But at ten gravities' drive it takes time to travel 4,000 miles. At three, and a great of the way, it takes much longer. The Platform Earth in four hours and a little more. Anything and up needed to start long the Platform was overhead. A three-g would start while the Platform was still the western from its launching-spot. Especially if it planned to part of its journey—and a three-gravity would have to most of the way.
So there was time. Coasting, the would be speed. If it planned to go no higher than the Platform's orbit, its would be zero there. If it were 500 miles down, it would be at an almost rate, and Joe and the Chief check their Earthward and match its rate.
This they did. But what they couldn't do was match its velocity, which was zero. They had the Platform's speed to start with—over 200 miles a minute. No how they braking-rockets, they couldn't stop and around the control-ship. Inevitably they would past it in the of an instant. To fire their on ahead would be almost to that they would miss. Also, the enemy ship was manned. It back.
But Joe had been on the end of one attack in space. It wasn't much experience, but it was more than but he and his own possessed.
"Chief," said Joe into his helmet-mike, as if by speaking he keep from being overheard, "get close to me to see what I do, and do it too. I can't tell you more. Whoever's this might know English."
There was a of in space. The Chief was using his steering-rockets to near.
Joe his little space about, so that it pointed in the direction from which he had come. He had four missiles, type. Very deliberately, he the four of them astern—away from the rocket. They were low-speed missiles, to up a ship that couldn't be onto, it was traveling too much or slower than the Platform it was to reach. The away. Then Joe about again in the direction of his target. The Chief fumed—Joe him—but he Joe's maneuver. He his own in the direction of its line of flight.
Then his ceased. Joe's his when he saw the idea.
"Joe! I wish you talk Indian! I you for this trick!"
Brown's voice said anxiously: "I'm going to let that have a more shots."
"Let us by first," said Joe. "Then maybe you can use them on the up."
He see the of war-rockets on the way out from Earth. They were of vapor. They were the possible of white. But they as they rose. They were at than two miles second, now, and still their speed.
But the in which this took place was so that to take place in slow motion. There was time to out not only the method of attack from Earth, but the for it. If the Platform from space, no from what cause, its would that it had been by its own bombs, spontaneously. Even in the of proof of murder, enemy nations would that for the of humanity—in the Platform—had and that of war-mongering from the skies. There might be somebody, somewhere, who would it.
Joe and the Chief were now nearly on a line to the rocket. They had already their missiles, which them. They into battle, not prepared to shoot, but with their expended. For which there was excellent reason.
Something came toward them from the man-carrying rocket. It like a side-spout from the of from Earth. Actually it was a missile.
"Now we dodge," said Joe cheerfully. "Remember the of this business!"
It was simple. Speeding toward the assassin, and with his toward them, the relative of the and the were added together. If the space dodged, the had less time to his to match the of course. And besides, the hadn't a single turn in space. Not yet. He might know that a doesn't go where it's pointed, as a of theory. He might know that the final speed and of a is the of all its previous and courses. But he hadn't used the knowledge Joe and the Chief had.
Something at them. They into action. And they didn't turn the of their space wagons. They them about end-for-end, and blasted. They used different at odd angles. Joe away from Earth on thrust, and touched off a four-three while he toward Earth's north pole, and along that four-second he his in a and the result was nearly a right-angled turn. When the four-three out he set off a twelve-two, and through its a three-two with it, so that at the he had two acceleration, then four for three seconds, and then two again.
With long practice, a man might learn in space. But all a man's of is learned on Earth, where always, always, always move steadily. Nobody making his space-flight possibly such as Joe and the Chief of themselves. The man in the enemy was making his flight. Also, Joe and the Chief had an of 200 miles a minute toward him. The in the hadn't a chance. He four more and to home them in. But——
They past his course. And then they were safe from his fire, it would take a very long time for anything he after them to catch up. But their had still to pass him—and Joe and the Chief them without any about their own safety or anything else but a hit.
They a hit.
Two of the eight little luridly, almost together, where the radar-pips the to be. Then there were two parts to the rocket, separating. One was small and one was large. Another demolition-missile the larger section. Still another as that was going to pieces. The smaller to be important. The weren't bombs, of course. They were only demolition-charges. But they the admirably.
Brown's voice came in the headphones, still tense. "You got it! How about the others?"
Joe a exhilaration. Later he might think about the devil—there have been only one—who had been some 3,700 miles above the surface of the Earth. He might think of that man as a of than as a hater. He might about this, but at the moment he that he and the Chief had a victory.
"I think," he said, "that you can them with contempt. They won't have fuses. Those friends of ours who want so to kill us have that don't work. Unless one is on a I don't think you need to do anything about them."
The Chief was to himself in Mohawk, twenty miles away. Joe said:
"Chief, how about to the Platform?"
The Chief growled. "My great-grandfather would me! Winning a and no to show! Not coup! He'd me!"
But Joe saw his flare, away off against the stars.
The were very near, now. They still of thick white vapor. They up with speed. One by Joe at a of little more than a mile, and its out to that they to nothingness. They on and on and on....
They out somewhere. It would be a long time they to Earth. Hours, probably. Then they would be meteors. They'd they touched solidity. They wouldn't explode.
But Joe and the Chief to the Platform. It was how hard it was to match speed with it again, to make a good entrance into the lock. They it the Platform its into that which was the Earth's shadow. And Joe was very they did make it then. He wouldn't have liked to be a in that darkness, with the of the Abyss to be trying to him.
Haney met them in the airlock. He grinned.
"Nice job, Joe! Nice job, Chief!" he said warmly. "Uh—the Lieutenant Commander wants you to report to him, Joe. Right away."
Joe an at him.
"What for?"
Haney spread out his hands. The Chief grunted. "That guy me. I'll bet, Joe, he's going to you shouldn't've gone out when he didn't want you to. Me, I'm away from him!"
The Chief his space and away, as well as anyone while walking on what to be the ceiling, from Joe's point of view. Joe put his space in its proper place. He to the small that Brown had for the office of the Platform Commander. Joe in, naturally without saluting.
Brown sat in a fastened-down chair with him in place. He was writing. On Joe's entry, he put the pen on a plate that would it until he wanted it again. Otherwise it have about the room.
"Mr. Kenmore," said Brown awkwardly, "you did a very piece of work. It's too you aren't in the Navy."
Joe said: "It did work out fortunately. It's lucky the Chief and I were out practicing, but now we can take off when a rocket's reported, any time."
Brown his throat. "I can thank you personally," he said unhappily, "and I do. But—really this is intolerable! How can I report this affair? I can't commendation, or a promotion, or—anything! I don't know how to to you! I am going to ask you, Mr. Kenmore, to put through a that your be clarified. I would that your would a rank—hm—about to a junior in the Navy."
Joe grinned.
"I have—ah—prepared a you might helpful," said Brown earnestly. "It's necessary for something to be done. It's urgent! It's important!"
"Sorry," said Joe. "The thing to me is to up the Platform with from Earth. Excuse me."
He out of the office. He his way to the himself and his crew. Mike him with eyes. Joe his hand.
"Don't say it, Mike! The answer is yes. See that the are refilled, and new put in place. Then you and Haney go out and practice. But no than ten miles from the Platform. Understand?"
"No!" said Mike rebelliously. "It's a dirty trick!"
"Which," Joe him, "I only there's a ship from Bootstrap up any time now. And we'll need to it up and it here."
He to the control-room to see if he a to Earth.
He got the beam, and he got Sally on the screen. A report of the attack on the Platform had already gone to Earth. Sally's was somehow and haunted. But she to talk lightly.
"Derring-do and stuff, Joe?" she asked. "How it to be a warrior?"
"It rotten," he told her. "There must have been somebody in the we up. He like a patriot, I guess, trying to us; But I like a butcher."
"Maybe you didn't do it," she said. "Maybe the Chief's bombs——"
"Maybe," said Joe. He hesitated. "Hold up your hand."
She it up. His ring was still on it. She nodded. "Still there. When will you be back?"
He his head. He didn't know. It was that one wanted so to talk to a girl after doing something that was blood-stirring—and left one afterward. This of space travel and space was what he'd of, and he still wanted it. But it was very to talk to Sally, who hadn't had to go through any of it.
"Write me a letter, will you?" he asked. "We can't tie up this very long."
"I'll you all the news that's allowed to go out," she him. "Be you, Joe."
Her image from the screen. And, it over, he couldn't see that either of them had said anything of any at all. But he was very they'd talked together.
The ship came up some eight hours later—two after the television call. Mike was hours in advance, fidgeting. The ship started up while the Platform was over the middle of the Pacific. It didn't try to make a approach as all other ships had done. It came up, and it started from the ground. No pushpots. Its take-off were monsters. They pushed at ten until it was out of atmosphere, and then they up to fifteen. Much later, the on its and speed to match with the Platform.
There were two for the rise, and the high acceleration. If a ship up, it wouldn't pass over enemy until it was high to be protected by the Platform. And—it fuel to fuel to be burned. So if the up speed for to in the of hundred miles, it needn't its fuel so far. It was to one's fuel fast and an that would kill a crew. Hence robots.
The landing of the ship at the Platform was almost as matter-of-fact as if it had been done a thousand times before. From the Platform its take-off couldn't be seen, of course. It appeared as a on a screen. Then Mike prepared to go out and on to it and it in. He was in his space and in the landing lock, though his was still open. A in Brown's voice: "Evacuate and prepare to take off!"
Joe roared: "Hold that!"
Brown's voice, very official, came: "Withhold of that order. You should not be in the airlock, Mr. Kenmore. You will make way for procedure."
"We're the space wagon," Joe. "That's procedure!"
The said severely: "The should have been done earlier!"
There was silence. Mike and Joe, together, over the very many that had to be sure. Every had to have its inspected. The tanks' and pressure verified. The air to Mike's space suit. The air pressure. The device that sure that air going to Mike's space was neither as as metal in sunlight, cold as the of a in space.
Everything checked. Mike his red-painted mount. Joe left the lock and said curtly:
"Okay to pump the airlock. Okay to open doors when ready. Go ahead."
Mike out, and Joe from a port in the Platform's hull. The from Earth was five miles the Platform in its orbit, and twenty miles below, and all of ten miles off-course. Joe saw Mike the red space to it, stop with a of self-assurance, on to the tow-ring in the space-barge's nose, and blast off toward the Platform with it in tow.
Mike had to turn about and blast again to check his motion when he arrived. And then he and Haney—Haney in the other space wagon—nudged at it and at it and got it in the great spacelock. They in after it and the lock doors closed.
Neither Mike Haney were out of their space when Kent Joe a note. A note was an in the Platform. But this was a from Brown.
"From: Lt. Comdr. Brown
To: Mr. Kenmore
Subject: Cooperation and in vehicle launchings.
There is a of and in the of rocket-recovery vehicles (space wagons) in the normal operation of the Platform.
The of and that the officer maintain of all operations at all times.
Hereafter when a space vehicle of any type is to be launched, the officer will be in not less than one hour such launching.
The time of such will be in such in hours and minutes and seconds, Greenwich Mean Time.
All for will be by the officer or an officer by him."
Joe the as he was in the act of a report on the Mike had out. Mike was as he possible with later and equipment. After all, this had been a lucky landing. For a to end up no more than 30 miles from its target, after a of 4,000 miles, and with a in that was almost immeasurable—such good couldn't be as a regular thing. The space were tiny. If they had to travel long to ships up from Earth——
Joe all about Lieutenant Commander Brown and his when the was distributed. Joe had three from Sally. He read them in the great of the Platform with its sixty-foot length and its on and ceiling, and the without stairs the sleeping cabins. He sat in a chair with to him in place, and he a harness. It was necessary. The regular of the Platform, by this time, couldn't have space in action against enemy rockets. Joe meant to able to take acceleration.
It was just as he his that Brent came in.
"Big news!" said Brent. "They're a big new ship of new design—almost as big as the Platform. With metal they can do it in weeks."
"What's it for?" Joe.
"It'll be a on the Moon," said Brent relievedly. "An will start in six weeks, according to plan. As long as we're the only American in space, we're going to be at. But a on the Moon will be invulnerable. So they're going ahead with it."
Joe said hopefully:
"Any orders for me to join it?"
Brent his head. "We're to be up with for the Moon expedition. We're to be to take a ship every round. Actually, they can't to send us more than two a day for a while, but that'll be eighty of to be away."
The Chief grumbled, but somehow his did not genuine. "They're going to the Moon—and us here to do stuff?" His was odd. He looked at a he'd been reading and gave up pretense. He said self-consciously: "Listen, you guys.... My tribe's got all excited. I just got a from the council. They've been having an about me. Wanna hear?"
He was a little amused, and a little embarrassed, but something had to make him good.
"Let's have it," said Joe. Mike was very still in another chair. He didn't look up, though he must have heard. Haney an ear.
The Chief said awkwardly, "You know—us Mohawks are proud. We got something to be proud of. We were one of the Five Nations, when that was a of United Nations and all Europe was dog-eat-dog. My had a big pow-wow about me. There's a that's a of out in Chicago. He was there. And a of that do research, and doctors and farmers and all of guys. All Mohawks. They got together in council."
He stopped and under his dark skin. "I wouldn't tell you, only you are in on it."
Still he hesitated. Joe a picture in his mind. He'd the Chief a long time, and he that part of the in Brooklyn, and members were scattered. But still there was a village which to all the was home. Everybody there from time to time, to from the of being Indians in a world of pale-skinned folk.
Joe almost the council. There'd be old, old men who nearly the days of the tribe's glory, who'd of and hunts, and and from their grandfathers. But there were also doctors and lawyers and men in that which met to talk about the Chief.
"It's to me," said the Chief with clumsiness, "in the World-by-itself Canoe. That's the Platform here. And it says—I'll have to translate, it's in Mohawk." He took a breath. "It says, 'We your have of your off the Earth where men have before. This has us great pride, that one of our and had so valiantly.'" The Chief abashedly. He on. "'In full assembly, the of the have on a way to their in you, and in the friends you have who you. It was that you be a new name to be by your sons after you. It was that the accept from each of its members a gift to be you in the name of the tribe. But these were not great enough. Therefore the tribe, in full council, has that your name shall be named at every of the Mohawks from this day to the end of time, as one the would do well to copy in all ways. And the names of your friends Joe Kenmore, Mike Scandia, and Thomas Haney shall also be named as friends like all should to out and to be.'"
The Chief a little, but he looked proud. Joe over to him and hands warmly. The Chief almost his fingers. It was, of course, as high an as be paid to by the people who paid it.
Haney said awkwardly, "Lucky they don't know me like you do, Chief. But it's swell!"
Which it was. But Mike hadn't said a word. The Chief said exuberantly:
"Did you that, Mike? Every Mohawk for ten thousand years is be told that you were a guy! Crazy, huh?"
Mike said in an odd voice: "Yeah. I didn't that, Chief. It's fine! But I—I got a letter. I—never to a like this."
He looked at the paper in his hands.
"Mash note?" asked the Chief. His was a little harsh. Mike was a midget. And there were who were fools. It would be if some half-witted female had Mike the of that some half-witted might write.
Mike his head, with an odd, quick smile.
"Not what you think, Chief. But it is from a girl. She sent me her picture. It's a—swell letter. I'm—going to answer it. You can look at her picture. She looks of—nice."
He the Chief a snapshot. The Chief's changed. Haney looked over his shoulder. He passed the picture to Joe and said ferociously: "You Mike! You Don Juan! The Chief and me have got to her what guy you are! Stealing from men! Fighting cops——"
Joe looked at the picture. It was a very sweet small face, and the that looked out of the photograph were very and yearning. And Joe understood. He at Mike. Because this girl had the look that Mike had. She was a midget, too.
"She's—thirty-nine tall," said Mike, almost stunned. "She's just two than me. And—she says she doesn't mind being a so much since she about me. I'm going to her."
But it would be, of course, a long time there was a way for to to Earth.
It was a long time. Now it was possible to send up to the Platform. They came up. When the second arrived, Haney out to it in. Joe to Brown, in writing, an hour a vehicle (space wagon) according to paragraph 3 of the memo, the time of in hours, minutes, etc., by Greenwich Mean Time (paragraph 4), was the of all moving it into the airlock. This was the was in the airlock, where it belonged. And the for were not by Brown or an officer by him, Joe all about it.
Brown a about the matter, and Joe was apologetic, but the Chief and Haney and Mike venomously.
The result was inconclusive. Joe had not been put under Brown's command. He and his were the only people on the Platform physically in shape to the space wagons, the involved. Brent and the others were simulators, and were to strength. But they weren't up to as yet. They'd been in space too long.
So there was nothing Brown do. He into correct, dignity. And the others in and as they arrived. They came up fast. The of making them had been improved. They be faster, to temperature faster, and the to usefulness in a of the time. The production of space ship up to four a day, while the for the Moonship were being faster. The Moonship, actually, was assembled from which then were together. It would have the Platform lacked, it was designed to be a for and in to research.
But only twenty days after the and of the ship to rise, a new of ship came up as a robot. The little space it to the and inside. They it—and it was no longer a robot. It was a designed for the of a in space. It a of four, and its was from the cabin. It had an airlock. More, it a of solid-fuel which be to its hull. Starting from the platform, where it had no weight, it was of direct to the Earth without or braking. To make that it would, obviously, four-fifths of its weight in rockets. And since it had no weight at the Platform, but only mass, it was of far-ranging journeying. It take off from the Platform and the Moon and land on it, and then return to the Platform.
But that had to wait.
"Sure we do it," Joe, when Mike pointed out the possibility. "It would be good to try it. But unfortunately, space isn't a stunt. We've this because—somebody wanted to do something. But——" Then he said, "It be done and the United Nations wouldn't do it. So the United States had to, or—somebody else would have. You can who that would be, and what use they'd make of space travel! So it's important. It's more than we make!"
"Nobody stop us if we wanted to take off!" Mike said rebelliously.
"True," Joe said. "But we four can three and any more that start out here. We've through more than that! But Brent and the others couldn't put up a in space. They're now, and they're to strength. But we're going to right here and do stevedoring—and too, if it comes to that—until the job is done."
And that was the way it was, too. Of there was plenty. Two ships a day for on end. Three ships a day for a time. Four. Sometimes smoothly, and the little space go out and the great, rocket-scarred from Earth. But once in three times the were going too fast or too slow. The space couldn't them. Then the new ship, the space tug, out and onto the with a and used the power it had to them to their destination. And sometimes the didn't climb straight. At least once the space an 400 miles from its and it in. It used some solid-fuel on that trip.
The Platform had become, in fact, a port in space, though so it had had only and no departures. Its almost with fuel stores and food stores and of every variety. It had a stock of which were to land it safely on Earth, though there was surely no of doing so. It had food and air for centuries. It had repair parts for all its own equipment. And it had weapons. It contained, in to its sides, material to a war—which was only for transfer to the Moon when that should be established.
And it had with Earth of high quality. So the was only a one-way service, but came up, and news. Once there was a television of the of the Shed. It was transmission, but it was a sight. The Shed on the TV screen appeared a place of activity. Robot were being made. They were improved, to ten of empty weight apiece, and their were line now. And there was the space with men in it, although for the time being only were taking off from Earth. And there was the Moonship.
It didn't look like the Platform, but like something a child might have put together out of blocks. It was up out of welded-together with members added. It was 60 high from the and twice as long, and it did not nearly what it to. Already it was being in that thick of it would need to the two-week-long night. It take off very soon now.
The pictured on Earth meant round-the-clock for Joe and the others. They themselves out. But the space on the Platform up. Days and by. Then there came a time when nothing else be stored, so Joe and his to go to Earth.
They ate and packed a very small in their ship. They up one of and four of scientific records and which had only been by TV before. They got into the space tug. It free.
"You will fire in ten seconds," said a voice in Joe's headphones. "Ten ... nine ... eight ... seven ... six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... fire!"
Joe his finger. There was an jolt. Rockets in emptiness. The space toward the west. The Platform to with suddenness. It to away and in the of stars. The space at four in the direction to its motion.
As the up, it toward Earth and home like a stone.
