To the world at large, of course, it was just another day. A different at different places on the great, round, Earth, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was Tuesday on one of the Date Line and Monday on the other. It was so-and-so's wedding and so-and-so's birthday and another so-and-so would out of today. It was warm, it was cool, it was fair, it was cloudy. One looked to the with confidence, with hope, with or with terror according to one's and one's and past history. To most of the this was nothing but just another day.
But to Joe Kenmore it was a most particular day indeed. Here, it was the hour just and already there were of in the sky. It was chilly, and somehow the world still and breathless. To Joe, the of marked this off from all the other of his experience.
He got up and to dress, in Major Holt's of that half-globe called the Shed, near the town of Bootstrap. He he so much as usual. By all the rules, he should have a splendid, and a exaltation, and an of and to what was of him today. And, inside, he emotion. But it that he couldn't take time to today.
He was much more aware that he wanted some coffee badly, and that he would go all right. He looked out of the at empty, under the sky. Today was the day he'd be on a journey. He that Haney and the Chief and Mike weren't nervous. He also that nobody had at the fuel for the pushpots, and that the slide-rule that had calculated hadn't any mistakes. He was also about the steering-rocket fuel, and he was about the of the from the cage. There was, too, for worry in the take-off rockets—if the had there would be some consequences—and there always be last-minute orders from Washington to or everything.
In short, his mind was full of practical details. He didn't have time to or of high destiny. He had a very and job ahead of him.
The sky was outside. Stars in a and the colorings. He his necktie. A deep-toned set up off to the southward, over the and landscape. It was a noise, something like the of a mountain-sized for its mother. Joe took a breath. He looked, but saw nothing. The noise, though, told him that there'd been no of orders so far. He one pair of fingers. He couldn't possibly against all disasters. There weren't fingers—or either. But it was good that so the held.
He downstairs. Major Holt was up and the room of his quarters. Electric lights burned, but already the were brightening. Joe up and to look casual. Strictly speaking, Major Holt was a family friend who also to be security officer here, in of protecting what on in the Shed. He'd had a difficult time of it in the past, and the might keep on in the future. He was also the officer here and the of Joe's enterprise. Today's was still precarious. The whole thing was and and might the career of somebody with on his if it should fail. So nobody in the high wanted the responsibility. If well, somebody would take the and the bows. Meanwhile Major Holt was by default.
He looked at Joe. "Morning."
"Good morning, sir," said Joe. Major Holt's Sally had a of with Joe, but the major hadn't the of cordiality, and nobody too much at with him. Besides, Joe was a for the time this morning. There were only eight such in the world, so far. It was black whipcord, with an Eisenhower jacket, narrow on the and cuffs, and a for a where a plane pilot his wings. It was practical. Against in machinery, the were narrow and into ten-inch soft leather boots, and the wide leather had for the of special equipment. Its was a against the of acceleration. Sally had had much to do with its design.
But it hadn't yet been by the Pentagon the Space Exploration Project would be taken over by the Army or the Navy or the Air Corps, so Joe no of rank. Technically he was still a civilian.
The deep-toned noise to the south had a howl, closer and by other howlings.
"The are on the way over, as you can hear," said the major detachedly, in the light of and electric together. "Your is up and about. So there to be no hitch. You're all right for the attempt today?"
"If you want the truth, sir, I'd with about ten years' practical me. But my and myself—we've had all the we can without an take-off. We're the best-trained to try it. I think we'll manage."
"I see," said the major. "You'll do your best."
"We may have to do than that," Joe wrily.
"True enough. You may." The major paused. "You're well aware that there are—ah—people who do not like the idea of the United States an of Earth."
"I ought to know it," Joe.
The Earth's second, man-constructed moon—out in space for just six now—didn't like the it actually was. From Earth it was a of light in the sky, for what it was only it moved so and from the toward the east, or from night's into the dawn-light. But it had been it was launched. It was to the United Nations, but in the Council was vetoed. So the United States had it alone. Yet the nations which to it as an project liked it less as a national one, and they'd done what they to it.
The of the great now out there in had been more bitterly, by more and more saboteurs, than any other enterprise in history. There'd been two to blast it with bombs. But it was high aloft, around the Earth, so close to its that its period was little more than four hours; and it rose in the west and set in the east six times a day.
Today Joe would try to a supply ship up to it, a very small rocket-driven ship named Pelican One. The of the Platform needed food and air and water—and the means of self-defense. Today's take-off would be the attempt at a rocket-lift to space.
"The of the Platform haven't up," said the major formidably. "And they used on the Platform's fumes. Apparently they've been able to our fuel."
Joe nodded.
Major Holt on: "For more than a month Military Intelligence has been aware that were under the Iron Curtain. They will be missiles, and they will bomb heads. One or more may be any day. When they're finished, you can that they'll be used against the Platform. And you will up the arms for the Platform. Your ship a dozen long-range to any attack from Earth. It's for them to be delivered."
"They'll attack the Platform?" Joe angrily. "That's war!"
"Not if they guilt," said the major ironically, "and if we have nothing to by war. The Platform is to the peace of the world. If it is destroyed, we won't the peace of the world by going to over it. But while the Platform can itself, it is not likely that anyone will to make war. So you have a very mission. I that you have and report to the Shed. I'm on my way there now."
Joe said, "Yes, sir."
The major started for the door. Then he stopped. He hesitated, and said abruptly, "If my security have failed, Joe, you'll be killed. If there has been or carelessness, it will be my fault."
"I'm sure, sir, that do—"
"Everything can do to you has been done," said the major grimly. "Not only sabotage, Joe, but and mistakes and stupidities. That always happens. But—I've done my best. I I'm your if my best hasn't been good enough."
Then, Joe reply, the major away.
Joe for a moment. It to him that it must be to be for the that other men's on—when you can't their danger. But just then the of coffee his nostrils. He the scent. There was a on the table in the dining-room. There was a note on a plate.
Good luck. I'll see you in the Shed.
Sally
Joe was relieved. Sally Holt had been around all his life. She was a girl, but he was that he didn't have to talk to her just now.
He coffee and looked at his watch. He to the window. The was much nearer, and had definitely arrived. Small in a sky were by the sun. Patches of and and out the officers' area away to a far-off horizon. They were now visibly different in color from the red-yellow earth them, and long, shadows. The of the was still invisible.
But Joe nothing for that. He skyward, searching. And he saw what he looked for.
There was a small of high aloft. It moved slowly toward the east. It the of upon steel. It was the satellite—a hull—which had been in the Shed from Joe looked upward. It was the size of an liner, and six since some hundreds of pushpots, all at once, had it out of the Shed and toward the sky with it. They'd it twelve miles high and at the speed they manage. They'd rockets, all at once, and so pushed its speed up to the preposterous. Then they'd away and the thing had its own rockets—which mile-long flames—and on out to emptiness. Before its were it was in an 4,000 miles above the Earth's surface, and it through space at something over 12,000 miles an hour. It the Earth in four hours, fourteen minutes, and twenty-two seconds. And it would continue its forever, needing no fuel and descending. It was a second moon for the Earth.
But it be destroyed.
Joe as it on to meet the sun. Smoothly, unhurriedly, serenely, the and on out of sight. And then Joe to the table and ate his quickly. He it. He had an to meet that minute some 4,000 miles out in space. His was for a very hours hence.
He'd been for just this morning's since the Platform's launching. There was a great box in twenty-foot over in the Shed. There were and and over two thousand tubes, and units. It was a space simulator—a of the Link which once plane how to fly. But this offered the problems and the of control, and for many hours every day Joe and the three members of his had in it. The every and and feeling—all but acceleration—to be in the take-off of a to space. The of was convincing. Sometimes it was so when and and were in detail for them to learn to respond to. In six they'd learned how to a so as learn on solid ground—if the was built. Nobody be sure about that. But it was the best that be devised.
In minutes Joe had the coffee and was out of Major Holt's and for the Shed's nearest entrance. The Shed was a metal out of desert. There were to the westward, but only plain to the east and south and north. There was but one town in hundreds of miles and that was Bootstrap, to house the who'd the Platform and the still invisible, and now the small supply ships, the of which was to make its today.
The Shed very near of its size. When he was actually at the of its wall, it to the and more than the horizon. He in, and self-conscious when the guard's on his uniform. There was a vestibule. Then he was in the Shed itself, and it was enormous.
There were of wood-block flooring. There was a vast, steel-girdered which was fifty high in the center. All this size had been needed when the Space Platform was being built. Men on the were specks, and the of to admit light did no more than make a inside. But there was light today. To the east the Shed's was from top to bottom. A had been and out and rolled aside, and a a hundred and fifty wide let in the sunshine. Through it, Joe see the red which was the sun just the horizon.
But there was something more urgent for him to look at. Pelican One had been moved into its cage. Only Joe, perhaps, would have it. Actually it was a of steel, eighty long by twenty in diameter. There were metal fins—useless in space, and on take-off, but for the planned method of landing on its return. There were thick in the bow-section. But its was now by the attached, take-off rockets. It had been into the of from which it was to be launched. Men about it and over it, in and out of the cage, and every possible thing that make for the success of its to space.
The other three crew-members were ready—Haney and Chief Bender and Mike Scandia. They were to be the of this supply ship. When the Platform was being built, its pilot-gyros had been by a tool owned by Joe's father. He'd gone by plane with the to Bootstrap, to deliver and it in the Platform. And the plane was sabotaged, and the were ruined. They'd four months in the building, and four months more for with no-tolerance accuracy. The Platform couldn't wait so long for duplicates. So Joe had a method of repair. And with Haney to special machine-tool and the Chief to use workmanship, and Mike and Joe according to their gifts, they'd the in an time. The original was Joe's, but he couldn't have done the job without the others.
And there had been other, by the team of four. They were not the only ones who for the of having helped to the Earth's moon, but they had more than most. Joe had been to be an of the Platform's crew. But the man he was to have for from an illness, and Joe was left at the Platform's launching. But all of them had some reward, and it was to in the small ships that would supply the man-made satellite.
Now they were to begin. The Chief as Joe through the of the and approached the ship. He was a Mohawk Indian—one of that which for two had to every and and job on the continent. He was and and explosive. Haney looked and strained. He was tall and and spare, and a good man in any of trouble. Mike excitement. Mike was forty-one high and he was full-grown. He had on the Platform, and making and in places too small for a normal-sized man to reach. He any to his size and he was as good a man as any. He was the small, economy size.
"Hiya, Joe," the Chief. "All set? Had breakfast?"
Joe nodded. He to ask questions. About steering-rocket fuel and the and the take-off and the from the air tanks—he'd of that on the way over—and the and and radar. Haney to some questions. Mike said briskly, "I checked" to others.
The Chief amiably, "Look, Joe! We last night. We it again this morning. I Mike the seats, there wasn't anything else to make sure of!"
Joe managed a smile. The seats were the most of all to be useful today. They were life-saving devices. If the ship came a on take-off, the four of them were to use ejection-seats like those to pilots. They would be clear of the ship and ribbon-parachutes might open and might let them land alive. But it wasn't likely. Joe had to their presence. If a to Earth from a of 600 miles, it would be so fast when it the that it would up and to from pure air-friction. It wasn't likely that they out of the ship if anything wrong.
Somebody toward the four of them. Joe's rueful. The Space Project was neither Army Navy Air Corps, but something that so was its own self. But the man toward Joe was Lieutenant Commander Brown, Navy, to the Shed as an observer. And there were some times when he Joe. Like now.
He halted, and looked as if he Joe to salute. Joe didn't.
Lieutenant Commander Brown said, formally: "I would like to offer my best for your trip, Mr. Kenmore."
"Thanks," said Joe.
Brown distantly. "You understand, of course, that I a function, and it to me that any ship, a spaceship, should be by personnel. But I wish you good fortune."
"Thanks," said Joe again.
Brown hands, then off.
Haney in his throat. "How come, Joe, he doesn't wish all of us good luck?"
"He does," said Joe. "But his mind's in too. He's been that way. I'd like to make a that we have him as a out to the Platform some day."
"Heaven forbid!" Haney.
There was an the wide-open in the Shed's wall. Something by the doorway. It looked like the top of a of baker's bread, painted and with an air-scoop in and a plastic for a pilot. It like a dragon, its up and up until it was almost vertical. It had no wings, but a blue-white out of its rear, from to for best to itself. It was a pushpot, which not possibly be called a plane it not possibly fly. Only it did. It settled on its flame-spouting tail, and the into and shriveled, and the thing—still like a fog-horn in a tunnel—flopped with a clank! It was silent.
But the total noise was not lessened. Another came into view, making outcries. It touched and to earth. Others appeared in the air the Shed. One so hard on landing that its rose in the air and it a somersault. It ten times more noise than before—the from its making wild gyrations—and again with a crash. Two others rolled over on their after ground. One ended up on its like a tumble-bug, wriggling.
They to land by hundreds, but their number was actually in dozens. It was not until the last one was that Joe make himself heard. The were in and metal skin, with built-in their engines. On the ground they were helpless. In the air they were clumsy. They were actually and by in the of their jets, and they the maximum of with the minimum of flyability.
Crane-trucks out to them up. Joe said anxiously, "We'd check our plan again. We have to know it absolutely!"
He across the to the data board. He passed the of another ship like his own, which was near completion, and the of two others which needed a of work yet. They'd been at plants and then here on for completion. The of the design for all the ships—in which every possible of and had been out—lay neglected by the Shed wall.
The four the data board. It the every should every of the flight. The had been calculated with care, and Joe and the others needed to know them than they their tables. Once they started out, they wouldn't have time to wonder if was right for the time and place. They needed to know.
They there, up the the contained, pictures of it, making as sure as possible that any one of them would spot anything the it up, and would know what had to be done about it.
A crane-truck came in through the wide doorway. It a pushpot. It rolled over to the in which the and set the metal object against that cage. There was a as the of the magnetic grapples. The out again, a second a second pushpot. The second beetle-like thing was presented to the cage. It fast. The out for more.
Major Holt came across the of the Shed. It took him a long time to walk the from the Security offices to the cage. When he got there, he looked around. His Sally came out of and her nose as if she'd been crying, and pointed to the data board. The major his and looked at her. She him with some defiance. The major spoke to her sternly. They waited.
The in more and set them up against the cage. The ship had been nearly by the its hull. It out of the metal about it.
The major looked at his watch and the group about the data board. They moved away from it and toward the ship. Joe saw the major and over to him.
"I have you," said the major in an official voice, "the of your cargo. You will deliver the with the and proper receipts."
"I hope," said Joe.
"We hope!" said Sally in a tone. "Good luck, Joe!"
"Thanks."
"There is not much to say to you," said the major without visible emotion. "Of the next will start its immediately, but it may be a month another ship can take off. It is that you the Platform today."
"Yes, sir," said Joe wrily. "I have a personal to there. If I don't, I my neck."
The major the comment. He hands and away. Sally up at Joe, but her were full of tears.
"I—do goes all right, Joe," she said unsteadily. "I—I'll be praying for you."
"I can use some of that, too," Joe.
She looked at her hand. Joe's ring was on her finger—wrapped with on the of the to make it fit. Then she looked up again and was unashamedly.
"I—will," she repeated. Then she said fiercely, "I don't if somebody's looking, Joe. It's time for you to go in the ship."
He her, and and to the of pushpots, and almost each other.
He under and looked back. Sally waved. He back. Then he up the into Pelican One's cabin. Somebody the away and out of the cage.
The others were in their places. Joe slowly closed the door from the to the world. There was a about him. Out the quartz-glass he see ahead, out the end of the through the to the beyond. Overhead he see the dark, girder-lined of the Shed. On either side, though, he see only the scratched, dented, of the to the ship upward.
"You can start on the motors, Haney," he said curtly.
Joe moved to his own, the pilot's seat. Haney pushed a button. Through the of the ship came the of a engine starting. Haney pushed another button. Another. Another. More bellowed. The in the Shed would be past endurance, now.
Joe himself into his seat. He sure that the Chief at the steering-rocket manual was properly, and Mike at the radio was past the of injury.
Haney said with calm, "All running, Joe."
"Steering ready," the Chief reported.
"Radio operating," came from Mike. "Communications room all set."
Joe to the controls. He should have been sweating. His hands, perhaps, should have with tension. But he was too much about too many things. Nobody can an or go into a while they are about to be done. Joe the small as their speed up. A and a and then a which up in until it wasn't anything at all. He and said to Haney, "I'm taking over the pushpots."
Haney nodded. Joe took the over-all control. The of loud on the right-hand side, and died down. It to the left, and dwindled. The ones ahead pushed. Then the ones behind. Joe and wet his lips. He said: "Here we go."
There was no more than that. The noise of the rose to a which came through the little ship's hull. Then it louder, and louder still, and Joe the by so a movement.
Suddenly the ship did not solid. It a little. Joe his and the over-all of the pushpots' speed a further. The ship a little. Out the quartz-glass windows, the great door to descend. In the and the rose some thirty from the Shed and there uncertainly. Joe the that the in the blasts. Ship and and pushpots, all together, toward the doorway. They passed out of it, a little and a little and a little. As a device, the was a and a horror. It was an designer's nightmare. It was a by any standard.
But it wasn't meant as a way to from one place to another on Earth. It was the stage of a three-stage at space. It looked like—well—if a of to a wire-gauze in which a in match-sticks; and if the and it in a straining, clumsy, and manner; and if the and the noise together were a good many thousands of times—why—it would present a great to the take-off of the under Joe's command. Nothing like it be or or very in the thick near the ground. But higher, it would be another matter.
It was another matter. Once clear of the Shed, and with flat, ahead to the very horizon, Joe on full power to the motors. The clumsy-seeming of objects to climb. Ungainly it was, and it was, but it at a a jet-fighter might have trouble matching. It wobbled, and it around and around, and it crazily, the whole of and and of as a unit. But it rose!
The ground so that the Shed to like a balloon. The as if a were by magic. The pressure turned.
"Communications says our rate-of-climb is 4,000 a minute and going up fast," Mike announced. "It's five.... We're at 17,000 ... 18,000. We should some at 32,000 feet. Our is now 21,000 feet...."
There was no in the of the ship, of course. Sealed against the of space, pressure no difference. Height had no on the air the ship.
At 25,000 the Chief said suddenly: "We're pointed east, Joe. Freeze it?"
"Right," said Joe. "Freeze it."
The Chief a lever. The were at full speed. By them, the Chief had all their stored-up energy available to any of direction the might produce by minor in their thrusts. Haney over the reports from the outside. He minute to keep them balanced. Mike into the from time to time.
At 33,000 there was a as if the ship were sharply. It wasn't. The any from level rise. The upward-soaring of had into a jet-stream, one of those wind-floods of the upper atmosphere.
"Eastern four hundred," said Mike from the communicator. "Now four-twenty-five.... Four-forty."
There was a 300-mile-an-hour wind them. A tail-wind, west to east. The now to the maximum possible they rose out of that east-bound hurricane. They added a push to to their thrust. Mike's voice reported 500 miles an hour. Presently it was 600.
At 40,000 they were moving at 680 miles an hour. A jet-motor cannot be indirectly, but there was over 200,000 at work to the and up the possible speed. It couldn't be up, of course. The couldn't fuel.
But they 55,000 feet, which is where space for humankind. A man to at that will die just as as the stars. But it wasn't empty space for the pushpots. There was still a very, very little air. The still upward. Feebly, now, but they still thrust.
Mike said: "Communications says set to fire jatos, Joe."
"Right!" he replied. "Set yourselves."
Mike a switch, and a voice to Joe's head. It was the voice from the communications-room the Shed, now and behind. Mike settled himself in the acceleration-chair for him. The Chief to in his seat. Haney took his hands from the he had to make so that Joe's use of the would be exact, of moment-to-moment in the of the jets.
"We've got a right," said the Chief sharply. "Hold it, Joe!"
Joe waited for small to return to their proper registrations.
"Back and steady," said the Chief a moment later. "Okay!"
The voice Joe now spoke precisely. Mike had to it while the work of take-off be divided, so that Joe would not be distracted. Now Joe had to at once.
The of the the ship had long since the and of normal atmosphere. Not much be by the near-vacuum outside. But the did roar, and the which was not at such a was by the metal as so much pure vibration. The and of the up a crawling, and it into sound. Standing set up and and moved in the air of the cabin. Joe's were affected. Now one ear by a temporary of air pressure where a for a second or two. Then the other itched. There were as of one and moving away.
Joe a into place his mouth.
"All set," he said evenly. "Brief me."
The voice said:
"You are at 65,000 feet. Your of rate-of-climb is out. You are now at near-maximum speed, and not much more can be anticipated. You have an air-speed relative to surface of six-nine-two miles hour. The speed of Earth at this is seven-seven-eight. You have, then, a total speed of one-four-seven-oh miles hour, or nearly twelve of your needed final velocity. Since you will take off and without air resistance, a of safety remains. You are to blast."
Joe said:
"Ten seconds. Nine ... eight ... seven ... six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one...."
He the master switch. And a rocket, into each and every one of the outside, chemical in a simultaneous, thrust. A small wire-wound for jet-assisted-take-off will a hundred and and deliver a thousand of for fourteen seconds. And that is for using compounds. The of the used the beryllium-fluorine fuel that had the Platform and that the take-off of Joe's ship. These gave the themselves an of ten gravities, but it had to be with the and the ship. Still....
Joe himself into his seat with irresistible, force. The from the had been bad. Now he didn't notice it. He didn't notice much of anything but the of six-gravity acceleration.
It was not pain. It was a as if a and pressure pushed at him. Not only on the outside, like a blow, but too, like nothing else imaginable. Not only his pressed upon his lungs, but his toward his backbone. Not only the of his to itself against his acceleration-chair, but the blood in his to into and the blood-vessels in the of his legs.
The six-gravity to for centuries. Actually, it for fourteen seconds. In that time it the speed of the little ship by more than a mile second, something over 1,800 miles hour. Before, the ship had an speed of a over 1,470 miles an hour. After the thrust, it was traveling nearly 3,400 miles hour. It needed to travel something over 12,000 miles hour to the of Earth.
The ended abruptly. Joe gasped. But he allow himself only a shake of the to clear his brain. He the take-off button. There was a noise and a surging, and Haney panted, "Clear of cage...."
And then they were pressed against their chairs again. The ship was no longer in its cage. It was no longer by pushpots. It was free, with its take-off flaming. It on up and out. But the was less. Nobody can six for long. Anybody can take three—for a while.
Joe's movement with a weight of four hundred and fifty pounds, of a third as much for normal. His had to pump against three times the normal of gravity. His as if it had a weight on it. His to the of his mouth and him. The was that of a of duration. It was possible to move and possible to see. One breathe, with difficulty, and with one speak. But there was the same of to every movement that comes in nightmares.
But Joe managed to keep his focused. The of the said that was right. The voice his head, its by the of its diaphragm, said: "All check of instruments. Good work!"
Joe moved his to a window. The sky was black. But there were stars. Bright against a black background. At the same he saw the white of that came in the portholes. Stars and together. And the was the of space. Even with the off some of the it was and conception. He paint, where the on a metal bulkhead. Stars and super-hot together....
It was necessary to for breath, and his and his to go out of focus, but Joe Kenmore in his acceleration-chair and managed to laugh a little.
"We did it!" he panted. "In case you didn't notice, we're out of—the and—out in space! We're—headed to join the Space Platform!"
