All the were familiar, the small of objects rose and rose. Of all objects by man, the supported by were most irrational.
The squadron, though, upward. In the ship, Joe was more than on his other take-off—if such a thing was possible. His work was this trip. Before, he'd had Mike at and the Chief at the while Haney the for thrust. Now Joe the ship alone. Headphones and a gave him with the Shed direct, and the were in groups, which cost but helped on control. He would have, moreover, to his own and when he could—and dared—he should the others. Because each of the other three had two drone-ships to guide. True, they had only to keep their in formation, but Joe had to for all. The four of them had been this of its importance. They to be the only alive who had a space ship designed for maneuvering, and their of a single trip.
The was higher this time than on that other now two months past. They into it at 36,000 feet. Joe's tinnily. Radar from the ground told him his rate-of-rise, his ground speed, his speed, and added on the of the drones.
The last was not a job. On the way up Joe protested, "Somebody's ship—Number Four—is lagging! Snap it up!"
Mike said crisply, "Got it, Joe. Coming up!"
"The Shed says three ships are out of formation. And we need east pointing. Check it."
The Chief muttered, "Something here ... come round, you! Okay, Joe."
Joe had no time for reflection. He was in of the operation designed for an exact result. The toward the sky. The noise was horrible. A voice in his headphones:
"You are at 65,000 feet. Your rate-of-climb is flattening. You should fire your when practical. You have some in power."
Joe spoke into the of noise and pressure in the air of the cabin.
"We should blast. I'm in the series for jatos. Try to line up. We want the above us and with a spread, remember! Go to it!"
He his direction and the small telling of the drones. The sky the was dark purple. The sluggishly. Its open end came around toward the east. It and wavered. It touched the due-east point. Joe the firing-button.
Nothing happened. He hadn't it. The seven ships had to keep in formation. They had to start off on one course—with a spread as a safety measure—and at one time. So the firing-circuits were to in series. Only when all seven firing-keys were at the same time would any of the fire. Then all would blast together.
The in the cockpit-bubbles of the had an view of the scene. At something over twelve miles height, seven of black to of steel, pushing valorously. Far there were clouds and there was Earth. There was a horizon, which and tilted. The with of purpose. One of the seven to the others. They pointed this way and that—all of them. But they to arrive at an unanimity.
Joe pushed the firing-button again as his own ship touched the due-east mark. Again nothing happened. Out of the of his he saw Haney pressing buttons. The Chief's lifted. Mike pushed one and off the other.
Roarings and of pushpots. Wobblings and heart-breaking of the drone-ships. They in the sky while the used up their fuel.
"We've got to make it soon," said Joe grimly. "We've got seconds. Or we'll have to go and try again."
There was a clock with a red sweep-hand which moved and toward a time for firing. Up to that deadline, the let the ships to Earth without them. After it, they'd out of fuel a landing be made.
The came closer and closer. Joe snapped:
"Take a leeway. We've got ten seconds."
He had the ship nearly steady. He the firing-button, by movements of the controls. Haney pushed hands down, one, pushed again. The Chief had one down. Mike had depressed.... The Chief pushed his second button, quietly.
There was a impact. Every in every about every at once. Joe himself into his chair. Six gravities. He the to alive, while the blood to from the of his brain, and while every of his pressed against him, and objects in his pockets pushed. The of his mouth back, and his sagged, and his to into his and him.
It was very bad. It to last for centuries.
Then the out. There was that of to weightlessness. One instant, Joe's a ton. The next instant, it less than a grain. His twice as if his were about to open and let his out. But these he had before.
There were in the about him. The ship fell. It to be going up, but the and the was free fall. Joe had been through this before, too. He for and croaked, "Drones?"
"Right," said Haney.
Mike anxiously, "Four's off course. I'll it."
The Chief Mohawk. His hands on the for of the he had to handle.
"Crazy!" he growled. "Got it now, Joe. Fire when ready."
"Okay, Mike?"
A half-second pause.
"Okay!"
Joe pressed the firing-button for the take-off rockets. And he was into his chair again. But this was three only. Pressed against the cushions, he perform the for the fleet. He did. The mother-ship had to a true course, of the of its rockets. The had to be in with it. The second was simpler. But Joe was relieved, this time, of the need to report instrument-readings. A device took of that.
The take-off and and blasted. The of alive very tedious. The to last for centuries. Actually it be only in minutes. But it the said, fashion: "You are on and will speed in fourteen seconds. I will count for you."
"Relays for release," Joe. "Throw 'em over!"
Three hands moved to obey. Joe the drive on all seven ships at will.
The voice counted:
"Ten ... nine ... eight ... seven ... six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... cut!"
Joe pressed the master-key. The of the solid-fuel take-off let go. They off into at speed, themselves as they went.
There was again no weight.
This time there was no resting. No out the ports. Now they weren't curious. They'd had over a month in space, and something like sixteen days on Earth, and now they were in space again.
Mike and Haney and the Chief at their boards. The the and moved and quivered. The six ships on the screens. But they also had apparatus. They reported their condition and the direction in which their pointed. The plotted their position with relation to each other and the mother-ship.
Presently Joe a out of a port and saw that the dark line of was almost below. The take-off had been to the ships into Earth's above the area from which were most likely to rise. It wouldn't prevent bombing, of course. But there was a gadget....
Joe spoke into the microphone: "Reporting all right so far. But you know it."
The voice from solid ground said, "Report acknowledged."
The ships on and on and on. The Chief to himself and very minute of the movement of one of his drones. Mike with his. Haney the of his with a calm.
Nothing happened, that they to be into a and their stomach-muscles and in purely response to the sensation. Even that tedious.
The said, "You will enter Earth's in three minutes. Prepare for combat."
Joe said drily, "We're to prepare for combat."
The Chief growled. "I'd like to do just that!"
The phrasing, of course, was intentional—in case enemy ears were listening. Actually, the small was to use a on the can which protected the Platform. It would be most if was impossible. The was seven ships in very formation. Most improbably, after the long three-gravity acceleration, they were still a fifty-mile of space. Number Four behind, but was being up by of steering-rocket fire. Number Two was some ahead. The others were scattered. They on like a group of meteors. Out the ports, two of them were visible. The others might be out by the eye—but it wasn't likely.
Drone Two, ahead and visible, from a to a pin-point of light. The red color deepened. It out. The in the of the mother-ship red. Then it out.
"Shoot the ghosts," said Joe.
The three drone-handlers pushed their buttons. Nothing that see. Actually, though, a small the to rhythmically. Similar on the coughed, too. They were small, multiple-barreled guns. Rifle two-pound at in emptiness. They wouldn't anything they hit. They'd go distances, and shoot small lead ahead to check their missile-velocity, and then of foil. There was no air resistance. The would continue to move through at the same as the convoy-fleet. The seven ships had a total of eighty-four such objects away into the of Earth's shadow. There were, then, seven ships and eighty-four of moving through emptiness. They not be by telescopes.
And not tell ships from of foil.
If enemy came upward, they reported ninety-one space ships in but formation, through toward the Platform. And a like that was too to attack.
The had been prepared to of the speed and of a single ship to waiting rocket-launching half-way across the Pacific. But they reported to Very High Authority instead.
He the report of an armada—an fleet—in space. He didn't it. But he didn't it.
So the peacefully through the that was Earth's shadow, and no attempt at attack was made. They came out into to look at the western of America itself. With seven ships to on an exact course, at an exact speed, at an exact moment, time was needed. So the almost a complete of the Earth the of the Platform's orbit.
They joined it. A single man in a space suit, to its plates, a plastic which out and to one with a magnetic grapple. He it to the and it fast. He a second, which was by of steering-rocket vapor.
One by one, the were fast. Then the ship in the lock and the great door closed, and the plastic-fabric their nets, and air came in.
Lieutenant Commander Brown was the one to come into the lock to them. He hands all around—and it again to all the four from Earth to themselves with their more or less planted on a solid floor, but their to right and left and and back, there was no up or down.
"Just had reports from Earth," Brown told Joe comfortably. "The news of your take-off was to avoid panic in Europe. But who doesn't like us is murder. Somebody—you may who—is announcing that a of ninety-one took off from the United States and now in space while the American war-mongers prepare an to all the world. Everybody's frightened."
"If they'll only until we unloaded," said Joe in some satisfaction, "the government home can tell them how many we were and what we came up for. But we'll make out all right, anyhow."
"My will unload," said Brown, in thoughtfulness. "You must have well by that acceleration."
Joe his head. "I think we can the faster. We out a by going to Earth."
A of at the top of the lock—at least it had been the top when the Platform was on Earth—opened up as on the here. A down. But from this point on, the was changed. Haney and Joe into the cargo-section of the and its through to the above. The Chief and Mike it there. The speed and of their work was out of all reason. Brown incredulously.
The was that on their to the Platform, Joe and his didn't know how to use their where there was no weight. By the time they'd learned, their had all tone. Now they were fresh from Earth, with Earth-strength muscles—and they how to use them.
"When we got back," Joe told Brown, "we were invalids. No up here. This time we've some to wear. We've some for you, too."
They moved out of the airlock, and the ship was to a outside, and a took its place. Brown's at the of the drone. But he said, "Navy work, that!"
"Out here," said Joe, "you take no more than an on Earth—in fact, not as much. By now the original would have trouble up on a to Earth. You'd heavy, yourself."
Brown frowned.
"Hm. I—ah—I shall ask for on the matter."
He erect. He didn't on his as the others did. But he the same magnetic-soled shoes. Joe knew, with private amusement, that Brown must have hard to a in weightlessness.
"Mr. Kenmore," said Brown suddenly. "Have you been a rank as yet?"
"Not that I know of," said Joe without interest. "I the ship I just up. But——"
"Your ship has no rating!" Brown irritably. "The of a Navy ship may be anything from a junior to a captain, on the size and of the ship. In a officer. Are you an man?"
"Again, not that I know of," Joe told him. "Nor my crew, either."
Brown looked at once and distressed.
"It isn't regular!" he objected. "It isn't shipshape! I should know you are under my or not! For discipline! For organization! It should be up! I shall put through an urgent inquiry."
Joe looked at him incredulously. Lieutenant Commander Brown was a perfectly man, but he had to have in a pattern for him to that they were in a pattern at all. He was more over the that he didn't know he Joe, than over the much more of physical in the of gravity. Yet he surely their relative importance. The was, of course, that he exact about the last, while he had to settle of and for himself.
"I shall ask for of your status," he said worriedly. "It shouldn't have been left unclear. I'd to it at once."
He looked at Joe as if a salute. He didn't it. He away, his magnetic shoe-soles out a rhythm. He must have that walk, in private.
Joe got out of the as another of the space was in. Brent, the crew's psychologist, joined him when he to unload. Brent in a fashion to Joe.
"Quite a change, eh?" he said drily. "Sanford out to be a with his of grandeur. I'm not sure that Brown's of aren't worse."
Joe said, "I've something to pass on," and told about the newly physical of a long where there was no gravity. The doctors now that who six months without weight would a of which make a return to Earth without a long of retraining. One's would to the of any need to pump blood against gravity.
"Which," said Joe, "means that you're going to have to be too long. But we up some gravity-simulator that may help."
Brent said desolately: "And I was so pleased! We all had trouble with insomnia, at first, but we've all been sleeping well! Now I see why! Normally one he's tired. We had trouble sleeping until our got so weak we anyhow!"
Another came in and was unloaded. And another and another. But the last of them wasn't only unloaded. Haney took over the Platform's and—grinning to himself—sent faint, especially-tuned to the steering-rockets of the drone. The liquid-fuel were designed to a ship. With the door open, the ship out of the like a horse. The liquid-fuel had a nearly empty to accelerate. It skittishly.
Joe out a port as it away. The Earth rolled it. It on and vanished. Its to be visible. Joe told Brent:
"Another job, that! We sent it backward, it a little. It'll have a new orbit, of ours and it. But come sixty hours it will be directly underneath. We'll it up and it. And our friends the enemy will it. It's a radio repeater. It'll up short-wave to it, and repeat it to Earth. And they can try to that!"
It was a to play. Behind the Iron Curtain, from the free world couldn't be of to pure noise and them out. But the were on the enemy nations' borders. If radio came from overhead, would be at least in the center of the nations. Populations would the truth, though their governments objected.
But that was a minor matter, after all. With space ship into being by dozens, and with one of hundreds of of aloft, the whole picture of supply for the Platform had changed.
Part of the new picture was two that Haney and the Chief were assembling. They were mostly metal and a series of tanks, with on and joints. They looked like red insects, but they were officially vehicles, and Joe's to them as space wagons. They had no cabin, but something like a saddle. Before it there was a control-board complete with radar-screens. And there were to which solid-fuel of be attached. They were short-range for travel in space. They had the stripped, look of farm machinery. So the name "space wagon" fitted. There were two of them.
"We're the pair together," the Chief told Joe. "Looks peculiar."
"It's only for temporary use," said Joe. "There's a and one being with a regular and hull. But some with these two will be useful in a regular space tug."
The Chief said with a too much of casualness: "I'm of looking to this."
"No," said Joe doggedly. "I'm responsible. I take the chance. But we should all be able to them. When this is assembled you can by with the second one. If the one all right, we'll try the second."
The Chief grimaced, but he to the of the device.
Joe got out the gravity-simulator harnesses. He Brent how they worked. Brown hadn't official to order their use, but Joe put one on himself, set for full Earth-gravity simulation. He couldn't gravity, of course. Only the of on one's muscles. There were and one's and together, so that it was as much to extended—with one's out—as to on Earth. Joe with a on his body.
Brent was when he that to him more than a tenth of normal was unbearable. But he it on at that. If he the a very little every day, he might be able to return to Earth, in time. Now it would be a very indeed. He off to put the other members of the in the same of harness.
After ten hours, a second off into space. By that time the red were assembled. They looked more than like farm machinery, save that their them look insectile, too. They were actually something small tow-boats and crash-wagons. A man in a space climb into the of one of these creations, in the air-line of his to the crash-wagon's tanks, and travel in space by means of the space wagon's rockets. These vehicles had powerful magnetic grapples. They were with as powerful as those of a ship. They had banks of solid-fuel of power and length of burning. And they missiles, small which be used to what not be recovered. They were to of to the Platform. There were why the should be economical, if it should to work at all.
When they were for testing, they very small in the great space lock. Joe and the Chief very an long list of that had to work right or nothing would work at all. That part of the job wasn't thrilling, but Joe no longer looked for thrills. He did the that produced results. If a of to disappear, the of more than up for it.
They got into space suits. They were in an odd position on the Platform. Lieutenant Commander Brown had Joe as much as possible since his arrival. So he'd him direct orders, Joe was not and officially his subordinate. Lacking exact information, the only thing a rank-conscious officer do was the maximum of and ask authority for a on Joe's place in the of rank.
Joe a leg over his eccentric, red-painted mount. He his safety-belt, in his air-supply to the space wagon's tanks, and spoke into his transmitter.
"Okay to open the lock. Chief, you keep watch. If I make out all right, you can join me. If I in trouble, come after me in the ship we up. But only if it's practical! Not otherwise!"
The Chief said something in Mohawk. He indignant.
The plastic of the lock inward, and them. Pumps briefly, what air was left. Then the back, against their netting, and Joe waited for the door to open to empty space.
Instead, there came a voice in his helmet-phones. It was Brown. "Radar says there's a on the way up! It's over at what is the of the world from here. Three only. Better not go out!"
Joe hesitated. Brown still no order. But defense against a single would be a of missiles—Brown's business—if the can screen didn't it. Joe would have no part in it. He wouldn't be needed. He couldn't help. And there'd be all the of to go through again. He said uncomfortably:
"It'll be a long time it here—and three is low! Maybe it's a job. There have been and so on. It won't take long to try this wagon, anyhow. They're to send up a ship from the Shed and these have to be first. Give me ten minutes."
He the Chief to himself. But one space was than none.
The doors opened. Huge wide. Bright, remote, the opening. Joe the of his liquid-fuel rockets. The lock with fumes. And the space moved. It did not have to from the lock floor. Once the magnetic were it was free of the floor. But it did have mass. One push of the sent it out of the lock. It was in space. It on.
Joe a of panic. Nobody who is only to Earth can at the the of vehicles in space. But Joe the rockets. He stopped. He in space. The Platform was a good half-mile away.
He the gyros, and the space into spinning. He them and out—almost. The of all still to slowly about him. The which was Earth moved from above his to under his and the slow revolution. The Platform in a direction. He was very slowly away.
"Chief," he said wrily, "you can't do than I'm doing, and we're for time. You might come out. But listen! You don't your rockets! On Earth you keep a going when it stops, you do. But out here you have to use your to stop, but not to keep on going. Get it? When you do come out, don't your more than a second at a time."
The Chief's voice came booming:
"Right, Joe! Here I come!"
There was a of fumes, which in every direction until they to be. The Chief in his insect-like came out of the which was the airlock. He was a good half-mile away. The ceased. He on going. Joe him swear. The Chief the of a man in a car when his don't work. But a moment later the did briefly, yet still too long. The Chief was not only stopped, but toward the Platform. He to turn, and he as as Joe had done. But after a moment he stopped—almost. There were, then, two red-painted in space, like water-spiders in emptiness. They very from the great Platform and that which was Earth, very slowly and a good fourth of all that be seen.
"Suppose you toward me, Chief," said Joe absorbedly. "Aim to pass, and that what you have to is not where I am, but where you have to put on the to stop close by. That's where you use your braking-rockets."
The Chief it. He came to a stop a quarter-mile past Joe.
"I'm heavy-handed," said his voice disgustedly.
"I'll try to join you," said Joe.
He did try. He stopped a little short. The two objects almost together. The Chief was with to Joe. Presently he was on.
"This takes thinking," said Joe ruefully.
A voice in his headphones, from the Platform, said:
"That from Earth is still accelerating. Still at three gravities. It looks like it isn't defective. It might be a man. Hadn't you come in?"
The Chief growled: "We won't be any there! I want to the of this." Then his voice sharply. "Joe! D'you that?"
Joe his own voice, very cold.
"I didn't. I do now. Brown, I'd a at that up. If there's a man in it, he's up to take over that'll overtake him, and try to the Platform by direct control, since don't work. I'd him as away as possible."
Brown's voice came very and worried. "Right."
There was an of from the of the Platform. Something away toward Earth. It with rapidity. Then Joe said:
"Chief, I think we'd go and meet that rocket. We'll learn to these on the way. I think we're going to have a on our hands. Whoever's in that isn't up just to shake hands with us."
He the small red vehicle and pointed it for Earth. He added:
"I'm a six-two solid-fuel job, Chief. Counting three. Three—two—one."
His in fumes. But after six at two the out. The Chief had a rocket. They were miles apart, but Earthward on very nearly courses.
The Platform smaller. That was their only proof of motion.
A very, very long time passed. The Chief his to him closer to Joe. It did not work. He had to for Joe and fire a blast to move nearer. Presently he would have to blast again to keep from passing.
Joe calculations in his head. He worried. He and the Chief were Earthward—away from the Platform—at more than four miles a minute, but it was not enough. The was at a great more than that rate. And if the Platform's on Earth had sent a up to the Platform, the man in it would have of himself. He would missiles—but he wouldn't to be by space wagons.
Joe said suddenly:
"Chief! I'm going to a twelve-two. We've got to match back. Join me? Three—two—one."
He a twelve-two. Twelve burning, two acceleration. It up his speed away from the Platform to a which would have been breathless, on Earth. But here there was no of motion, and the were enormous. Things which in space with and swiftness. But long, long, long events. The twelve-two out. The Chief had matched that also.
Brown's voice in the said, "The rocket's cut acceleration. It's up, now. It should our fifty miles us. But our should it in seconds."
"I wouldn't on that," said Joe coldly. "Figure data for the Chief and me. Make it fast!"
He the Chief, a dozen miles away and his to close, again. The Chief had the of it, now. He didn't try to steer. He toward Joe.
But nothing happened. And nothing happened. And nothing happened. The two space were 90 miles from the Platform, which was now a speck, than the stars.
There was a of light to Earthward. It was than the sun. The light vanished.
Brown's voice came in the headphones, "Our off 200 miles short! He sent an to set it off!"
"Then he's dangerous," said Joe. "There'll be up any second now for him to from right at hand. We won't be from 4,000 miles away! They've don't work, so he's going to work in close. Give us our and data, quick! The Chief and I have got to try to things!"
The two space wagons—like stick-insects in form, painted a red—seemed lonely. It was possible to out the Platform with the eyes. The Earth was thousands of miles below. Joe and the Chief, in space suits, metal in an more vast, more lonely, more terrible than either have imagined.
Then the started up. There were eight of them. They came out to do at ten acceleration.
