gone and there -was no wallet with the other missing stuff. You should have put it in -with the rest of the loot, Fallon, if you wanted to be convincing." - -Fallon stared. - -"It's about as stupid a performance as I've ever heard of," said -McCauley. "Why did you do it?" - -Fallon swallowed. Then he braced himself and looked defiant. In -a moment or two he managed a grin. It was a shaky grin, but he -straightened up and then shrugged. - -"Why should I tell you?" he said. "What can you do about it, anyway?" - -"I can think of a few things," said McCauley. - -"Name one!" said Fallon defiantly. "You can't kill me. You can't put -me out of the ship, because that'd kill me. You can't lock me up, -because you need everybody. You can't do anything! You might as well -forget it! This trip was dull. I wanted some excitement. I thought -there'd be a big fuss when things started to disappear. There wasn't. -All right, I'll put the stuff back. But you might as well forget the -whole business because you can't do a thing about it." - -McCauley stiffened. Fallon was right. There wasn't anything he could -do, in the ordinary sense of the word. He couldn't execute Fallon -for theft. He couldn't imprison him. If he punished him in any way -that aroused his resentment, Fallon could no longer be trusted, and -any of the six men could destroy the other five simply by neglecting -some essential duty assigned to him. In space, men have to trust each -other and be worthy of trust in return. There is no room in unlimited -emptiness for a man who arouses suspicion and antagonism among his -shipmates solely for his own amusement. But Fallon had done just that. -He was as dangerous as an atom bomb on the expedition to Mars. But -whereas an atom bomb can be disarmed, nobody can disarm a man who -chooses to play the fool. - -Fallon picked up the objects McCauley had given him. He spoke with -sudden truculence. - -"Well?" he said. "What can you do? Just suppose I don't feel like -giving these things back. I'm going to, but if I wouldn't do it, what'd -you do?... You won't even tell the rest you caught me! You want the -stuff put back without their knowing it was taken!" - -"Yes-s-s," McCauley said very slowly. "That's right. I shan't tell -the rest. I want things to go along smoothly, without squabbles or -suspicions. But you want excitement, more than our job provides. You'll -look for it in some other fashion now, won't you?" - -Fallon said defiantly: - -"I'll do what I feel like doing!" - -"Yes," said McCauley, nodding. "You'll get your excitement regardless. -You're as independent as a hog on ice, because you think that I can't -do anything to stop you. Very well. I'll try to provide you with some -excitement. You do what you please. I'll do what I please about it." - -Fallon's eyes narrowed. - -"You don't care what I do?" he demanded skeptically. - -"I do care," McCauley told him. "You're the one who doesn't care. But -I'll be able to make use of you somehow. All right; you can go, now." - -Fallon hesitated, scowling. Then he went out. He was uneasy. He could -have understood had McCauley threatened him, or flown into a rage, or -possibly tried to appeal to a nonexistent loyalty to his companions or -to the purposes of the Expedition. But McCauley had not reacted in any -fashion that Fallon could understand. - -Later in the day Randy consulted with McCauley. - -"Funny thing happened," he said vexedly. "Fallon went around and gave -Brett back his fancy gold pen. He said he'd taken it for a joke. He -gave Soames back his luck-piece and Hathaway his watch. He explained -that they were jokes, too. He gave me mine.... Did you get yours back?" - -McCauley nodded. He explained what had happened. Randy blinked. - -"But why didn't he just slip them back like you told him to?" - -"He's worried," said McCauley. "I didn't threaten and I didn't reason -with him. So he figures that I've something special in mind. So he -wants to be on good terms with everybody but me. Now if I accused him -of stealing, he could insist that he was joking and that he'd proved -it." - -"That's crazy!" said Randy. - -McCauley did not contradict him. He shrugged. Presently Randy went out -on the surface of Eros. A single incautious movement might send him -floating off into emptiness except for the moorings to the drilled-in -metal rods that anchored supplies and ship and crew alike. On the -nickel-iron surface of the asteroid, to be sure, magnetic-soled shoes -ought to hold a man down. But the emergency wasn't great enough to make -depending on them necessary. Everyone kept himself anchored to a drill -rod, and did not let go, anywhere, until another anchorage had been -secured. - -The five-mile-long and two-mile-thick mass that was Eros floated onward -in its orbit. It rotated very slowly--its day was half an hour and -its night was thirty minutes--and all the stars appeared in turn, -including that nearest star which was the sun. The Milky Way spread -incredibly across the sky. Earth was blue-green and a bare speck of a -crescent--a crescent because it was to sunward, and a speck because -it was well over forty millions of miles away. Mars, to the outward, -was a perceptible disk the size of a quarter at forty feet. Already -photographs taken on spaceships and sent back to Earth by scanning -signal had disclosed features that even the giant telescopes on the -moon had not detected. Randy claimed to have seen Phobos and Deimos -with his naked eye, and perhaps he had. But most of the crew were too -busy for more than an occasional glance out at Mars. - -The supply items to be carried by each drone rocket had to be regrouped -so that no one rocket would contain a disproportionate amount of any -one kind of supplies. It was to be expected that some loads would be -lost, so it was important to make sure that no one load, if it was not -landed or recovered, would cause crippling shortages of this item or -that. - -There was, though, one bit of freight that would not be trusted to -rocket transport. The fuel for the atom-pile would go on the ship, -because if the ship did not land safely there'd be no Expedition, and -if it landed safely, the atomic fuel would be essential. The thin air -of Mars would have to be pumped up to the pressure required by the -human body, and its oxygen would have to be concentrated. There would -be need for heat during the bitter Martian nights. Power was necessary -for human life on Mars. And only atomic power would be adequate. - -The first drone rocket lifted off Eros when the asteroid was a million -and a half miles from Mars. The rocket rushed ahead, dwindling until -it could no longer be seen among the stars. It carried a tank of -rocket fuel, a rocket motor, and a communications unit. That was all. -The drone was not streamlined, not pretty. It was a skeleton with -its drive at the tail, a shaft to tie the cargo to, and a television -camera at its nose. The first loads shipped were relatively unimportant -ones, so that initial disasters due to lack of experience would have -the least serious consequences. When the asteroid was a quarter of a -million miles farther on, more rockets were on the way. There were -two near-disasters. The rockets were prepared for launching during -the planetoid's half-hour "daylight," but they were launched when the -launching site was away from the sun and toward Mars farther out. -During daylight McCauley prepared one rocket for firing and returned to -the ship. Later Hathaway went out to set off that "night's" salvo. The -first rocket blew itself to bits when fired. Hathaway had a very narrow -escape. - -The men figured out, afterward, that in the utter cold of the -planetoid's "night" the rocket motor had cooled to the brittle point -of metal. When the rocket was fired, the frozen metal flew apart -before it could warm up and thus restore normal strength throughout -its thickness. McCauley berated himself to Randy, because he had not -anticipated this fact. The rest of the salvo was held until "sunset" -the next day, and was fired within five minutes of the coming of -darkness, before the metal could cool to brittleness. - -The other near-tragedy happened when a rocket took off and the flame -splashed against a glistening metallic upcrop and licked fiercely at -Soames' space-suited legs. He jumped convulsively, rose out of the -flame before it could either cook his legs or melt down his space suit, -and, gasping in horror, soared off and up to the length of his safety -rope. The rocket went past him no more than a dozen feet away. Its -exhaust could have burned him to a crisp, or at the least flashed his -plastic faceplate. That was a very close call indeed. - -Presently Fallon came looking for McCauley. The mechanic was coming -off-shift and still wore his space suit. He opened the faceplate, -grinning nervously. - -"Look here, Colonel," he said ingratiatingly, "I've got something I -want to say to you." - -"Go ahead," said McCauley. He was still bitterly discontented with -himself. Actually, Soames should not have been so near the rocket -blast, but McCauley felt responsible because he hadn't ordered him -specifically away. - -"Soames had a pretty close call," said Fallon nervously. - -"Yes," said McCauley curtly. - -"Hathaway had another," said Fallon. "When that rocket blew, he could -have been killed. He should've been." - -"I know it," snapped McCauley. - -"I ... I ..." Fallon hesitated. "Look, Colonel! We had a--disagreement. -I acted like a fool. I want to apologize." - -McCauley scowled. There were innumerable things to worry about, and -Fallon was one of them. McCauley had taken the one line that might keep -Fallon from making trouble. He'd scared him, and it seemed to have -worked. But for Fallon to come to apologize was something else. It -meant that his attitude had changed from almost mutinous defiance to -panic. - -"Forget it," said McCauley. - -"I--didn't have you figured right," said Fallon shakily. "I thought -you were ... just the usual kind of character. I ... I know better -now. I'd--I'd like to ... well ... you're likely to need somebody to -help you. Maybe you don't think so, but if you knew you could count on -me...." - -Fallon's voice practically clicked off, and McCauley realized that he -was terrified. The man was afraid to say something, but he was more -afraid not to. - -"What would I need you for besides your duty?" - -Fallon hesitated, licked his lips, and then said desperately: - -"Soames and Hathaway--they almost got theirs. I've been thinking. -If ... accidents happened to us ... to all but you...." - -"Go on," said McCauley, frowning. - -"We're ... sending most of the stuff to Mars," stammered Fallon. -"B-but we're keeping the atom fuel on the ship. It's w-worth a lot. If -something happened to most of us ... why ... two men could take the -ship back to Earth and land it anywhere they wanted to. And if ... if a -person had contacts, that atom fuel would be w-worth a lot. Millions." - -McCauley was jolted. - -"Suppose," he said grimly, "that you tell me the rest of your idea." - -"Why ... why ..." Fallon tried hard to be ingratiating and -confidential, but he couldn't make it. So he said harshly: "I'm going -to tell you something. My name's Fallon, but I'm not the Fallon you -think I am. I've got a brother. He was slated to come on this trip. -I was in the pen. I broke out. They were close after me. I went to -my brother for money and help. He's tried to help me before, tried to -make me stay out of trouble. This time was the worst, but this time he -wouldn't help me any more. It was too serious. So I ... slugged him and -took his papers and his orders and reported for duty instead of him. -I ... I guess he couldn't bring himself to turn me in, but he figured -I'd be caught before take-off. But I bluffed it through!" Here a trace -of pride came into his voice. "I bluffed it through, and I came on the -trip in his place because there wouldn't be anybody hunting me out -here." - -McCauley did not display any feeling at all. That Fallon had committed -a crime or crimes back on Earth--forty million miles away--meant -nothing here. Not if he did his work. But.... - -"Well?" said McCauley. - -"I'm telling you," said Fallon urgently. "You didn't tell the others -that I'd lifted their stuff. You had to have a reason. Then Hathaway -almost got it when that rocket blew. And Soames came close to frying -in a rocket blast. There are too many queer things happening! You not -telling the others on me, and then...." - -McCauley sat perfectly still, staring at Fallon. - -"It adds up," said Fallon defiantly. "There's millions in atom fuel -here. If things happen to the others, you can get back to Earth and -land anywhere, and if you've got contacts so you can sell the atom -stuff...." - -McCauley waited ominously. Fallon tried to go on, and could not. But -his meaning was clear. In some twisted fashion he had worked out what -he believed a logical explanation for McCauley's behavior to him. It -implied that McCauley did not see the Mars expedition as a normal man -would see it, but as an opportunity for the first space robbery in -history and perhaps the most stupendous criminal coup since time began. -It was true that the atomic fuel for the Mars reactor had a money value -in the tens of millions. To McCauley, that fact would mean that it -was something to be guarded and taken care of. But to Fallon, it was -something to be stolen. And he thought McCauley saw it the same way. - -"I suppose," said McCauley evenly, "that you've guessed that I plan to -kill off the others and go back to Earth alone. Is that it?" - -Fallon twitched nervously. - -"It figures," he said desperately. "But you need another man to help! -I told you who I am. I couldn't afford to double-cross you! I couldn't -land this ship. But I could help a lot!" - -"Yes," agreed McCauley with irony, "you could. So you want to throw in -with me, eh?" - -"Y-yes." - -"All right," said McCauley. "You're in. You share in everything I do -and everything I get out of it. It's a bargain." - -"F-fine," said Fallon in a voice like a croak. - -He'd try to believe it, but he wouldn't be able to be sure. He left. -McCauley knew that he would quake and be terrified, and he would not -believe in McCauley's intention to make him a partner in crime. But in -his own view he couldn't do anything but try to bargain for his own -life if--but he thought of it as when--McCauley murdered or abandoned -the others in emptiness. - -McCauley told Randy the whole business, of course. As second-in-command -Randy needed to know everything. - -"He's a swine," Randy said distastefully. "But it took nerve to try to -bluff through our training period, with the voyage out here to follow -it." - -"He's in bad shape," said McCauley. "However he got started that way, -he chose to be a crook at some time or another. He probably thought -it was smart. It wasn't, but now he can't think the way a non-crook -thinks." - -Randy frowned, thinking. - -"I believe," Randy said slowly, "that I'll explain to the others. He's -with us and the way he thinks has to be allowed for. They won't let him -know they're on to him.... I feel sorry for the poor devil. You will, -too, when you think it over. They'll feel the same way." - -McCauley nodded. Space is no place for the self-righteous or the -intolerant. Charity is a requisite for the endurance of journey in -emptiness, in closed tin cans with re-breathed air and enforced -exasperating contact with other persons. The Mars Expedition members -had been chosen for personality traits as well as technical -competence. It was remarkable that Fallon had been able to imitate his -brother's character well enough to avoid unmasking before take-off. - -The work of the Expedition went on. In the half-hour day, the rockets -for Mars were loaded and set up for firing. Immediately after darkness -fell, they went streaking away from the small, misshapen asteroid. -McCauley or Randy at the control board picked up their monitor signals -one by one, verified their course and speed, and made such adjustments -as would be needed to get them to the planet which men now ought to -reach a good twenty years ahead of schedule. Near Mars, they'd be swung -into orbit and landed one by one. - -It became routine. But it was a hair-raising routine. There was a -tissue-thin difference between the success and failure that meant -life or death. What rest they took was in snatches. But things went -along. Curiously enough, when Hathaway and Brett and Soames were told -in confidence of Fallon's self-produced predicament, it amounted to -easing the tension their continuous labor might have produced. They had -something to think about besides the nerve-racking need for absolute -accuracy and absolute care in all they did out of the ship. Crawling -about under the cargo nets was harrowing. There were the stars. There -was the feeling of absolute emptiness, into which their sensations -assured them that they were falling unendingly. - -But Fallon had no relief as the others did. He didn't have their -purpose. They were risking their lives to accomplish something they -wanted to do. That was why they were here. But Fallon was with them in -flight from the law. He had only fear to sustain him. - -Three-fourths of the rockets had been released. Nine-tenths. There were -more than forty rockets aground on Mars and the ship was refueled, and -already it would be possible to leave Eros and land on Mars and set up -the base and do the work the Expedition was expected to do. They could -do all this and then return to Earth. The rockets still in space and on -Eros amounted to a margin beyond necessity, and every extra one that -landed would increase the surplus of equipment and supplies. - -And then Fallon got lost. He was never out of sight of the others, but -he got lost. It was the rule, of course, for every man to have his own -life line securely fastened to solidity. They were long life lines to -permit movement about the cargo cache and the much-diminished heaps of -stores. They were inconvenient, but they were starkly necessary. It was -strictly forbidden for any man at any time not to be safely tethered. -And.... - -A rocket was to be made ready for firing. Its cargo was brought to -it, item by item. Fallon had worked with the others. He was treated -with singular forbearance by his shipmates. There came a moment when -somebody had to shift his space-rope anchorage. It happened to be -Fallon who needed to do this. Soames took hold of Fallon's space rope -in the middle and held it firmly while Fallon shifted the end to -another anchorage. Fallon was nervous, worried. He finished the task -quickly and went on toward the cargo items he was to move. - -McCauley, prowling on his perpetual task of inspection, saw the knot -Fallon had made. He said sharply: - -"Fallon, stop moving and hold on to something solid." - -Fallon swung about and stared apprehensively. He clung to an anchor -rod sunk in the metal of the asteroid. McCauley made sure he was safe, -untied the space-rope knot, and tied it more securely. - -"It was a bad knot," said McCauley. "You're safe now." - -McCauley went on. This was outside the cargo-netted space and near -where the rockets went up. Fallon clung fast to the drill rod. The -others went about their business. Stars blazed in the daylight sky. The -sun flamed far, far away. Fallon stayed motionless, gripping the rod -that was securely set into the metal of Eros. - -Presently he stirred stealthily and tugged at the rope with the new -knot in the end. It was firm. He tugged more strongly. It held. Then, -with the gentlest and most fearful of tuggings, he drew himself to -where McCauley had fastened his space rope. He examined McCauley's -knot. Fallon was afraid of McCauley, because he had made a bargain he -did not believe McCauley would keep. He believed that McCauley meant -to be the sole survivor of the Mars Expedition, returning secretly to -Earth with tens of millions in stolen atomic fuel. - -And Fallon believed that McCauley had planned the near-tragedies of -Hathaway and Soames. Therefore he believed that McCauley would be -arranging more successful accidents for those two and the rest, and -that because Fallon knew of McCauley's plans, he, Fallon, would be the -first to be destroyed. - -He could see nothing the matter with the knot, but he distrusted it -with a despairing terror. - -He untied it so he could retie it himself. And McCauley's voice roared -in the headphones in his helmet: - -"Fallon! What are you doing?" - -Fallon started violently. He jumped. His space rope was not anchored, -and Eros has no measurable gravity. Fallon went up and away from the -asteroid, toward a thousand million light-years of emptiness. His space -rope rose with him, not trailing behind but writhing and twisting -weightlessly, more like a tendril of smoke than anything else. Horror -filled him. He could not cry out. - -"Get him!" roared McCauley. - -Space-suited figures turned in the stark white sunlight, and inky black -shadows followed their movements in strict synchrony. Fallon was twenty -feet high.... Forty. A space-suited figure jerked at his space rope -for assurance and then leaped up toward Fallon. It was a miss. The -glittering metallic space suit swung in a wide arc and then down to -ground again. A second man leaped. A third. They swept past the line of -his flight. The space rope of one of the men touched Fallon's. Had it -struck near the middle, it might have brought his rope down captive. -But the end of Fallon's rope flicked free and he went on toward the -stars. - -Now there were babblings. Space-armored figures moved swiftly toward -a single spot, pulling themselves by their ropes.... Fallon was sixty -feet high.... Seventy. - -Then a man came soaring straight upward. He missed Fallon, but he -flailed a rope and it tangled in Fallon's. The bobbing, rope-held -figure hauled in, and had Fallon's rope fast. He wrapped it swiftly -about his arm. When the jerk came it was not severe. - -Then a single figure on the asteroid pulled down and down and down, -and Fallon was towed to solidity. He touched before he could utter a -sound. - -McCauley was the man who'd hauled him back. The others crouched or -squatted down, holding fast to the metallic projections from the -surface of Eros. They'd given up their ropes to make a rope long enough -for his rescue. While one went after him and McCauley stood erect to -draw him back, the others held fast by their fingertips to keep from -sharing his predicament. They'd risked floating away as helplessly as -he himself, in order that their life lines might be used to save him. - -McCauley did not reprimand Fallon, but he pointedly thanked the others -for the promptness with which they'd acted. - -Later, Randy asked vexedly: - -"What was the matter with Fallon? He knew he shouldn't have unfastened -his rope!" - -"His knot wasn't good, and I retied it," said McCauley dryly. "But -he thinks I intend to kill everybody, probably him first. So when I -meddled with his life rope he thought I was arranging his death. He -meant to retie the knot to defeat my evil intention." - -"He's a fool!" snapped Randy. "We'd better have it out with him, or -there's no telling what he'll do next!" - -"I'm afraid I have to," McCauley said distastefully. "He'll be -humiliated when he finds out I was humoring him. But get him, anyhow." - -There was a clanking sound somewhere in the ship. The inner air-lock -door closed. There were noises that told of the sealing dogs being -tightened. Then, immediately, the outside lock door opened. Randy went -to find Fallon. He came back, disturbed. - -"Fallon just went outside. He's supposed to be off-duty, too." - -McCauley frowned. Then he flipped the outside-communicator switch. -As a matter-of-fact precaution, there was two-way communication with -emptiness whenever anybody was outside the ship. Anything that came -in was immediately heard from speakers all over the ship, so that the -control room did not have to be manned all the time work was proceeding -on the planetoid's surface. If an emergency arose, everybody anywhere -in the ship would know immediately. - -"Fallon," said McCauley curtly into the outside transmitter, "you're -wanted. Come back, please." - -Silence. No answer. There was only darkness outside the ship now. Stars -moved steadily up from the blackness that was one nearby horizon, and -down to the blackness that was the other. The red disk of Mars--very -near, now--was the brightest object in the heavens. - -"Fallon!" snapped McCauley. "You're wanted! Return to the ship -immediately!" - -A clanking sound came from all the loud-speakers inside the ship. Then -Fallon's voice. - -"Wait a minute." He panted as if doing some heavy labor where there was -no weight. "Ah-h-h! Right! What do you want?" - -"I want you back in the ship," said McCauley sternly. - -More clankings. They were the type of sound that might be heard inside -an air-filled space suit and picked up by its helmet microphone. - -"What are you doing?" demanded McCauley. - -"I'm fixing ... uh!..." The last was a grunt. "I'm fixing a way to -settle something.... I'm set now." - -"Fallon!" barked McCauley. "Come to the ship immediately! That's an -order!" - -"I'm busy," said Fallon's voice, defiantly. "But I'll tell you -something! I'm not going back to Earth with the rest of you. I was on -the run when I passed myself off as somebody else and got on the ship. -I was on the run from Death Row in the pen. They had me ready for the -hot seat in two days more, and I got away. Why should I go back to -Earth?" - -He paused. And then he said, his tone indescribable: - -"Everybody is hearing me. I fixed that! I doctored the aerial switch so -when it's turned on it can't be turned off again! McCauley can't keep -you from hearing me now, because he called me! And McCauley's going to -squirm now! I joined up with him to wipe out every one of you, so we -could go back to Earth with the atom fuel to sell to contacts he's got! -He tried to kill Soames and he tried to kill Hathaway! He tried to kill -me today, by getting me lost, but the rest of you jumped to help me and -he had to join in so you wouldn't know what he'd tried!" - -McCauley winced. - -"Poor fool!" Randy said. - -"Now listen," said Fallon's voice fiercely. "I've told you the truth. -If I'd told you before you wouldn't've believed me. But you're going to -believe me now, because I've scrapped my chance of living--it wasn't -good anyhow--to tell you! You watch McCauley! Send word back to Earth -of what I've told you. He'll not dare to do a thing when a dying man's -accused him--and that's what I am!" - -"Fallon!" barked McCauley again. "It's a mistake! You thought I planned -that stuff, and I was just playing along with you! The others knew all -about it! They knew everything you just told them! It's a lie! I'm not -planning anything. I just played along with you...." - -"Yes?" jeered Fallon. "Tell that to the aviators! The spacemen don't -believe you!" Then he said: "So what? I'll be the first man on Mars! -I'm Joe Fallon, 4272365, Walla Walla Penitentiary, and I'll go down in -the history books. I'm taking off for Mars. Want to race?" - -There was a sudden roaring. It was the sound of a rocket blast, -conducted by metal to a space suit and picked up by the microphone -inside. - -"T-taking off," gasped Fallon, outside. "You get this story back to -Earth and he won't dare do anything! He won't dare! But I didn't rat on -him! Only on what he was going to do." - -After that, there was only the roar of the rocket blast. - -They poured out of the ship in space suits as fast as the air lock -would let them. Perhaps some of them had a faint, faint hope that it -was merely a joke. But it wasn't. There were boxes and bales floating -heavily, soggily, in the emptiness about Eros. They had been thrust -aside when Fallon took the rocket for himself. And he was gone. - -McCauley made an irresolute movement back toward the ship, and Randy -said quickly, via space phone: - -"No use, Ed! We can't make more than six gees acceleration in the ship, -and in a loadless rocket he'll make twelve! We can't catch him!" - -And there'd be nothing they could do if they did catch him. McCauley -ground his teeth, staring at the star-filled sky. - -"I did something wrong," he said bitterly. "Something wrong! But what -would have been the right thing?" - -Hathaway said enviously: - -"He'll be the first man on Mars, at that! But his air won't last all -the way. He'll coast in and crash and never know it. But he'll be the -first man on Mars!" - -"Yes," said Randy wryly, "he'll have that.... Let's get these last -rockets off and land at a respectful distance behind him." - -And they did. - -Of course, as everyone knows, the First Martian Expedition was a -great success. Of the six men who left on it, five came back. They -had maps and photographs and petrological samples, and a complete and -surprisingly reasonable explanation of the canals and oases about -which astronomers had argued for the best part of a century. They even -brought back a sluggish, naked, squirming creature which initiated an -entirely new line of biological research. - -McCauley began a battle behind closed doors, and Randy helped him, -and in time a curious error in the public records appeared. It is -officially stated in all the books that one Joe Fallon was the first -man to land on Mars, though the first records of the Expedition gave -his name as Andrew--at least Fallon the crewman was not named Joe. -There is a strange lethargy in official quarters. Nobody bothers to -correct the records. - -"Of course," said McCauley to Randy, "he stole our watches, but he was -a pretty decent character at that, considering. He'd have no part in -taking your lives." - -"What was he sentenced for?" asked Randy suddenly. - -"First-degree murder," said McCauley shortly. "I was curious too. I -asked." Then he said, "They're talking about trying to make Jupiter, -Randy. It seems to me that if we try, we can get to go on that job. -What do you say?" - -Randy grinned. He put out his hand and they shook on it. - - * * * * * - - (When Ed McCauley was a very young officer--in fact a new-made first - lieutenant, space travel was only for robots. Nobody'd ever ridden - out of the atmosphere in a rocket, and nobody'd ever piloted a ship - into orbital flight and landed it again; there wasn't a Space - Platform, and the moon bases hadn't been built. There was constant - danger from cosmic rays and flare particles, and nobody dreamed of - trying to reach either Venus or Mars. - - By the time McCauley was a colonel, all those things had been done. - But oddly enough, it didn't seem that the job was finished. The more - that was done, the more remained to be done. And McCauley found - that things never got any more settled down. There was Venus to be - explored, right next door, and Mercury just beyond that. And Titan - looked promising, and of course there were the asteroids, of which - one or two urgently required examination. And even when there were - settlements on Saturn and Uranus and Neptune, there were rumors of - a planet beyond Pluto.... And after that, the stars. - - There'd never be any end to the journeyings of men into space.) - - * * * * * - -TODAY: SATELLITES - -TOMORROW: THE OUTER GALAXIES - - -MEN INTO SPACE is the thrilling story of man's gradual conquest of -outer space. Starting with the rockets of today, the story moves on -to trace the development of the Space Platform and spaceships. It -concludes with the first successful attempts to land on the Moon ... -Mars ... and points beyond.... - -The entire story is seen through the eyes of young Ed McCauley, whose -adventures in outer space will excite you with the sheer wonder of -man's daring in the Space Age. - -MEN INTO SPACE is based on the popular television series starring -William Lundigan. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN INTO SPACE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Men into space</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Murray Leinster</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 6, 2022 [eBook #69299]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN INTO SPACE ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter x-ebookmaker-drop"> - <img src="images/illusc.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>MEN INTO SPACE</h1> - -<h2>By Murray Leinster</h2> - -<p>COPYRIGHT © 1960 BY ZIV TELEVISION PRODUCTIONS, INC.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any<br /> -evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -<p><i>All rights reserved</i></p> - -<p>BERKLEY EDITION, OCTOBER, 1960</p> - -<p><i>BERKLEY MEDALLION BOOKS are published by<br /> -The Berkley Publishing Corporation<br /> -101 Fifth Avenue, New York 3, New York</i></p> - -<p>Printed in the United States of America</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1"><i>IN OUTER SPACE</i></p> - -<p>There was no sensation of weight. Nothing weighed anything. Nothing -could be considered light or heavy. The difference in weight between -a copper penny and the ship itself was imaginary. They had different -masses, but both would weigh the same—zero. McCauley suddenly turned -off the silent air-circulator of the cabin. He struck a match. The -flame flared, but not as a rising leaf-shape. It was a perfect ball of -incandescence. But it did not continue to burn. It went out, and a ball -of white smokiness remained where the flame had been....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2><i>MEN INTO SPACE</i></h2> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1"><i>1</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(When Ed McCauley was a very young officer—in fact, a new-made first -lieutenant, space travel was restricted to robots. They did good work, -for robots, but it wasn't enough. No man had ever gone up in a rocket. -Nobody had ever gone up—let alone land safely. So the time came when -somebody had to. And in those very early days McCauley volunteered for -the job and managed to get it.)</p></div> - - -<p>First Lieutenant Ed McCauley opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, -wondering drowsily why this morning seemed so much more satisfying -and important than any other. He'd had a good sleep, even though he -remembered vaguely that he'd had a hard time dropping off. Now the -sunlight came through the window blind in slatted streaks, the wall was -a pale tan, and he was lying on an iron cot, his uniform neatly draped -over a chair. Then he heard voices and the clattering of china, and -suddenly he remembered where he was and what was important about today.</p> - -<p>Today was the day of the shoot. The rocket shoot. It wasn't going to -be big and spectacular, with a multiple-stage giant looming so high -that a man couldn't see the payload capsule on top without his neck -creaking. There'd be no giant gantry crane hovering over a slim but -monstrous missile with its hundreds of plugged-in wires recording -the performances of some tens of thousands of separate parts, all of -which had to work perfectly if one part were to be any good. Even the -electric wires had to pull clear perfectly when the gantry crane rolled -back a matter of seconds before the end of the count down.</p> - -<p>No. This shoot wouldn't be spectacular. There weren't even any -reporters around. Official Service cameramen would record what -happened; and if all went well there'd be plenty of excitement about -it later, and if all didn't go well it wouldn't matter too much. This -time there was no publicity buildup. Nobody'd be disappointed if things -went wrong. The only person who'd feel badly was First Lieutenant Ed -McCauley, and he wouldn't feel it too keenly. In fact, he wouldn't feel -anything.</p> - -<p>He'd be dead.</p> - -<p>He considered the idea for a moment, but when a person is First -Lieutenant McCauley's age, dying is something that happens to somebody -else. You can't imagine it happening to you. It's a sort of reverse of -being born, but you can't imagine that either, though it happened.</p> - -<p>He sat up and kicked his feet over the side of the cot. He felt a -little bit relieved. He was excited, now that he remembered what was -in the works for today, but it wasn't a solemn feeling. He got up and -looked at himself in the small square mirror over the washstand. He -looked exactly as he always did. He felt the same way. Well-l, maybe a -little more awake and alive than usual, because he'd been horribly -afraid that something would happen and the shoot would be called off. -But it hadn't—so far.</p> - -<p>He went down the hall to the showers, trailing a towel over his -shoulder. He showered, thinking zestfully about the prospects. There'd -be no trouble about the weather. At this base clouds were exceptional -and a cloud cover that hindered even visual tracking was almost -unknown. Suddenly he wanted to sing, but he restrained himself. As -lucky as he felt, it might sound like showing off.</p> - -<p>The door of the shower room opened and somebody came in.</p> - -<p>"Hi, National Hero. You in there?" It was Randy's voice, slightly -sardonic.</p> - -<p>"Ain't nobody here but us chickens, boss," McCauley answered -cheerfully. "Nary a hero."</p> - -<p>Randy grunted.</p> - -<p>"How d'you feel, Ed?"</p> - -<p>"Wet," said McCauley. He turned off the shower and began to towel -himself. When he emerged, Randy searched his face, his anxiety showing -on his own.</p> - -<p>"Nope," said McCauley, "the condemned man's got a good appetite for -breakfast. Quit worrying about me, Randy!"</p> - -<p>"If you'd only slipped on your soap and broken your doggone neck," -Randy complained, "a good guy might've gotten a chance to take your -place!"</p> - -<p>McCauley grinned. Randy would give his eyeteeth to take his place -today. Anybody would. McCauley still worried that even now something -would spoil things, but he'd been worrying for months. He'd been jumpy -ever since the rumor first went around that sometime soon somebody was -going up in a rocket and coming down again. Nobody ever had. Up to this -morning it was still waiting to be done. But somebody—in fact, he -himself—should do it today. This was why today was the most special -day of his life.</p> - -<p>Back in his quarters he shaved, marveling at the luck of the man he saw -in the mirror. Three—four—five months ago he'd been telling himself -that he didn't have a chance of being picked, even though he was sure -he'd put in for it as soon as anybody had. He'd hoped he'd been the -first to apply, but actually he was one of two hundred. They'd winnowed -the applicants, though, and four months ago twenty were left, and then -only ten. Now there was only himself in first place, with four other -bitterly envious characters—Randy was one of them—wishing he'd break -his neck so they could go in his place.</p> - -<p>But nothing like that would happen if he could help it. Washing the -shaving soap off his face, he found himself praying that everything -would go all right. He didn't think of asking that he come down safely; -after all, he could insure his safety by backing out. He just asked -that he'd be all right when they checked him over, and that the count -down would go all right, and that he'd get up to where the sky turned -purple and then black and he saw the stars shining bright, with the sun -among them as the nearest and greatest star of all. And he prayed that -he'd do the right things while he was up there so the shoot would be a -success.</p> - -<p>He settled his uniform and went to breakfast. Randy had ordered for him -and was waiting. Randy still looked worried. He'd tried hard for the -job for himself, but now he was afraid that his friend McCauley might -not check out. That the rocket might not check out. That when he got -up there something might go wrong. That coming down would be bad.</p> - -<p>"Soft-boiled," said McCauley appreciatively, breaking an egg. "My -favorite fruit!"</p> - -<p>"Do you really feel okay, Ed?" asked Randy.</p> - -<p>McCauley grinned again, which was answer enough. Maybe he felt too -good. He probably should tone down a little. After all, this shoot -with a man as the payload wasn't a pleasure trip. It was research. It -was an operation to verify other research. The medicos believed they -knew what the psychological, physiological, and emotional effects of -long-continued weightlessness would be. They needed to know how a -normal man like McCauley would react to the unparalleled environment -of nearer space. It was high-altitude research, primarily to enable -planes to fly faster. A plane could be powered right now so that its -wings would melt at sea level because of the heat its speed produced. -The only way to reach theoretical top speed in a plane was to fly it -away up. There was a thermal barrier to really high-speed flight. The -only way around this barrier was over it, and it was necessary to -find out how a man would make out in that detour. The Service had a -long-established custom of spending a dollar instead of a man; now it -had not to spend a man perhaps, but to risk one. And McCauley was the -man.</p> - -<p>He felt remarkably good, knowing that presently he should be where no -man had ever been before, seeing with his own eyes that the earth was -round. It struck him suddenly that everybody else in the world had only -indirect evidence for believing this. He'd be the first man to know -this for a fact simply because he'd gone up to where he would see the -earth as a ball.</p> - -<p>"No shivers?" asked Randy presently, as if in envy. "Wouldn't you -rather not and say you did? I'll take over for you!"</p> - -<p>"Don't tempt me!" said McCauley, pushing his cup across the table. "And -how about some more coffee?"</p> - -<p>Randy grunted. Maybe he'd been ordered to do some kidding, so McCauley -wouldn't get the wind up. But it didn't matter to Ed. If only -everything went all right at the blockhouse everything would have to -go all right all along the line. But the chance that things might -be fouled up there made him want to keep his fingers crossed. Yes. -The blockhouse was the big hurdle. Anything that happened after that -wouldn't be failure on his part. He wanted to pray again, this time -about the blockhouse. But he didn't.</p> - -<p>The two men left the officers'-quarters building together. There was a -jeep waiting, with Sergeant Hall at its wheel.</p> - -<p>"Mornin', Lieuten't. How you feeling?"</p> - -<p>The sergeant looked at McCauley with the same combination of envy and -anxiety that Randy had shown—envy for what McCauley had ahead of him, -anxiety for whether he felt all right so that he could go through with -it.</p> - -<p>"Look!" said McCauley, annoyed. "I'm all right! There's nothing to -worry about! The thing's been done before with instruments, dummies, -monkeys, and now it's me. I'm just another ape. That's all! For the -love of Saint Aloysius stop worrying!"</p> - -<p>Sergeant Hall let in the clutch.</p> - -<p>"Okay, Lieuten't," he said mildly. "I was just going to wish you good -luck."</p> - -<p>"Cross your fingers against the medics," said McCauley dourly. "I never -liked doctors. I've got to get by some of them."</p> - -<p>He settled back in the jeep and it went bolting out into the already -blazing sunlight beyond the shadow of the building.</p> - -<p>The landscape wasn't pretty—sun-baked clay and sand on the road, -and mesquite and more mesquite all around. The sunshine was hotter -here than anywhere else in the world. It was still long before noon, -but already the horizon shimmered in the heat and occasional little -sand-devils rose up half-heartedly and then subsided as if it were too -hot even for whirlwinds. Far away there were the mountains. McCauley -had gone over there once, and they'd towered impossibly toward the sky. -But presently he'd have trouble picking them out because they'd be -so small and the ground so nearly flat. Heat beat up from the ground -and through the windshield. After a quarter of an hour he could see -the spindly launching tower—no gantry cranes here!—above one of the -ridges over which the jeep went rolling, kicking up a monstrous cloud -of yellow dust behind it.</p> - -<p>McCauley didn't mind the heat. He felt remarkably aware of being alive -and breathing, of the sunlight, and of a wrinkle in his pants on the -jeep seat. After a little he saw the flat roof of the blockhouse. Then -he felt scared. He was afraid of the blockhouse. There'd be a last -checkup to make sure he was perfectly all right, perfectly normal, no -more tense than the doctors decided was allowable, and so on. His heart -began to pound a little and he agonized over it. If they decided it was -acting queer....</p> - -<p>He found himself praying again. Please, God, don't let them find -anything wrong with me! I want so much to do this!</p> - -<p>Randy didn't look at him. A good guy, Randy. He'd know it was panic -over those doggone doctors poking stethoscopes at him and going off to -mutter together about what they'd heard.</p> - -<p>"Randy, if I look scared, it's because I am," McCauley said between -his teeth. "There's a medic in that blockhouse who wanted his -brother-in-law to get this job. He'd be just the kind to mess me up -now!"</p> - -<p>Randy offered a cigarette. McCauley shook his head.</p> - -<p>The blockhouse was sunk in the dry earth. It was concrete, yards thick, -with nothing visible from this side except a deep-sunk door in the -wall. On the other side there was a narrow slit to look out of, and -there were periscopes and in a pit over yonder the close-by trackers. -There were other trackers in other spots—as far away as the mountains. -But there wasn't much of anything to be seen here.</p> - -<p>... No. There was the rocket. One of the new big Aerobees. Nothing -fancy about it. The Atlas and the long-distance jobs generally -got all the publicity these days. But the Aerobees were solid and -workmanlike, veteran performers. Fancy hardware broke the records and -was what people meant when they talked about missiles and rockets, but -Aerobees were the workhorses that went up without fanfare, got the -information they were sent up for, and got it back down again. It was -an Aerobee that had proved matter-of-factly that most of the stuff in -the textbooks about the upper air simply wasn't so. Aerobees were the -first to disprove the belief that the tropopause was a motionless, -featureless calm belt up aloft. Aerobees brought back conclusive -evidence of vertical currents in that supposed utter calm, currents -that shot upward at three hundred meters per second. And it was -Aerobees that brought back proof of ultraviolet light reaching Earth -on its dark side, so the theory boys could go quietly mad figuring out -where the light came from.</p> - -<p>Yes. The pointed nose and sleek shape of the Aerobee was a comfort, -standing by its straight-up launching tower. McCauley'd seen dozens of -shoots of Aerobees. He felt the affection a man feels for something -that does its job competently and casually, day in and day out, when -called upon to do it.</p> - -<p>The jeep stopped. Randy got out and McCauley followed him. The sergeant -opened his mouth but thought better of it. He drove away without saying -anything more about luck.</p> - -<p>The doorway of the blockhouse was cool. Inside, as the door closed -behind him, McCauley felt the air-conditioned chill and the clatter -of the place almost as if he'd been struck a blow. There were people -everywhere. Practically everybody wore a phone headset and chest -microphone and everybody was talking to somebody somewhere else, paying -no attention to anyone nearby.</p> - -<p>McCauley stood still, waiting to be told where to go. Somebody called -to him:</p> - -<p>"The docs aren't ready for you yet, Lieutenant. You're early."</p> - -<p>"Okay," McCauley said. "Where'll I go to get out of the way?"</p> - -<p>It didn't look as if anybody else could possibly wait around in the -blockhouse without further fouling up the already-present confusion.</p> - -<p>"Let's go look at the transportation," Randy suggested.</p> - -<p>McCauley shrugged and followed Randy outside. It was comforting that -nobody paid any attention to him. At least the people in charge of the -shoot weren't worrying about his not being okayed for the job.</p> - -<p>In the sunshine again, he saw familiar things. The close-by trackers -in their pits, sunk below ground level in case something blew. The -telemeter receivers looked like huge wire bowls, decorated with rolls -of toilet tissue, aimed at the sky. They moved back and forth, testing. -They'd get back telemetered information and sort it out and make -tapes of it, and whoever read those tapes would know more about what -was happening than McCauley did. A telemetering system will sample a -practically indefinite number of instrument readings three hundred -times a second and send back the information in wild banshee howls or -else in scratchy noises that sound like all the static in the world -coming out of one loud-speaker.</p> - -<p>Even so, things were better than they used to be, for there was a -time when not nearly so much information got back. For that matter, -McCauley'd heard about the tame German scientist—formerly of -Peenemünde—who used to stand out in the open behind the blockhouse -when those first rockets went up, sweating and squinting and saying, -"Goot!" "Goot!" as long as he could see that things were going well, -and sputtering despairingly and unintelligibly in German when they went -wrong.</p> - -<p>They went wrong pretty often in the beginning, back ten years or so -ago. There was the time a rocket went up and simply vanished. All the -trackers lost it and nobody had the least idea where it'd gone. All the -men sat around biting their nails and wondering where in blazes it was. -Finally there'd been a telephone call from a woman in Alamogordo. She'd -managed to reach someone with authority to route her call though to the -blockhouse.</p> - -<p>"Ah hear you folks are shootin' up rockets," she said in an indignant -drawl. "Well, you-all better come an' get your rocket outa my backyard -right now!"</p> - -<p>It had landed in her backyard, many miles away, and it had missed her -house by no more than twenty feet.</p> - -<p>Another time—a long, long while ago—a V-2 tied itself into knots and -headed for Mexico. When it came down near Juarez, all the Mexicans for -miles around came on the run with hacksaws. After they'd cut off pieces -of it for "space souvenirs," there wasn't much left to be hauled back -to base....</p> - -<p>McCauley followed Randy around to the front. They walked over the hot -sandy ground to the launching tower. There was a fuel truck there, and -the sickly-sweet but bitter smell of hydrazine. The fueling gang wore -plastic coveralls with hoods and clear plastic faceplates. McCauley -knew this process; he'd helped with it. But today he kept carefully -out of the way. The fueling gang was finicky about its work. Each man -was extravagantly careful not to spill a drop of hydrazine, because if -somebody stepped on a drop that had spilled and then, later on, stepped -on a drop of nitric that had spilled, he'd have a hotfoot to end all -hotfoots—on that foot, anyhow, because he wouldn't have it any longer.</p> - -<p>The hydrazine topped off. The truck went away, with everything -carefully closed up lest a drop of anything spill on to the ground. The -fueling gang went to change coveralls, for they wore coveralls of a -different color when they were going to load up the nitric acid. Never -the twain—hydrazine and nitric—should meet until pumped together into -a rocket engine.</p> - -<p>The Aerobee was tall and sleek and smooth and streamlined, but now -there were ladders leaning against it. Somebody was working through a -door in the sidewall. McCauley went around and glanced at the guide -rail. The Aerobee used a short-time booster to start up. The booster -ran up the rail to the top of the launching tower and then landed -somewhere nearby. But the Aerobee would keep on going. By the time it -reached the top of the tower and the end of the guide rail, it should -be going fast enough for its fins to have some grip on the air. When -the air got too thin to be of any use, the steam-jets working from the -fin tips should guide it.</p> - -<p>The nitric acid truck came slowly into position. It didn't cross -the track the hydrazine truck had taken, and stopped in an -entirely different place; the fueling crew reappeared, in their -different-colored plastic coveralls. The precautions taken against the -premature introduction of hydrazine and nitric acid were remarkable.</p> - -<p>McCauley let himself look up once at the nose-cone. He'd tried it on -for size before. In it, he was going to have to take the launching jolt -of more gees than any jet pilot has to be prepared for. But he felt a -serene confidence that he could do it.</p> - -<p>Then somebody called:</p> - -<p>"Hey! Lieutenant! They want you back at the blockhouse!"</p> - -<p>McCauley turned back obediently. The fuel gang was pumping in the -nitric as he left. It stank, and he knew that if the smell gets under -the faceplate of your hood you throw back the hood and faceplate -together and gasp for breath. He realized that he wasn't breathing too -easily. The doctors were going to make their final check on him, and -what they said would be it. He felt the familiar panicky conviction -that they'd find something wrong with him. For instance, panic would be -something wrong.</p> - -<p>He caught hold of himself as he and Randy entered the blockhouse. -Somehow the confusion and busyness of everybody there were reassuring. -On the way to where the doctors waited, he heard people talking into -telephones about wind velocities and barometric pressures and how in -thunder did that civilian automobile get into the test area? Somebody -had to get it out fast, because there was a shoot on, in case nobody'd -heard. The last was pure sarcasm.</p> - -<p>Anyhow the technical crew thought he was all right. So McCauley -submitted himself to the doctors in a sort of truculent readiness to -put up an argument if they said anything critical of his condition or -his readiness to go where nobody had ever gone before. With everything -else all ready, they'd have a nerve to suggest anything but a go-ahead!</p> - -<p>They took his blood pressure and did a cardiogram, and they put a tape -around his chest and a stylus drew a crazy curve which showed the -way he was breathing. Then they took samples of his breath and his -blood and other body fluids, and his temperature and the electrical -resistance of his skin and forty-seven other things. They'd done all -this before. They'd done it while he was resting and while he was -taking hard exercise, when he was tired and when he'd just waked up -from a good night's sleep.</p> - -<p>They had blown-up pictures of every square inch of his skin, so they -could check for sputters at high altitude. A sputter might occur if -a cosmic particle at just the right speed happened to hit him. He -hadn't any privacy left. The docs knew everything about him, except -that he was absolutely the right person for man's first ascent in a -pure rocket, and his return to Earth in one piece. No rocket had ever -landed intact, of course. They smashed. Invariably. But a way had been -worked out to get instruments back unshattered. That was the way he'd -land.</p> - -<p>One of the doctors nodded.</p> - -<p>"With that pulse rate your system's pumping out plenty of adrenalin. -That's good!"</p> - -<p>McCauley relaxed a little. He watched as they checked his reflexes. He -could tell that they looked all right, anyway. They gave him a pencil -and timed him while he did a page of IQ stuff. In the past few weeks -they'd established his personal norm for all sorts of things, and now -they were checking to see whether anticipation pushed him too far -off normal. He began to sweat when he realized that he needed to act -exactly as usual, and they knew it, and he sweated more because of it. -They checked him over as they would a guinea pig before an experiment, -only he was the guinea pig. But he was desperately anxious for all this -to be over and for the experiment to start.</p> - -<p>Presently they finished and looked at each other and nodded. Then one -of them said, "You'll do," and McCauley went almost sick with relief. -Then, infuriatingly, he knew from their expressions that they'd looked -for exactly that reaction. He couldn't do anything they wouldn't -analyze and think about. And he burned a little, but it was all right. -Everything was all right!</p> - -<p>When Ed came out to the main part of the blockhouse again, Randy knew -from his expression that he'd been checked out for the flight, but he -asked politely:</p> - -<p>"Mother and child doing well?"</p> - -<p>By that time McCauley wanted to hug somebody for sheer joy, but instead -he said sedately,</p> - -<p>"The doc says I'm a boy."</p> - -<p>But just the same he was almost weak from the reaction to the ending of -his fears about what the doctors might decide. He looked at his watch. -Just about on schedule. Over in a corner somebody with a headphone -and chest mike was marking off items on a list he had before him. He -said, "Telemeter circuits," and paused. A voice evidently sounded in -his headphones, because he made a checkmark with his pencil. Then he -said, "Tracker circuits," and waited, and made another checkmark. As -McCauley walked on to where his voice was drowned out, he was still -saying toneless things into his chest mike and making checkmarks after -unhearable replies.</p> - -<p>Randy closed the door of the cubicle where McCauley would put on the -grav-suit. It was skin-tight and festooned all over with stray bits of -equipment. Randy helped him get into it.</p> - -<p>"Lucky son-of-a-gun!" he said conversationally. "How do the Irish get -all the breaks?"</p> - -<p>"Clean living," McCauley told him, "and a drag with the top brass."</p> - -<p>It wasn't so, of course. Not the top brass part, anyhow.</p> - -<p>His arm caught in the right sleeve and Randy helped him straighten -it. There were peculiar tubes built into the fabric. They were all -hooked to a grav-valve that would let compressed air into them at a -suitable pressure to tighten the suit and fight the tendency of his -blood and inner organs to be left behind when his bones and flesh were -accelerated by the full thrust of the rocket. A man wasn't built to -stand the acceleration he had to take. But the grav-suit would make up -the difference.</p> - -<p>He turned slowly around, and Randy inspected everything with the -jealous care of somebody who'll never forgive himself if anything goes -wrong. Presently he said:</p> - -<p>"Flip it—but be careful!"</p> - -<p>McCauley touched the test-stud. The tubes expanded. The suit tightened. -It felt as if it were going to try to squeeze his whole body out -through the neck. He lifted his hand and the squeezing stopped. Randy -screwed up the test-stud so it couldn't flip on by accident. He felt -of the chute-pack that was part of the suit, with the wide straps that -went around McCauley's body and thighs. He checked the four trailing -cables—each with a different-shaped plug on its end—that would pass -along all the suit-instrumentation news to the telemeter transmitter.</p> - -<p>Then Randy nodded worriedly and gave McCauley a cigarette.</p> - -<p>"It looks okay," he said. But he fretted.</p> - -<p>"Everything's okay," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>He puffed contentedly. When the cigarette was half-smoked, somebody -tapped on the door.</p> - -<p>"You can get aboard, Lieutenant."</p> - -<p>McCauley stood up. Randy opened the door for him and he went ambling -clumsily through the blockhouse toward the exit. He heard a toneless -voice say: "Crash wagon two"; then the man listened and made a -checkmark. Somebody else snapped: "Tell the idiot that we're trying to -keep him out of range of a few tons of hardware that'll be coming down -out of the sky presently. Sit on his head!" That would be the official -response to the civilian motorist's objection to being kept safely off -the test site when a shoot was on.</p> - -<p>McCauley went on out into the open air. He felt weighty and clumsy -and cumbersome. He went around the blockhouse and into the blazing -sunshine. The fueling crew was finished, but they hadn't left. They -waited to watch him go aboard. There was a ladder leaning against the -Aerobee. McCauley plodded heavily to the foot of it. He put his foot on -the first rung and turned to Randy.</p> - -<p>"Here I go."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Randy. He didn't smile. He couldn't. But he did have a -fine air of nonchalance as he said, "See you soon."</p> - -<p>There was no handshake. It would have been too much like saying -good-by. McCauley started up the ladder.</p> - -<p>It was a long climb; and three-quarters of the way up, with all the -assorted gimmicks and the clumsy chute-pack banging against his -buttocks, he began to breathe fast. Once he stepped on a trailing -cable. He looked down and was annoyed to find that the height bothered -him—a man who would presently be up many miles higher than any man had -ever been before. And this was only tens of feet, yet he felt giddy! He -didn't look down again.</p> - -<p>He reached the door in the nose-cone and climbed in. He'd practiced -it. He felt easier when he was inside. Up here, on top of several tons -of rocket fuel, he felt safer because there was a floor under him. He -grimaced at the foolishness of it. Rocket fuel is highly explosive; -a rocket works because a continuous explosion is taking place in its -engine. But McCauley felt safer sitting on enough hydrazine and nitric -to blow him to atoms than coming up a narrow, springy ladder.</p> - -<p>Laboriously he settled himself. The acceleration chair had been -tailored to fit him in this suit. He got the trailing cables clear and -made himself comfortable. Then he waited. He could stir a little, but -not much. It was, of course, extremely comforting to be able to move -his feet in even limited swings.</p> - -<p>The nose-cone door darkened. Somebody reached in and plugged the cables -into their proper sockets. He hauled straps from nowhere and buckled -them.</p> - -<p>"Here's your helmet, Lieutenant," he said.</p> - -<p>"Thanks," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>He put it on. Air began to flow past his face and he knew that all the -gadgets in his suit were hooked in, and that back in the blockhouse -they could count his breaths and tell how deep they were, they were -getting a continuous cardiogram to tell how his heart was working, and -they had a running record of his blood pressure. If he panicked now -they'd know it. The man outside the nose-cone door poked around like -a hen fussing over a solitary chick. McCauley wished he'd go away. A -voice sounded in the helmet earphones.</p> - -<p>"<i>Checking phones. Do you hear me?</i>"</p> - -<p>"Sure," said McCauley. "I hear all right."</p> - -<p>The phones clicked and were silent. The nose-cone door closed and -McCauley was alone. Somehow he felt naked, because he knew that -everything he felt and almost everything he thought was going on record -via telemeter in the blockhouse. It was dark here.... No, two small -electric bulbs were glowing. One was a spare. He saw the stuff laid out -for later.</p> - -<p>He knew what went on outside, but it was what was going on inside -him that disturbed him. He didn't want the instruments in his suit -to report anything wrong. He wanted to do this job right! For that -reason he was consciously patient while he knew that men clinging to -the launching tower were pulling away the last-minute cords that had -been reporting everything functioning just right. Then everybody'd -be getting out of the way. The Aerobee stood silent and still above -a concrete pit filled with water. Somebody would use a last few -seconds to coil up a cable that should have been put away before. -In seconds now, though, everyone would pop out of sight. Over by the -mountains they'd be working the trackers there to make sure they were -all right. There'd be the warning blast. It ought to be about now. -Ten—nine—eight—</p> - -<p>A voice came into the helmet phones.</p> - -<p>"<i>Forty seconds more, Lieutenant. Everything's going fine so far!</i>"</p> - -<p>McCauley had a momentary impulse to try to make some crack or other -that would be appropriate, express how he felt, and so on. But he -didn't feel as he'd expected to. And anything like that would sound -like showing off. So he just answered matter-of-factly:</p> - -<p>"That's good."</p> - -<p>He waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.</p> - -<p>The voice in his helmet phones said abruptly:</p> - -<p>"<i>Ten seconds ... Nine ... Eight ... Seven ... Six ... Five ... -Four ... Three ... Two ... One....</i>"</p> - -<p>During the last second McCauley remembered to put his arms in the -armrests, because the acceleration was going to be all he could take. -<i>All.</i> If his arms hung down, the blood would engorge his fingers and -swell them to uselessness. He was already scrounged down in place, and -he had his chin in the chinrest of the helmet—the whole helmet had a -fitting to support it—so if he blacked out his tongue wouldn't slide -back down his throat and strangle him.</p> - -<p>Something hit him. It hit him all over at the same instant, as if he -were being slammed in a million places by a million six-ounce gloves -all at once. Something grabbed his legs and squeezed his belly and -blew air in his face, and the roar was numbing, but he didn't remember -hearing it begin. He'd expected all of it but he reacted by quite -automatically getting raging mad. He knew he was on the way up and he -felt thrilled and furious and he hurt all over, simultaneously.</p> - -<p>It was agony, but if he could have grinned he'd have done it. -Everything had gone off all right! Nothing was wrong! It was too late -for anything to stop the shoot now! It was happening!</p> - -<p>His stomach felt terrifically tight against the corset-like front of -the grav-suit. The legs squeezed—hard! That puff of wind was extra air -pressure to protect his lungs. He suffered, and he was half blind, and -he fought for breath, but that extra air pressure helped a lot. All the -blood tried to come down out of his brain and his cheeks sagged and his -ears would have flopped down if it weren't for the headphones holding -them flat against his head.</p> - -<p>Suddenly things were easier. The booster'd burned out and dropped -off. McCauley remembered to grunt, to say that he hadn't lost -consciousness in the first intolerable getaway acceleration. The two -small electric bulbs had seemed to turn reddish. He made a mental note -to mention it presently. The pressure was still monstrous. He seemed -to weigh tons—actually he did weigh an appreciable part of one—but -his weight was less than it had been. That first slamming was the -take-off, lasting barely seconds though it felt like long minutes. This -second-stage acceleration would last more than a minute. It would seem -like hours.</p> - -<p>It did. McCauley's muscles were already getting weary of lifting -his whole chest for breathing when a voice said in the phones: -"<i>Beautiful shoot! Beautiful! Everything's going fine!</i>" He grunted -in acknowledgment. It would be too much effort to talk. Also he felt -an obscure anger, which was his body's reaction to the unreasonable -suffering imposed upon it. A little green light flashed, and he was -supposed to grunt at it, and he did.</p> - -<p>He grunted a second time when it flashed again. Quickly. A third and -fourth and fifth time. Something would be learned from the quickness -with which he could respond to signals during this second-stage thrust. -A pause, and the green light flashed and kept on flashing too fast for -him to respond, and he said, "Cripes!" very wearily. Then it stopped.</p> - -<p>The roaring went on and on, and abruptly there were violent coughings -below. Instantly his head tried to split wide open because the -acceleration ceased between two heartbeats, while his heart kept on -trying to pump blood against a static head which was many times normal, -and suddenly there was no static head at all. There was no gravity to -be pumped against. There was no weight to anything. Then his heart -tried to adjust to that, and it skipped beats, and all his insides that -had been dragged downward now rose up and tried to climb out of his -throat.</p> - -<p>He gagged and swallowed.</p> - -<p>"Okay!" he panted. "In free fall! The light changed to reddish but it's -back to normal. I feel fighting mad. Over."</p> - -<p>"<i>First puzzle</i>," said a brisk voice in the headphones.</p> - -<p>McCauley reached out into the arrangement of objects before him. He -took out a puzzle. It wasn't complicated, but he had to recognize it -and then remember how to do it. He tossed it aside, finished, and his -working time was undoubtedly recorded. The voice said:</p> - -<p>"<i>Name two things in the same class among these: robin, shovel, tree, -ibis, shark.</i>"</p> - -<p>McCauley answered. Again the time was noted. This was straight IQ -stuff, to see how soon and how well his brain was functioning after the -beating he'd taken in the booster-stage take-off and the second-stage -acceleration of the rocket itself. He knew what it was all about, -even when they told him to solve puzzle six, and then four, and then -asked more silly questions. He responded as well as he could, with -no idea how good that was. But he felt a great irrational anger and -indignation. When he was asked to recite a paragraph of prose he'd -memorized for the exact purpose of reciting it, on demand, he recited -it. But he was unreasonably angry. It was his body's response to the -suffering just past.</p> - -<p>Presently he snapped:</p> - -<p>"Doggone it, I want to see something!"</p> - -<p>"<i>Go ahead</i>," said the voice from the ground. "<i>But keep on talking. It -doesn't matter what you say. Talk.</i>"</p> - -<p>He pressed the button that slid the port shutters aside. The shutters -were necessary. There'd been terrific heat outside when the nose-cone -flung upward through the denser lower atmosphere near ground level. He -looked eagerly out.</p> - -<p>For a moment he couldn't speak. He saw the horizon as an almost white -line against a star-specked black sky. It was curved! There were -innumerable flecks of whiteness—they'd be clouds—below him; they grew -thicker farther away. He saw the ocean, which was hundreds of miles -away. The world visibly tilted downwards, downhill away from him. He -looked below and it was paradoxically a bowl. Quite close he saw a -fleeting, rushing, tormented spurt of vapor which vanished instantly. -It was a steam-jet correcting yaw or spin or tumbling, up here where -the air was so thin that the fins themselves could take no grip on it.</p> - -<p>Years ago, when a WAC corporal made the first flight up to the then -incredible height of two hundred and fifty miles, the machine turned -end for end five times as it rose, and its tumbling made no difference. -It was practically in a vacuum. McCauley was higher than that, already. -But this Aerobee pointed straight, balanced by little puffings of -steam. It didn't even rotate.</p> - -<p>He could see stars all around, and then he turned to the one filtered -port and looked at the sun through it. It was a monstrous brilliance, -with writhing fire-fringes around its edges. He saw Mercury off to -its right. It was the first time in his life that he'd ever seen that -planet, and he'd had to get out of the atmosphere to do it. Not one -person in ten thousand has ever seen the sun's closest satellite, even -as a tiny speck of light in the sky. But McCauley saw it, not hidden by -the daytime sky. There was no air here to speak of. At this height a -man not in a pressure-tight cabin, trying to breathe what few molecules -of air were present, would die in thirteen seconds because of anoxia -and explosive decompression. He'd die no more quickly out between the -galaxies.</p> - -<p>"<i>Keep talking</i>," said the voice in the headphones. "<i>Keep talking, -man!</i>"</p> - -<p>McCauley found himself stammering. What he said wasn't particularly -coherent, and he knew his taped speech would be studied to find out -exactly what mental state he was in. The headphones asked questions. -Could he see this? Could he see that? He answered yes and no. The voice -asked him to write something. He did, not looking at it. He stared -out at the monstrousness of the universe, with Earth merely a dimpled -gigantic ball below him.</p> - -<p>He had no weight, but he did not notice. He gazed and gazed and -exulted, and absent-mindedly obeyed the orders which came insistently -to his ears. He wanted to saturate his mind and his memory with the -sight that nobody had ever seen before, except in pictures taken at -this height by robots.</p> - -<p>Presently the sky wasn't totally black with innumerable tiny lights in -it. It was a deep, dark purple. The stars seemed fainter. He said so.</p> - -<p>"<i>Right</i>," said the voice in his helmet. "<i>You reached peak altitude -minutes ago. You're well on the way back down, now. We're going to turn -the rocket over.</i>"</p> - -<p>He realized the absolute silence about him by the fact that now he -heard trivial, insignificant noises. Steam-jets came on—hydrogen -peroxide sprayed into a catalysis chamber where it broke down instantly -into steam and gas. The product rushed out the fin-tip jets. The -universe visibly turned upside down; the sky was down beyond his feet, -and the singular, unfamiliar object which was Earth could be seen only -when he craned his neck to look upward.</p> - -<p>He felt no difference, of course. He'd had no weight before, and he had -none now. The appearance of Earth changed so gradually that he didn't -really realize that he was approaching it. But he knew it in his mind, -and he resented bitterly that he had passed the high point of this -achievement and was now bound back toward the commonplace, the ordinary.</p> - -<p>He made an effort to become his normal self. "Now I suspect I'm getting -scared," he said wryly into his helmet mike. If he admitted it he'd -be ashamed and so could fight it. But he found that he wasn't really -scared. He was apprehensive, as one is when approaching a dentist's -chair. He felt reluctant, because he knew that after he got down he'd -be due for ghastly, tedious days during which the doctors would go over -him almost with microscopes to hunt for sputters—the burned, exploded -patches that would show up where cosmic-ray particles not slowed by air -went through his body. There shouldn't be any, but there could be some. -Robot instruments said no sputters. But a man had to come up here to -make sure.</p> - -<p>He felt something—a featherweight of pull toward the pointed tip of -the nose-cone. The rocket had hit air which slowed it enough so he -noticed it. He was astounded that he'd come back so far so fast. True, -he was still almost unthinkably high by the standards of other men, but -he'd been out in space!</p> - -<p>Earth was deplorably near. At twenty miles up—a hundred-odd thousand -feet—the processes for landing him should begin. He settled himself -in his seat against what was coming.... He suddenly realized that he'd -been talking, though he didn't remember what he'd said. Undoubtedly, -though, he'd said everything that came into his head. He stopped. The -headphone voice said encouragingly, "<i>You're okay!</i>"</p> - -<p>"So far!" he answered.</p> - -<p>There was the story about the optimist who fell off a skyscraper. -Twenty stories earthward he saw someone looking out a window and -called, "Everything's fine so far!" Yes....</p> - -<p>There was an explosion and he started. Then others. They came from -small, half-pound explosive charges set at carefully chosen places on -the rocket. They were there to wreck its streamlined shape; to make -it an irregular, dynamically inefficient object which would offer -enormously increased resistance to its own fall through the air. -Technically it was considered that the terminal speed-of-fall of the -shattered rocket would be less than that of a man falling free without -a parachute. What was that? A hundred and fifty miles an hour, or a -hundred and twenty? McCauley tensed himself.</p> - -<p>It seemed that something broke loose. The rocket reeled. It plunged. -It turned end over end and McCauley was flung intolerably this way -and that against the straps that held him in his seat. A wallop -nearly snapped his neck. But this was the way it was supposed to be. -Streamlined, the rocket would have struck nose-first and buried itself -in small fragments in the sandy soil below. This way....</p> - -<p>It mushed. It wabbled. It tumbled as crazily as a maple leaf and as -dizzily. McCauley steeled himself to endure it. "<i>Sixteen more miles of -this!</i>" he thought.</p> - -<p>But it was nearly over. There was another flash of explosive, this -time nearby, and the nose-cone flew violently apart and a blast of -wind hit him. Then there was a thump—a terrific thump—and a no less -bone-shaking bump, and his acceleration seat was ejected and he was -flying free through nothingness. Then the straps miraculously came -loose and he was turning end for end; Earth and sky were playing -merry-go-round in all directions simultaneously, while something -ungainly and monstrous writhed crazily away from him and toward the -agile Earth. And then there was a jolt and a jerk and another jerk....</p> - -<p>He swung widely, but right-side up, beneath a perfectly commonplace -government-issue parachute a mere three miles high. He was sore and -bruised and shaken and dizzy, but everything was perfectly all right. -He'd been ejected from the falling rocket just as instruments had been -ejected hundreds of times before, and an ordinary parachute had opened -to let him sink tranquilly and safely to the ground, just as it had -done with the instruments.</p> - -<p>He was remarkably close to solidity now. He got his breath and saw the -mountains and the vast, ridged, sun-baked, mesquite-dotted ground of -the rocket site. He could see the officers'-quarters building where -he'd had breakfast this morning. He spotted the blockhouse, with the -spindling launching tower from which he had departed so recently.</p> - -<p>Then he saw a trail of dust flowing across the ground below. It was the -pickup gang. He'd been tracked every second, and they'd be underneath -when he touched ground. Randy would be there, and the other men who'd -give their eyeteeth to have taken his place. But they'd be gloating -because he'd gotten back all right. They'd be grinning, swearing, -exultant, overjoyed....</p> - -<p>It suddenly occurred to McCauley that it would be intolerable if they -weren't glad. He didn't feel proud himself. He hadn't done anything. -He'd just gone for a ride that they'd made possible. But all the same -he was filled to bursting with the goodness of what had happened.</p> - -<p>He saw the whole thing in perspective now. Swinging below the -parachute, he could estimate with fine precision just what had taken -place. It had become possible for a man to go up to the edge of -emptiness, to where he could look with his own eyes upon the sun and -stars in their own unshielded splendor. And because a man could do it, -a man had to.</p> - -<p>And he'd been the man.</p> - -<p>He felt overwhelmingly good as he settled, swaying, under the white -blossom of nylon cloth, with the pickup gang streaking in half a dozen -vehicles toward the place where he would land. Long plumes of yellow -dust followed each one.</p> - -<p>Earth came floating up to meet him.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1"><i>2</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(When Ed McCauley was still a reasonably young officer, there were -many commonplace things that hadn't been done yet. Satellites circled -the earth from west to east and across both poles and with other -assorted orbits. There were artificial satellites in orbit even around -the sun, and every so often somebody put up a new one for some new -purpose. There'd been a landing on the moon—by robot—and a robot -station there spasmodically reported temperatures and cosmic-ray -frequency, and a surprising number of moonquakes.</p> - -<p>But even so, many things hadn't yet been done. Man had circled the -earth in capsules, but not yet had any man lifted his own rocketship -from Earth and set himself in orbit. Still less had any man risen into -space as the captain of his ship and brought it back to earth. Until -such a thing was done, it would be absurd to speak of spaceships. -Missiles, yes. Satellites, yes. But a ship had to take off and land on -its own before men could say there is such a thing as a spaceship.)</p></div> - - -<p>Young Major McCauley arrived at Quartermain Base in an Air Transport -ship which stopped briefly to drop him off and toss out a mail sack -which was instantly taken in charge by two side-armed noncoms and -hauled away. Then the Transport ship bellowed vociferously and took -off across the incredibly level pebbly plain, lifted and retracted its -wheels, and soared up into the infinitely blue sky of this part of -the world. It left McCauley standing in a vast emptiness, except for -unimpressive base buildings. He felt singularly lonely.</p> - -<p>Nobody paid any attention to him. There was nobody left around. In a -way it was a relief, because McCauley had experienced much too much -attention once upon a time, and he wanted no more of it. He'd done a -job in an Aerobee once, and now he was to try something in an X-21 that -a lot of people would have liked to try in his place. He preferred not -to be reminded of either thing. So quite uncomplainingly he trudged -across the sun-baked flat ground toward the base buildings. All around -there was astounding flatness. The low hills that rose at the far side -of this dry lakebed were conspicuous here, whereas in more rolling -country they'd never be noticed. There was a row of hangars. McCauley -picked one out with his eyes and guessed that the new ship might be -inside it.</p> - -<p>He reached the building behind the flagpole and shifted his bag from -one hand to the other. He went in, mopping his forehead as the door -closed behind him and the sharp chill of air conditioning hit him.</p> - -<p>He went to report in. The CO wasn't around. He was over in Laurelton, -the town where most of the men went when they got a pass. The OD was -off somewhere. But quarters had been assigned to Major McCauley. The -noncom in charge of the CO's office obligingly got up to show him the -way.</p> - -<p>"Any orders for me?" asked McCauley. "I don't suppose I'm supposed to -sit and twiddle my thumbs."</p> - -<p>The noncom looked at a file and said there weren't any.</p> - -<p>"It doesn't look too lively around here," said McCauley, "I'm supposed -to have an interest in the X-21. Could I take a look at her?"</p> - -<p>The noncom did a double take.</p> - -<p>"Oh," he said politely. "You're that Major McCauley! I should have -realized it, sir. The X-21, sir, is in the big hangar down that way. -Number seven. If you tell the sentry who you are he'll pass you in, -sir. Of course. Take-off's tomorrow noon, sir, and everything's ready. -But I'd better show you your quarters first, sir."</p> - -<p>McCauley blinked. He felt embarrassed, and he felt a distinct sense -of shock. He was embarrassed because he'd had to mention the X-21 and -who he was, as if he were pushing his weight around. The shock was the -take-off for tomorrow. He'd known nothing about it.</p> - -<p>He picked up his bag and waited to be shown his quarters. He followed -the noncom down silent halls with specklessly polished floors. He -entered the room assigned to him. It had tan plasterboard walls and an -iron bunk, and Venetian blinds to shut out the desolate outer world. It -was exactly like all other bachelor officers' quarters everywhere in -the world. McCauley should have felt at home. He didn't.</p> - -<p>"Just a minute," he said carefully, as the noncom was about to leave. -"You said take-off's tomorrow?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said the noncom. "I believe it was slated for later, sir, -but something came up and I understand that Major Furness—he's the -general's aide, sir, besides being your observer—Major Furness assured -the general that an earlier take-off would be quite all right, so the -ship was checked out yesterday for fueling. The general likes things -done ahead of time, sir. He says that if you do today all the things -you could put off until tomorrow, you can take tomorrow off."</p> - -<p>"Major Furness," repeated McCauley, "okayed the earlier take-off time."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said the noncom.</p> - -<p>When the noncom closed the door behind him, McCauley burned. There can -be trivial things about the feel of a ship that nobody can realize but -the pilot. Certainly he should decide when an experimental ship is -right to take up. He'd been denied this right. Take-off was tomorrow.</p> - -<p>But on the other hand, he was vulnerable. He'd had a lot of publicity -from that Aerobee ride he'd taken. There were a bunch of people waiting -for him to put on a grand air. If he protested anything, they'd say -he was putting on an act out of self-importance. So that, short of -something glaringly wrong, he had to go along with a decision he hadn't -made or subscribed to. He was always in danger of seeming to have a -swelled head and an inflated ego and other undesirable symptoms. He -needed to avoid them carefully. Right now he smoked a cigarette to kill -time lest he seem overanxious to look at the X-21.</p> - -<p>He didn't expect to be surprised by the ship. Most of the time she was -building he'd been sweating out the details of the job of flying her. -In Dayton there'd been a mock-up with instruments and controls in a -cabin which exactly matched the ship that was not yet completed. An -elaborate simulator-trainer controlled the controls and dials. When he -got into the mock-up and worked it, the instrument readings, sounds, -vibrations, and sensations were exactly what painstaking calculation -foretold for the actual ship. It was an adaptation of the training -devices that equip submarine crews to function like well-oiled machines -the instant they're transferred from training to active service. It was -much, much better than the dual-control planes they used to use for -teaching fledgling pilots. The mock-up supplied not only the instrument -readings of actual flight, but the feel of it. And not only that, it -convincingly presented hair-raising emergencies. A man could experience -all the griefs of a lifetime of flying in a few hours in such a -mock-up. McCauley'd had them.</p> - -<p>In the nature of things, the X-21 couldn't be given a test flight. It -couldn't be tucked under a bomber's wing and lifted aloft to see how it -behaved. Nothing could be done with it but take off and try to ride it -where no other pilot-controlled ship had ever been, and then try to get -it back down again.... If possible! If everything went well, it would -be a very good job to have done. If anything went wrong, it would be -too bad. Period.</p> - -<p>McCauley smoked a second cigarette to kill time. Then he went out of -his room and found his way outdoors. Squinting in the glaring sunshine, -he located Hangar Seven.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later he was inside, taking a look at his ship. He'd -hardly seen a soul along the line of hangars. Inside one he'd heard a -tapping where some flight mechanic was working at something or other. -From another he'd heard voices—tranquil lazy tones indicating that -whoever was within had no very urgent work on hand. It appeared that -practically all the base had been given a pass on the day before -the shoot. Which bespoke a way of running things that meant either -absolutely top management or something he'd rather not imagine.</p> - -<p>He looked at the ship, the X-21. It was huge. It was sleek. It was -impressive. It looked slightly insane, because it was built to -accomplish something that most people weren't even thinking about yet. -Naturally it looked improbable, like the generality of things designed -to achieve the preposterous.</p> - -<p>For one thing, the pilot's cabin was in the nose, and it hung down so -the pilot could look directly behind him underneath the belly of the -ship. That meant an imbalance in the wind resistance when the ship was -in flight. But the balance was restored by wings above the fuselage -top. Then there were enormous ramjets built into the wings well away -from the body; they threw the balance off again until it was restored -a second time by the wind resistance of the wheels, which did not -retract. And near the tail with its triple fins there were brackets for -Mark Twenty jatos, and behind them a very familiar conical bore, the -exhaust nozzle of the rocket engine.</p> - -<p>McCauley recognized everything from his preparations for flying just -this ship. She would take off on jato thrust which would get her off -the ground and traveling fast enough for the ramjets in the wings -to catch. The ramjets would take her up to the very edge of the -atmosphere. When there wasn't enough air left for even ramjets to work -with, the rocket should take over. In theory the ship might be called -a three-stage design, but in fact it didn't fit into any category. It -did, though, have one standard property of a hydrazine-nitric rocket. -If it made other than a feather-light landing with any rocket fuel -remaining, it would almost certainly blow itself to blazes.</p> - -<p>But the point was that if—<i>if</i>—everything went all right, McCauley -ought to get up into space with a full load of rocket fuel and a few -hundred miles an hour eastward velocity. On the way up he'd try to hit -the jetstream at thirty thousand feet or so and pick up some speed from -that. And when he started his rocket engine he was supposed to put the -ship in orbit.</p> - -<p>That was the trick. That was what had never been done before. Men had -orbited in missiles and gotten down again. There was a man on the -moon—or so it was believed—though he was dead before he arrived -there. There were satellites circling Earth in all directions, some of -them as much as ten years aloft. But nobody had ever yet sent a ship -up under its pilot's control, its pilot achieving an orbit and then -bringing the ship down to the surface of the earth again. When that -was accomplished, it could be said that a spaceship existed. Until -then, there were only missiles.</p> - -<p>McCauley worked his way thoughtfully around the monster, whistling -soundlessly as he looked it over, checking everything he saw with -what he knew, and thereby getting more information than was seemingly -possible. Presently he went in the cabin and worked the controls. They -felt just like the mock-up.</p> - -<p>He was back in his quarters, thinking somberly, when there was a -knock on the door. When he answered, the door was pushed open and the -remarkably personable Major Furness appeared.</p> - -<p>"Hi," he said. "They tell me you got here."</p> - -<p>"Yes," agreed McCauley. "I did."</p> - -<p>"They tell me you looked over the ship," said Furness exuberantly. -"Good, eh?"</p> - -<p>"It looks good," agreed McCauley.</p> - -<p>"Were you surprised when you heard take-off's tomorrow?"</p> - -<p>McCauley nodded reservedly.</p> - -<p>"That's my doing," said Furness proudly. "I told the general we'd be -ready. He was cussing a blue streak. An intelligence report had come -through, saying that—um—there's to be an attempt abroad to lift a -rocket up and set it down again on its own tail. Lift and land. No -rocket's ever landed unsmashed, you know."</p> - -<p>"I know," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>Furness grinned. Engagingly.</p> - -<p>"So it won't look good if us Americans get our eye wiped by somebody -else doing something with a rocket that we can't do. The general made -the air blue. So I said, 'General, McCauley's been training for our -job for months, off there in Dayton. He's all set to do his stuff. The -ship's practically ready to go. We could get it ready to take off the -day after McCauley gets here. Why not do it?' And the General said, -'Furness, if we could....' And I said, 'General, we can!' So he began -to give orders right and left. And that's it. Tomorrow noon. Twelve -hundred. Get it over with, eh?"</p> - -<p>McCauley opened his mouth. He closed it. Anger swept over him and he -opened it a second time.</p> - -<p>Then he shut up. For him to protest anything short of plain suicide -would be considered pomposity and self-importance. But he should have -had a chance to look over the ship before take-off. He'd had a glance -at it, hardly more. Yet he couldn't afford to stand on his dignity or -his rights because too many people envied him.</p> - -<p>Furness looked at him and flushed a little. The cordiality that should -exist between two men who are going to risk their necks together was -totally missing. Furness felt it. His expression grew almost defiant.</p> - -<p>"Look here!" he said. "That was all right, wasn't it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said McCauley. "Anyhow it's done."</p> - -<p>Furness stared at him.</p> - -<p>"What else was there to do?"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't know," said McCauley. "The ship can't be test-flown, of -course—not in any ordinary sense of the word. You can't test-fly a -hydrazine rocket, and among other things that's what this ship is. You -just have to take it up. But—hm—how were the tests on the rocket -motor?"</p> - -<p>"They gave four per cent over the maximum expected thrust," said -Furness, exuberant again. "Nothing wrong there!"</p> - -<p>"They were cut in and out frequently?" asked McCauley.</p> - -<p>That was one of the tricky items. A rocket motor is cut off, in a -ballistic rocket, and cut in again after a pause in its firing. It -isn't a sensible thing to do ordinarily, but it would be necessary -in flying the X-21. It was a point about which McCauley had certain -reservations. A rocket motor is very nearly a device for producing a -continuous explosion, the recoil from the explosion constituting the -thrust. Rocket motor design is pretty well worked out, but there are -occasional failures, as in any high-precision apparatus. And the motor -of the X-21 would need to cut in and out, often. It would burn fuel at -the rate of more than two thousand gallons per minute. It would have -to start instantly, with full pressure and full flow of two dissimilar -liquids, and they would have to meet at exactly the proper spot in the -rocket motor cavity and burn completely on contact. When the rocket was -cut off, the fuel would have to stop flowing instantly, without the -fraction of a fraction of one per cent of either liquid left unburned, -or there would be trouble when the motor started again. The bare fact -that the X-21's motor would have to fire and stop and fire again -meant that absolute perfection was needed in all sorts of auxiliary -equipment. The pumps. The fuel flow lines. There was the possibility -of hydraulic hammer. There could be turbulence in the tanks because of -intermittent flow. Decidedly the motor should be tested intensively for -flaws in cut-in and cut-out operation, and it should be tested in the -ship and not merely in a static-thrust frame.</p> - -<p>Furness frowned.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what the tests were," he said with a trace of impatience. -"They tested everything. They say everything's all right. I'm no -reaction motor technician! I'm a pilot! They give me a ship and I fly -it! I leave the other stuff to the slide-rule boys!"</p> - -<p>"Who are plenty good," agreed McCauley, "and since the take-off's -scheduled, that's that. We take off at 1200 hours tomorrow."</p> - -<p>He had complete confidence in the adequacy of his training in the -mock-up back in Dayton, but it did assume that the ship would function -according to its design. He'd have preferred to verify the point he'd -raised. The record of rocket shoot failures includes at least one -rocket that didn't leave the launching pad because a certain valve -closed three one-thousandths of a second late. It took two months to -repair the damage so the rocket could be tried again. Then it worked -perfectly.</p> - -<p>Everything might have been—should have been—almost certainly had -been—foreseen. But the chance of trouble was certainly greatest in the -cut-in and cut-out feature that was necessary if the X-21 was to make -its flight successfully.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry," Furness said elaborately, "that I was more concerned about -meeting a situation that bothered the brass than guessing at questions -you might raise. I told the general we'd be ready to take off. I'll -tell him I was mistaken, that you're not ready."</p> - -<p>McCauley grew impatient.</p> - -<p>"Confound it, man!" he protested. "There are patrol ships taking -position! The monitor stations will be alerted! There've been too many -shoots called off or postponed! This one can't be postponed! I asked a -question. You can't answer it. The answer would almost certainly be -that there were plenty of cut-out trials. I withdraw the question. It's -canceled! But it wasn't unreasonable to ask!"</p> - -<p>Furness bit his lip.</p> - -<p>"Just the same," Furness said sourly, "you're not satisfied that I said -we'd be ready to go without asking you first. Look here! Would you -rather have somebody else fly observer with you?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't suggest such a thing," said McCauley angrily, "and it's -ridiculous to think of it. No! Forget the whole business!"</p> - -<p>"It looks to me as if you resent my action," Furness said stiffly. "I -shouldn't have spoken for you without written authority. I'll try to -remember, hereafter, that you're the pilot and I'm only the observer."</p> - -<p>McCauley controlled his temper with difficulty.</p> - -<p>"This is lunacy!" he said shortly. "The thing's settled. We take off -at noon tomorrow. I'm told the ship will fly. I'm ordered to fly it. -You're ordered to fly with me. That's that, so far as I'm concerned!"</p> - -<p>Furness said as stiffly as before:</p> - -<p>"That's quite all right with me too. I should tell you, though, that my -wife wanted me to invite you for dinner tonight. The general was to be -there too, for a private talk over the prospects and so on. And I've -got a son who's been fairly jumping with excitement over the prospect -of meeting Major McCauley, the first man ever to take off in a pure -rocket and get down to ground again. But you'll hardly accept that -invitation, feeling as you do. I'll say you declined because you want -to get some extra sleep tonight since you intend to watch the fuel-up -tomorrow."</p> - -<p>McCauley blinked at him in amazement. Furness went out.</p> - -<p>When he'd gone, McCauley swore to himself. This was more of the -attitude he disliked, expecting him to feel self-important. It was one -of the penalties of having done something that got publicity. But there -was absolutely nothing he could do about it.</p> - -<p>Certainly it had been reasonable to mention the one thing that bothered -him! The X-21 would take off on jatos, ride to the limit of the -atmosphere on ramjets, and have the rocket motor take over there. To -get the exact course and speed he needed, he'd undoubtedly have to use -the rocket engine in a series of bursts after the original acceleration -run. He'd have to turn it off between times. And while an alcohol-lox -rocket motor had been turned off and on in flight, no hydrazine-nitric -rocket ever had been. Nobody had ever needed to. McCauley would. And -the idea was hair-raising.</p> - -<p>Rocket fuel is tricky stuff at best. In the earlier X-series ships, -alcohol and lox—liquid oxygen—and in one or two cases ammonia and -lox, were used in the engines. They could be jettisoned in case a -dead-stick landing was necessary. But nobody in his senses would -think of jettisoning nitric and hydrazine as an emergency measure. -That was the pair, though, that was being used in the X-21. Their -great advantage is that they do not need to be ignited. Their great -disadvantage is that they become active when they are combined. -McCauley had inspected the fuel delivery system and he was concerned -about it. In the static runs of the ship's rocket engine everything had -gone well. If all went well in space, everything would be fine. But if -something didn't....</p> - -<p>McCauley couldn't tell what would happen. His training in the mock-up -hadn't included meeting that emergency, because there wasn't any way to -meet it.</p> - -<p>"If it happens," he muttered, "I'll know it because I'll hear St. Peter -say, 'Hello, Ed! Come in!'"</p> - -<p>He stirred restlessly. The light on the closed Venetian blinds was -ruddy now. He found that he didn't feel hungry, but he ought to. He -asked the way to the officer's mess and found that it was nearly empty. -Most of the base was on leave until nine o'clock, which might be the -base commandant's way of boasting that sending off the first actual -spaceship on her test flight was duck soup for a well-run organization.</p> - -<p>McCauley sat alone. There were a few other officers at dinner. Some -of them nodded to him. None came over. He'd gotten a little too much -publicity from that Aerobee job. Nobody would come near him lest he -seem to want to shine in the reflected glory of a man who was already -famous and was scheduled to become more so in the next twenty-four -hours—unless he turned out to be fragments of nothing in particular -out in space. He was left alone.</p> - -<p>There was nothing to do but go back to his quarters. On the way he -stopped at the newsstand and bought stuff to read.</p> - -<p>He was very, very lonely. He was acutely conscious that he hadn't acted -in the best possible way about Furness' action in speaking for him -about the take-off. It was true that he should have been consulted. It -was true that he hadn't intended to stand on his dignity. It was even -true that he'd asked for reassurance rather than information, because -the tests should have been complete. But Furness took it wrongly, and -there was no way to mend the matter.</p> - -<p>He couldn't read the stuff he'd brought. He smoked and brooded until -he noticed the pile of cigarette butts he'd built up. He looked at -his watch and dourly went to bed. He couldn't sleep. At long last he -managed to doze off by reciting the names, capitals, and principal -products of all the fifty states. He made himself so boring he went to -sleep.</p> - -<p>But when he slept he dreamed, and in the dream the ship was out of -its hangar and being fueled. And McCauley dreamed that the fueling -was being done all wrong. Horribly wrong. There were two tank trucks -beside the ship. One was the hydrazine truck and the other the nitric. -And they were pumping the two liquids into the ship at the same time. -In his dream, McCauley's hair stood up straight on end. He tried to -protest, but words wouldn't come. The hoses were being handled exactly -as hoses at a filling station were in fueling a car. A man held -each hose negligently, and from time to time squinted down past the -nozzle to see how nearly full his tank was. McCauley knew that it was -impossible and unthinkable, but in his dream it was both possible and -plausible.</p> - -<p>He saw bubbling, fuming nitric acid spout out of the filling tube and -go splashing down on the ground. The nitric acid man looked at it -stupidly as more splashed down after it. And then McCauley managed to -cry out—and the dream disaster happened. The hydrazine overflowed too. -It poured down....</p> - -<p>And in his dream McCauley saw a sheet of purest fire leap up. Both -trucks detonated in white-hot flame, and the ship crumpled and blew -into atoms....</p> - -<p>He found himself sitting up in his bunk, gasping, with the memory of -the bubbling sounds he'd made which had waked him.</p> - -<p>It was a good dream to wake up from. He sat up and heard small noises -outside in what should have been the wholly silent night. He went to -the window and tilted a slat of the Venetian blind.</p> - -<p>The ship was out of the hangar. Men swarmed about it. Trucks towed -it. It was being hauled well away from the buildings on the base. The -preparations for take-off had begun. It would be a long time before -fueling started, though. The ship would be towed for a couple of miles -over the crunching pebbly ground, just in case something went wrong -at the take-off. Then there'd have to be a checkover of everything -from the tires to the wingtips to the instruments to the communication -systems and the igniters for the ramjets, and so on indefinitely. Hours -would be consumed in the simple final inspection. The ramjet fuel -would go in. The jatos would be mounted and their circuits tested—the -jatos would drop off after they'd done their stuff—Then on and on, -endlessly. It would be long after sunrise before anybody began to think -of the rocket fuel trucks.</p> - -<p>He looked at his watch again. He knew he couldn't go back to sleep, but -he wouldn't get dressed. He stood by the tilted slat of the Venetian -blind, watching the disturbance in the moonlight go farther and farther -away until it was lost in the vagueness of the partly lit plain.</p> - -<p>He sat down, but didn't turn on the light in his room. He allowed -himself one cigarette. He tried to relax, but his mind was tense. He -managed a rueful grimace over his dream. That wasn't a good sign. -He hadn't been worried before the Aerobee shoot, or so it seemed to -him now. But in that shoot he'd had nothing to do but take a ride. -Everything connected with the functioning of the rocket was somebody -else's worry. Now everything was up to him.</p> - -<p>He wondered uncomfortably how Furness felt. Probably like the devil....</p> - -<p>With such discomfortable reflections, McCauley did not feel bright and -chipper when there came footsteps outside his door and then a knock. -He waited for the knock to be repeated, and then said, as if drowsily:</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Time to get up, sir," said a noncom's voice, "if you want to watch the -fuel-up of your ship, sir."</p> - -<p>McCauley timed his pause and then said, less sleepily:</p> - -<p>"Oh. All right. I'm awake. I'll get up right away."</p> - -<p>He waited until the footsteps moved off. Then he swore. He'd put on an -act himself. He was ashamed of being keyed up. He'd posed as a man with -iron nerves, sleeping soundly before the take-off of the first ship -ever to try a piloted orbital flight.</p> - -<p>When he went out of his room he disliked himself very much.</p> - -<p>It was an hour later, and the morning sunshine was bright, when he came -out of the officers' quarters and got into the jeep that was waiting -for him. Furness, he learned, was already out at the ship. The general -was there too. Things were moving smoothly.</p> - -<p>The jeep rolled over the flat ground, the picked-up pebbles making a -thunderous rattling against the mud-guards and a vast plume of yellow -dust trailing it.</p> - -<p>And presently there was the ship. It was a singular spectacle—the -huge, seemingly clumsy object with its dropped-down cabin shining in -the slanting morning light. It seemed peculiarly isolated, out here -on the featureless plain. There was nothing near it to account for -its existence. Empty, board-flat ground stretched out for miles in -every direction. The buildings at the base seemed tiny from here. The -ship was alone like a steamer in the middle of the ocean, except that -men clustered about its wheels, and there was a pickup truck that -had brought ladders, and tiny dark figures swarmed over the still, -glistening aluminum body.</p> - -<p>The jeep drew near. It swung in a slightly exaggerated curve and came -to a stop.</p> - -<p>"The general's yonder," said the jeep driver, pointing.</p> - -<p>McCauley walked over. The general faced him, and McCauley saluted.</p> - -<p>"Ah, McCauley," the general said cordially. "You look fresh and rested."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said McCauley. He saw Furness nearby. He felt very much -like a heel.</p> - -<p>"It was a good idea to get a good night's sleep," said the general.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>"You've got your orders," said the general. "They give you a lot of -leeway."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>"It's hoped you'll pass over the setup checkpoints, of course," said -the general. "But the satellite watching stations will pick up your -signal in any case. The main thing is to make a straight orbit. -Anything short of a full twenty-four-thousand-mile course will cost you -an impossible amount of fuel."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said McCauley. "I'm aware of it, sir."</p> - -<p>It was one of the paradoxes of the flight that it would take much -more fuel to make a shorter flight than a longer one. A course around -the northern hemisphere, for example, not crossing the equator and -the antipodes, would be extravagant in terms of the fuel required -simply to stay aloft. But if McCauley established a proper orbit, he'd -use fuel only to take off and to land. Landing would be as tricky a -job as taking off, or even trickier. But McCauley had tried all the -alternative landing processes in the training mock-up. His orders -permitted him to choose the landing process himself, but it was not -likely that he'd have any actual choice. The decision would be made by -events.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile there was nothing to do. McCauley stood around and watched -as the general was doing. Figures moved here and there about the -ship a hundred yards away. Men came up to a truck parked near it and -handed in completed checklists and were given other lists to check. -Once there was earnest discussion and a jeep went rushing away to the -base and came rushing back, and a man took a small object over to the -ship, where somebody had evidently decided that something had better -be replaced. Furness avoided McCauley's eye. The whole process grew -tedious. The officers, including the two who would presently fly the -ship, simply stood at a distance to be out of the way and vigilantly -watched men who knew what they were doing. The general had an air of -vast satisfaction as matters progressed with no delays and no lack of -decision at the proper level. When something is well-prepared, the -commanding officer's job is finished when the action starts. The -general in command of Quartermain Base had prepared things well.</p> - -<p>The men around the ship moved away from it. They piled into personnel -trucks and rolled off toward the base buildings. Other trucks came -out with men in fueling suits. They took their places briskly. The -hydrazine truck came up. It rolled into place as if on a railroad -track, so great was its precision. The fueling crew briskly and deftly -loaded the ship with its full portion of hydrazine. The tanks topped -off. The truck coiled its hose and moved away.</p> - -<p>"We'll move the ship a couple of hundred yards," said the general -curtly, "before loading the nitric."</p> - -<p>This was precaution carried to an extreme. Surely nothing could be -spilled on the ground here! But to fuel the nitric from an entirely new -site would make assurance doubly sure. The ship's position was shifted. -The group of officers moved with it. The nitric truck came out, with a -fresh crew of fuelers who loaded the nitric tank.</p> - -<p>"Now," said the general, "you and Furness can get into your flight -suits, McCauley. Then I give no more orders. You'll be on your own."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>A jeep came up and stopped. McCauley got in the front seat. Furness -got silently into the back. The jeep raced toward the base. Crunching -pebbles and raising dust, it created an extraordinary effect of -self-importance and busyness.</p> - -<p>The flight suits were in the building behind the flagpole. There -were noncoms to help them don the clumsy, tight, intricately -gadgeted outfits which provided protection against the effects of -high acceleration, abrupt decompression, heat, cold—everything but -sudden death. There were helmets. There were oxygen bottles and -parachute-packs and mikes and headphones. When the two of them were -completely outfitted, they looked like oversized robots.</p> - -<p>Furness did not speak on the way back to the ship. McCauley made one -half-hearted attempt to end the constraint between them.</p> - -<p>"Isn't your wife coming out to watch the take-off?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"She'll know when we go," said Furness without expression.</p> - -<p>He said no more. McCauley carefully did not shrug his shoulders. But -now the immediate problems of the take-off had to be thought over for -the thousandth time, and he could spare no more thought for Furness' -injured dignity.</p> - -<p>They reached the standing group of officers. The ship's fuel was all -aboard. The jatos were mounted. Now one man was working alone at the -very tail of the ship. He was bleeding the air out of the fuel lines -between the tanks and the rocket engine. He came away with a small -bucket. Unlike a more normal rocket which would stand nose up and -have its fuel tanks vertically above the motor, in the X-21 a certain -amount of fuel had to come through the lines almost to the engine, to -make certain that the pumps would deliver the two fuel elements at -absolutely the same instant for self-ignition, the instant the rocket -motor was turned on.</p> - -<p>"Take that stuff," ordered the general, "and carry it well away from -the ship."</p> - -<p>A noncom ran to get the bucket. It might be nitric or it might be -hydrazine. He carried it away a hundred yards or so. The lone man by -the ship now stripped off his plastic coverall, including the gloves. -He walked twenty yards from the ship, put on a fresh outfit, and went -back to the ship. Presently he came away with another small bucket.</p> - -<p>"Get that out of the way, too," commanded the general. He turned to -McCauley. "Now, McCauley, it's all yours."</p> - -<p>"I'd like," said McCauley, "to give the engine a one-second run. Just -to make sure. I'd like everybody else away."</p> - -<p>The general nodded. McCauley lumbered clumsily across the several -hundred yards between the general and the ship. Furness started to -follow, but the general said briskly:</p> - -<p>"McCauley's right, Furness. Only one man's needed. Come along."</p> - -<p>The general and the others moved to a position less directly in line -with the body of the ship. It was a completely sensible thing to do. If -he did not notice that the small buckets of bled-away fuel were closer -to him and the other officers than they'd been before, he could be -excused for it.</p> - -<p>McCauley reached the ship and climbed up. He carefully inspected the -instruments. Then he set the rocket timer for a one-second blast, threw -off the safety, and pressed the firing button.</p> - -<p>There was an instant, horrible bellow of a thousand dragons. The ship -stirred, rolled forward—and the timer cut off the fuel supply to the -rocket engine. The engine died. The ship rolled, crunching, to a stop. -McCauley nodded tensely to himself. He waited.</p> - -<p>His ears were a bit numbed by the sound, but after a time he turned to -look back under the belly of the ship. There was confusion back there; -the group of officers seemed agitated. There was a vast upsweep of -yellow dust. And there was a hole, a crater, in the sun-baked plain. -The dust was thicker and yellower above it.</p> - -<p>Furness came trudging out to the ship. It was a good two minutes before -he arrived. He climbed heavily upward and swung to close the pressure -door and dog it. He settled in his seat with a thud, and then reached -forward and flipped the communicator switch.</p> - -<p>"Furness reporting, X-21 to control," he said into his microphone. -"X-21 set to take off. Over."</p> - -<p>McCauley saw that his face was ashen white.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, Furness?" he demanded sharply. "Anything wrong?"</p> - -<p>"All those precautions were no good," said Furness harshly. "The stuff -that bled out of the fuel lines turned over when the rocket blast hit -it. It blew. It made a hole in the ground and pebbles flew every which -way like bullets. One of them ripped the side of the general's cap -clean off. For a moment I thought the ship had gone."</p> - -<p>A tinny voice sounded from a speaker overhead.</p> - -<p>"<i>Control to X-21. Scheduled take-off time is now thirty-four seconds -off. I will count down for time of take-off only.</i>" A long pause. -"<i>Twenty seconds.</i>" Another pause. "<i>Fifteen.</i>" A silence which seemed -ages long. McCauley settled himself. Furness held one hand oddly -against his side. McCauley held his finger over the jato button. -"<i>Ten</i>," said the tinny voice. "<i>Nine ... eight ... seven ... six ... -five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... take-off-ti-.</i>"</p> - -<p>The last syllable was never completed. McCauley hit the jato button -and the Mark Twenty jatos flamed, instantly and together. The jolt -of the one-second blast before had been severe. This was punishment. -McCauley was slammed back into his acceleration chair with intolerable -violence. For two—five—seven seconds there was no world but weight -and bellowings. There was nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard, -nothing to be felt but the unbearable sound and intolerable pressure of -the ship's acceleration.</p> - -<p>On the outside, of course, more detailed impressions were possible. -From absolute immobility, the ship suddenly rushed forward with -mountainous masses of jato fumes swirling and mushrooming behind it. -The noise was deafening even at half a mile. Then the ship lifted, -flying steadily and gaining velocity at a preposterous rate. Then that -rate increased.</p> - -<p>McCauley knew when it happened. For six out of their life of fourteen -seconds, the jatos pushed the ship ahead at an acceleration of eight -gravities; in effect, McCauley was pushed back against his chair with -a force of twelve hundred pounds. Then the ramjets caught. The ship -was clear of the ground, with only inertia and air resistance to hold -it back. The ramjets howled, and the whole ship jerked—a little to -one side as well as ahead—and then the acceleration was ten gees. -The difference was that between the unbearable and the unendurable. -McCauley clamped his teeth fiercely and strained to survive this -monstrous assault upon his consciousness and his life.</p> - -<p>The jatos burned out and dropped off. The ship swept on smoothly, -and there were only two gees acceleration. But McCauley had to work -swiftly, in spite of feeling that flatirons were attached to his -fingers. He shook his head and panted, and swept his eyes around the -horizon. It was level. He grasped the stick, unlocked it, and pulled -it back. The horizon dipped downward before him and the ship rose -tumultuously toward the sky.</p> - -<p>He heard Furness' voice as a faint murmur above the overwhelming noise -from the ramjets.</p> - -<p>"X-21 reporting. Take-off complete. Everything functioning normally. -Rate of ascent...."</p> - -<p>His voice went on. There was a strange note in it, though. Even in his -desperate absorption in the task at hand, McCauley noted it. But he -could not spare a look at Furness.</p> - -<p>The ship was airborne and already two thousand feet high. McCauley put -it into a gigantic climbing sweep around a circle fully twenty miles -across. It flew with the grace and precision of a garbage scow. Now and -again it tended to wallow in flight, and he balanced it tensely, and -then delicately as he confirmed the calculated feel of its controls.</p> - -<p>The earth spread out below, wider and wider as the ship rose, and the -ramjets thundered a message of the flight to the empty plain and all -the rolling ground beyond it.</p> - -<p>Furness' voice was barely audible. He talked steadily, reading off -instrument indications into a microphone. There were telemeterings of -all these data in transmission that were being recorded down at the -base, but when the ship reached the limit to which the ramjets could -carry it and began its rocket-powered flight, continuous reception of -microwaves would be dubious. A longer wave length for a voice broadcast -was necessary if the full value of the flight was to be realized.</p> - -<p>The X-21 was eighteen thousand feet up when it passed Quartermain -Base on its first circle. Half the atmosphere was already beneath -it. Furness read off the fuel consumption of the ramjet.... The air -speed.... The altitude. His face was as gray as when he entered the -cabin. He kept his left hand pressed stiffly against the left side of -his abdomen. McCauley was aware of it, but could not spare the time to -think about it.</p> - -<p>The eastward-flowing jetstream rushed invisibly overhead. That river -of racing air, pouring west to east at three hundred miles an hour -and better, was lower than ordinary today. The ship should hit it at -twenty-eight thousand feet. McCauley had to get into it without risking -the sheering stresses the bottom part of it might exert. He had to get -into it like a man stepping onto a moving sidewalk. He adjusted the -rate of climb. At twenty thousand feet the ramjets were more effective. -The ship climbed more steeply. There was a difference in the bellowing -of the ramjets. The noise was still monstrous, but it was thinner. It -did not have the substance of thunder at ground level. But the sound -was still so tremendous that it seemed to fill all of McCauley's -consciousness. It required an effort of will to see, when he was so -battered and hammered at by sound. It was difficult to think. His -hands were heavy, and movements of which he would ordinarily have been -unconscious now required almost painful effort.</p> - -<p>Twenty-five thousand feet. McCauley glanced at the gyrocompass, -computed swiftly in his head, added together his known air speed and -the reported wind direction at this height, and deduced an actual -course. Then he had to guess at the angle at which to hit the jetstream -so that when its direction and speed were added to the ship's, the -result of the several forces would be a course around the globe as -nearly as possible the right one. It should pass over the most closely -placed tracking stations, and it should not be immoderately far from -the wide-spaced Navy ships which had been alerted for the flight and a -possible unscheduled descent.</p> - -<p>He swung the ship from its circling. He aimed it up and up, south-east -by a half east. The ship climbed.</p> - -<p>There was a logy wallowing when it penetrated the bottom of the -jetstream. But it kept on, and presently a clock assured McCauley -that he'd been in the stream long enough to gain all the extra speed -it could give him. He aimed the ship's nose still higher and gave the -ramjets every particle of fuel they could consume.</p> - -<p>The sky grew dark. Dark purple. Faint twinklings appeared here and -there. They were the stars, visible in daylight. The ramjets' tumult -was still thinner now. And little by little the rate of climb grew less.</p> - -<p>Presently the ship did not climb at all. It was as high as the ramjets -could take it. Now the sunshine on its aluminum body was painfully -bright, but the sky was almost black. Had there been time, he could -have traced the constellations—the same constellations that people -down below would not see for months, until this part of the heavens -shone down on Earth's dark side.</p> - -<p>In the pressurized cabin, Furness' voice was more nearly audible. But -this was the first of two moments of truth. Here and now McCauley -had to perform, as the act of a man, what highly complicated machines -would later compute he should have done. He had to get the X-21 into a -three-dimensional relationship to the gravitational field of Earth. He -had to point the ship not only laterally but vertically in the exact -direction that the exact timing of rocket thrust would convert into an -orbit. An error of half a degree would immediately be fatal. An even -smaller error could make the ship's course so eccentric that when he -got back into air it would be with a velocity that would burn ship and -men together as a meteor some fifty miles high.</p> - -<p>He sweated, in absolute absorption in his task. Not only did the ship -have to point exactly when he fired the rocket engine, but it had to be -stationary, so it would not move past that point. It had to be settled -dead center on an imaginary optimum or the rocket thrust would change -direction as the ship's nose turned.</p> - -<p>He flung his hand against a switch. The ramjets died. There was a vast, -furry stillness—the deafness produced by the past din. McCauley spoke -and barely heard his own voice. He shouted to Furness:</p> - -<p>"Settle back for rocket fire!"</p> - -<p>Furness nodded. He looked cadaverous. His eyes seemed filled with a -peculiar, tragic despair. But his lips moved. McCauley knew that he was -saying:</p> - -<p>"Ramjets off. Maneuvering for course prior to rocket firing. Over."</p> - -<p>But he did not stir in his seat. His left hand stayed pressed against -his side.</p> - -<p>The ship would be coasting downward now. Its wings still gave some -support, and its wingtips had some effect, but not enough. Now was -the time to use the steam-jets on the fins. McCauley played them -tensely as if they were a musical instrument. He struck balances of -opposing thrusts as if they were chords. The nose of the ship steadied, -steadied, steadied....</p> - -<p>The timer button was set at one minute. He struck the rocket-firing -button.</p> - -<p>He was hurled back in his seat with a sort of vicious and unreasonable -violence. He was caught in a vise of twelve gravities pressure which -held him motionless against the seat back and tried to flatten out -his legs and body and prevent his breathing. But his flight suit was -designed to prevent exactly this. It squeezed also. His legs were -tightened unbearably. His arms were constricted past endurance. His -chest, his stomach—he was confined in the most horrible of strait -jackets. He felt his tongue curling back down his throat to strangle -him. With an utterly herculean effort he managed to turn his head to -one side. Then he could breathe, and the grav-pressure air protected -his chest from collapse, and he endured and endured and endured.</p> - -<p>The minute of the rocket thrust lasted for centuries. Then the engine -cut off, and his head was pure anguish from the blood spurted through -it by his still-laboring heart. He was blinded by the pain. But it went -away.</p> - -<p>Slowly, slowly, slowly, his sound-deadened ears regained their -sensitiveness. He heard Furness gasping:</p> - -<p>"—minute rocket-blast ended. Checking course now. Over."</p> - -<p>McCauley said absorbedly:</p> - -<p>"There was a goof. A twelve-gee thrust with full fuel tanks is a whale -of a lot more when they're nearly empty!"</p> - -<p>It was true, of course. The ferocity of a rocket thrust that would -accelerate a fully loaded ship at three hundred fifty-odd feet per -second per second would accelerate much more a ship weighing half as -much. Toward the end, McCauley and Furness had taken acceleration that -no man could live through for more than a very short time. But a man -can endure briefly a stress that would kill him if long-continued.</p> - -<p>McCauley plunged into the desperately necessary task of this moment. He -had to determine his present course and speed. He could not take the -time to look out of the ports at the immensity of Earth below him. Men -in capsules, orbiting, had been as high as this, but they did not have -to compute their height or guide their vehicles. McCauley had to do -both.</p> - -<p>The height was relatively simple. A radar screen, reduced to a vertical -slot for economy of space and weight, told him the distance to whatever -was below. A Doppler-effect velocity indicator would read off the -change in frequency of a crystal-controlled radio signal which his -speed produced. This substantially resembled the way an automobile -horn changes pitch when two cars pass each other; the pitch drops -swiftly at the moment of passing. But there was an observation which -was simpler and more direct.</p> - -<p>He spotted a bright star near the horizon ahead. He read off its -angular distance from the world's edge. Looking aft, under the belly of -the ship, he read another angle from the world's edge to another star. -Minutes later, he repeated the observations. The star ahead was higher, -the one behind was lower. If one star rose faster than the other sank, -he would be gaining height. If one sank faster than the other rose, he -would be falling. If one rose exactly as fast as the other dropped, he -would be in a perfect circular orbit, neither rising nor falling. That -was too good to be expected. But from even two sets of observations he -could tell the line the ship was following, and hence its speed.</p> - -<p>The ship did not have quite the speed necessary for a complete orbit. -It needed more. He could guess how much.</p> - -<p>He said curtly to Furness:</p> - -<p>"We've got to have a two-second push, anyhow. Maybe more later. Get -set."</p> - -<p>Furness did not reply, but McCauley heard him reporting.</p> - -<p>There was singularly little exultation in the small cabin. Furness' -face was drawn and colorless behind his helmet plate. McCauley was busy.</p> - -<p>Presently, after a warning gesture, he set the rocket timer and -pressed the firing button. All the ghastly impact of high acceleration -repeated itself. But, lasting only two seconds, it was not much worse -than—say—falling from a second-story window down on a hard mattress. -It lasted longer, but there was not much other difference. It did not -build up to the torture of continued rocket thrust.</p> - -<p>Then the ship floated on. There was utter silence. The vertical-slot -altimeter indicated a height which seemed absolutely steady. The -Doppler-effect velocity meter gave a reasonably satisfactory if not too -precise message. McCauley was working intensively on his course when -Furness said, with an effort:</p> - -<p>"Ground says satellite-watching stations picking up our signal report -a good course. It could be a little more to the south."</p> - -<p>McCauley flipped on his own microphone-to-ground switch.</p> - -<p>"I figure I'm still a little short on velocity," he said crisply. "I'll -have to blast again for about a second. Figure me an angle of heading -for ten minutes from now, for a one-second blast. I'll report my -figures for checking."</p> - -<p>He did not bother with the ship controls now, of course. The ship was -in orbit, like the numerous satellites circling Earth west to east and -north and south. It did not matter which way it pointed. There was no -air to impede its progress. As a matter of fact, a trace of rotating -motion had been produced by a slight off-centering of the rocket -thrust. The ship's center of mass had changed slightly because of fuel -consumption.</p> - -<p>There was silence. McCauley worked on busily. From time to time Furness -spoke as if with great effort. He relayed the altitude from the slot -radar. He relayed the velocity from the Doppler gauge. He relayed -hull temperature, cosmic frequency, ultraviolet intensity. He did not -report any physical sensations, but once he spoke as if in answer to a -question:</p> - -<p>"It must be out of order if it says that."</p> - -<p>He might be referring to the telemetering apparatus which relayed the -pulse and respiration and blood pressure readings of the two men in the -ship.</p> - -<p>In eight minutes McCauley reported the bearing he considered the -ship should point to so that a one-second rocket thrust, adding its -effect to all previous courses and speeds—plus a correction for the -diminished weight of fuel in the tanks—would produce an exactly -perfect orbit for the ship. Furness repeated it while McCauley took -more horizon-to-star observations to check the present line of motion.</p> - -<p>"Ground checks your figures," said Furness. "They say congratulations -on perfect astrogation under service conditions. It's right."</p> - -<p>"Okay," McCauley said absently.</p> - -<p>He went on with his work. The ship was two hundred eighty miles—plus -or minus half a mile—above the surface of the earth. An orbit required -a speed and rate of downward curvature just fixed so the ship would -go downward as the surface curved down, like a glider coasting down -a curving hillside and always being the same distance from solidity. -Since the earth was a globe, one could coast forever and be always -falling, without ever touching the circled world. That is an orbit.</p> - -<p>McCauley set the rocket timer and said:</p> - -<p>"Here we go."</p> - -<p>The rockets blasted. The ship flung itself forward. Again there was the -sensation of falling an uncomfortable distance onto a hard mattress. -But a one-second blast was a thousand times more endurable than a -one-minute one.</p> - -<p>The ship had now been aloft for something like thirty minutes, of -which ten was airborne flight and twenty free fall in orbit, plus two -corrections of course and speed. McCauley had had no time to gaze down -at the vastness below him. He knew it only as a huge expanse of mottled -tawny-green or blue with many white specks upon it. The specks, which -were clouds, were closer together toward the horizon, and at any given -moment the rim of the world was a ring of plain white.</p> - -<p>Now he checked his work once more and then took time to look at Earth -below him. At its speed, the ship should complete one revolution of the -Earth in ninety minutes, more or less. Its speed was seventeen thousand -two hundred and sixty miles per hour relative to the ground. In twenty -minutes of free-fall flight it had covered something over five thousand -and seven hundred miles, relative to the ground, and crossed eighty -degrees of longitude. The local time down below was something more than -five hours later than the local time at Quartermain Base. Sunset would -be approaching here, as the earth's shadow moved from east to west like -the dawn.</p> - -<p>To the right of the floating ship there was only tawny-blue ocean that -seemed much darker than ordinary because McCauley was looking down into -its depths instead of at a sky reflection from its surface. Behind -the ship there was a clumping of the white specks. These cloud masses -would be above and around the Cape Verde Islands, now tens of scores of -miles to the rear. Below and to the left there was an amorphousness, -an indefiniteness peeping up from beneath the cloud cover. That -would be Africa. McCauley could see for enormous distances over the -cloud-hidden land. He knew that he floated over Senegal and British -Guinea and French Guinea and Liberia and the Ivory Coast, all in a -matter of tens of seconds. But he could see only at intervals between -tufts of white-cottony vapor. Ahead, too, the dark-colored sea swept -in, right to left, and in half minutes or less there was no land at all -except behind him. Away ahead there was more of Africa, to be sure, -because the X-21 sped along a line which would mark the limits of the -Gulf of Guinea. The ship would cross the tip of Africa and head down -past it to Antarctica.</p> - -<p>But McCauley would not see Africa again. The whiteness which was the -horizon turned dim where the ship's bow aimed, and the dimness spread -to the left. The edge of the round world turned black. It was Earth's -crawling shadow creating night. Darkness sped toward the ship, still -high above the last slightest trace of atmosphere and glittering -intolerably in the unshielded glare of the sun.</p> - -<p>"It looks like we're all set, Furness," McCauley said with -satisfaction. "We can relax, now, for all of twenty minutes."</p> - -<p>Furness did not answer. There was no sensation of weight, of course. -Nothing weighed anything. Nothing could be considered light or heavy. -The difference between a copper penny and the ship itself was purely -imaginary. They had different masses, but both would weigh the -same—zero. McCauley suddenly turned off the silent air-circulator in -the cabin. He struck a match. The flame flared, but not as a rising -leaf shape. It was a perfect ball of incandescence. But it did not -continue to burn. It went out, and there was a ball of white smokiness -where the flame had been.</p> - -<p>"I've heard that'd happen. I wanted to try it," McCauley said amusedly.</p> - -<p>A match requires oxygen in which to burn. On the ground, the chemically -fostered first flame of the match-head heats the air, which rises and -is replaced, whereby fresh oxygen reaches the place of combustion and -supports it. But in the X-21, in free fall, hot air was no lighter -than cold. It did not rise. The match exhausted the oxygen around it -and went out. McCauley turned the air-circulator on again lest he and -Furness be similarly surrounded by vitiated air.</p> - -<p>"Queer, eh?" said McCauley. Then he looked at Furness. Furness' eyes -seemed filled with suffering. His pallor was deathlike.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" McCauley asked.</p> - -<p>Purely by instinct he raced his eyes across the instruments. They said -nothing they should not.</p> - -<p>"Furness!" snapped McCauley. "What's the matter? What's happened to -you?"</p> - -<p>With an air of terrible effort—though nothing weighed as much as a -hair—Furness moved his left hand away from his side. It came away -filled with blood. There was an ominous dark-red patch on the flight -suit, and something seemed to be welling slowly out of a puncture in -the cloth. The hole was the size of a bullet hole.</p> - -<p>"Just before ... take-off," said Furness thinly, "the rocket fuel that -was ... bled through the fuel pipes ... went off when you tested ... -the engine. It exploded. It threw pebbles like bullets. One ... ripped -the general's hat. One ... hit me."</p> - -<p>McCauley swore. He felt a sort of bitter anger. Of all the places where -instant medical attention for an injured man was impossible, the worst -was the close, air-tight cabin of a ship out of atmosphere, traveling -at some thousands of miles per hour and heading into night. Descending -was out of the question. It was impossible to turn back.</p> - -<p>"Let's look at that," said McCauley harshly. "Maybe we can check the -bleeding somehow.—Why didn't you report you were hurt? Didn't you know -you were risking your life?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose," said Furness weakly, but with irony, "that you aren't -risking yours!"</p> - -<p>Then he winced a little as McCauley's finger explored the hole in -the tough cloth. When the rocket fuel exploded on the surface of the -ground, the impact of a pebble would have the effect of a bullet. It -would numb more than it hurt. Furness knew he'd been hit, of course, -but the ship was ready to take off, and the wound might only be -trivial. To delay take-off for examination of what might be entirely -insignificant would earn him McCauley's contempt—or so Furness had -believed. And Furness was in no state of mind to risk that. Nothing -short of absolute inability to hide his injury would have made him -admit that he'd been hurt or even hit. So he'd climbed in the ship, and -done his work steadily until this instant, all the time covering the -wound with his hand lest McCauley discover it.</p> - -<p>There was no room in the cabin for much movement. McCauley tried to -enlarge the hole, but the cloth was reinforced with wire and could -not be torn. Furthermore, he had nothing to work with if he could get -at the wound—nothing for bandages, nothing to check the bleeding, -nothing.... He swore deeply.</p> - -<p>Then he felt for a familiar iron ring and pulled it. A tiny pilot chute -leaped from his chute-pack. It was designed to pull out his main chute -if he had to jump. He tore at it with his fingers.</p> - -<p>"We'll pack it anyhow," he mumbled as he ripped strips from the small -expanse of nylon. "At least check the bleeding."</p> - -<p>He rolled up a strip of white cloth. He was irritated by the insistent -feeling that he needed antiseptics he didn't have. He worked at the -recalcitrant opening in the cloth of the flight suit and packed the -wound with nylon. Then he worked more nylon about and over the packing -to make a firm pad. He tore long strips to put around Furness' body to -hold the packing fast and tied them tightly.</p> - -<p>It was awkward to work where there was no weight. It seemed unreal to -attempt the preposterous where there was no sound. He worked swiftly. -Suddenly there was a redness in the light reflected all about the cabin -from the sunshine that came in the ports.</p> - -<p>He jerked up his head, thinking foolishly of fire. Then he saw the sun. -It lay beyond a vast curved barrier that shut off all the light of all -the stars. The sun was in the act of descending, to be eclipsed by the -edge of Earth, and its light came through hundreds of miles of thick -air which turned it from a burning golden glare to flame-red, and then -crimson, and then ruby-red as he stared. Then its rim was blanked out -and it slid swiftly down to extinction. The light went from gold to -carmine to ruby and the sun was blotted out in less than ten seconds.</p> - -<p>Then the ship traveled through purest night. The cosmos outside -its ports was sharply divided. There was a hemisphere filled with -the coruscations of a million million stars. The other half of the -universe was the night side of Earth, but it looked like the abyss of -nothingness from which all things came, and to which it may be that all -things will return.</p> - -<p>McCauley reached over and switched on lights. Furness looked at him -through eyes that seemed deep-sunk in his head.</p> - -<p>"You tore your pilot chute," he said thinly. "You've no chance to jump, -now."</p> - -<p>McCauley scowled. There were various methods by which the ship could be -landed or at least its occupants might escape its crash. There was the -skip process, in which the ship could be settled down into atmosphere -just thick enough to slow it as it bounced out to space again for -another settling, another slowing, another bounce. It was considered -the most practical way for a ship to get back to Earth after an orbital -flight. To choose the final landing place, of course, was out of the -question. Also it was believed that even with the best of luck the -ship's crew might have to take to their chutes and let the ship crash. -But Furness could not make a chute-drop. Nor could McCauley, now.</p> - -<p>"Time for a report," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>He'd meant to make it, but Furness summoned all his strength. He ran -his eyes along the instruments.</p> - -<p>"X-21 reporting," he said as loudly as he could. "Just passed darkness -line. Altitude...."</p> - -<p>He went through the list of readings to be given by voice. They might -be picked up by satellite-tracking stations which did not quite pick -up the ship itself. They would almost certainly be picked up by South -African radio amateurs listening for them.</p> - -<p>"More comfortable?" McCauley asked gruffly.</p> - -<p>Furness moved his head in a fashion that might be considered a nod. -After a long time he said:</p> - -<p>"Is there any ... water in the ... survival kit?"</p> - -<p>McCauley fumbled. There was. The survival kits were the small parcels -which might conceivably mean the difference between dying and not -dying if a man had to ditch his disabled plane or jump from a burning -one. Together with an inflatable boat, they were included in the -X-21's equipment as a sort of pious wish. It was not to be believed -that this ship would end its career like a mere atmosphere plane. If -the steam-jets didn't work, the most perfect operation of the rocket -engine would never get the ship down into the atmosphere, even for -destruction. If it got down to the atmosphere there were still several -thousand things that could go wrong. It was definitely not likely that -its crew could jump to safety in case of need, or land so serenely on -water that a rubber raft would do them any good. But the survival kits -were there.</p> - -<p>McCauley gave Furness water. He did not comment on the complications -Furness' injury added to a landing problem that was already complicated -enough. Instead, he looked at the clock.</p> - -<p>"We're close to Antarctica now," he observed. "We ought to run into -moonlight, too."</p> - -<p>He peered out of a port. The tiny lighted cabin swam in emptiness, -without sound, without sight of anything but remote and indifferent -stars. It floated above the part of the world where the Indian and -Atlantic Oceans flow together, and where there is unbroken sea all -around the antarctic continent. A wind can blow completely around the -world there, and rather frequently it does; and the gigantic waves that -are engendered are spoken of with aversion by seamen. But McCauley -could not see any waves. There was floating ice below, but as he -thought of it it changed to the massive ice sheet of the bottom of the -world. So the tiny lighted cabin raced over mountains and plains all -buried in snow which had been there since the beginning.</p> - -<p>He turned from the sight of a universe divided into stars and -blackness. There was no practical measure to be taken—not now, anyhow. -McCauley might contrive a way to get himself safely down to earth, -letting Furness take his own chance with no strength to help himself. -It seemed improbable in the extreme that Furness could survive a crash -landing, even if no explosion followed. There was very little hope -that the X-21 could be landed save in a crash. But it did not occur -to McCauley that he was relieved of responsibility. A normal landing -was not really hoped for. If McCauley piloted the X-21 into orbit and -out again, he'd have done the unprecedented and the next try might go -better. But he could not imagine himself leaving Furness in a ship -headed for a landing that was bound to be a pile-up....</p> - -<p>He couldn't expect to land intact himself, with his pilot chute ripped -out and torn apart.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry you tore up your pilot chute," said Furness. "It about kills -your chance of getting down to the ground in one piece. And it's my -fault. You tore it up for me. But when I came on the ship I didn't -think I was hurt badly."</p> - -<p>"I'd have done just what you did," said McCauley. "It would have taken -two broken legs to keep me from walking over as if nothing had happened -to me." Then he remembered. "Report?"</p> - -<p>Furness gathered his strength and spoke in an almost natural voice:</p> - -<p>"X-21 reporting. We are over Antarctica at the farthest south part of -our orbit. Altitude...."</p> - -<p>He went through the list, and then his eyes went to the canteen from -which McCauley had given him water. McCauley gave him another drink.</p> - -<p>"That son of mine," said Furness abruptly. "He reveres you. When I was -picked to ride observer with you, he almost went out of his head with -pride. I was—I suspect I was a little bit jealous of you. A man likes -his son to think he's the greatest man on earth. My boy almost believed -it when I was picked for this job. But if I'd backed out...."</p> - -<p>McCauley nodded.</p> - -<p>"Under the circumstances," he agreed, "you'd walk to the ship and come -aboard if you had to carry your head in your hand. A man wouldn't -disappoint his son."</p> - -<p>"He'd have been so proud," said Furness, "if we'd made it! And I've -messed it all up!"</p> - -<p>"I'm hanged if I'll compliment you," McCauley said, "but it would -have been disgraceful if you'd done anything else. A man has to set -an example for his son. And we may make out. In any case we're just -thirty-two minutes from some very tricky stuff. I think we'd better -think of cheerier things."</p> - -<p>"Sorry," said Furness. He turned his eyes away. He brooded.</p> - -<p>Seconds ticked by in the cabin. Frost began to form on the ports. There -was no air outside, so there could not be said to be any temperature. -But the ship radiated heat into empty space and received next to none -in return. If allowed to cool until thermal equilibrium with its -surroundings was reached, the X-21 would go down to some two hundred -and fifty-four degrees below zero centigrade. But that would be in -darkness. In sunlight it would be a different matter, and the ship'd be -out of darkness in minutes.</p> - -<p>They were very long minutes. The altitude radar said that the ship was -maintaining the most nearly perfect circular orbit any man-made object -had achieved to date. The X-21 was a lonely mote with yellow light -glowing from its cabin openings. From time to time, invisibly, radio -waves spread out from a stiff metal rod pointed sternward, and some of -them might—with luck—be picked up by somebody. But the ship received -nothing, here.</p> - -<p>It passed south of Kerguelen Island in the blackness, and it was -midnight local time, though the ship was only forty-five minutes of -free-fall flight from Quartermain Base. Presently the X-21 headed -northward and crossed the meridian where it was one A.M. something less -than five minutes later. It reached a point south of Australia in under -ten minutes more. It swept above the lowermost part of Australia and -Tasmania together when the clocks on the ground said five <span class="smcap">A.M.</span></p> - -<p>It was only when the remotest rim of the blackness which was -Earth turned bright—when the dawn could be seen at the farthest -horizon—that McCauley thought to look for the moon. It shone down -coldly, but it was not bright enough to show him any pattern in the -blackness nearly three hundred miles below the ship.</p> - -<p>In eight minutes more, however, the sun had rolled up over the edge -of the world and below the ship there was ocean. Away off to the -left McCauley could see spiral arms of cloud, signifying a cyclonic -disturbance moving north across the Coral Sea. Sturdy steamships fought -for their lives in that typhoon, and many human beings would die in it. -The ship sped on, and there came into the headphones of both McCauley -and Furness a beamed message from the naval installation at Guam, which -dimly and fugitively could be sighted under an aggregation of white -clouds more dense than ordinary. The message said:</p> - -<p>"<i>Good work, guys! We're pulling for you!</i>"</p> - -<p>Then the Samoan Islands were far behind and dropping even farther. -And time passed, and McCauley thought intensively and very grimly, -and once again Furness asked for water. There was a clumping of cloud -masses underneath and to the east which was Phoenix Island, and almost -immediately afterward Washington Island and then Palmyra; after that it -seemed barely seconds when a most respectable massing of clouds to the -left was Hawaii.</p> - -<p>McCauley could see solid ground there, and he talked curtly and very -urgently into his own throat-mike, flipped into circuit with the voice -transmitter for the occasion. It was not altogether likely that his -message, relayed, would arrive ahead of the ship, but it was his only -chance to do anything practical in the way of warnings to the ground.</p> - -<p>He set to work. He did computations from instrument readings he -barely remembered. He included a prayerful hope that the fuel-gauge -instruments had been calibrated through their entire range. There was -so much ramjet fuel, which might or might not do what it was supposed -to do. There was so much rocket fuel, which must be expended to the -last smallest drop before the ship could risk touching ground. And -there was distance to be calculated, in terms of minutes and seconds -instead of miles.</p> - -<p>The clock flashed a red light and made a buzzing sound. It was a -reminder that now, according to the figure evolved on the ground -before take-off, McCauley might begin the attempt at skip landing, -the improbable but still least implausible procedure for getting the -ship on to the ground in not more than two or three pieces. It should -begin with a rocket-driven dive into the atmosphere. He was expected -to have enough fuel for that. With downward velocity established, he -should bleed out all the remaining nitric acid to emptiness. After -it had been completely expelled, and not before, he should wait the -number of seconds which would be equivalent to five hundred miles, -and then jettison the hydrazine. By that time the ship should hit the -outermost fringes of air. He should dive into it until the ship's skin -temperature began to rise—a matter of fractions of seconds—and then -let the ship bounce out again. It would have lost some velocity and -would no longer be capable of remaining in an orbit. So it would come -down into the air again, after an interval in which it would cool off, -and again it would bounce out like a stone skipping across the surface -of a pond until it has lost enough speed to settle quietly to the -bottom.</p> - -<p>If McCauley attempted such a landing system, his place of entry into -the air for a dead-stick landing would not be less than one thousand -miles from the point of the first bounce, and it might be three -thousand. It could not be calculated. Fractions of seconds and seconds -of arc would apply, so McCauley might start his skip-stop descent -out above the Pacific Ocean, and the X-21 might finally ditch in the -Atlantic somewhere off Newfoundland.</p> - -<p>Furness tried to speak.</p> - -<p>"Report," he said faintly. "I should report."</p> - -<p>McCauley threw the switch for him. Furness summoned what seemed to be -his last reserve of strength.</p> - -<p>"X-21 reporting," he said almost naturally. "We are well past Hawaii -and approaching the continent. Altitude...."</p> - -<p>He was halfway through when green solid ground with very few clouds lay -directly below, and the Rocky Mountains were a little way ahead. He -could not quite detect their height, but the pattern of the soil was -distinctive. McCauley flipped on his own throat-mike and said:</p> - -<p>"I interrupt. Here is the situation. My fuel tanks read...." He snapped -off the readings. "I'm going to swing the ship end for end and burn my -remaining rocket fuel to kill velocity. Then I'll adopt such skip-stop -practices as the situation requires. I doubt it will require them. -We were lucky enough to get a nearly circular orbit. In consequence -our velocity is lower than if we'd had to make an eccentric one. We -saved fuel unexpectedly in getting into space, and I'm going to use it -getting out. Over."</p> - -<p>He cut off and made his preparations. His figuring was extremely close. -But there had necessarily been a slight margin of fuel. A circular -orbit does not require nearly the fuel expenditure that an elliptical -one does. But McCauley had made the most efficient possible use of -fuel at the beginning. He'd used one long blast, a two-second blast, -and a one-second rocket thrust to get into nearly a perfect space -trail. He meant to collect for that partly accidental expertness. But -he meant to collect much more for an observation.</p> - -<p>The observation was that a one-second blast was not a thousandth -the ordeal that a sixty-second blast was. No man could survive a -long-continued twenty-gravity acceleration. But most men could take -a one-second push—and not only once, but many times. With time for -recovery in between, and a rocket engine that fired infallibly when it -was turned on....</p> - -<p>He set the rocket timer.</p> - -<p>"This," he said over his shoulder, "may be our last chance to exchange -compliments, Furness. But I think you're the same kind of idiot as I -am. I'd have come on this trip with my insides hanging out rather than -stay behind. So would you. Very nearly, you did. It's nice to have -known you. I hope we survive."</p> - -<p>Steam-jets spouted at the ends of the X-21's rear fins. In emptiness, -the ship spun halfway about until the swiftly moving solidity below -ceased to move toward the pointed nose. It fled away. The ship traveled -backward where there was no air.</p> - -<p>"And here we go," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>The rocket timer was set. He pressed the blast button. A second later -he came out of near-unconsciousness and set it again. There was another -rocket blast. He almost recovered from the effect of it before he set -the timer for a third.</p> - -<p>Doggedly he set the timer and pressed the button, and allowed himself -three full breaths and set it and pressed again. The shocks seemed to -become more and more violent and intolerable. They were. With loss of -mass, the acceleration of the lightened ship went up to twenty-two -gees. He cut the blasts to three-quarters of a second. A rocket cannot -be throttled down. It fires full blast or it has no appreciable effect -at all.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Quartermain Base was built on a flat, flat plain that extended miles -in every direction. Its buildings, from a reasonable distance, were -only toy structures, tiny angular objects in the middle of vastness. -Overhead there was a sky of absolute blue. It was empty. Below, there -was flatness to the horizon. It contained nothing. There was no motion -of any sort anywhere. The base lay still and silent under the baking -two-o'clock sun. Nothing happened. Nothing....</p> - -<p>No. Something was happening. Specks moved out of the miniature -buildings. Dots rolled out of the infinitesimal garages. The dots and -the specks seemed to mill about uncertainly and then to come to a -restless, not-quite stillness. It seemed that something was expected -to happen. But there was nothing that could. There was only a great -emptiness and a great stillness....</p> - -<p>But then there came a faint roaring. It was very faint indeed. It -strengthened, and diminished, and strengthened again.</p> - -<p>Then a mote appeared in the sky. It came down and down and down, -bellowing. The bellowing was the unmistakable sound of ramjets. And -the thinnest of high-pitched sounds arose from the specks which were -men outside the buildings at the base. The sounds were howls of -triumph, shrieks of rejoicing, of gladness that the impossible had been -accomplished.</p> - -<p>The X-21 came wabbling down out of the sky and leveled off a bare -hundred feet above the pebbly plain. It lowered, and lowered, and -suddenly yellow dust spouted furiously where its wheels had touched. -The roaring cut off. The ship rolled and rolled. Later, it would -develop that less than one quart of ramjet fuel remained to be burned -before it hit ground.</p> - -<p>Shouting, swarming men rushed toward it. Dots which were trucks and -cars raced to greet it.</p> - -<p>Presently McCauley saluted very formally, standing before a general -whose cap was badly ripped on one side.</p> - -<p>"Sir," he said, "it looks like we did it. And I'd like to say, sir, -that I am very proud to have had Major Furness with me. He's hurt, sir, -as I radioed to Hawaii. The ambulance is rushing him to hospital. But -he stuck to his job throughout, sir, and I'll be obliged if you'll tell -his son that he should be very proud of his father."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1"><i>3</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(Time passed after Ed McCauley became Major Ed McCauley, and most -people forgot him. If his name was mentioned, someone might say -vaguely: "McCauley ... McCauley? It seems to me I've heard the name." -This was because remarkable events don't stay remarkable as time goes -past. There was a two-hundred-pound satellite circling the moon these -days, industriously sending back not only pictures of the moon's far -side, but pictures of cloud masses on Earth which told much more -about Earth's weather than had been known before. A drone missile had -gone out to Mars, and its instruments suggested that men had better -not come out just yet, and other drones had gone past Venus and said -definitely that men better not come out just yet. So something had to -be done to make those journeys possible. Men had to work in space, -testing this and trying that, staying days or weeks at a time when -solar flare-particles were not too much in evidence. This meant that -there had to be a place for them to live and work. There were plenty -of men who'd done spectacular things lately, but this needed somebody -who would be worrying not about fame, but about getting a job done -right. So Major McCauley received certain orders.)</p></div> - - -<p>On as much of the Space Platform as existed so far, a working day -lasted an hour and forty minutes. There wasn't much of the Platform, as -yet. The greatest bulk was a squat, clumsy metal object which had come -up from Earth, pouring out rocket flames, to be the Platform's nucleus. -From it now sprouted spidery, flimsy metal girders which reached out -in apparent aimlessness. They formed an incomplete skeleton of joined -triangles whose final form seemed indefinite. But in time they would -form a most unlikely icosahedron traced in threads of silvery metal in -emptiness. Although the Platform was barely begun, it grew noticeably -as time went by, even though the working day was so brief.</p> - -<p>Some people would have challenged the word "day." There was no true -night where the first part of the Platform floated hurriedly in orbit -some three thousand miles out from the planet Earth. There was light -when the sun shone on it, which was two hours and five minutes out of -three hours and seven. Despite Luna, Earth's ancient and untidy moon, -there was abysmal darkness when the Platform plunged into Earth's -shadow. This was not nightfall. When sunlight ended, cut off by Earth's -eight-thousand-mile bulk of stone and metal, the phenomenon was an -eclipse. Once in each revolution about the world which was building it, -the Platform was eclipsed by Earth. When light returned, it was not -sunrise, it was the ending of an eclipse.</p> - -<p>McCauley was in charge of the Platform's construction crew, which -consisted of himself—a major—and Randy Hall—a captain—and Sammy -Breen, a second lieutenant in the Space Service. They lived after a -fashion in the cabin of the ship that had brought them and a lot of -building material up and out to the orbit the Platform was to follow. -When a work period ended, they made their way painfully to that cabin. -They made sure that they were inside it before the sun touched the -outer limits of Earth's atmosphere and turned orange and deep-red and -then disappeared, all within ten seconds. It was necessary, for in -Earth's shadow the gossamer-like framework lost heat rapidly. Long -before the end of the eclipse, the temperature of the bare metal -dropped incredibly. Even with Earth nearby to temper it, it fell to -something like two hundred and twenty-odd degrees below zero.</p> - -<p>So between work periods there was darkness and unthinkable cold, -and half the universe was brilliant stars—sometimes the moon was -visible—and the other half looked like a hole in emptiness leading to -nowhere. Actually, the seeming abyss was the night side of Earth, and -sometimes Randy or young Lieutenant Breen used the telescope and found -infinitesimal twinklings on it which could be calculated to be London, -or New York, or Paris, or some other metropolis. But the night lights -of cities on Earth were not remarkably bright, from three thousand -miles out in the planet's shadow. Often, too, there were clouds thick -enough to mask any man-made illumination. There was not much to see -from the Platform in darkness and at an early stage of its construction.</p> - -<p>But after the darkness there came light.</p> - -<p>It was not dawn, of course. It began as a reddish-pinkish line which -precisely outlined a half circle and formed a visible boundary between -absolute blackness and the firmament of stars. The line thickened -at its ends and then at its center. Instantly thereafter the sun -peered—deep-red—around the edge of the planet Earth. It was a -very lively sun. In seconds it reversed the color changes of its -disappearance, fading from ruby to gold and then to the furnace-flame -color it shows out of the atmosphere. And the crescent of lighted Earth -grew broader and broader and suddenly seas and continents and oceans -and islands seemed to come pouring out to cover the darkness, like -creation happening as a flood.</p> - -<p>Then, while the partially built Platform swept onward, without sound -or sensation of movement, nothing else happened for a certain time. -The three men inside the cabin waited for the metal to warm up from -the temperature of liquid air. During full sunshine it went up to the -temperature of low-pressure steam. When all the framework was warm -enough so it was no longer brittle, the cabin air lock opened. McCauley -came out in a silvery space suit. Captain Randy Hall followed him. -Lieutenant Sammy Breen came last. McCauley surveyed the framework. Even -a tiny meteorite could do damage, because any such object could be -expected to hit at a velocity of seven to forty miles per second.</p> - -<p>But when his inspection was over, McCauley slung a space rope around -a girder, straddled the metal beam, and pulled himself effortlessly -along to its first triangular junction with the other frame members. -He had no weight. Nothing had any weight. One could not fall from the -Platform, but one could very easily become lost from it. McCauley had -acquired a certain fanatical concern about precautions against loss of -contact with the only object within some three thousand miles which -would let a man go on living.</p> - -<p>When he reached the first junction of frame members, McCauley unlooped -his space rope from behind the junction, looped it again beyond the -joining place, and crawled over to straddle the next girder and slide -along it with equal absence of effort until he arrived at the place -where he'd left off work a little over an hour before. Randy Hall and -Sammy Breen, meanwhile, emulated him, going in other directions. Within -five minutes of coming out of the air lock they were perched at three -separate places on the absurd framework.</p> - -<p>With quite inadequate-looking cords they drew large metal beams -toward them from their place beside the cabin. McCauley, for example, -pulled at a thirty-foot girder with a piece of string. It stirred and -shifted and floated to him. He stopped it, his knees holding him fast. -Then—very clumsily because of its mass—he maneuvered it into place, -slipped bolts through the ready-drilled holes, and tightened up the -nuts. He finished his first girder. Randy completed his. Sammy Breen -got his section in place, and then stopped.</p> - -<p>"Major, sir," said his voice via space phone in McCauley's helmet -phones, "there's something wrong here. A bolt doesn't go all the way -through its hole. It won't force. The hole needs to be reamed out."</p> - -<p>It was a trivial but annoying happening. The parts for the Space -Platform had been cut out, shaped, and drilled on Earth. In theory they -should fit perfectly together in space. But somebody had scamped on an -inspection job and the result of his carelessness had to be repaired. -It had to be done in a nondescript, crazy framework that was hurtling -along in orbit at something over eleven thousand five hundred miles an -hour. It shouldn't have happened.</p> - -<p>"Memorize the part number for report," said McCauley, "and get the -reamer and clear it."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Breen.</p> - -<p>McCauley pulled gently at a cord and a second girder stirred and -floated gently toward him.</p> - -<p>Below, the sunlit surface of Earth had an extraordinary appearance. It -was some sixty-five degrees in diameter. At its edges the shapes of -land and water—the planetary markings—were foreshortened and crowded -together in an unparalleled fashion. A twelve-inch globe looked at -from five inches away will give something of the same effect. From one -side of the disk the markings moved toward the center, thickening and -taking recognizable form as they neared the middle. Then they went on, -distorted in a different fashion as they approached the opposite edge. -When McCauley set his second beam in place a wildly twisted Isthmus of -Panama appeared out of the misty whiteness which bordered Earth from -where he floated. In half an hour it would be directly underneath and -plainly recognizable. In another half hour it would be a new shape -entirely. Then it would vanish. Only the center of the visible disk -resembled any map-maker's representation, and that spot changed and -changed and changed as the Space Platform hurtled past. At any given -moment McCauley could see a ninth of all the planet's surface, but only -a fraction of what he saw was familiar, and that changed continuously.</p> - -<p>Sammy Breen slid along the Platform's frame to the cabin, the ship -which had risen to this place from Earth, but would never return to -Earth again. Arrived at the cabin, he seized a handrail, loosened his -space rope, and pulled himself to the air lock. Immediately, of course, -air would flow into the lock and he could emerge into the cabin's -interior. He'd get the tool he needed for a job that should have been -done on Earth. Then he'd come out again.</p> - -<p>Randy tapped on the girder he'd just bolted into place. The vibrations -passed through the metal and through McCauley's space suit to the air -within it.</p> - -<p>"I just happened to think," said Randy cheerfully, "that people down -on Earth are all excited about this thing we're building. They think -it's wonderful. And so it is, at the present moment. But I'm thinking -that in a little while it won't be wonderful. It'll be old stuff. And -the day'll come when it's a nuisance. There'll be complaints that it's -in the way, barging around through space. It'll be in the way of ships -taking tourists on week-end trips to Mars. They'll say it's a danger -to astrogation. They'll say it should be cleared out of space. They'll -insist that it be junked."</p> - -<p>McCauley grunted. Randy was probably right. But just now McCauley -held himself to a three-by-five-inch hollow metal beam, with a million -million stars shining in all possible colors at the same time as the -sun. He continued to work on, building the Platform that some day would -be considered a nuisance. Three thousand miles away, geographical -features squirmed and twisted themselves in their progress across the -disk of Earth.</p> - -<p>"But there'll come a time," said Randy cheerfully, "when one of my -twenty-five-times-removed great-grand-sons will be spanked by his -mother. He'll howl. It will be a very commonplace sort of happening. -The only thing odd about it will be that it won't happen down on old -Earth below us. It'll happen off somewhere on a planet that nobody's -dreamed of yet, circling a sun that nobody's bothered to name, off -yonder somewhere in the Milky Way."</p> - -<p>McCauley grunted again.</p> - -<p>"You haven't any kids yet, let alone great-great-grand-kids. You're not -even married. Why the sentiment?"</p> - -<p>Randy's voice came clearly in the helmet phones.</p> - -<p>"I've been trying to think of a reason for me to be here," he -explained, "playing with an oversized Erector set, instead of chasing -some girl down on Earth. And I realized that this Platform, which -will eventually be junked, has to be built before we can hope to -colonize the nearer planets, let alone the stars. So now I know why -I'm here. I'm doing this so my many-times-removed great-grandchildren -can get their spankings all over the galaxy instead of only on the -insignificant earth below. That's a noble purpose! I feel better."</p> - -<p>"Good!" said McCauley, with irony.</p> - -<p>He felt metallic clankings through the girder on which he was working. -He turned his head within the space helmet. Sammy Breen had come out -of the air lock, guiding himself by a handrail to a position astride a -beam. He slid swiftly along its length. He came to a junction, flipped -his space rope around to the far side of the joining place, swung over, -and slid to the next junction like someone coasting down a stair rail. -He was a cheerful young man, Sammy Breen.</p> - -<p>"Sammy," said McCauley, "hold everything. I'll be over."</p> - -<p>When people encounter each other only occasionally, there is no -particular need for them to think intensively about each other's -feelings. But three people isolated in an enforced intimacy much closer -than that of cellmates have to take thought. When one of them is -responsible for the other two, tact has to be practiced painstakingly. -When one of the three is a young man who doesn't believe that anything -can happen to him because nothing ever has, the situation calls for -extreme care. McCauley had to use his brains if Randy and Sammy Breen -were to be able to work with him under exacting conditions like these.</p> - -<p>He unhooked his space rope, rehooked it past a junction, and pulled -himself toward the place where Sammy Breen had come to a stop. It was, -of course, at a place where two of the frame pieces of the Platform -should join a third. They were to be bolted together and then another -long section of framework would be added, which in turn would have -yet another beam placed and bolted to it so the construction could -continue. At the moment, however, a bolt hole needed to be reamed so -the parts could be bolted together.</p> - -<p>McCauley arrived at the corner of a triangle. When linked to all the -others, this triangle would ultimately support the skin and hold the -interior partitions of the Platform. Again he slipped his space rope -over the junction, hooked it, followed it, and went on toward the place -where Sammy Breen was. Sammy's voice came out of his helmet phones.</p> - -<p>"I saw a man do this once in a circus," said Sammy. "I thought he was -wonderful. But I can do it!"</p> - -<p>McCauley looked up. Sammy Breen had his space rope hooked around the -girder, to be sure. But now he floated, head toward Earth, with one -finger barely touching the metal beam. A photograph would have shown -him apparently supporting his whole weight on a single finger. But here -there was no weight. Nothing drew Sammy toward either Earth or the -Platform. But for his space rope, the lightest thrust of his finger -would have sent him floating slowly, implacably, helplessly away from -the spidery floating object, to drift alone through space forever.</p> - -<p>"I hope you checked your rope before you came outside," McCauley said -dryly.</p> - -<p>"I did," said Sammy nonchalantly. "It's okay."</p> - -<p>He tried to pull himself back to the girder with his fingers. He -couldn't quite reach it. He was no more than half an inch from a -fingertip hold that would have been more than enough, but he couldn't -make it. He reached and reached, and his movements made his body in -its space suit revolve ridiculously upside down and otherwise. Then he -couldn't get his hand anywhere near the girder.</p> - -<p>McCauley watched. He was unreasonably tense. But Sammy rather -sheepishly gave a tug on his space rope and floated back to firm -contact with the Platform.</p> - -<p>"Not to be finicky about it," said McCauley, "that wasn't wise. There -was only one chance in ten thousand that anything could happen, but -there was no need to take it."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Sammy Breen.</p> - -<p>McCauley settled down, three feet from the end of the beam that was to -be bolted to the one that needed reaming. Sammy Breen gripped that beam -between his thighs and hauled the reamer to his hand. At work on the -Platform, in emptiness, a man did not carry things, he towed them on -cords. If he let go of any untethered object it might stay where he put -it, in mid-space, but it was much more likely to have some small motion -relative to his which would make it drift placidly out of reach forever.</p> - -<p>Sammy Breen set the reamer in place in the bolt hole and pulled its -trigger. It cut metal. But it dragged unreasonably at him, trying to -turn him in the direction opposite its own rotation. Tiny chips and -metal dust twinkled in the fierce sunshine. They floated away. They -would never fall to Earth. Never. The reamer went through and Sammy cut -off its power. He tried to pull it out. It stuck.</p> - -<p>McCauley watched. He'd made a rule that nobody should do anything in -the least out of routine without another man nearby. The three of -them did not work together at one spot ordinarily. In the kind of -conditions customary here, they'd be hopelessly in each other's way. -But he'd issued the order requiring two to be together on any unusual -job. Now, having obeyed his own rule that there must be a second man -at hand when anything beyond simple bolting was to be done, tact made -him keep silent while Sammy did it his own way. Too-close supervision -and too-constant instruction can make for inefficiency. Worse, on a -job like building the Platform, they can make for friction. McCauley -watched without comment. He'd have done this thing differently. But it -would be unwise to insist that it be done his way.</p> - -<p>Sammy jerked at the reamer, which meant that he also jerked himself at -it. He slid along the girder he gripped. McCauley said nothing. He'd -criticized Sammy's horse-play a moment earlier. He did not want to make -a second criticism now.</p> - -<p>Sammy reached out—it would not be true to say that he stood up—and -put his foot beside the reamer in the bolt hole. The position gave him -leverage. He pulled violently. It was a wholly reasonable, completely -natural, thoroughly matter-of-fact action. A man pulling something -stuck in a hole braces himself exactly that way to get a strong pull at -it. But this was on the Space Platform, where there is no weight.</p> - -<p>The reamer gave. It came out abruptly. Sammy Breen shot away from the -beam to the full length of his space rope—and the space rope slid off -the end of the beam. He was headed for infinity with the reamer in his -hand.</p> - -<p>McCauley grabbed. He never knew how he managed to make so swift a -motion in his clumsy space suit. But he hurled his body forward and -snatched at the same instant. He caught the rope. But to reach it he'd -had to lose his own leg-grip on the beam. The impetus of Sammy's leap -jerked savagely at him. He squeezed his legs together in a frantic -effort to hold fast by friction. He tried to turn his toes in to catch -hold before he slid completely clear. But the feet of space suits do -not pivot laterally so he could not turn them inward. Holding fast to -Sammy's space rope, he was jerked inexorably clear and he and Sammy -Breen floated away to emptiness together.</p> - -<p>It was neither a rapid motion nor a simple one. The jerk had come at an -angle rather than straight out. The two of them revolved slowly around -each other at the two ends of the rope. McCauley held on grimly, braced -for the countervailing tug of his own rope when it tightened.</p> - -<p>It did tighten. And then it slid. The spot where Sammy had meant to -bolt two girders together was, naturally, the point where the two -frame members would complete a new triangle. It was to form one of -the triangular facets of the twenty-sided figure the Platform would -constitute when completed. But....</p> - -<p>McCauley's rope slid, and caught, and slid again. Then it came free. -Before it came free it had slowed the two of them, to be sure. It -increased the rate of their spin. But it slid off to emptiness and the -two of them went away from the Platform, revolving fairly rapidly about -each other, held together by Sammy's space rope.</p> - -<p>Their speed around each other was greater than the speed at which, as a -pair, they were drifting serenely away. At one point in each rotation -one of them approached the Platform while the other moved away from -it. A second later the other spun toward the Platform and the first -one moved toward emptiness. But together they drifted very, very -deliberately toward the stars.</p> - -<p>McCauley swore. Then he said curtly:</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant!" The use of the term instead of the name was wise. -Sammy Breen might be a horrified young man. But Lieutenant Breen was -something else.</p> - -<p>"Sir," said his voice unsteadily in McCauley's headphones, "I'm sorry, -sir. I should have...."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to throw you my space rope," snapped McCauley. "You will -catch it and obey my orders."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Catch!" snapped McCauley.</p> - -<p>He threw the rope. Because they were rotating, the first cast was wild. -Sammy Breen wasn't where he threw the rope when it got to him. It had -McCauley's own speed of rotation, so it did not go where he aimed. It -took half a dozen attempts to get the rope to where the younger man -could catch the squirming line in the stiff gauntlet of his space suit.</p> - -<p>"Now, fasten your reamer to the rope," commanded McCauley. "Tie on your -other tools. Give me every bit of equipment you've got except your air -tanks."</p> - -<p>"Y-yes, sir," said Sammy's voice in the helmet phones.</p> - -<p>Spinning as they were, the universe of stars and sun and the vast, -unfamiliar, brilliantly lighted object which was Earth seemed to be -engaged in a monstrous saraband. Now Sammy was a glaringly bright -object with full, blazing sunshine hitting his space suit. Again he -was lighted from the side with the brightness of Earth behind him, -racing past his body with all its features blurred. Yet again the stars -seemed not points of light but streaks, and there were moments when the -sun itself was a flashing band of intolerable brightness. But somehow -this vast and silent motion of the cosmos seemed unreal. It was like a -hallucination. It was like a nightmare in which absolutely nothing was -true; in which there was no actual sun or Earth or stars, because in -reality those things did not swing in lunatic sweeps around anybody, -anywhere.</p> - -<p>While the younger man blindly obeyed McCauley, they continued to drift -away toward infinity. Curiously enough, the centrifugal force caused by -their spinning gave McCauley the only sensation of weight that he'd had -since his arrival at the orbit of the Platform.</p> - -<p>Randy's voice came in McCauley's headphones.</p> - -<p>"Ed! My God!"</p> - -<p>His tone was anguished and hopeless.</p> - -<p>"Randy," said McCauley in clipped tones. "You can be useful. When we're -in line with you, say 'tip.' Say it again. Keep it up."</p> - -<p>Almost instantly Randy said, "Tip." Then, "Tip." Then, "Tip" again. -Sammy Breen said hoarsely:</p> - -<p>"All my equipment, sir, is fastened to your space rope. Everything but -my air tanks."</p> - -<p>"Right. Now let go of it," commanded McCauley. "Randy, how fast are we -drifting away?"</p> - -<p>Randy's voice came hoarse and harsh.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Slowly, but you're a good hundred and fifty feet off. A -trifle more."</p> - -<p>McCauley calculated aloud, for his own comfort as well as the -information of Randy and Sammy Breen.</p> - -<p>"We've been drifting maybe half a minute. Those 'tips' of yours were -about one second apart. We're spinning once in two seconds at the ends -of a thirty-foot rope. Each of us has an angular velocity of something -over forty feet per second. Forty-five or better. Our joint speed away -from the Platform—a hundred and fifty feet in thirty seconds.... -Somewhere around five feet per second. Not much more, anyhow! We're -practically crawling away, but we're spinning like blazes."</p> - -<p>Randy said, dry-throated:</p> - -<p>"Even if we had rope, Ed, I couldn't get it to you."</p> - -<p>"I know," said McCauley curtly. "Lieutenant?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Sammy Breen's voice, quite steady now. "I've thought -of something, sir. If we act fast and I cut the rope at just the right -instant, sir...."</p> - -<p>"Keep quiet!" snapped McCauley. "That's an order! Right now I want you -to push that equipment at the end of my rope away from you as hard -as you can, in the direction we're spinning. The way we're spinning! -You've got too much angular velocity. Understand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Sammy. "I'm glad, sir...."</p> - -<p>"Keep quiet!" snapped McCauley again. "Push!"</p> - -<p>The cumbersome and weighty mass of equipment, which on Earth would have -weighed nearly as much as Sammy Breen, swung away from him. It went -around until it was behind McCauley. There was now a system of three -weights on a string. The middle one, which was McCauley, did not spin -around. He only rotated. The others swung in a wide circle about him.</p> - -<p>"Get set, Randy," he said sharply, "and have your rope ready."</p> - -<p>"What...." Then Randy understood. He swore.</p> - -<p>McCauley let go of Sammy Breen's space rope at an instant when in his -circle around McCauley he moved toward the Platform. At that instant, -of course, McCauley still moved away. But he let go. The result was -that he sent Sammy Breen floating back toward the spidery metal -framework, and he himself moved away faster. In effect, he'd taken -to himself a large part of Sammy's momentum toward destruction. But -not quite all. There was still Sammy's equipment, which formed a new -two-weight system of masses spinning about a common center of gravity. -Yet it did look as if he'd seen the possibility of saving one of the -two of them, and had taken the action which gave that chance at life to -Lieutenant Sammy Breen.</p> - -<p>"Major!" Sammy cried out desperately. "This is all wrong! It was my -fault! I should have cut the rope! I protest, sir...."</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" rasped McCauley. "Within a minute or two you'll float to the -Platform. It's not likely you'll strike a beam direct. Get ready to -throw your rope to Captain Hall so he can pull you in!"</p> - -<p>Now he cut his own space rope and held its end. With Sammy Breen gone -away toward life, he and the mass of equipment at the rope's other -end still had a spinning motion. But it was a slow one. Yet he could -repeat the same trick he'd worked with Sammy, though not with the same -effectiveness. He could sacrifice the weight at the end of his rope, -just as before he'd sacrificed himself. If he chose the moment when in -their spinning the heavy objects were moving fastest toward the stars, -that would be the moment when his own motion toward annihilation was -least.</p> - -<p>He let go. The awkward clump of tethered space equipment went swiftly -toward nowhere. McCauley seemed to cease to drift away from where Sammy -Breen, floating steadily, made bubbling noises to himself as if he were -sobbing in shame that McCauley had given him life at the expense of his -own. McCauley was now a good six hundred feet off in emptiness from the -lacework of silvery bars.</p> - -<p>"How am I doing, Randy?" asked McCauley curtly. "You want to catch -Sammy when he comes through the framework. Get to where you can help -him. But when you have time, make an estimate on me."</p> - -<p>There was silence. The Platform hurtled on around Earth. The changing, -distorted patterns of land and sea seemed to writhe as they went past -in the intolerably brilliant sunshine. But over at the very edge of -the bright disk a little trace of blackness appeared. That would be -the night line on Earth. The Platform and its company moved separately -yet together toward that darkness. Presently it would cover half the -disk of Earth, and then it would sweep on until only a swiftly thinning -crescent of light remained, and then the Platform would plunge into -utter darkness, where most of the cosmos was only shining stars and a -pallid moon, the rest the blackness of the Pit. And of course, in this -darkness the building satellite's unprotected substance would—like -McCauley—drop to a temperature of two hundred and twenty-odd degrees -below zero.</p> - -<p>"Throw your rope to Captain Hall!" McCauley snapped to Sammy Breen. "I -know you'll turn somersaults. But throw it!"</p> - -<p>Silence again. McCauley made his own estimate. It was not good. He did -not drift swiftly away into the emptiness which would presently be -blackness and cold and death. But he had not lost all his velocity away -from the Platform.</p> - -<p>He took the wrench with which he fastened together the frame members -of the unlikely object which he left with such deadly deliberation. -He drew up his feet below him. He placed the wrench under them. At a -carefully chosen instant he thrust it violently away.</p> - -<p>He pushed the wrench toward nothingness. Its mass may have been ten -pounds on Earth. His own mass, with his space suit and air tanks -and the like, was probably thirty times as much. If he thrust the -wrench away at thirty feet per second—and he did—he would change -his own velocity by one foot per second. This might mean a slowing of -his motion away, or it might mean a terribly slow drift back to the -Platform and a chance for life.</p> - -<p>He took his space knife. It might weigh a pound. He threw it. -Systematically and unhurriedly he denuded his belt of the tools hanging -to it. A mass of possibly sixty pounds, thrown violently away, changed -his velocity by as much as six or—considering that he had less mass -with each bit of mass he discarded—probably seven feet per second.</p> - -<p>"I've got Sammy," said Randy's voice, hoarse and strained. "He's all -right.... You don't seem to be going away any more, Ed. You're no -farther than you were. Maybe I can knot ropes.... No. There aren't -enough."</p> - -<p>"Right," said McCauley with an odd calm. "There wouldn't be time, -anyhow. We're heading for eclipse. I've got to get back on my own—and -fast. The storybooks say rockets are used by men in space to go bobbing -around in their space suits. We know better. But I'm going to use one -air tank."</p> - -<p>He writhed in the harness outside his space suit. He managed to detach -one of his two air tanks. He aimed its pipe carefully.</p> - -<p>Air poured out with a rush when he opened the stop-cock. There was -two thousand pounds pressure to begin with. The tank had been in -unshielded sunshine for more than an hour. The effective pressure of -the air had tripled, at least, because of its rise in temperature. It -made a rocket jet of gas. McCauley could feel its quick, sharp tug at -him.</p> - -<p>It went empty.</p> - -<p>He put it under his feet and gave it the most violent of thrusts toward -the Milky Way. Now he could see that he had given the discarded things -all the momentum that had carried him away from the Platform, plus all -he had taken from Sammy Breen. He was moving toward the Platform. It no -longer dwindled as time went by. It grew in size with an intolerable, -incredible slowness. But that slowness amounted to doom.</p> - -<p>"You're headed back," said Randy's agonized voice in his helmet phones. -"But it's slow, Ed! It's desperately slow!"</p> - -<p>The blackness, which was Earth's own shadow cast upon its night-side -surface, was now fully halfway from the rim of the world toward that -halfway point which was the middle of the space that Earth occupied -within the cosmos.</p> - -<p>"There's about fifteen minutes left before totality," said McCauley -with deliberation. "I've one more thing I can throw away. But I need to -steer with it too, and I can't be accurate at this distance. I don't -dare to use it from so far away. I've no space rope left to throw for -you to catch. I have to throw that last thing away at the very last -instant."</p> - -<p>He heard confused sounds. Sammy Breen, back at the Platform, made -incoherent noises. He probably gesticulated, because Randy understood.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Randy's voice harshly. "Make it quick. But take care! More -than your own life depends on your being careful now!"</p> - -<p>Sammy Breen gulped. McCauley heard him. Then silence again.</p> - -<p>It was necessary to wait. McCauley was a tiny, glistening object -in emptiness, a desperately long way from the equally glistening -Platform. He turned slowly, foolishly, as he floated. Away off -against a background of stars—but the sun moved momentarily nearer -its edge—there was a shape that now was not quite half of a circle -of brilliant light, and more than half of a circle of darkness -like that of the Abyss. It did not look like Earth. It had not the -least appearance of a world in which human beings lived and moved -and breathed and loved and died. It was a monstrosity whose details -changed their shape as half minutes and quarter minutes went by. And -continually and implacably the darkness spread over more of it.</p> - -<p>Randy's voice came desperately.</p> - -<p>"Hurry, Sammy! Give it to me and get back into the cabin. We won't have -time to wait our turns at the air lock.... Right! Now get back in the -cabin!"</p> - -<p>"How am I doing now, Randy?" McCauley asked calmly. "How's my line of -motion?"</p> - -<p>"I don't like it!" said Randy fiercely. "It's off to one side! Sammy -just brought me all the extra space ropes. He tied them together -inside. I'm checking them now. There are four of them."</p> - -<p>McCauley said:</p> - -<p>"I hate to seem overanxious, but how much will I miss the Platform by?"</p> - -<p>"Too much," answered Randy bitterly. "What have you got left that you -can throw away to steer by?"</p> - -<p>"Eighty pounds of mass," said McCauley with composure. "But I have to -wait until the last second."</p> - -<p>Silence again. Darkness covered three-quarters of the Earth's strange -disk. It was not the darkness of a night on Earth, with trees and -plants and men as darker shapes against starlit or moonlit ground or -sea. It was the blackness of nothingness, of annihilation.</p> - -<p>"You can't stay out much longer, Randy," McCauley said. "I'll have to -try it."</p> - -<p>"There's the moon," said Randy hoarsely. "I can see by that, ... maybe."</p> - -<p>Again silence. The shape which was Earth became the thinnest of -crescents. The sun blazed fiercely almost at its outer rim.</p> - -<p>The sun turned orange, crimson, ruby-red. It ceased to be a circle. One -edge blacked out. It was half blacked out. It was gone.</p> - -<p>McCauley wriggled in the harness outside his space suit. He spoke -deliberately.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to take all the deep breaths I can, Randy. I'll even let a -little extra pressure into my suit. Then I'll take off my last air tank -and try to steady myself with its jet of air. Then I'll put it under -my feet and jump against it, toward you. Now listen! If anything goes -wrong, it won't be your fault! Understand? Don't take any crazy risks. -If I go on past the Platform, get into the cabin fast before the cold -comes! That is my order! I expect you to obey it!"</p> - -<p>"Cripes, Ed!" Randy's voice broke.</p> - -<p>McCauley bled air into his suit. He breathed deeply and fast, -saturating his lungs with oxygen. He removed the tank and then spent -precious seconds stripping away the harness that had held tools and -extra equipment to his suit.</p> - -<p>He jetted away the air. In the utter silence that was the universe, the -whistle of escaping compression was conducted to his gloved hands and -so to the remaining air inside his space suit. He used the jet with -infinite care. The tank tugged briefly and his random body rotation -stopped. He saw the Platform, almost incredibly dim in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>He jumped against the mass of the air tank and harness together. In -seconds he could see that he was moving closer toward the silvery, -spidery framework in the moonshine. He kept himself still. Nothing he -could do now would add anything to his chance for life, and exertion -would lessen the time left before he suffocated for lack of air.</p> - -<p>He relaxed by an iron effort of will. He had gambled. He could win or -he could lose. But he must keep the calmness of a man who sees the -stakes down and waits for the outcome.</p> - -<p>The Platform was no more than a hundred and fifty yards away. No more -than a hundred.</p> - -<p>He would miss it. He would pass sixty feet or more beyond its outermost -edge. Randy would undoubtedly try to throw him the space ropes he'd -tied together. The odds were enormously against his being able to catch -them.</p> - -<p>He said nothing. If Randy thought that he'd run out of air before he -reached the point nearest the Platform, he would reproach himself less; -he'd believe he couldn't have done anything, anyhow.</p> - -<p>Fifty yards. Twenty. He saw glittering metal only sixty feet away. But -there was no conceivable action he could take to move himself that -sixty feet.</p> - -<p>Then something dark came toward him. It grew larger. It was Randy, -plunging out from the girders with a hundred and twenty feet of space -rope trailing behind him, made fast to a firmly bolted beam.</p> - -<p>He collided with McCauley. McCauley felt him gripping fiercely. He felt -Randy clinging to him savagely against the jerk of the rope which must -tighten presently.</p> - -<p>The jerk came, violent and abrupt.</p> - -<p>Randy gasped in relief. He took away one space-suited arm to haul -at the space rope that had checked McCauley's slow drift past to -nothingness.</p> - -<p>"Very nice work, Randy," said McCauley composedly, "but you took an -awful chance."</p> - -<p>They bumped against the substance of the Platform—one square metal -tube some three inches by five.</p> - -<p>"Can you hold on?" demanded Randy, panting. "I'll give you one of my -air tanks!"</p> - -<p>They were out at the farthermost limit of the framework of the Space -Platform. McCauley's faceplate began to frost now, with the loss of -heat to the darkness.</p> - -<p>"Make it fast," said McCauley. "We want to get in out of the cold."</p> - -<p>Fumblings. Clatterings. McCauley heard Randy's teeth chatter, which -might be cold or might be reaction from the terror he'd felt on -McCauley's account.</p> - -<p>"Right!" McCauley said suddenly. He felt air blowing past his face. -Randy's extra tank was connected. "I'm all set now. Let's get headed -for the cabin."</p> - -<p>"Hold it!" said Randy angrily. "You tie a space rope to yourself and -loop it around a beam! Do you want to take a chance on slipping away? -Maybe there is only one chance in ten thousand of getting lost, but -there's no need to take that!"</p> - -<p>"Okay, boss," said McCauley. "I shoulda known better."</p> - -<p>Hardly more than seconds later he was sliding toward the cabin, Randy -following close behind. He came to a joint where three of the beams -came together. He unlooped his space rope from the near side, looped it -around beyond the joint, crawled over, and slid again.</p> - -<p>The cold came fast, but they would make it. Already his mind was at -work on a matter that bothered him. He was in charge of the building -of the Platform. That meant that he had to think about the feelings of -the men under him. Randy was all right. He'd done a good job, and he -knew it. But Sammy Breen was different. He was a very young officer, -and he felt right now that he'd blundered and imperiled a senior -officer—practically killed him, in fact—and he'd be in a state of -almost hysterical self-abasement. Not a good state for young officers -to be in.</p> - -<p>When McCauley squirmed out of the air lock, young Sammy Breen looked at -him. He was deathly white and utterly ashamed.</p> - -<p>"Hm," said McCauley ruefully. "Sammy, I think I'll have to report -myself for incompetence. When a second man's standing by while somebody -does a tricky job, he ought to be sure that his space rope can't slip. -I didn't. I doggone near got you killed, Sammy. I'm sorry."</p> - -<p>Sammy Breen made an inarticulate sound. Then Randy came out of the air -lock.</p> - -<p>"For the love of Heaven, Sammy!" he said, scolding. "It's your trick to -fix food! We've got less than an hour for eating before the sun comes -back. And you haven't even got the stuff heating up! What kind of a -cook are you, anyhow?"</p> - -<p>Sammy swallowed. He swallowed again. Neither McCauley nor Randy -mentioned the late so nearly complete disaster. Randy was kidding him. -McCauley made a joke of it, too.</p> - -<p>Sammy put the food on to thaw and heat. He struggled to become worthy -of the companionship of men like McCauley and Randy Hall. Presently he -swallowed and said accusingly:</p> - -<p>"You characters were late for dinner. Don't blame me if it's cold!"</p> - -<p>He looked anxiously at them. He hoped....</p> - -<p>McCauley grinned at him. Randy laughed. They laughed together. -Lieutenant Sammy Breen felt wonderfully good. And he would be very -careful hereafter.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1"><i>4</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(There was high adventure on the moon when it was first colonized. -Men faced various ways of dying—all of them unpleasant—and -found that simply staying alive was a great satisfaction and a -full-time occupation. Because of this spirit—which is that of true -adventure—there came to be bases where hydroponic gardens freshened -the air and men took continued living as a matter of course. This, -obviously, was not adventure. So problems arose. Men began to be moved -by other motives than the zest they'd known at first. But there were -still a great many ways of getting killed on the moon. So there came a -time when Colonel Ed McCauley had to insist that certain men under his -command put first things first, as adventurers do, and not act for the -gratification of their problem personalities.)</p></div> - - -<p>Traveling at moon gait, which is the standard travel pace on Earth's -big moon, McCauley had ten of the last twenty miles behind him when he -saw the sledge trail in the dust. He frowned at it and looked over to -the west. He saw Earth, blue-green and glamorous, hanging as usual in -the lunar sky just above the edges of the ring mountains. But Earth -was always just there. He squinted at the sun through the faceplate of -his helmet. It was a trifle over ten degrees above the horizon and it -moved across the black, star-speckled sky at half a degree per hour. -In twenty hours, then, lunar night would fall. And here was the sledge -track that said that the relay unit for Repeater Two, carrying word to -and from Farside and the rest of the human race, had passed this way en -route to be set up; but the lack of returning footprints said that the -men with it had not come back.</p> - -<p>Repeater One was already in place and ready to operate. Repeaters -Three and Four had also been put in position by men from faraway -Farside Base. Repeater Two was necessary to bring Farside Base into -communication with the rest of the cosmos. Two weeks of lunar night -with no word from outside the base and not even Earth to look at in the -sky—this would not be good for the men on Farside.</p> - -<p>McCauley stopped. He'd been moving in that swooping, semi-flying -fashion which the lesser lunar gravity allows. He stared at the trail. -No, the men had not come back. Yet he'd ordered a party of two to set -up the relay unit. It was to be put into place on the very tip of a -mountain that was now away below the horizon. There it would be in -line of sight of Repeater One, which was relatively near, and Repeater -Three, which was farther away but which in turn could relay signals to -Four, which was farthest away of all. From Four, the relayed messages -would go on to Farside Base. When all this was accomplished, the -Grimaldi Base ten miles distant could communicate with Farside through -Repeaters One, Two, Three, and Four, and with Earth by line-of-sight -transmission; so Farside could communicate with Earth and through Earth -Relay with all the other moon bases—in short, with all humanity. But -Two should have been up and in operation by now.</p> - -<p>McCauley shook his head impatiently inside his space helmet. He'd been -away from his command for thirty hours, during which he'd traveled -twenty miles on foot, at moon gait, to Gerritson Bay. It wasn't a bay, -of course, but an intrusion of now-frozen lava into the mountainous -country here at the edge of the moon's earthside surface. He'd been met -by a moon jeep and had traveled seven hundred miles over a <i>mare</i>—one -of the dark areas that were once thought to be seas but actually were -dry and level—to the main lunar base near Hipparchus. He'd had a -one-hour conference with the base commander there, trying to work out -something to prevent the first murder on Earth's big satellite. The -conference was unsatisfactory. He'd come back to Gerritson Bay and now -he'd covered ten of the twenty remaining miles to Grimaldi Base. When -he reached Grimaldi the excessively irritating problem of a murder -in the making was still unsolved, and now in addition there was the -failure to complete placing the relay at the site of Repeater Two. The -sledge ought to be in its place on the peak which was invisible from -here, and the men who'd set it up should have returned. They hadn't.</p> - -<p>He flipped on his space radio and said curtly:</p> - -<p>"McCauley calling relay placing party. Come in!"</p> - -<p>There was no answer. He called again and again. Then he called Grimaldi -Base. Again no answer. He was out of radio contact with all humanity -on the moon—even his own base ten miles away—though by switching -frequencies he could raise Earth Relay a quarter million miles farther -away. The men with the moon sledge might only be behind a mountain wall -or anywhere in any direction below the horizon, but radio communication -on the moon is limited to line-of-sight because there is no air and -hence no layer of ions to bounce radio signals down behind obstacles or -around the moon's curvature.</p> - -<p>McCauley started off again, fuming. Moon gait is a highly specialized -form of travel. In one-sixth gravity a man can cover ten miles an hour -over rough ground if he knows the trick of the gait and the trail is -marked. He travels in slow-motion giant steps, with something of the -effect of an extremely deliberate ballet. He begins with a leap up and -forward, and he rises slowly and deliberately while soaring ahead. -At mid-leap he is six feet higher than at take-off. Then he descends -slowly and with dignity, touches ground and strides at the same time, -and bounds up and ahead once more. There are long seconds between steps -and long yards between strides. When a person is used to it, moon gait -is almost restful. Some people even find it familiar. They've dreamed -of such effortless half flight in their sleep.</p> - -<p>Now, though he was disturbed, McCauley made two miles with no other -known cause for worry than the lateness of the two men who'd placed -the relay and the prospective killing he'd had on his mind before. -He passed between precipices and over dust-strewn stone and through -winding defiles. The two men should be back....</p> - -<p>Then he spotted something. Abruptly he raised his arms and extended -both feet before him. He came down to the ground and stopped short. -Then—not soaring this time—he walked back to an object on the trail.</p> - -<p>It was an air tank, exactly like the two tanks at the back of his own -space suit. It had been dropped from the moon sledge. It would hold air -for one man for three hours.</p> - -<p>Men driving a moon sledge would wear one tank on their space suits for -safety, and they'd shed one for lightness. They'd breathe from the much -larger tanks on the sledge itself while they traveled. Spare and extra -tanks like this would ride on the sledge. It was not easy to imagine -that it had dropped. One man would go on ahead of the sledge and one -would follow. It was hard to believe that the second man would not -notice the loss of an air tank. Air tanks were life. True, a sledge -party always had more air than was needed for any expected journey—a -good margin for emergency—but this tank could cut the margin for this -journey seriously.</p> - -<p>McCauley growled to himself. He knew the calculations for placing -the relay. The mountain beyond the horizon was an eight-hour journey -by sledge—the horizon on the moon is only two miles away instead of -eight. Breathing from the sledge, the men would arrive with one tank -on their suits untapped, another, also untapped, to be mounted; and -an extra tank for good measure. When they'd put the sledge in place -and aired its beams and set up the nondirectional auxiliary antennae, -they'd start back with two full tanks each and another one for reserve. -They'd make better time coming back—six hours, no more. And each man -had a full six hours on his back, and there were three additional hours -in the extra they'd take turns carrying. It was ample margin. But now -the spare tank was left behind. There was no margin.</p> - -<p>McCauley tried to lift the tank. But it had lain in the shadow of a -boulder, out of the sun's fierce glare—on moon dust, radiating heat -away toward the stars. It had cooled off to the temperature of a -shadow, two hundred and forty degrees below zero. It was frozen. The -air was liquid air. The tank was more brittle than glass was.</p> - -<p>It slipped, striking the boulder. It cracked and broke. A glistening -liquid poured out and evaporated instantly. Where it fell into shadow, -part of it froze and then vanished more quickly than any earthly frost.</p> - -<p>McCauley growled again. Air was precious on the moon. But there was no -use crying when it was spilt. He turned around and began his journey -again. He had good reason to worry now.</p> - -<p>He was a singular, slow-motion soaring figure in a polished silvery -space suit. Where there was a rise in the ground, he came smoothly up -from behind it, the glaring sun glowing on his space armor. Extending -one leg in what might pass as a version of a choreographer's arabesque, -he came down on the extended foot and stepped on it, floating gently -upward and forward swiftly in a continued series of seeming flights. -He went through winding passes where the sledge trail was plain in -the dust below him, he soared across preposterous areas strewn with -boulders the size of apartment houses. Once, going through a narrow gap -in the wall of an unnamed crater—a very small one, barely two miles -across—he passed a spot which showed that the two men had changed -places. The one in advance had gone to the rear, and the one who'd been -behind now led the way.</p> - -<p>It was just beyond the farther wall of the crater that he saw the -second air tank, dropped in the trail.</p> - -<p>It could not possibly be an accident. A moon sledge has racks for -carrying air tanks. It was conceivable that a tank could have slid out -and been lost unnoticed. But it was starkly inconceivable that it could -have happened twice.</p> - -<p>McCauley raged suddenly. He knew what had happened, he knew why it -had happened, he knew who was involved. He flipped the base-frequency -switch.</p> - -<p>"Holmes! Kent! Come in!" he snapped. "Grimaldi Base, come in! Holmes! -Kent! Come in! Grimaldi Base, come in!"</p> - -<p>He did not try to pick up the second air tank. Instead, he increased -his speed over the fantastic landscape of riven stone and upthrust -rock. He went faster, floating twenty and thirty yards at a bound and -calling angrily into the eternal silence about him. This higher speed -was not particularly safe. A stumble on any of his landings could have -meant a nasty crash and possibly a smashed helmet plate. But he raged -on. He'd just traveled nearly a quarter of the way around the moon -to try to effect the quiet and nonspectacular prevention of a murder. -Now he found his trouble wasted, his precautions nullified, and the -operation of his base imperiled. Moreover, the welfare of the men on -Farside was threatened drastically. They might have to go through an -entire lunar night, two weeks long, without any contact with other -human beings.</p> - -<p>Long, long minutes of speeded-up moon gait went by, the suit radio -sending out snapped calls for Holmes and Kent to answer or, failing -them, for Grimaldi Base to reply.</p> - -<p>He was less than five miles from the base when he got an answer to -his call. He'd climbed gradually to a high plateau which now dropped -downward again so that what seemed an infinity of explosion-scarred -desolation lay before him. He was in line of sight of Grimaldi.</p> - -<p>"Grimaldi answers," said a voice in his helmet phones. "Grimaldi -answers. Over."</p> - -<p>Words fairly burst from McCauley's lips, though the rhythm of his -twenty- and thirty-yard leaps remained unbroken.</p> - -<p>"How in the blistering Gehenna," he rasped, "did Holmes and Kent get -out of the base together? What fool sent them off?"</p> - -<p>The voice in his headphones jerked a little.</p> - -<p>"Why—it was your order, sir! A relay from Earth came in. Holmes was on -monitor duty. He wrote down the order, sir. You ordered him and Kent -to take the sledge with the relay unit for Repeater Two and set it up -where it belonged, sir."</p> - -<p>McCauley almost strangled in his wrath.</p> - -<p>"Have they got there yet?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. They should use it to report that it's operating, sir. They -haven't."</p> - -<p>"When they do," rasped McCauley, "tell them that I specifically order -them to stay in communication with you until I get there! Absolutely -no excuse will be accepted for failure! I'm less than five miles off. -I should get there in a quarter of an hour—twenty minutes at the -outside. They think they're smart, but they've slipped up this time! -Tell them that!"</p> - -<p>"Y-yes, sir."</p> - -<p>The headphone clicked.</p> - -<p>McCauley uttered some profane words in the close confines of his space -helmet. Back at Lunar Base he'd laid the matter of Holmes and Kent -before the commanding officer, who was the ranking officer on the -moon. Kent was an able young officer, transferred to Space Service -from the Air Force. Holmes was also an able young officer, who'd been -a submariner before he transferred to the equally confining Space -Service. They'd known each other back on Earth and somehow—nobody knew -how—a bitter and inveterate enmity had sprung up between them. Perhaps -a girl was at the root of it, but if so, neither of them won her. -Perhaps, by this time, the initial cause of their hatred had nearly or -completely ceased to matter. Enmity does not often last unless things -occur that can feed and strengthen it. It is normal for two young men -to quarrel furiously and be ready to kill each other. But if they are -separated long enough, their hatred usually dies away to acute dislike. -In time the dislike fades to mere aversion or they may forget their -anger altogether. But this happens when there is nothing to sustain and -increase the quarrel.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, if they come across each other often enough, and -more especially if they try to harm each other, what could have -begun as mere indignation and contempt can build up into a blind and -murderous fury at the mere sight or thought of each other. How it -started does not matter then. McCauley suspected that this was the case -with Kent and Holmes.</p> - -<p>Swinging up and soaring ahead, touching ground with precision at each -landing and swinging up again to strange, wingless flight, McCauley -muttered to himself.</p> - -<p>They'd been assigned to his command. Not knowing—then—he'd introduced -them. They spoke with great politeness but did not shake hands. -Settling down to the routine and tedium of a six-man base, it became -evident that there was something wrong. There was no overt trouble, but -there was strain. It showed in a thousand trivial ways. When a party -went out on an errand which required traveling for days in roasting -sunlight, cased in space suits that were almost as confining as strait -jackets, under conditions which rasped the nerves and tried the -tempers of everybody, Holmes and Kent very nearly caused disasters.</p> - -<p>Hatred blazed between them. When their records arrived at Grimaldi -Base, McCauley realized that the beginning of this hatred could not -matter any more. They'd hated each other so long and so bitterly that -if they were asked the reason they'd have panted about something done -yesterday or last month or last year—and perhaps never have gotten -back to the beginning. They might even have forgotten it. But there -was a strangeness in their enmity. They did not simply want disaster -and misfortune to befall each other. They hungered to be disaster, -they thirsted to be misfortune, each for the other. And somehow there -was a demoniac pride involved. In the days of the duello there would -have been a simple and normal solution. They would have met in stately -fashion with swords or pistols, and they would have fought to the death -under the eyes of seconds and witnesses, and somehow it would have been -appropriate.</p> - -<p>But such things were impossible now. The code of the duello was -outmoded. So when McCauley read the records and reports on the two -men—because a commanding officer needs to know the men who serve under -him, and the more dangerous the service the better he needs to know -them—he knew that the first case of murder on the moon was in the -making. Since they couldn't fight formally, as in olden times, what -must happen would amount to murder.</p> - -<p>There'd been an automobile accident at Earth Base of the Space Service. -It looked very much as if it were deliberate, as if Holmes and Kent -had contrived it by agreement between themselves so that one was -bound to be killed. Both were hurt. Neither died. Then there was the -time when Kent was found with a rifle in his hand and a bullet wound -in his shoulder, ignoring the wound and passionately pursuing a hunt -for—so he said—a deer. He explained that the wound was an accident. -The records showed that Holmes was hunting in the same area at the -same time. They showed that he had a slight flesh wound—made by a -bullet. Both Holmes and Kent gave totally unconvincing accounts of -their wounds, and each denied that he had been wounded by the other. -Their stories did not satisfy their commanding officer. He transferred -them to other units, and in his confidential comment on their -records—comment they would never see—he said that he believed they'd -arranged a duel in deer-hunting country with big-game rifles, contrived -so the one who was killed would seem to be the victim of a hunting -accident. It could not be proved, but he believed it.</p> - -<p>There were other memos. Neither Holmes nor Kent had a mark against -him except in connection with the other man. Yet no commanding -officer—certainly none on the moon—would want either man in his base -after having read the records. The moon is too small for men who carry -their enmities with them into space.</p> - -<p>And McCauley had both men—able men, capable men, desirable men except -for their mutual hatred. He'd traveled a quarter way around the moon to -have one or both of them transferred out of Grimaldi Base before they -could arrange another covered-up duel which would leave one dead and -the other a murderer. But his effort had been futile. They couldn't be -transferred out immediately. They couldn't be gotten out, for it was -too close to sunset. They couldn't be gotten away at all during the -lunar night. And now they were out on Farside where there could be no -witnesses and the grave of a murdered man could never be found.</p> - -<p>McCauley arrived, raging mad, at the small, grubby, dust-insulated -dome that was Grimaldi Base. No report had come in from Kent or -Holmes. McCauley was bitterly sure that they'd gone out to the blasted -moonscape firmly resolved that only one of them would return. Somehow, -in the illimitable emptiness of which the fiftieth part had never -been seen by men, somehow, under the black, star-studded sky with the -setting sun casting mile-long shadows of utter blackness and absolute -cold, McCauley knew that they would have some sort of fight in which -one must die.</p> - -<p>But they were Space Service officers. Before they had that fight they -would set up the relay that would give Farside Base a connection to -Grimaldi, and so to Earth, and so by Earth Relay to every other human -being on the moon. They would do their duty as Space Service officers -before they did murder.</p> - -<p>Stooping, McCauley came out of the air lock into the base.</p> - -<p>"I want all the facts about Kent and Holmes!" he snapped.</p> - -<p>"No word from them yet, sir," said the communications officer. "But -we've picked up clickings, sir, which might be the unit being put into -operation. But Holmes and Kent have two beams to align, sir, besides -the all-direction antennae. They may be checking with Farside, sir, to -make sure the relay beam is pointed right to that base."</p> - -<p>McCauley stripped off his space suit.</p> - -<p>"They're in more trouble than they know," he growled. "They lost two -air tanks off their sledge."</p> - -<p>The communications officer's mouth dropped open.</p> - -<p>"But Colonel, sir.... They couldn't! They need those tanks to get back -with!"</p> - -<p>"Exactly," McCauley snapped. "Route the relay's local-antenna and -suit-radio frequencies in to me. I'll take the messages."</p> - -<p>He stamped through the cramped and shabby little base to the minute -compartment set aside for the Base Commander's office. It was -approximately four feet by six. He settled down in the one chair, -glowering. Automatically he glanced at the dials that reported -conditions at the base. Outside temperature facing sun, 198°. Shadow -temperature, minus 205°. Inside barometric pressure, 30.02 inches. -Inside temperature, 72°. Carbon monoxide, 28 parts per million. Carbon -dioxide, 1.8%. Oxygen, 21.2%.</p> - -<p>The physical state of the base was good. But there were two men out on -Farside who lacked two tanks of air they needed to get back. Although -it was their intention that only one of them should return, they'd -outsmarted themselves. Neither could get back, now.</p> - -<p>A clicking from a loud-speaker. A wavery voice:</p> - -<p>"Calling Grimaldi Base! Calling Grimaldi! Call...."</p> - -<p>"Calling Repeater Two," said McCauley. He was very grim. "Calling -Repeater Two!"</p> - -<p>"... rimaldi Ba...." Silence, then suddenly: "Hello!"</p> - -<p>It was Holmes' voice. McCauley recognized it.</p> - -<p>"Holmes!" he said curtly. "You two fools have committed suicide! You -dropped one air tank off the sledge. Remember? That meant that only -one of you could get back, and you and Kent could decide later which -one it would be. But Kent kicked an air tank off, too! Now who's coming -back?"</p> - -<p>There was a startled silence.</p> - -<p>"You heard me!" said McCauley savagely. "There were three tanks on that -sledge. They'd bring you both back with air to spare. But you threw one -away, and Kent threw one away, and so there's one left. It's six hours' -travel back to here, and you've air for two men for four and a half!"</p> - -<p>Again silence. McCauley could envision the scene at Repeater Two, -to which his voice was transmitted by precisely the system of beam -relay used on Earth to carry telephone messages across continents -without wires. There would be two bulky, space-suited figures atop an -irregularly level space from which the ground fell away on every side, -a drop of thousands of feet. They would be in glaring sunlight from the -lowest of low-hanging suns. Where it struck the metal of their space -armor they would glitter blindingly. Where there was shadow, there -would be the blackness of the pit. Overhead there stretched a black -sky with a thousand million stars, and around and below them there -would be long, angular, parallel ribbons of shadow with sharply defined -sides and with beginnings but no ends. And there would be the moon -sledge with the relay built solidly upon it, its runners chocked with -stony debris so it would not slide or topple. There would be the two -bowl-shaped beam reflectors, one pointing back to Repeater One—itself -a moon sledge wedged in place upon a mountain—and the other to -remoteness and to wildness and to night.</p> - -<p>"You could come back as you went," said McCauley. "You could bring back -the sledge, breathing air from its tanks on the trip. But if you did -that, Farside would be out of communication during the coming night. -That would have to be explained."</p> - -<p>Again it seemed that he could see the faraway, motionless figures of -the two men listening over their suit radios to the voice twice relayed -before it could reach their ears.</p> - -<p>"I would have to explain," said McCauley grimly, "that Lieutenants Kent -and Holmes intended to murder each other, and each one threw away an -air tank he expected the other man to use—but he expected to have -plenty of air for himself! I would have to explain that Farside was -isolated because two would-be murderers had outsmarted themselves and -didn't have the guts to face the consequences!"</p> - -<p>Kent's voice came from a speaker. He spoke from that distant mountain -peak toward which darkness crept steadily.</p> - -<p>"Look here, sir." His tone was defiant.</p> - -<p>"If that sledge is brought back," said McCauley angrily, "I'll -court-martial whoever comes back with it, even the two of you! If one -of you comes back, there'll be a court of inquiry. Maybe you've worked -out a pretty story of an accident for the survivor to tell. But you -can't use it now, because I found the air tanks you threw away! If one -of you comes back, the inquiry will end in a court-martial and a murder -verdict!"</p> - -<p>Holmes' voice, stiff and steady, was as defiant as Kent's had been.</p> - -<p>"I take it, sir, that you're advising neither of us to come back. Very -well, sir! We've a little matter to settle between us. We can settle -that and the one who's left...."</p> - -<p>"If neither of you comes back," rasped McCauley, "the inquiry into -your deaths will inform an interested world that two officers—and -supposedly gentlemen—of the Space Service were actually two smart, -snide, shabby killers who overreached themselves! The Service will be -proud to have it known that its officers try to murder each other by -throwing away each other's air tanks. The Service will be very, very -proud!"</p> - -<p>The irony of the last words was corrosive.</p> - -<p>"Sir...." The two voices spoke together, outraged and despairing. -"Sir," panted Kent's voice, alone. "We'd no idea of anything like that, -sir! We've always hated each other, but...."</p> - -<p>His voice ended in a gulp. McCauley growled. A young officer can be -very much of a fool, of course, but he can be desperately solicitous -for the honor of the Service to which he is attached. McCauley spoke -with icy precision.</p> - -<p>"I am not concerned with your lives or your hatreds or your intentions. -I am concerned with the good name of the Space Service. I order you -both to come back here. Alive. Together. You will start immediately!"</p> - -<p>A dazed silence. Then Kent said:</p> - -<p>"But—you don't want us to bring the sledge...."</p> - -<p>"And we haven't—" this was Holmes—"we haven't enough air to get back! -How can we do it, sir?"</p> - -<p>McCauley relaxed in his small cubbyhole of an office. Very privately he -drew a breath of relief. But his tone remained stern.</p> - -<p>"You will head for Repeater One. If you remember, my voice goes from -the base here to Repeater One where it is relayed to Repeater Two. If -I chose the proper frequency it would go on through Three and Four -to Farside. Can you think of any advantage in being at Repeater One -instead of Two?"</p> - -<p>A long pause. Then Holmes' voice, dubious:</p> - -<p>"It's nearer the base, sir. No more than three hours' travel, if that -much. We could make it on one tank of air apiece, sir, and have the -extra one for margin. We could make it to base from there, sir, if we -were there. But we're not, and it's three hours' travel from here! We'd -get there...."</p> - -<p>"You <i>would</i> get there?" demanded McCauley ominously. "Or you <i>will</i> -get there?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Will</i>, sir." But the young officer's voice was bewildered.</p> - -<p>"For your information," said McCauley curtly, "the Repeater One relay -unit is exactly like the relay unit at Repeater Two. I may add that -it is in bright sunshine, but will not be so indefinitely."—This was -because McCauley remembered an air tank which had lain in shadow until -its metal shivered brittlely when struck and the air inside it was a -liquid. "It was carried to its position and mounted exactly as the -relay for Repeater Two was. Now figure it out for yourself! If you -still don't understand when you get to it, call me from there. Now get -moving! Sunset's not far away."</p> - -<p>He clicked off his microphone, but left the receiving unit on. The -relay at Repeater Two would pick up suit-radio speech and relay it -back, the pickup being from its all-direction antennae. McCauley heard -mumblings. Then, very distinctly, Holmes spoke.</p> - -<p>"Understand, I'm going to cooperate with you, getting to Repeater One, -but that doesn't mean I like you any better!"</p> - -<p>Kent said resentfully:</p> - -<p>"I figured you'd have to fight me for the air to get back with. And you -pulled the same trick on me! But we'll manage eventually...."</p> - -<p>More mutterings. Then:</p> - -<p>"Cripes! Let's get going!"</p> - -<p>There were those peculiar noises which a microphone inside a space suit -picks up and transmits. Breathings. Clankings. Sometimes the squeak of -metal sliding on metal.</p> - -<p>McCauley listened. Presently the noises faded and ceased. The two young -space-suited officers had descended the mountain to where they were not -in line of sight of the relay, and consequently it could not pick up -their suit-radio communications to relay back to McCauley.</p> - -<p>The communications officer tapped on the office door.</p> - -<p>"We're through to Farside Base, sir," he reported. "The relay system's -working splendidly. Farside just asked for an Earth Relay link to Lunar -Base."</p> - -<p>"Give it to 'em," said McCauley succinctly.</p> - -<p>He waited, listening. He had Repeater One as well as Two set so it -would retransmit any local pickup on helmet-phone frequency, but it was -half an hour before anything but the peculiar singing murmurs of empty -space came from the loud-speaker. Then he heard heavy breathing.</p> - -<p>He heard a colloquy between Kent and Holmes, far away in the lunar -mountains. They were evidently climbing somewhere, and part of the -climb necessarily took them through deep shadow, where the temperature -of the rock was down to night temperature. Their space suits could -handle the cold for a certain length of time, but the teeth of one of -the men were chattering before he came out into sunlight at the end of -the climb.</p> - -<p>McCauley heard Holmes say sarcastically:</p> - -<p>"I needed that last pull. Want me to thank you for it?"</p> - -<p>Kent's voice snapped as he answered Holmes.</p> - -<p>"I did it solely because McCauley would court-martial me if I came in -alone!"</p> - -<p>A pause, then the remote, transmitted sound of space shoes on stone. -Holmes spoke.</p> - -<p>"There's a way I can kill you easily. All I need do is get myself -killed."</p> - -<p>He laughed without mirth, and Kent said bitterly, "Go ahea—" Then -there was silence.</p> - -<p>The communications officer brought McCauley a message from Lunar Base -congratulating Grimaldi Base for completing the communications link -between the two hemispheres of the moon.</p> - -<p>"All right. Forget it," McCauley said.</p> - -<p>He continued to listen. An hour went by. Then, without warning, there -came an explosive "Look out!" There was a crash and then panting. -Kent's voice rasped, "Have you gotten killed?" Holmes answered through -clenched teeth. "Not yet. But how will I get out of here?" More -clankings; more words, painstakingly devoid of solicitude on the one -hand, or any amiable emotion such as gratitude on the other. McCauley -could visualize exactly what was going on from the words. Holmes had -fallen into a pothole, one of innumerable such mantraps scattered at -random everywhere.</p> - -<p>Kent got him out. Holmes grunted to indicate that he could do without -more help. That was that. Minutes later, McCauley heard Kent say dourly:</p> - -<p>"Three hours to Repeater One? We're over three hours now. How's your -air?"</p> - -<p>"All right," Holmes snapped. "When we get to that level place, we'll -split the extra tank."</p> - -<p>McCauley fretted. He could not know how far or how fast the two men -were moving, off in that deadly waste of obstacles. Three hours had -seemed a fair estimate. But plainly they'd had trouble.</p> - -<p>Their voices cut off before they reached a spot where they could divide -the air in the tank that had to be shared.</p> - -<p>Then silence, for a long, long time. When McCauley heard any sound -again, it was Holmes angrily calling to Kent, demanding that he say -whether he needed help or not. And then for a full half hour McCauley -listened to the sharp-voiced, sometimes abusive exchanges between the -two. Kent had touched the keystone of an unstable rock slope. It gave -way under him and went whirling downward in one of those infrequent, -slow-motion moon avalanches that are unimaginable until one has seen -them. Kent checked himself on the edge of a precipice over which the -rolling stones fell in utter silence until after tens of seconds they -struck and split, still noiselessly.</p> - -<p>He could not get away. It was dangerous to help him, lest another -avalanche be started. McCauley, listening, sweated as he glanced at a -clock. But Holmes was helping Kent.</p> - -<p>Later—much later—he heard clatterings and Kent's voice said -snappishly:</p> - -<p>"Well, here's Repeater One. McCauley said to come here. What do we do -now? I've air for fifteen minutes more."</p> - -<p>Holmes tried to speak, but couldn't. There were clankings.</p> - -<p>"Doggone you," Kent snarled shrilly, "you cheated on the air! You -didn't split even! Cripes!"</p> - -<p>Then he panted, and suddenly there was a hissing sound, and gasps. -McCauley's hands were tightly clenched as the sounds came to him from -both faraway space-suit microphones. But at the hissing sound he -relaxed.</p> - -<p>A little later Holmes' voice came, astonished.</p> - -<p>"That was it! He said that the relay here was exactly like the relay at -Repeater Two. It's a sledge, and it was brought here by two men—and it -has air tanks that they breathed from while they traveled! Kent, you -hooked me to the air. The pressure's way up! We can refill our suit -tanks and the spare!"</p> - -<p>Kent said waspishly:</p> - -<p>"So I noticed. Get your tank full-up and let me have my share.... -McCauley said to call him from here if we needed to. What say?"</p> - -<p>"McCauley can go to blazes!" rumbled Holmes. "It's not two hours from -here to the base. If we fill up on air, we can get there before sunset. -To heck with McCauley!"</p> - -<p>In the commanding officer's cubbyhole at Grimaldi Base, McCauley -relaxed again in his chair. His expression went from strain to -contentment. He reached over and flipped off the receiver.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The deep, dark, abysmally black night had fallen. Low down at the -western horizon Earth hung, blue-green and glamorous, just above the -crests of many ring mountains. It was a little past first quarter, and -it gave only the faintest of light to the tortured and splintered rock -formations outside Grimaldi Base. When Earth was full, there would be -bright earthlight on the moon, and the moon's surface would look much -stranger than any painter of fantastic pictures could imagine.</p> - -<p>Inside the base, McCauley was going toward his office when a hand -touched his arm. It was Kent. He looked forbidding and grim.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to speak to you, sir," he said formidably.</p> - -<p>McCauley waved him into the tiny office and closed the door.</p> - -<p>"What's it all about?" he asked. He touched a switch and a desk light -glowed. He touched another, but nothing in particular seemed to happen. -"I've forgotten," he said mildly, "any unpleasant things I may have -felt it necessary to say a few hours ago."</p> - -<p>"It's Holmes, sir," said Kent, his lips tightly pressed together. "He -didn't play fair, sir. When we split that extra air tank he cheated on -it. He gave me more than he took himself. And when I was stuck with an -avalanche ready to finish me any second, he...."</p> - -<p>His voice rose shrilly. He complained bitterly that Holmes had saved -his life at least four times.</p> - -<p>"He had to," McCauley pointed out. "I said I'd court-martial whichever -of you came in, if one came in alone."</p> - -<p>"That's the devil of it," said Kent bitterly. "He didn't do it that -way! He didn't do it grudgingly. Doggone him, he made me ashamed! If -it weren't that I'm hanged if I'll ask any man to overlook things like -I've done to him—and he's done to me—if I wouldn't be asking him to -overlook so much, I'd...."</p> - -<p>McCauley waited. But Kent did not finish. Instead he said savagely:</p> - -<p>"As a matter of self-respect, sir, I have to report that Holmes ought -to be commended officially for several acts beyond the call of duty, -sir—and for a man he hates and who has hated him. That's all, sir!"</p> - -<p>He turned to go out.</p> - -<p>"Hold it!" McCauley spoke sharply. "You will listen to something. -This is an order!" He threw a switch and said: "I recorded your -recommendation, Kent. But you will listen to this!"</p> - -<p>There was that minute whirring noise a tape recorder makes when it's -beginning its run. Kent stiffened. A voice came out of a speaker. But -it was not Kent's voice, it was Holmes'. And Kent, staring, heard -Holmes saying stiltedly and urgently that Kent had behaved in a highly -admirable manner that rated official commendation. He'd risked his life -for Holmes on several occasions, and if it weren't that he wouldn't ask -any man to forgive him things like he'd done to Kent....</p> - -<p>McCauley snapped off the recorder. The sound ceased.</p> - -<p>"Holmes came in here first," said McCauley dryly. "His and your -recommendations will have due attention. And I'm not going to suggest -that you go and shake hands with him, but I think he might like it."</p> - -<p>Kent's mouth opened and closed.</p> - -<p>"B ... but ..." he stammered.</p> - -<p>"Get out of my office!" roared McCauley. "I've got work to do!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1"><i>5</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(It seemed there wasn't much left to do in the way of space -pioneering. There was a Space Platform, and there were bases on the -moon, and drone ships had been out to Mars and sunward past Venus. -There were new and better fuels, and the problem involving the Van -Allen belts of highly charged atomic particles seemed to have been -solved. It looked as if the rest of the job of conquering space would -be just plain, slogging hard work of a strictly routine nature. This -process would be improved a little, and that would be developed a -little further, and progress toward the stars would be made by inches. -But things never work out simply. There is always something unexpected -and usually disastrous turning up. Just when things looked brightest, -somebody worked out the causes of solar flares and devised a way to -predict them. It looked like a neat and unimportant triumph of pure -theory. But when it was closely examined, it meant that the end of all -space travel was approaching.)</p></div> - - -<p>They called Colonel Ed McCauley back from the moon when Doctor Bramwell -peevishly refused to go along with the Venus shoot unless the assigned -crew was fired and replaced by more respectful men. The top brass felt -that McCauley might be able to get along with Bramwell and get the job -done. It was a highly necessary job. There was a sun-flare maximum -coming up, but if the Bramwell-Faraday screen could be improved enough, -it might not matter. Men might continue to occupy the Space Platform, -and activities at the bases on the moon might continue. All the men now -in space might not have to return to Earth to stay until the flares -died down—if they ever did. In effect, if the Bramwell-Faraday screen -could be built up to adequate strength, man's conquest of space might -continue. If the screen couldn't be built up, space travel must stop.</p> - -<p>And Doctor Bramwell was the key man in the project. He'd devised the -screen in the first place, and was more likely to be able to improve it -than anyone else. But he was not an amiable person. So, since he was a -civilian and couldn't be given orders, when he said peevishly that he -would not go along with the original crew, the men first assigned to -the Venus shoot were removed—swearing luridly—and Colonel Ed McCauley -came back from the moon to see what he could do.</p> - -<p>He had one interview with Bramwell, and was very respectful. Part of -the respect was genuine, and part was diplomacy. Bramwell did have one -of the two or three best brains on Earth, but his personality gave -McCauley reason to be disturbed.</p> - -<p>After the interview he consulted higher-ranking officers. He did not -think Bramwell was psychologically qualified to take part in the Venus -shoot. He thought the scientist would do better work if he stayed -home and directed somebody on the ship by tight-beam radio. McCauley -spoke forcefully. But Bramwell happened to have a near-monopoly of the -kind of brains that were required. And the psychological factor that -made McCauley doubtful made the doctor as temperamental as any prima -donna. The high brass knew all the reasons for McCauley's protest. -But if Bramwell felt himself pushed aside, he'd sulk. If he sulked, -he wouldn't do his best work. And his best work was an essential. So -McCauley was ordered to make do with Bramwell somehow.</p> - -<p>McCauley shrugged dubiously. He asked for Major Randy Hall to be -assigned as his second-in-command. Randy gloated when his appointment -came through, but McCauley shook his head gloomily.</p> - -<p>"There's no reason to feel good about it," he told Randy dourly, in -the almost completed Venus ship. "I'll be glad if you go along, but -that's not the idea. You're appointed to be the man who'll be fired if -Bramwell demands it."</p> - -<p>Randy blinked. The cramped, inconvenient, gadget-filled interior of the -Venus ship looked glamorous, when you thought of where it was going -and what had to be done in it.</p> - -<p>"The fact is," said McCauley, "—and the big brass knows it—the fact -is that Bramwell's scared. He's terrified at the idea of going out into -space. But he's ashamed to admit it. He'd rather die than let anyone -know he's in a panic. He's probably trying to keep from admitting it -even to himself. So he's making trouble to delay the moment of truth. -He's trying to keep from facing the fact that he either has to go or -else admit he won't."</p> - -<p>"He's afraid of going?" asked Randy incredulously.</p> - -<p>"Just as some people are afraid of heights, or spiders, or income-tax -forms," said McCauley distastefully. "There's nothing disgraceful about -being scared. If he'd only admit it, he could fight it or accept it. -In either case he'd be all right. But he insists to himself that he's -not only a brainy man but a normally courageous one. So he insists -he'll go, and he won't let anybody go in his place, but he can't make -himself believe he'll go. So he sets up all sorts of obstacles—crazy -ones—ridiculous ones. He doesn't realize it, but he may subconsciously -be trying to postpone the shoot until it's too late to make it. If that -happens he won't have to face the fact that he's scared."</p> - -<p>Randy grimaced.</p> - -<p>"And you expect me...."</p> - -<p>"To keep him busy," said McCauley. "Try to fix things so that it'll be -take-off time before he realizes it. Keep him away from me so he can't -pick a quarrel and insist that I be fired. Make yourself the one he'll -insist he can't stand, when what he can't stand is the trip."</p> - -<p>Randy grimaced again.</p> - -<p>"You're a rat," he said resignedly. "But suppose I charm him so he -doesn't insist that I be thrown out?"</p> - -<p>"Fine!" said McCauley. "There'll be a crew of only two, with him as the -third. I'd rather have you than anybody else. But Bramwell's devising -excuses for refusing to go. You could be one excuse."</p> - -<p>"I'll polish some apples," said Randy, "and fearlessly mixing -metaphors, I'll beard him in his den. Maybe I can get so popular he -won't want anybody fired."</p> - -<p>"Good luck to you," said McCauley skeptically. "You'll need it!"</p> - -<p>He plunged into the remaining preparations for the shoot, and Randy -went to take over the job of keeping Bramwell from meeting the various -people who passionately wanted to have nothing to do with him.</p> - -<p>The basic problem the Venus shoot was to attack was at once simple -but apparently hopeless. From time to time the sun displays "flares"; -these are violent upsurgings of its photosphere, not in the nature of -sunspots but somehow associated with them. A flare may begin without -obvious warning and in fifteen minutes become monstrously violent, -throwing off highly ionized fragments of molecules at the highest -speeds material particles can attain. Some of these particles, in time, -reach Earth; magnetic storms and auroral displays are the consequences -of their arrival. They are harmless to people who live at the bottom of -the planet's ocean of air.</p> - -<p>But they are not harmless to the crew of a ship in space, or to the -staff of that combined way station and observatory which is the Space -Platform, or to the occupants of the bases on the moon. The Space -Platform itself was set in orbit only three thousand miles out from -Earth because of the Van Allen belts of just such particles that have -been swung into paths around the earth and form invisible rings more or -less resembling the visible rings of Saturn. At three thousand miles -out these particles are not deadly. Farther out they are.</p> - -<p>It was not until the Bramwell-Faraday screen was devised that it became -possible for a man to land upon the moon. With the screen, a man could -survive passing through the Van Allen belts in screened ships and set -up moon bases. But the margin of safety was not great. It was enough, -but barely so.</p> - -<p>The Venus shoot was planned because this state of affairs would not -last. Astrophysicists had developed a system for predicting solar -flares. Then they'd found evidence and, later, proof that the flare -frequency was due for an enormous and probably permanent rise. Dense -clouds of flare particles would be released. The Van Allen bands -would be intensified. Within a year, any man who went beyond Earth's -protecting atmosphere could expect to get a fatal dose of radiation -burns within an hour's exposure, a flare particle being "radiation" in -the same sense as the particles thrown off by radioactive materials. -The Bramwell-Faraday screen had to be improved, or else. And the only -way to know that it was improved was to try it against stronger and -stronger streams of the deadly particles until it failed—or worked. -Which meant that somebody had to go out to where flare particles were -abundant.</p> - -<p>So McCauley labored on the ship that was already nearly set to dive -sunward. It would be equipped with the screen that had made Earth-moon -travel possible. It would have on board Bramwell, who'd designed the -screen to begin with. It would plunge into flare-particle radiation of -such intensity that the ship's crew <i>might</i> survive—with the present -screen on full—but this was by no means certain. The ship would dive -sunward to Venus, swing around that planet, and drift back out to the -orbit of Earth. On the way, Bramwell would try to adapt his screen -to protect the ship and himself in it. It was a highly melodramatic -proceeding, and Bramwell looked very heroic.</p> - -<p>But he was a most unpleasant man. Having met him, McCauley estimated -his personal attractiveness as much less than one-tenth the personal -charm of an irritated skunk.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ten days after his assignment to the Venus shoot, Randy came to -McCauley with a sort of grim humor in his expression.</p> - -<p>"I took Bramwell over the ship," he said. "Since he's going to live and -work in it, he thought he ought to see it."</p> - -<p>"That's reasonable," admitted McCauley.</p> - -<p>Randy held up his hand and ticked off on his fingers.</p> - -<p>"Item. He drinks a glass of orange juice, a large one, every night -before retiring. A supply of orange juice must be provided."</p> - -<p>"All right," said McCauley. "Anything else?"</p> - -<p>"Item," said Randy. "He is extremely annoyed by noise. He must have -a working area that is lined with soundproof material and has a -soundproof door so he can have absolute quiet."</p> - -<p>McCauley grunted.</p> - -<p>"If you can think of anything quieter than space with one's rockets -off.... But okay. What else?"</p> - -<p>"Item. He suspects he's allergic to the vegetation in the -air-freshening system," said Randy. "I promised it would be checked."</p> - -<p>"We'll make impressive allergy tests for him," said McCauley. "If -that's all...."</p> - -<p>"It isn't," said Randy. "He wants a bunk with a hard mattress. He won't -use the acceleration chair except for take-off."</p> - -<p>McCauley stared.</p> - -<p>"But didn't you tell him?..."</p> - -<p>"I," said Randy wryly, "am polishing apples. I want to go on this shoot -even if he does, which means I want to go very badly. No. I didn't -tell him that in free-fall flight with no gravity a steel plate is as -comfortable as a down pillow. Why start an argument with a man in a -blue funk?... He showed me the reference library he insists he has to -take with him. It weighs eight hundred pounds."</p> - -<p>"There," said McCauley, "he has to lose! We can't take eight hundred -pounds of excess weight. We simply can't do it!"</p> - -<p>Randy grinned.</p> - -<p>"I showed him a moon-base microfilm reader and offered him the -equivalent of four tons of books on half a dozen reels. He couldn't -refuse to buy. He only named half a dozen book titles not already on -film, and they're being filmed now."</p> - -<p>"Anything else?"</p> - -<p>"Not so far," said Randy. "He's scared and ashamed of being scared. I -don't think he'll actually get up nerve enough to back out, but I'm -sure he'll never get the nerve to go. When he finds out the actual -take-off time I look for trouble."</p> - -<p>"What kind?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe hysterics," said Randy. "I'm almost sorry for the guy, but not -quite. A man with his brains ought to face the fact that he feels -timid, and either fight it or admit it. Especially, a man ought to -realize that other people can tell what's the matter with him."</p> - -<p>McCauley considered, frowning.</p> - -<p>"For your information only," he said, "take-off will be 1400 hours -Tuesday, neither plus nor minus. We'll have to stop at the Platform -to refuel, and the Platform has a schedule. We'll need to swing very -close to Venus for its pull to change our course, and Venus has a -schedule. And we'll need to meet Earth farther along in its orbit, and -Earth has a schedule. None of them can be changed to humor Bramwell's -psychological idiosyncrasies. We take off at 1400 hours Tuesday!"</p> - -<p>But Randy shook his head.</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh! Friend Ed, we're in trouble!"</p> - -<p>"He won't go?"</p> - -<p>"He won't go," said Randy. "I'm just learning how to handle him. I -believed I could trick him into committing himself so firmly that he'd -go, no matter how much something inside of him was screaming that it -didn't want to. But Tuesday's too early. I don't think there's a chance -to get him either to go or admit he won't. Not by Tuesday."</p> - -<p>"That's too bad," said McCauley grimly. "We need him for our crew—him -or a reasonable facsimile. Do you know what they used to do when they -needed sailors?"</p> - -<p>"Pressed them," said Randy. "Press gangs grabbed them. But that was the -law then. It isn't now."</p> - -<p>"I wasn't thinking of a press gang," said McCauley. "Much more often, a -man got shanghaied. We've got to have that souped-up Bramwell screen!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>More days passed. Doctor Bramwell announced firmly that he would not be -ready to take off on the Venus shoot on Tuesday at 1400 hours. It was -pointed out to him that all the computations for the Venus shoot were -based on that time for departure. Doctor Bramwell said firmly that he -would not be ready to leave at that time. It was suggested that he name -someone who could take his place and work out the improved screen, of -course on the basis of his advice and suggestions tight-beamed out to -the Venus ship. Doctor Bramwell said indignantly that nobody else was -capable of doing his work. But he would not be ready to depart at 1400 -hours on Tuesday.</p> - -<p>There was a complete impasse. He was immovable. The shoot had to -be made at a certain time. He refused to be ready at that time. -Preparations for the shoot went on. He calmly and ponderously ignored -them.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At 1400 hours on Tuesday a hundred and eighty feet of streamlined, -fire-spouting metal plunged skyward from Cape Canaveral. At eighty -thousand feet, the first stage dropped off; at seventy miles, the -second stage. The third stage, which was the Venus ship, went whipping -on out into space. It circled Earth once, gradually overtaking the -Space Platform as it floated serenely in emptiness three thousand miles -out from the Earth's surface. With tiny, finicky jettings of rocket -fuel, and the use of steam-jets for final maneuvering, McCauley brought -the Venus ship into contact with the Space Platform.</p> - -<p>There was swift and efficient action. Men in space suits swarmed out -of the brilliantly sunlit, faceted artificial moon. They connected -fuel hoses and topped off the Venus ship's tanks. They floated a -second-stage unit out and bolted it in place. They painstakingly got -a giant first-stage unit out of the ship lock and set it where it -belonged. At the Space Platform, the Venus ship regained the fuel and -the ability to accelerate that it had used up getting there.</p> - -<p>One and a quarter hours after contact, McCauley reported back to -Canaveral that all was well, that Doctor Bramwell was in excellent -condition and making no complaints, and that all instruments and -equipment had functioned perfectly during the trip from Earth. Then he -backed the reenlarged Venus ship away from the Platform.</p> - -<p>There was a long, long pause while he adjusted the nose of the ship -with micrometric accuracy to an exact, particular spot and made sure -that it stayed there. The ship had drifted a good mile from the -Platform when he stabbed home the rocket-firing button.</p> - -<p>As usual, the instantly following sensation was that of a roof falling -in on one and several other roofs falling in on top of it. The Venus -ship accelerated for seventy-eight seconds, its nose pointed sunward. -McCauley'd set the rocket timer for that length of firing.</p> - -<p>When the rockets died, he floated weightless in a ship which had no -weight. His head tried to split wide open and let his aching brains run -out. His hands were puffy and swollen. His eyes felt as if they were on -fire. Beside him, Randy groaned and then growled.</p> - -<p>"Doggone the man who invented rockets," said Randy painfully.</p> - -<p>"See how Bramwell's doing," grunted McCauley. "I've got to see how we -made out."</p> - -<p>His headache went slowly away as he checked the ship's line of motion -against Earth, growing small behind him, and Venus and the sun ahead. -It was reasonably satisfactory. He checked the ship's velocity by -the inertia computer and by a tight-beam query back to Earth. His -query went back on microwave with a beautifully accurate piezocrystal -regulating his frequency. His speed could be determined by the Doppler -effect. Both the inertia computer and the Doppler reading indicated -that his velocity would need a slight boost later. A time and duration -of rocket firing would be computed. So far, though, so good.</p> - -<p>"We'd better set up housekeeping," said McCauley. "How's Bramwell?"</p> - -<p>"Pulse and respiration okay," reported Randy. "But I bet he busts a -button when he wakes up."</p> - -<p>McCauley eased out of his acceleration chair. He ached in every bone -and muscle from the effects of the two successive take-offs. But he -cast an accustomed eye about the ship. It was not a big ship, and -Bramwell's stipulated soundproof cabin took up a large part of it. It -was, actually, not much more than an oversized moonship. But there were -features to be arranged that the short-voyage ships from Earth to moon -did not bother with.</p> - -<p>McCauley floated over to the packed-up air system. In a space voyage -up to a week in length, it is as economical of weight to carry air as -to purify it. But the Venus shoot would last much, much longer than -a week. So McCauley unpacked the air system. The vegetation had been -padded lest it be bruised or broken in the take-offs. He set up the -unit and started the hydroponic pump. Randy adjusted the drinkables -unit. McCauley set out meals to thaw, in readiness for dinner. Randy -put the sanitary facilities and the waste-disposal unit in operation. -In effect, the ship had had to be decommissioned as a livable vessel -while it was being flung out from Earth as a projectile. Now, in far -space and going even farther, the two men transformed it into one -of those specialized environments that supply men in emptiness with -everything they require except day, night, weight, up, down, normal -sounds, and a feeling of belonging where they are.</p> - -<p>One homey touch appeared before the recommissioning of the ship -was complete. McCauley opened a very small box and took from it an -infinitesimal yellow object that stirred as he handled it. It was a -tiny canary which had been stowed in the equivalent of a canary-sized -acceleration chair. Now it struggled desperately in his hand.</p> - -<p>"You'll do, Mr. Perkins," said McCauley. "You're all right!"</p> - -<p>He put the panting little creature—Mr. Perkins—into a cage hardly -larger than itself. It let out a bewildered chirp when he released it. -It struggled wildly, in panic because there was no up or down. McCauley -captured it and put its groping claws against the perch. They gripped -it. He set up a curiously intricate device inside the cage.</p> - -<p>"He'll do," he said in satisfaction. "And it looks as if his -food-and-water system is going to work, even in no-gravity. That was a -job to design!"</p> - -<p>He checked two larger devices with extreme care. One was the -flare-particle counter, designed to make an audible click for every -hundred, every thousand, or every ten-thousand flare-particle -penetrations registered. McCauley set it for hundreds. It clicked every -three or four seconds, which was a high concentration but still within -the tolerance limit. The other device was the oxygen-supply flutter -valve. The plants in the air system would absorb carbon dioxide from -the air as the men's breaths produced it, and release oxygen to replace -it. But it was not quite a hundred per cent replacement. From time to -time more oxygen had to be added from storage tanks to keep the air -volume constant and the oxygen percentage right. The flutter valve took -care of all this. It made a curiously irritable, buzzing sound when it -worked.</p> - -<p>The ship went on. Ahead and off to the right lay the steady, -last-quarter crescent of Venus. Above and below and on every hand -there were stars. Nobody on Earth ever sees the stars as they appear -in space. At the bottom of Earth's atmosphere, the keenest eye can -see no more than three thousand stars at any one time. Out here one -could count as many in a circle no larger than the sun's disk. They -shone in innumerable colors. The Milky Way was not a filmy mist across -the heavens, but a ribbon of jewels set in pure light; Earth was a -glamorous blue-green gem with white spots at its top and bottom, and -the moon was a shining smaller circle.</p> - -<p>Randy looked outside, as McCauley did. Then Randy yawned, to hide the -awe that every man feels when he looks upon the immensity that men -impertinently intend to conquer.</p> - -<p>"Well, now," said Randy. "We're well started and maybe a bit of a nap -is sensible. Anyhow, Bramwell's sleeping sweetly. Should I loose him?"</p> - -<p>"Wait till he wakes," said McCauley. "Things feel pretty good," he -added.</p> - -<p>Randy was silent, and they savored the feel of the ship together. -It was strictly a feeling for technically-minded men. There were -innumerable instruments, and all of them registered well within the -limits of what it was proper for such instruments to read. The ship was -on course, floating in immensity. It had ample reserves of fuel. It had -left the Space Platform with all its take-off-from-Earth fuel replaced. -Besides, having been launched from the Platform at the proper instant, -it had the Platform's orbital speed converted to sunward velocity and -reinforced by blasts from the new first-stage booster which was not yet -fully expended. The replaced second-stage had not been touched, and -there was a third stage in reserve. The air system was functioning. The -oxygen flutter valve made a consoling noise toward the ship's stern. It -sounded like a staccato Bronx cheer. There was plenty of oxygen stored -under tremendous pressure. There were resources of food. And there was -all the equipment that Bramwell could possibly need for the development -and replacement of the ship's present Bramwell-Faraday screen, so that -men could stay in space and go farther and farther from home.</p> - -<p>It was while they felt the fine contentment of men with a job to do and -the material for doing it that Bramwell awoke. At the beginning he was -starkly bewildered. He remembered drinking his glass of orange juice -the night before. But he remembered nothing more until he found himself -trussed up in an acceleration chair, in no-weight, in space, in the -one situation he'd been unable to nerve himself to face.</p> - -<p>When he realized what had happened to him, he went into blind, -screaming, fighting hysterics.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They were three days on their way when McCauley said patiently:</p> - -<p>"I've told you. You can use the communicator back to Earth and protest -that you were kidnaped. You can arrange for us to be arrested when we -return. But we can't turn back. It isn't possible. I wouldn't if I -could. Anyhow you're not nearly as scared as you were. You can think -straight, now, certainly! And you can see how ridiculous you'll look -if you become known as the man who had to be shanghaied for a space -trip because he'd neither the nerve to go nor the intestinal fortitude -to admit the fact and let another man try to do his work. If you want -to be known as a complete ass, you can. But do you?—Do you want to be -known as an utter ass?"</p> - -<p>Bramwell glared at him. Nobody can stay panicked for days on end. If a -man had had a Damoclean sword hanging over his head for days, he'd wind -up accustomed to it. He wouldn't like it, but he couldn't stay scared. -Fear is an emergency mechanism to increase the pulse rate and release -adrenalin and tone the muscles for combat or flight. It is inherently a -limited response. It has a maximum duration.</p> - -<p>And Bramwell was now past the limit of the time a man can stay -hysterically terrified. He didn't like space. He didn't like no-weight. -But most devastatingly and bitterly—now that he was no longer -terrified—he was ashamed. McCauley and Randy had seen him in babbling, -incoherent frenzy. His dignity was utterly gone. And he hated Randy -and McCauley poisonously because they'd seen what he would not admit -to himself—that he was afraid. It was humiliation to face them. It -was an intolerable rasping-raw of his vanity to be in their presence. -They knew he'd been afraid and that he'd bluffed to hide it. They'd -seen him crack up when he found himself in space. He was shamed -beyond endurance. Therefore he raged, and therefore he hated them -irreconcilably.</p> - -<p>McCauley went on as patiently as before:</p> - -<p>"You can do your work now, and it will never be known that you had to -be forced to it like a scared little boy. Or you can not do it, and it -won't get done, and the history books will say that men once started -for the stars but had to come home because Doctor Bramwell's pride -prevented him from working on the problem he was the only man who could -solve."</p> - -<p>Randy, watching, nodded to himself. McCauley was doing a good job of -argument. That last "only man who could" was flattery, and Bramwell -ought to respond to it.</p> - -<p>"I shall charge," said Bramwell spitefully, "that you two prevented me -from doing my work by imposing impossible working conditions on me!"</p> - -<p>"Name possible ones," said McCauley patiently, "and you'll get them if -they're available."</p> - -<p>The canary, Mr. Perkins, chirped from its cage. The bird was upside -down in relation to Bramwell, but it seemed to have adjusted admirably -to the conditions of space travel.</p> - -<p>"The soundproofed room," said Bramwell triumphantly, "is ridiculously -small. I need more space. But above all I need quiet! I need to be -isolated from the society of fools and from noises I cannot endure!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Perkins chirped again. The canary was still bewildered, but at -least it could see now, and it'd found out how to get at its food and -water, and it felt quite cheerful.</p> - -<p>"... And you might start," rasped Bramwell, "by strangling that blasted -canary! I abominate canaries!"</p> - -<p>"Things are looking up, Ed," Randy said cheerfully. "There can't be -anything very much wrong with a man who hates dogs, children, and -canary birds!"</p> - -<p>But McCauley had begun thoughtfully to examine the layout of the -interior of the ship.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They were two weeks on the way toward Venus. The flare-particle counter -clicked every second and a half. The sun's disk, ahead, was appreciably -larger and Venus was a thinner crescent than before. Earth was a small -object, though still larger than Venus, and the moon was very small -indeed. At this distance the Space Platform was, of course, invisible. -But the changes inside the ship were more marked than those outside.</p> - -<p>The interior of the ship was now divided into two parts. McCauley and -Randy had pulled down the small cubicle made of soundproofing material -that had been built for Bramwell to work in. They had used the same -material to wall off a full half of the ship. There was a door in the -wall, and part of the air-freshening system operated through sound -baffles so that the air in the walled-off space was changed, quite -silently, with the same regularity as the air in the forward end of the -ship, where McCauley and Randy did their work.</p> - -<p>But McCauley was vaguely disturbed. It had developed gradually, but -he did not feel right. Even though he could not become physically -exhausted in a total absence of gravity, he felt dull and weary. There -were measurements of flare-particle frequency to be recorded, both from -outside the ship where the Bramwell-Faraday screen did not operate, and -from inside where it did. The figures were curiously difficult to copy. -But there was no reason for him to feel weak and stupid. The air system -worked perfectly. The food was adequate. The ship moved steadily, -silently, perfectly on its way at a certain number of miles per second, -which was increasing a trifle because of the sun's gravitational field. -Everything seemed perfect. But he didn't feel right. Randy was not -himself, either. And Mr. Perkins sang only half-heartedly.</p> - -<p>The canary began, now, what started out to be a beautifully executed -trill, but which died away after half a dozen tremolos.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Perkins isn't in good voice today. What's troubling him?" Randy -spoke with a certain effort.</p> - -<p>McCauley concentrated on the report he was filling out. He shook his -head and looked again; he was startled.</p> - -<p>"Look here!" he said sharply. "We had the screen on when we left the -Platform. It kept out the radiation when we went through the Van Allen -belt. But now we're nearer the sun. Stuff's coming through the screen! -It's been coming through for days! And we haven't noticed it! What's -the matter with us?"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't know," said Randy listlessly.</p> - -<p>"We're not on the ball," said McCauley. "We've got to do something -about this!"</p> - -<p>He rose from his chair. It took but the slightest of effort, and he -floated free. He reached out his hand to the wall and directed the -motion of his whole body. He approached the soundproof barrier that now -divided the ship into two separate parts. He caught a handhold on the -door and knocked.</p> - -<p>Minutes later the door opened. There was no gravity, so Bramwell did -not stand in the opening. He floated there, scowling. He and McCauley -faced each other, very much like swimmers, except that they swam in air.</p> - -<p>"Radiation's coming through the screen," said McCauley. "It shouldn't. -Not this early, anyhow. Shouldn't something be done? I'm ordered to -consult you about all adjustments of the screen."</p> - -<p>He was vaguely dissatisfied with himself for asking. He should not have -to ask anyone for instructions. He was ordered to in this case, but -decisions were his job.</p> - -<p>"Turn it up!" said Bramwell peevishly. Then he seemed to notice that -he had not been actively unpleasant. He moved quickly to correct the -omission. "How many times," he demanded furiously, "have I told you not -to disturb me! Noise upsets me! Leave me alone! Isn't it enough that I -have to share the ship with clods, without having you bang on my door?" -He glared around the forward part of the ship. Mr. Perkins sang again, -a half-hearted attempt at a warble. "Noise! Noise! Noise!" rasped -Bramwell.</p> - -<p>He pulled the door shut. McCauley floated lethargically to the screen -unit and made an adjustment.</p> - -<p>Nothing important apparently happened, but something ceased to happen -so often. The sharp, slightly irregular clicking of the particle -counter seemed to stop. It was a full five seconds before it clicked -again, six before it clicked a second time, and five before it clicked -a third.</p> - -<p>"I wish," said McCauley lethargically, "that I'd been a little more on -the job. Why didn't we notice the radiation count going up, Randy?"</p> - -<p>"Bramwell complains if we touch the side of the ship because it makes -noises inside his sanctum," Randy answered. "Maybe we've been trying -not to think for fear the noise would disturb him."</p> - -<p>McCauley considered the comment carefully, which was itself an -indication that he was not up to par.</p> - -<p>"No," he said slowly, "it's not that. But we don't feel right. Maybe -we'd better take our temperatures. It would be ghastly if we were -getting sick! Bramwell couldn't feed himself, let alone get the ship -around Venus!"</p> - -<p>With some effort he found a clinical thermometer. But they did not have -any fever. In fact, their temperatures were considerably lower than the -98.6° F. which is considered the norm for men in good health.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They were two weeks and five days on their way. McCauley shook his -head to clear his mind. He reread what he had just written in the -ship's log, vaguely puzzled because it did not seem to make sense. With -enormous effort he checked each word and found that he had left one -out here and another one there. With great determination he put them -in. Somewhere in his mind there was a feeling that he needed to do -something very urgently, but he could not think what it was.</p> - -<p>"Randy," he said, and something in his brain noted that his voice was -plaintive, "I can't seem to think straight! There's something I ought -to do! What is it?"</p> - -<p>Randy shook his head. He floated in the straps of his acceleration -chair; not that the chair was needed, but because it held him still so -that there was no possible chance of his striking against the unmuffled -wall of the ship and so sending a solid-conduction sound back to -Bramwell.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Randy flatly. "I don't feel too bright myself."</p> - -<p>The soundproof door of the after compartment opened. Bramwell came out. -Somehow he looked pathetic and frustrated, but he essayed rage.</p> - -<p>"I have to have silence!" he cried ferociously. "You are making noises! -I cannot think! And I must think! I have to have silence!"</p> - -<p>McCauley said numbly:</p> - -<p>"I'm sitting here, and Randy's in his chair. There's no noise."</p> - -<p>"There is noise, or why can't I think? You are doing something to keep -me from thinking!... That canary! It has been singing! That's it! You -must wring its neck so I can think!"</p> - -<p>"No," said McCauley, "it hasn't been singing. It hasn't sung for a -long time. It did, but it doesn't any more. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Something is the matter!" insisted Bramwell desperately. "I'm stupid! -I'm as stupid as you! And I must use my brains!"</p> - -<p>"You've got everything we can give you," said McCauley without -particular emphasis. "We can't seem to do our work right either."</p> - -<p>"There is some new condition we do not know about," Bramwell said, in -a sort of puny panic. "There is something in space which is working to -destroy us! Here! Send this message back to Earth!" McCauley took the -slip of paper on which words were written in an erratic, spidery hand. -"But <i>I</i> think you are making noises!"</p> - -<p>Bramwell pulled himself back into his soundproof half of the ship. The -door closed behind him, but not quite in time to cut off the beginning -of an agitated whimpering sound.</p> - -<p>McCauley pushed the beam-on button. He should have checked the time, -Earth time, to see if Canaveral were on the side of Earth from which -it could pick up the beamed message from space. It wasn't, but he -didn't think to check. He read, in a monotone, the message Bramwell had -written out:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>I feel the purpose impossible probable effect similar to X-rays with -this is vital to further but I have no instruments.</i></p> - -<p class="ph2"><i>Bramwell.</i></p></div> - -<p>He was vaguely puzzled but he read it faithfully. Then, without -checking for reception, he turned off the transmitter. He went back -to the painful task of trying to make the ship's log entry at which -he'd been working for a long time. He assured himself that though the -message did not mean anything to him, they'd understand it back on -Earth.</p> - -<p>But they didn't. It didn't get back to Earth. The Venus ship had been -pointed very accurately so that the parabolic reflector for the tight -beam to Earth was perfectly aligned. But Bramwell had protested the -faint, faint hum of the gyros which kept the ship pointed correctly. -McCauley had turned them off. He'd meant to re-align the ship for each -period of communication, but his mind was confused and he forgot.</p> - -<p>Earth had received no message from the Venus ship for six days past. -There was consternation in the Space Service.</p> - -<p>It wouldn't have lessened any had Bramwell's message been picked up. -He'd meant to say that he felt that achievement of the Venus ship's -purpose was impossible because of something which doomed the men in -it. He thought it probable that some previously unnoticed effect of -radiation, perhaps similar to X-rays, was destroying their capacity to -think. This effect should be studied. It was vital to further space -exploration. But he had no instruments that could detect it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They were three weeks out from Earth. The Bramwell-Faraday screen was -turned up to full strength, and still the radiation counter clicked -and clicked. It now indicated a higher frequency of radiation-particle -penetration than was experienced in any of the Van Allen bands around -Earth. Bramwell was a pitiable figure. Enough of his mental capacity -remained to inform him of his intellectual degeneration. Now and again -he popped into the forward part of the ship, trying to catch McCauley -or Randy at some activity that was stealing his brain power away. When -he failed to do so, he reacted with rages that would have been alarming -except that he had not the energy for anything more than words.</p> - -<p>McCauley struggled against a massive indifference. One part of his -mind stood aside and knew that the occupants of the ship were doomed, -but he could not care. Mr. Perkins no longer moved about its cage. -Its feathers fluffed, the bird might be dead on its perch. McCauley -tried painstakingly to write up the ship's log, but what he wrote -was confused, meaningless. Even his handwriting grew steadily more -illegible.</p> - -<p>Then, at three weeks and one day, the leak alarms rang stridently. They -made a frightful clamor all over the ship. The few compartment doors -closed tightly.</p> - -<p>"Leak," muttered McCauley to himself. "Prob'ly meteorite. Got to get in -suit and fix leak...."</p> - -<p>Fighting an overwhelming lethargy, he floated toward the space suit -rack, missed it by yards, doggedly made his way back to it, and numbly -began to get into a suit. Randy worked at the same task. He stopped to -rest.</p> - -<p>"Randy," said McCauley protestingly. "Get in suit! Leak!"</p> - -<p>He himself was incredibly feeble. Had there been weight in the ship, he -could not have lifted his helmet to his head. He settled it over his -shoulders, but his fingers failed to turn the thumbnuts tight. Even so, -there was the familiar feel of air blowing across his face.</p> - -<p>Strength came to him. Not instantly, but with the first breaths of -air from the suit tank his head seemed to clear a little. After more -breaths, his hands moved assuredly. He began to realize the change -in himself and gulped down deep lungfuls of the dry, curiously -flat-smelling stored air.</p> - -<p>Randy hadn't finished getting into his suit; he seemed to have gone to -sleep. But when McCauley approached him in the space suit, Randy's eyes -turned toward him incuriously.</p> - -<p>McCauley thrust him into the space suit and clamped down the helmet. -Randy suddenly stared.</p> - -<p>"Something's been wrong with the ship's air!" snapped McCauley, feeling -more like himself every second. "It's no good! Breathe deep, Randy! -Breathe deep!"</p> - -<p>Randy obeyed. His eyes cleared.</p> - -<p>"Bramwell!" snapped McCauley. "Get him in a suit! He hasn't sense -enough to do it himself!"</p> - -<p>He flung himself at the control board. The leak was....</p> - -<p>But there was no leak. The leak alarm had rung, but every pressure -indicator in every part of the ship showed the same figure. It was.... -McCauley gazed incredulously at the dials. The ship's interior pressure -was 12.8 pounds to the square inch as against a normal 14.7. The -difference was enough to set off the leak alarm, but a thinning of the -air like this was not enough to cause the stupidity, the lethargy, the -confused and helpless thinking which McCauley—marveling—realized had -appeared during the past three weeks.</p> - -<p>He heard a howling noise between the clamors of the gongs. It was -Bramwell.</p> - -<p>"You're making a noise!" wailed Bramwell. "I can't have a noise! I must -have quiet...."</p> - -<p>McCauley spoke crisply into the transmitter, sending a tight-beam -message back to Earth. It would be minutes before it was received, as -against the less-than-two-second lag in a message sent from the moon to -Earth.</p> - -<p>"We were suffering from oxygen starvation," said McCauley briskly. "The -plants in the air-system's hydroponic garden absorbed carbon dioxide -and gave off oxygen, but not quite cent per cent. There was a steady -small loss of oxygen in the ship, caused by the use of oxygen as well -as carbon by the growing plants. This small loss should have been -made up by the addition of oxygen to keep the volume of the ship's -air constant. But it happened that the oxygen flutter valve became -jammed...."</p> - -<p>He heard an explosive sigh of relief behind him, but he carefully did -not look up at Bramwell. Bramwell was very silent these days, and he -practiced extreme self-control. He realized now that he'd let too many -things bother him. But he was still bothered, and horribly so, by the -memory of his inability to make up his mind to face the journey in -space, or to arrange for somebody to substitute for him, so he'd had to -be shanghaied. He was even more bothered by the memory of his behavior -when he found himself in a ship off for a swing in to Venus and out -again. McCauley and Randy ignored these past happenings, and Bramwell -would never be able to bring himself to mention them. But he was very -much ashamed.</p> - -<p>The thing that disturbed him most, however—the thing that made -him extremely conscientious and extremely self-controlled—was the -consequences of not facing things and of trying to cover up his own -shortcomings. When he got over his hysterics he wanted to get even -with McCauley and Randy by defying them. But he hadn't dared defy them -openly. He'd been peevish and ashamed and humiliated. To him the bronx -cheer of the oxygen flutter valve had seemed a mockery. But he still -felt superior to pieces of machinery. So when the flutter valve went -"<i>Tht-tht-tht-tht!</i>" at him, he angrily turned it off. And the human -race almost had to stay on Earth forever because of it. The three of -them came very close to dying.</p> - -<p>McCauley continued talking matter-of-factly into the transmitter.</p> - -<p>"As a result of the jammed valve, there was a steady lowering of the -oxygen content of the air, but the carbon dioxide content did not -increase. The air was getting closer and closer to pure nitrogen all -the time, but we didn't notice, because a person feels suffocated by an -excess of carbon dioxide rather than by a lack of oxygen. We were all -dying quite comfortably when the leak alarm went off because the air -pressure was dropping as the oxygen left us. When the alarm went off, -we found the trouble and brought the oxygen concentration up to what it -should be. We think there should be no more trouble. In fact...."</p> - -<p>He stood up and handed the microphone to Bramwell. Bramwell hesitated a -moment. Then he spoke.</p> - -<p>"I have to report that the problem of a stronger Bramwell-Faraday -screen field seems to be solved. This particular accident suggested -a theory. Quite coincidentally, the theory resembled one aspect of -charged-particle theory. It led to an idea. The new screen has a very -gratifying reflex action which uses the velocity of the flare particles -themselves to increase the screen's resistance. The charged particles -are tricked into defeating themselves. I will have a detailed account -of the theory and the apparatus shortly."</p> - -<p>Mr. Perkins, in its cage against the wall, burst into song. The canary -began with a trill and went on to a warble; then Mr. Perkins essayed a -glocken. He accomplished it triumphantly. Bramwell scowled at it from -habit. But then he carefully smoothed out his forehead as he handed the -microphone back to McCauley. He nodded at the tiny cage.</p> - -<p>"Not bad," he admitted. "Not bad at all!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Venus ship got back to its rendezvous with Earth some four months -and eighteen days after take-off. At that time, this was the longest -space journey ever made by man. But it was not only the longest trip. -As a result of it, the reflex Bramwell screen had been developed along -a new principle: The higher the velocity of a charged particle, the -firmer the screen's resistance to its passage. Since the screen could -stop even the highest-energy cosmic particles, the effect of such -particles upon living matter could be determined by comparing exposed -organisms—human beings and all other living things on Earth—to other -organisms shielded from cosmic radiation. The ship, too, had made -some close-range infrared photographs of Venus and prepared a fairly -complete map of the planetary features underneath the cloud bank. The -length of Venus' day was established. The....</p> - -<p>It was a highly successful expedition from all standpoints.</p> - -<p>But Randy insisted that the most remarkable result was the change in -Bramwell. There was no doubt that Bramwell had one of the best brains -in the solar system. Even when they disliked him most, both McCauley -and Randy had respected his brains. But after Bramwell found out that -they'd never refer to the way he acted before and immediately after he -was shanghaied, the fact that he was so ashamed of himself improved him -as far as human society was concerned.</p> - -<p>He improved so much, in fact, that by the time they got back to Earth, -McCauley and Randy were not much more polite to him than they were to -each other.</p> - -<p>Which was high honor.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="ph1"><i>6</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(As a brand-new lieutenant, McCauley had been the first man to ride -a rocket out of atmosphere. As a major, he was in the first piloted -space craft to achieve an orbit and land again in one piece, and he -helped to build the Space Platform. But it seemed likely that after -he made colonel he was likely to be stuck with administrative tasks -and go on no more trips. There was the affair of the Bramwell-Faraday -screen, to be sure, but that was pure luck. He gloomily expected -nothing more exciting than desk duty in some deadly tedious minor base -upon the moon. But it happened that the asteroid Eros—very small, -very irregular in shape, and very, very eccentric in its orbit—was -due to pass close to Earth again as it went out from the sun. It had -passed within two million miles of Earth in the 1930s, and nothing -happened. But now McCauley was looking for an excuse to be more than -a desk Colonel. He added up Eros and Mars and drone rockets, and the -resources of the Space Service and a certain amount of imagination. He -came up with something the Space Service had believed was still twenty -years in the future. He'd worked out a way to get back from Mars. So -he was assigned to try it.)</p></div> - - -<p>The Personnel Ship of the First Martian Expedition was within two -million miles of Mars when McCauley missed his watch. Everything had -gone along as predicted, up to that moment. The ship had taken off from -Earth and headed outward for its rendezvous with the tiny asteroid -Eros. It burned rocket fuel lavishly to get the necessary velocity for -the journey. Then it floated interminably while Earth grew small and -far away behind it, and the sun dwindled and its heat lessened. Then -Eros appeared like the tiniest pinpoint of light, and the ship drew -up to it and braked—it had very little fuel left for its braking—and -touched, and then moored itself to the half acre of previously moored -bales and cases and special drones that the asteroid had ferried out -from Earth. The ship's crew went outside in space suits, each one -separately tethered to the ship by a long cable. They began to check -the condition of their waiting supplies. Everything had to be examined -because it had lain—hung—rested for two years on Eros' surface in the -network of cables and drill rods needed to hold it there. The condition -of the stores was satisfactory. So Colonel Ed McCauley took a shower.</p> - -<p>In its way, even that was an adventure. The ship, of course, had no -gravitational field, and Eros was very small indeed. Of almost solid -nickel-iron, it was five miles by two by three; and though it dwarfed -the ship, its gravity pull was on the order of one five-millionth that -of Earth. So taking a shower in a ship moored to Eros was something -special. It meant holding fast to handholds in a furious fan-made -gale that blew water against one and then blew it off and to a water -collector where it could be filtered and sterilized and pumped around -to the showerhead again. It was quite different from a bath on Earth, -but McCauley was much refreshed. He toweled himself and put on his ship -clothes again—and his watch was gone from the pocket he'd put it in.</p> - -<p>It made no sense at all.</p> - -<p>He was still looking for the watch in every corner of the compartment -outside the shower tank, when Major Randy Hall came in, propelling -himself in that extremely unlikely fashion which has to be used in zero -gravity.</p> - -<p>"Randy," said McCauley vexedly, "I've lost my watch."</p> - -<p>"I lost mine a week ago," said Randy. He caught a handhold and pulled -himself to a sitting position, resting on nothing whatever. "Hathaway -lost his the week we started out. Fallon told me privately that -somebody'd swiped his wallet only a day or so after we started out."</p> - -<p>McCauley swung around to face him.</p> - -<p>"That's nonsense!" he said angrily. "It's lunacy! Who'd want to steal -in a space ship?"</p> - -<p>"I thought it was lunacy, too," said Randy, "until a few minutes ago. -Now I'm more credulous. From checking supplies outside, it appears that -some very fancy small instruments are missing. A case was broken open. -Since we tied up here."</p> - -<p>McCauley stared at him. On the face of it, Randy's statement was flatly -impossible. Personal character aside, it was unthinkable that a member -of the Expedition should steal from another member or from its stores. -Nobody could use a stolen article in a ship containing exactly five -other men. Nobody could sell stolen goods to his fellow crewmen. And -nobody could hope to take any loot back to Earth. If all went well, -the men themselves might hope to get back to Earth at some problematic -future time. But every ounce of Earth-bound cargo would be scientific -material, mostly microfilm. Stolen goods couldn't be used or sold or -taken back to Earth. Money itself wasn't worth stealing. Nothing was. -Many millions of dollars' worth of equipment now outside the ship had -lain unguarded and untouched for two years in empty space. Nobody had -stolen any of it before. There was no sense in stealing it now.</p> - -<p>But somebody was.</p> - -<p>It was a serious matter because of its implications rather than the -facts themselves. The First Martian Expedition needed everything -its members could give it for the safety of them all. If somebody -considered himself apart from the rest, if one member of the crew was -willing to injure the others by stealing from them, the situation -was very, very bad. In fact, having a thief among the six was like a -serious accident occurring to the Expedition's equipment. It would be -comparable to a vital defect in the miniature atom-pile which was to -supply energy for them to live by when they reached Mars' surface.</p> - -<p>In a sense, though, the Expedition itself was the result of an accident -of a different sort. The first part of this coincidence was the fact -that some two years earlier the asteroid Eros had passed close to Earth -on its elongated elliptical orbit around the sun. Eros is one of those -rock and metal fragments which are found most often in orbits between -Mars and Jupiter. Some people maintain that they are fragments of a -planet which exploded some hundreds of millions of years ago, and -there is some evidence to back this view. For one thing, some circle -the sun in extremely eccentric paths. Eros swings out at its farthest -between Mars and Jupiter, but when nearest the sun it dives in between -Earth and Venus. Sometimes—rarely—it comes close to Earth in its -passage across Earth's orbit. This had happened two years ago.</p> - -<p>The second part of the coincidence was the purely fortuitous fact that -only two Earth-years later Eros would pass even closer to the planet -Mars. The two accidents added up to an opportunity, when McCauley added -rockets and other resources of the Space Service. And the Service -seized it.</p> - -<p>So two years ago Colonel Ed McCauley had landed a ship on the asteroid, -then close to Earth. He'd led a work crew which drove drill holes -into the asteroid's solid metal substance. They made anchorages to -fasten supplies to, and McCauley'd anchored the supplies. Then he -took his ship back to Earth. On the way he'd passed other ships going -out to Eros. They also anchored supplies on it. In one hectic month, -the Space Service unloaded on the tiny asteroid all the supplies and -equipment—some two hundred-odd tons of it—that the First Martian -Expedition would need not only on Mars, but in getting back from Mars, -which was equally important. Then the Space Service waited.</p> - -<p>Nearly two years later, but now some months ago, the ship that was -now moored to Eros took off from Earth. Enormous amounts of fuel were -required for the journey out to Mars. No ship could carry fuel for -the trip and the landing, much less a return trip. But if a ship made -a rendezvous with Eros when the asteroid was close to Mars, it could -refuel from the stores waiting on Eros. It could guide drone rockets -from Eros to landings on Mars, carrying more supplies. The drones would -not even need to be ships. They could be mere outlines of ships, with -motors and guidance systems, their cargo lashed to their framework. -So the asteroid would serve as a cargo carrier for the supplies the -Expedition required, and also as the landing craft needed to put them -ashore on the red planet.</p> - -<p>So far, everything had worked out. Very shortly the first of the -drones would be sent off to land the first cargo near an oasis close -to the summer pole of Mars. Others would follow till all had been -sent out; then the ship, refueled, would leave Eros and overtake the -equipment that had preceded it. Its crew would recover the landed -rocket cargoes, set up a base, be well equipped and amply supplied for -several months of Martian exploration, and then have adequate fuel for -the voyage home. More than that, it would leave a base that was ready -to function, and fuel for return flights, for a reasonable number -of other ships in the future. In fact, the passage of Eros close to -Earth and then to Mars had provided a freight service that meant the -difference between men going to Mars and staying home.</p> - -<p>But there was a thief among the six men making the first trip. There -was McCauley and Randy Hall and Fallon and Brett and Soames. Hathaway -was the meteorologist who would learn all that was to be known about -Mars' atmosphere. Fallon was the atom-power mechanic. Brett and Soames -had their specialties, but all had been trained in the remote control -of drone rockets with their loads of precious material. All were needed.</p> - -<p>"Hmmm," said McCauley, frowning. "You say Hathaway and Fallon lost -things, the one a watch and the other a wallet. You and I ... I lost an -electric watch. It runs on a battery the size of a pea. I never have -to wind it." He looked up. "Are you sure Brett and Soames haven't lost -anything?"</p> - -<p>Randy looked curiously at McCauley.</p> - -<p>"Come to think of it, Brett asked me if I'd seen his fancy gold pen. -That was weeks ago. He uses an issue pen now. And I think—I <i>think</i> -Soames was turning things upside down once, looking for some sort of -gold luck-piece he carries. Yes. He did."</p> - -<p>"I'll find the stuff," said McCauley, frowning, "but I'm bothered."</p> - -<p>He looked out a port at the crew members on the surface of the -asteroid. Randy followed his eyes. The four other members of the -Expedition, in bulky space suits, worked busily in a landscape—or an -Eros-scape—too fantastic to be real. All of them now accepted the -view that Eros was an explosion-created fragment of something much -larger, and that that something must have been remarkable. Nine-tenths -of the surface of Eros was solid metal such as forms the core of -all the heavier planets. Now, metal rods stuck here and there out -of drill holes in the raw, glistening crystalline mass. Between the -drill rods ran cables holding nets under which objects were tethered. -There were drone rockets by the dozen, and bales and boxes and tanks -seemingly by the hundred. They would drift away to nowhere but for the -nets which held them fast. They'd been held thus during two years of -unaccompanied, uneventful cartage from the orbit of Earth out to the -orbit of Mars. Most of the stuff needed only to be sorted and loaded -on the drones, which would take off under control by the drone-master -keyboard on the ship. There was an enormous mass of supplies. There -could be a loss of up to fifty per cent in transit without irreparable -damage being done to the Expedition's purposes.</p> - -<p>When Randy looked back from the laboring, space-suited figures outside, -he was alone. McCauley had gone to the ship's small workshop, all of -whose tools would be left in the base on Mars. Frowning, he connected -a microphone and an audio amplifier and a headset and went back to -explain to Randy. But Randy was no longer there. He'd gone outside to -carry on as second-in-command. His business was largely finding things -to worry about and telling McCauley, who made them turn out all right.</p> - -<p>McCauley went purposefully through the ship with his -microphone-amplifier unit, touching it here and there against the -fabric of the vessel. The idea was perfectly simple. If there was a -thief on board, he would certainly not keep his loot on his person -or in his locker. He'd have a hiding place for it. The loot included -McCauley's watch, which would not run down for months. And solid things -conduct sound much better than air does. The ticking of a watch which -can't be heard at five feet, in air, can be heard through fifty feet of -wood or metal if the watch is in contact with the farther end.</p> - -<p>So McCauley methodically listened for the ticking of a watch conducted -through the metal of a spaceship. There was no one else on board. -There was no operating machinery to make extraneous noises. Presently -he heard the five-times-a-second click-click of his watch. He traced -it to its loudest, unscrewed a floorplate, and found three watches, a -very expensive gold pencil, and a luck-piece that was a gold coin some -hundreds of years old. There were also three small and very expensive -instruments that came from a smashed case on the asteroid.</p> - -<p>McCauley put them in his pocket and went to the compartment that was -his sanctum as commander of the ship. He pulled out the personnel -report on one member of the crew. It was not believable.... Then he -thought of something. He pushed the outside-communicator button.</p> - -<p>"Fallon," he said, "report to the ship. A job for you."</p> - -<p>He drummed on the desk before him as he waited for Fallon. This was a -singularly unpleasant situation.</p> - -<p>Fallon came in, still in his space suit. He opened the faceplate and -grinned. He was an exuberant personality, this Fallon.</p> - -<p>"Reporting in, Colonel."</p> - -<p>Without a word, McCauley brought out the three watches, the -instruments, the elaborate gold pencil, and the luck-piece. He picked -out his own watch and the instruments and waved his hand toward the -rest.</p> - -<p>"Get these back where they belong," he ordered. "I'll take care of the -instruments. Don't let anybody know they're being returned. Let it -appear they've been found misplaced."</p> - -<p>Fallon stared. Then he went white and licked his lips. But he said -nothing.</p> - -<p>"I found this stuff," said McCauley, "as soon as I looked for it. I -knew you'd hidden it, because you said your wallet was gone and there -was no wallet with the other missing stuff. You should have put it in -with the rest of the loot, Fallon, if you wanted to be convincing."</p> - -<p>Fallon stared.</p> - -<p>"It's about as stupid a performance as I've ever heard of," said -McCauley. "Why did you do it?"</p> - -<p>Fallon swallowed. Then he braced himself and looked defiant. In -a moment or two he managed a grin. It was a shaky grin, but he -straightened up and then shrugged.</p> - -<p>"Why should I tell you?" he said. "What can you do about it, anyway?"</p> - -<p>"I can think of a few things," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>"Name one!" said Fallon defiantly. "You can't kill me. You can't put -me out of the ship, because that'd kill me. You can't lock me up, -because you need everybody. You can't do anything! You might as well -forget it! This trip was dull. I wanted some excitement. I thought -there'd be a big fuss when things started to disappear. There wasn't. -All right, I'll put the stuff back. But you might as well forget the -whole business because you can't do a thing about it."</p> - -<p>McCauley stiffened. Fallon was right. There wasn't anything he could -do, in the ordinary sense of the word. He couldn't execute Fallon -for theft. He couldn't imprison him. If he punished him in any way -that aroused his resentment, Fallon could no longer be trusted, and -any of the six men could destroy the other five simply by neglecting -some essential duty assigned to him. In space, men have to trust each -other and be worthy of trust in return. There is no room in unlimited -emptiness for a man who arouses suspicion and antagonism among his -shipmates solely for his own amusement. But Fallon had done just that. -He was as dangerous as an atom bomb on the expedition to Mars. But -whereas an atom bomb can be disarmed, nobody can disarm a man who -chooses to play the fool.</p> - -<p>Fallon picked up the objects McCauley had given him. He spoke with -sudden truculence.</p> - -<p>"Well?" he said. "What can you do? Just suppose I don't feel like -giving these things back. I'm going to, but if I wouldn't do it, what'd -you do?... You won't even tell the rest you caught me! You want the -stuff put back without their knowing it was taken!"</p> - -<p>"Yes-s-s," McCauley said very slowly. "That's right. I shan't tell -the rest. I want things to go along smoothly, without squabbles or -suspicions. But you want excitement, more than our job provides. You'll -look for it in some other fashion now, won't you?"</p> - -<p>Fallon said defiantly:</p> - -<p>"I'll do what I feel like doing!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said McCauley, nodding. "You'll get your excitement regardless. -You're as independent as a hog on ice, because you think that I can't -do anything to stop you. Very well. I'll try to provide you with some -excitement. You do what you please. I'll do what I please about it."</p> - -<p>Fallon's eyes narrowed.</p> - -<p>"You don't care what I do?" he demanded skeptically.</p> - -<p>"I do care," McCauley told him. "You're the one who doesn't care. But -I'll be able to make use of you somehow. All right; you can go, now."</p> - -<p>Fallon hesitated, scowling. Then he went out. He was uneasy. He could -have understood had McCauley threatened him, or flown into a rage, or -possibly tried to appeal to a nonexistent loyalty to his companions or -to the purposes of the Expedition. But McCauley had not reacted in any -fashion that Fallon could understand.</p> - -<p>Later in the day Randy consulted with McCauley.</p> - -<p>"Funny thing happened," he said vexedly. "Fallon went around and gave -Brett back his fancy gold pen. He said he'd taken it for a joke. He -gave Soames back his luck-piece and Hathaway his watch. He explained -that they were jokes, too. He gave me mine.... Did you get yours back?"</p> - -<p>McCauley nodded. He explained what had happened. Randy blinked.</p> - -<p>"But why didn't he just slip them back like you told him to?"</p> - -<p>"He's worried," said McCauley. "I didn't threaten and I didn't reason -with him. So he figures that I've something special in mind. So he -wants to be on good terms with everybody but me. Now if I accused him -of stealing, he could insist that he was joking and that he'd proved -it."</p> - -<p>"That's crazy!" said Randy.</p> - -<p>McCauley did not contradict him. He shrugged. Presently Randy went out -on the surface of Eros. A single incautious movement might send him -floating off into emptiness except for the moorings to the drilled-in -metal rods that anchored supplies and ship and crew alike. On the -nickel-iron surface of the asteroid, to be sure, magnetic-soled shoes -ought to hold a man down. But the emergency wasn't great enough to make -depending on them necessary. Everyone kept himself anchored to a drill -rod, and did not let go, anywhere, until another anchorage had been -secured.</p> - -<p>The five-mile-long and two-mile-thick mass that was Eros floated onward -in its orbit. It rotated very slowly—its day was half an hour and -its night was thirty minutes—and all the stars appeared in turn, -including that nearest star which was the sun. The Milky Way spread -incredibly across the sky. Earth was blue-green and a bare speck of a -crescent—a crescent because it was to sunward, and a speck because -it was well over forty millions of miles away. Mars, to the outward, -was a perceptible disk the size of a quarter at forty feet. Already -photographs taken on spaceships and sent back to Earth by scanning -signal had disclosed features that even the giant telescopes on the -moon had not detected. Randy claimed to have seen Phobos and Deimos -with his naked eye, and perhaps he had. But most of the crew were too -busy for more than an occasional glance out at Mars.</p> - -<p>The supply items to be carried by each drone rocket had to be regrouped -so that no one rocket would contain a disproportionate amount of any -one kind of supplies. It was to be expected that some loads would be -lost, so it was important to make sure that no one load, if it was not -landed or recovered, would cause crippling shortages of this item or -that.</p> - -<p>There was, though, one bit of freight that would not be trusted to -rocket transport. The fuel for the atom-pile would go on the ship, -because if the ship did not land safely there'd be no Expedition, and -if it landed safely, the atomic fuel would be essential. The thin air -of Mars would have to be pumped up to the pressure required by the -human body, and its oxygen would have to be concentrated. There would -be need for heat during the bitter Martian nights. Power was necessary -for human life on Mars. And only atomic power would be adequate.</p> - -<p>The first drone rocket lifted off Eros when the asteroid was a million -and a half miles from Mars. The rocket rushed ahead, dwindling until -it could no longer be seen among the stars. It carried a tank of -rocket fuel, a rocket motor, and a communications unit. That was all. -The drone was not streamlined, not pretty. It was a skeleton with -its drive at the tail, a shaft to tie the cargo to, and a television -camera at its nose. The first loads shipped were relatively unimportant -ones, so that initial disasters due to lack of experience would have -the least serious consequences. When the asteroid was a quarter of a -million miles farther on, more rockets were on the way. There were -two near-disasters. The rockets were prepared for launching during -the planetoid's half-hour "daylight," but they were launched when the -launching site was away from the sun and toward Mars farther out. -During daylight McCauley prepared one rocket for firing and returned to -the ship. Later Hathaway went out to set off that "night's" salvo. The -first rocket blew itself to bits when fired. Hathaway had a very narrow -escape.</p> - -<p>The men figured out, afterward, that in the utter cold of the -planetoid's "night" the rocket motor had cooled to the brittle point -of metal. When the rocket was fired, the frozen metal flew apart -before it could warm up and thus restore normal strength throughout -its thickness. McCauley berated himself to Randy, because he had not -anticipated this fact. The rest of the salvo was held until "sunset" -the next day, and was fired within five minutes of the coming of -darkness, before the metal could cool to brittleness.</p> - -<p>The other near-tragedy happened when a rocket took off and the flame -splashed against a glistening metallic upcrop and licked fiercely at -Soames' space-suited legs. He jumped convulsively, rose out of the -flame before it could either cook his legs or melt down his space suit, -and, gasping in horror, soared off and up to the length of his safety -rope. The rocket went past him no more than a dozen feet away. Its -exhaust could have burned him to a crisp, or at the least flashed his -plastic faceplate. That was a very close call indeed.</p> - -<p>Presently Fallon came looking for McCauley. The mechanic was coming -off-shift and still wore his space suit. He opened the faceplate, -grinning nervously.</p> - -<p>"Look here, Colonel," he said ingratiatingly, "I've got something I -want to say to you."</p> - -<p>"Go ahead," said McCauley. He was still bitterly discontented with -himself. Actually, Soames should not have been so near the rocket -blast, but McCauley felt responsible because he hadn't ordered him -specifically away.</p> - -<p>"Soames had a pretty close call," said Fallon nervously.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said McCauley curtly.</p> - -<p>"Hathaway had another," said Fallon. "When that rocket blew, he could -have been killed. He should've been."</p> - -<p>"I know it," snapped McCauley.</p> - -<p>"I ... I ..." Fallon hesitated. "Look, Colonel! We had a—disagreement. -I acted like a fool. I want to apologize."</p> - -<p>McCauley scowled. There were innumerable things to worry about, and -Fallon was one of them. McCauley had taken the one line that might keep -Fallon from making trouble. He'd scared him, and it seemed to have -worked. But for Fallon to come to apologize was something else. It -meant that his attitude had changed from almost mutinous defiance to -panic.</p> - -<p>"Forget it," said McCauley.</p> - -<p>"I—didn't have you figured right," said Fallon shakily. "I thought -you were ... just the usual kind of character. I ... I know better -now. I'd—I'd like to ... well ... you're likely to need somebody to -help you. Maybe you don't think so, but if you knew you could count on -me...."</p> - -<p>Fallon's voice practically clicked off, and McCauley realized that he -was terrified. The man was afraid to say something, but he was more -afraid not to.</p> - -<p>"What would I need you for besides your duty?"</p> - -<p>Fallon hesitated, licked his lips, and then said desperately:</p> - -<p>"Soames and Hathaway—they almost got theirs. I've been thinking. -If ... accidents happened to us ... to all but you...."</p> - -<p>"Go on," said McCauley, frowning.</p> - -<p>"We're ... sending most of the stuff to Mars," stammered Fallon. -"B-but we're keeping the atom fuel on the ship. It's w-worth a lot. If -something happened to most of us ... why ... two men could take the -ship back to Earth and land it anywhere they wanted to. And if ... if a -person had contacts, that atom fuel would be w-worth a lot. Millions."</p> - -<p>McCauley was jolted.</p> - -<p>"Suppose," he said grimly, "that you tell me the rest of your idea."</p> - -<p>"Why ... why ..." Fallon tried hard to be ingratiating and -confidential, but he couldn't make it. So he said harshly: "I'm going -to tell you something. My name's Fallon, but I'm not the Fallon you -think I am. I've got a brother. He was slated to come on this trip. -I was in the pen. I broke out. They were close after me. I went to -my brother for money and help. He's tried to help me before, tried to -make me stay out of trouble. This time was the worst, but this time he -wouldn't help me any more. It was too serious. So I ... slugged him and -took his papers and his orders and reported for duty instead of him. -I ... I guess he couldn't bring himself to turn me in, but he figured -I'd be caught before take-off. But I bluffed it through!" Here a trace -of pride came into his voice. "I bluffed it through, and I came on the -trip in his place because there wouldn't be anybody hunting me out -here."</p> - -<p>McCauley did not display any feeling at all. That Fallon had committed -a crime or crimes back on Earth—forty million miles away—meant -nothing here. Not if he did his work. But....</p> - -<p>"Well?" said McCauley.</p> - -<p>"I'm telling you," said Fallon urgently. "You didn't tell the others -that I'd lifted their stuff. You had to have a reason. Then Hathaway -almost got it when that rocket blew. And Soames came close to frying -in a rocket blast. There are too many queer things happening! You not -telling the others on me, and then...."</p> - -<p>McCauley sat perfectly still, staring at Fallon.</p> - -<p>"It adds up," said Fallon defiantly. "There's millions in atom fuel -here. If things happen to the others, you can get back to Earth and -land anywhere, and if you've got contacts so you can sell the atom -stuff...."</p> - -<p>McCauley waited ominously. Fallon tried to go on, and could not. But -his meaning was clear. In some twisted fashion he had worked out what -he believed a logical explanation for McCauley's behavior to him. It -implied that McCauley did not see the Mars expedition as a normal man -would see it, but as an opportunity for the first space robbery in -history and perhaps the most stupendous criminal coup since time began. -It was true that the atomic fuel for the Mars reactor had a money value -in the tens of millions. To McCauley, that fact would mean that it -was something to be guarded and taken care of. But to Fallon, it was -something to be stolen. And he thought McCauley saw it the same way.</p> - -<p>"I suppose," said McCauley evenly, "that you've guessed that I plan to -kill off the others and go back to Earth alone. Is that it?"</p> - -<p>Fallon twitched nervously.</p> - -<p>"It figures," he said desperately. "But you need another man to help! -I told you who I am. I couldn't afford to double-cross you! I couldn't -land this ship. But I could help a lot!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," agreed McCauley with irony, "you could. So you want to throw in -with me, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Y-yes."</p> - -<p>"All right," said McCauley. "You're in. You share in everything I do -and everything I get out of it. It's a bargain."</p> - -<p>"F-fine," said Fallon in a voice like a croak.</p> - -<p>He'd try to believe it, but he wouldn't be able to be sure. He left. -McCauley knew that he would quake and be terrified, and he would not -believe in McCauley's intention to make him a partner in crime. But in -his own view he couldn't do anything but try to bargain for his own -life if—but he thought of it as when—McCauley murdered or abandoned -the others in emptiness.</p> - -<p>McCauley told Randy the whole business, of course. As second-in-command -Randy needed to know everything.</p> - -<p>"He's a swine," Randy said distastefully. "But it took nerve to try to -bluff through our training period, with the voyage out here to follow -it."</p> - -<p>"He's in bad shape," said McCauley. "However he got started that way, -he chose to be a crook at some time or another. He probably thought -it was smart. It wasn't, but now he can't think the way a non-crook -thinks."</p> - -<p>Randy frowned, thinking.</p> - -<p>"I believe," Randy said slowly, "that I'll explain to the others. He's -with us and the way he thinks has to be allowed for. They won't let him -know they're on to him.... I feel sorry for the poor devil. You will, -too, when you think it over. They'll feel the same way."</p> - -<p>McCauley nodded. Space is no place for the self-righteous or the -intolerant. Charity is a requisite for the endurance of journey in -emptiness, in closed tin cans with re-breathed air and enforced -exasperating contact with other persons. The Mars Expedition members -had been chosen for personality traits as well as technical -competence. It was remarkable that Fallon had been able to imitate his -brother's character well enough to avoid unmasking before take-off.</p> - -<p>The work of the Expedition went on. In the half-hour day, the rockets -for Mars were loaded and set up for firing. Immediately after darkness -fell, they went streaking away from the small, misshapen asteroid. -McCauley or Randy at the control board picked up their monitor signals -one by one, verified their course and speed, and made such adjustments -as would be needed to get them to the planet which men now ought to -reach a good twenty years ahead of schedule. Near Mars, they'd be swung -into orbit and landed one by one.</p> - -<p>It became routine. But it was a hair-raising routine. There was a -tissue-thin difference between the success and failure that meant -life or death. What rest they took was in snatches. But things went -along. Curiously enough, when Hathaway and Brett and Soames were told -in confidence of Fallon's self-produced predicament, it amounted to -easing the tension their continuous labor might have produced. They had -something to think about besides the nerve-racking need for absolute -accuracy and absolute care in all they did out of the ship. Crawling -about under the cargo nets was harrowing. There were the stars. There -was the feeling of absolute emptiness, into which their sensations -assured them that they were falling unendingly.</p> - -<p>But Fallon had no relief as the others did. He didn't have their -purpose. They were risking their lives to accomplish something they -wanted to do. That was why they were here. But Fallon was with them in -flight from the law. He had only fear to sustain him.</p> - -<p>Three-fourths of the rockets had been released. Nine-tenths. There were -more than forty rockets aground on Mars and the ship was refueled, and -already it would be possible to leave Eros and land on Mars and set up -the base and do the work the Expedition was expected to do. They could -do all this and then return to Earth. The rockets still in space and on -Eros amounted to a margin beyond necessity, and every extra one that -landed would increase the surplus of equipment and supplies.</p> - -<p>And then Fallon got lost. He was never out of sight of the others, but -he got lost. It was the rule, of course, for every man to have his own -life line securely fastened to solidity. They were long life lines to -permit movement about the cargo cache and the much-diminished heaps of -stores. They were inconvenient, but they were starkly necessary. It was -strictly forbidden for any man at any time not to be safely tethered. -And....</p> - -<p>A rocket was to be made ready for firing. Its cargo was brought to -it, item by item. Fallon had worked with the others. He was treated -with singular forbearance by his shipmates. There came a moment when -somebody had to shift his space-rope anchorage. It happened to be -Fallon who needed to do this. Soames took hold of Fallon's space rope -in the middle and held it firmly while Fallon shifted the end to -another anchorage. Fallon was nervous, worried. He finished the task -quickly and went on toward the cargo items he was to move.</p> - -<p>McCauley, prowling on his perpetual task of inspection, saw the knot -Fallon had made. He said sharply:</p> - -<p>"Fallon, stop moving and hold on to something solid."</p> - -<p>Fallon swung about and stared apprehensively. He clung to an anchor -rod sunk in the metal of the asteroid. McCauley made sure he was safe, -untied the space-rope knot, and tied it more securely.</p> - -<p>"It was a bad knot," said McCauley. "You're safe now."</p> - -<p>McCauley went on. This was outside the cargo-netted space and near -where the rockets went up. Fallon clung fast to the drill rod. The -others went about their business. Stars blazed in the daylight sky. The -sun flamed far, far away. Fallon stayed motionless, gripping the rod -that was securely set into the metal of Eros.</p> - -<p>Presently he stirred stealthily and tugged at the rope with the new -knot in the end. It was firm. He tugged more strongly. It held. Then, -with the gentlest and most fearful of tuggings, he drew himself to -where McCauley had fastened his space rope. He examined McCauley's -knot. Fallon was afraid of McCauley, because he had made a bargain he -did not believe McCauley would keep. He believed that McCauley meant -to be the sole survivor of the Mars Expedition, returning secretly to -Earth with tens of millions in stolen atomic fuel.</p> - -<p>And Fallon believed that McCauley had planned the near-tragedies of -Hathaway and Soames. Therefore he believed that McCauley would be -arranging more successful accidents for those two and the rest, and -that because Fallon knew of McCauley's plans, he, Fallon, would be the -first to be destroyed.</p> - -<p>He could see nothing the matter with the knot, but he distrusted it -with a despairing terror.</p> - -<p>He untied it so he could retie it himself. And McCauley's voice roared -in the headphones in his helmet:</p> - -<p>"Fallon! What are you doing?"</p> - -<p>Fallon started violently. He jumped. His space rope was not anchored, -and Eros has no measurable gravity. Fallon went up and away from the -asteroid, toward a thousand million light-years of emptiness. His space -rope rose with him, not trailing behind but writhing and twisting -weightlessly, more like a tendril of smoke than anything else. Horror -filled him. He could not cry out.</p> - -<p>"Get him!" roared McCauley.</p> - -<p>Space-suited figures turned in the stark white sunlight, and inky black -shadows followed their movements in strict synchrony. Fallon was twenty -feet high.... Forty. A space-suited figure jerked at his space rope -for assurance and then leaped up toward Fallon. It was a miss. The -glittering metallic space suit swung in a wide arc and then down to -ground again. A second man leaped. A third. They swept past the line of -his flight. The space rope of one of the men touched Fallon's. Had it -struck near the middle, it might have brought his rope down captive. -But the end of Fallon's rope flicked free and he went on toward the -stars.</p> - -<p>Now there were babblings. Space-armored figures moved swiftly toward -a single spot, pulling themselves by their ropes.... Fallon was sixty -feet high.... Seventy.</p> - -<p>Then a man came soaring straight upward. He missed Fallon, but he -flailed a rope and it tangled in Fallon's. The bobbing, rope-held -figure hauled in, and had Fallon's rope fast. He wrapped it swiftly -about his arm. When the jerk came it was not severe.</p> - -<p>Then a single figure on the asteroid pulled down and down and down, -and Fallon was towed to solidity. He touched before he could utter a -sound.</p> - -<p>McCauley was the man who'd hauled him back. The others crouched or -squatted down, holding fast to the metallic projections from the -surface of Eros. They'd given up their ropes to make a rope long enough -for his rescue. While one went after him and McCauley stood erect to -draw him back, the others held fast by their fingertips to keep from -sharing his predicament. They'd risked floating away as helplessly as -he himself, in order that their life lines might be used to save him.</p> - -<p>McCauley did not reprimand Fallon, but he pointedly thanked the others -for the promptness with which they'd acted.</p> - -<p>Later, Randy asked vexedly:</p> - -<p>"What was the matter with Fallon? He knew he shouldn't have unfastened -his rope!"</p> - -<p>"His knot wasn't good, and I retied it," said McCauley dryly. "But -he thinks I intend to kill everybody, probably him first. So when I -meddled with his life rope he thought I was arranging his death. He -meant to retie the knot to defeat my evil intention."</p> - -<p>"He's a fool!" snapped Randy. "We'd better have it out with him, or -there's no telling what he'll do next!"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I have to," McCauley said distastefully. "He'll be -humiliated when he finds out I was humoring him. But get him, anyhow."</p> - -<p>There was a clanking sound somewhere in the ship. The inner air-lock -door closed. There were noises that told of the sealing dogs being -tightened. Then, immediately, the outside lock door opened. Randy went -to find Fallon. He came back, disturbed.</p> - -<p>"Fallon just went outside. He's supposed to be off-duty, too."</p> - -<p>McCauley frowned. Then he flipped the outside-communicator switch. -As a matter-of-fact precaution, there was two-way communication with -emptiness whenever anybody was outside the ship. Anything that came -in was immediately heard from speakers all over the ship, so that the -control room did not have to be manned all the time work was proceeding -on the planetoid's surface. If an emergency arose, everybody anywhere -in the ship would know immediately.</p> - -<p>"Fallon," said McCauley curtly into the outside transmitter, "you're -wanted. Come back, please."</p> - -<p>Silence. No answer. There was only darkness outside the ship now. Stars -moved steadily up from the blackness that was one nearby horizon, and -down to the blackness that was the other. The red disk of Mars—very -near, now—was the brightest object in the heavens.</p> - -<p>"Fallon!" snapped McCauley. "You're wanted! Return to the ship -immediately!"</p> - -<p>A clanking sound came from all the loud-speakers inside the ship. Then -Fallon's voice.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute." He panted as if doing some heavy labor where there was -no weight. "Ah-h-h! Right! What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"I want you back in the ship," said McCauley sternly.</p> - -<p>More clankings. They were the type of sound that might be heard inside -an air-filled space suit and picked up by its helmet microphone.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing?" demanded McCauley.</p> - -<p>"I'm fixing ... uh!..." The last was a grunt. "I'm fixing a way to -settle something.... I'm set now."</p> - -<p>"Fallon!" barked McCauley. "Come to the ship immediately! That's an -order!"</p> - -<p>"I'm busy," said Fallon's voice, defiantly. "But I'll tell you -something! I'm not going back to Earth with the rest of you. I was on -the run when I passed myself off as somebody else and got on the ship. -I was on the run from Death Row in the pen. They had me ready for the -hot seat in two days more, and I got away. Why should I go back to -Earth?"</p> - -<p>He paused. And then he said, his tone indescribable:</p> - -<p>"Everybody is hearing me. I fixed that! I doctored the aerial switch so -when it's turned on it can't be turned off again! McCauley can't keep -you from hearing me now, because he called me! And McCauley's going to -squirm now! I joined up with him to wipe out every one of you, so we -could go back to Earth with the atom fuel to sell to contacts he's got! -He tried to kill Soames and he tried to kill Hathaway! He tried to kill -me today, by getting me lost, but the rest of you jumped to help me and -he had to join in so you wouldn't know what he'd tried!"</p> - -<p>McCauley winced.</p> - -<p>"Poor fool!" Randy said.</p> - -<p>"Now listen," said Fallon's voice fiercely. "I've told you the truth. -If I'd told you before you wouldn't've believed me. But you're going to -believe me now, because I've scrapped my chance of living—it wasn't -good anyhow—to tell you! You watch McCauley! Send word back to Earth -of what I've told you. He'll not dare to do a thing when a dying man's -accused him—and that's what I am!"</p> - -<p>"Fallon!" barked McCauley again. "It's a mistake! You thought I planned -that stuff, and I was just playing along with you! The others knew all -about it! They knew everything you just told them! It's a lie! I'm not -planning anything. I just played along with you...."</p> - -<p>"Yes?" jeered Fallon. "Tell that to the aviators! The spacemen don't -believe you!" Then he said: "So what? I'll be the first man on Mars! -I'm Joe Fallon, 4272365, Walla Walla Penitentiary, and I'll go down in -the history books. I'm taking off for Mars. Want to race?"</p> - -<p>There was a sudden roaring. It was the sound of a rocket blast, -conducted by metal to a space suit and picked up by the microphone -inside.</p> - -<p>"T-taking off," gasped Fallon, outside. "You get this story back to -Earth and he won't dare do anything! He won't dare! But I didn't rat on -him! Only on what he was going to do."</p> - -<p>After that, there was only the roar of the rocket blast.</p> - -<p>They poured out of the ship in space suits as fast as the air lock -would let them. Perhaps some of them had a faint, faint hope that it -was merely a joke. But it wasn't. There were boxes and bales floating -heavily, soggily, in the emptiness about Eros. They had been thrust -aside when Fallon took the rocket for himself. And he was gone.</p> - -<p>McCauley made an irresolute movement back toward the ship, and Randy -said quickly, via space phone:</p> - -<p>"No use, Ed! We can't make more than six gees acceleration in the ship, -and in a loadless rocket he'll make twelve! We can't catch him!"</p> - -<p>And there'd be nothing they could do if they did catch him. McCauley -ground his teeth, staring at the star-filled sky.</p> - -<p>"I did something wrong," he said bitterly. "Something wrong! But what -would have been the right thing?"</p> - -<p>Hathaway said enviously:</p> - -<p>"He'll be the first man on Mars, at that! But his air won't last all -the way. He'll coast in and crash and never know it. But he'll be the -first man on Mars!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Randy wryly, "he'll have that.... Let's get these last -rockets off and land at a respectful distance behind him."</p> - -<p>And they did.</p> - -<p>Of course, as everyone knows, the First Martian Expedition was a -great success. Of the six men who left on it, five came back. They -had maps and photographs and petrological samples, and a complete and -surprisingly reasonable explanation of the canals and oases about -which astronomers had argued for the best part of a century. They even -brought back a sluggish, naked, squirming creature which initiated an -entirely new line of biological research.</p> - -<p>McCauley began a battle behind closed doors, and Randy helped him, -and in time a curious error in the public records appeared. It is -officially stated in all the books that one Joe Fallon was the first -man to land on Mars, though the first records of the Expedition gave -his name as Andrew—at least Fallon the crewman was not named Joe. -There is a strange lethargy in official quarters. Nobody bothers to -correct the records.</p> - -<p>"Of course," said McCauley to Randy, "he stole our watches, but he was -a pretty decent character at that, considering. He'd have no part in -taking your lives."</p> - -<p>"What was he sentenced for?" asked Randy suddenly.</p> - -<p>"First-degree murder," said McCauley shortly. "I was curious too. I -asked." Then he said, "They're talking about trying to make Jupiter, -Randy. It seems to me that if we try, we can get to go on that job. -What do you say?"</p> - -<p>Randy grinned. He put out his hand and they shook on it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>(When Ed McCauley was a very young officer—in fact a new-made first -lieutenant, space travel was only for robots. Nobody'd ever ridden out -of the atmosphere in a rocket, and nobody'd ever piloted a ship into -orbital flight and landed it again; there wasn't a Space Platform, -and the moon bases hadn't been built. There was constant danger from -cosmic rays and flare particles, and nobody dreamed of trying to reach -either Venus or Mars.</p> - -<p>By the time McCauley was a colonel, all those things had been done. -But oddly enough, it didn't seem that the job was finished. The more -that was done, the more remained to be done. And McCauley found -that things never got any more settled down. There was Venus to be -explored, right next door, and Mercury just beyond that. And Titan -looked promising, and of course there were the asteroids, of which -one or two urgently required examination. And even when there were -settlements on Saturn and Uranus and Neptune, there were rumors of a -planet beyond Pluto.... And after that, the stars.</p> - -<p>There'd never be any end to the journeyings of men into space.)</p></div> - - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/bcover.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<p>TODAY: SATELLITES</p> - -<p>TOMORROW: THE OUTER GALAXIES</p> - - -<p>MEN INTO SPACE is the thrilling story of man's gradual conquest of -outer space. Starting with the rockets of today, the story moves on -to trace the development of the Space Platform and spaceships. It -concludes with the first successful attempts to land on the Moon ... -Mars ... and points beyond....</p> - -<p>The entire story is seen through the eyes of young Ed McCauley, whose -adventures in outer space will excite you with the sheer wonder of -man's daring in the Space Age.</p> - -<p>MEN INTO SPACE is based on the popular television series starring -William Lundigan.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEN INTO SPACE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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