His lips formed a sneer, and he tried to fight the idea out of his
mind. He was no longer afraid of anything. Those days were gone, far
away. Nothing could scare Scotty Johnson--not even being completely
alone. He reached out his hand, ran a finger over the control board.
Oxygen, chamber pressure, emergency anaesthetic, blast-control--his
hand trembled, and the thought seeped back into his mind again. A voice
was whispering, deep in his ear, _you're afraid, little man, afraid--!_
He could feel the droplets of moisture forming on his forehead, and
even the sound of his breath was muted in the silent chamber.
The seconds ticked by. Still the voice whispered. He was alone--alone
and afraid. No one could help him now, no one in the world. This was
his own world, here in this tight little cabin, and he could die here
and nobody would ever know--
He shook his head savagely. Alone? Ridiculous! At the foot of the ship
were a hundred people, all watching, all thinking about him. They had
built this ship, they were for him all the way. They would get him
safely off the ground, and then it would be just like a subway ride--
But after the blast-off--what then? The hundred men were staying
behind. There were no men where he was going. There was nothing there.
Nothing but death.
His breath was coming faster, and he felt the first chill of panic
stir in his mind. He tried to fight it down angrily. What was there to
get excited about? Nobody had forced him into this seat. He'd begged
for it! For five long years it had been an obsession, his wildest
dream, to be sitting in this seat, waiting for the Zero-count to come
through the headphones. Years of hoping, of pulling strings, of talking
to people and dropping chance remarks, of studying and working and
practicing--and finally, the note in his box, the trip down to the
General's field office that day.
* * * * *
Inside the office the General had sat down, regarding him for a long
moment with those cool grey eyes of his. Then he said, "You're sure you
want to do this, Scotty? Dead sure?"
Scotty had nodded, hardly able to find his voice. "I'd give anything.
You've got to let me go."
The General nodded slowly. "You might have to give your life. Does it
mean that much to you? Millions of dollars have gone into this ship,
but there's no way to be sure of it. It's a fearful gamble."
"I'll take any odds, General. The sheep and the chickens came back.
I'll come back."
The General looked out the window, his face carved with weary lines.
"I hate to send a man, alone. But what we need to know, one man can
find out. Two would be a waste--a tragic waste. The sheep and chickens
didn't land, they just circled. But one man must go up, to land a ship,
and take off again, for the first time." His eyes caught Scotty's
gravely. "I want you to know why it's got to be you alone. We can't
gamble on two men's lives, when one will do. _You're the guinea pig!_"
Scotty had stood up then, laughing. "Are you trying to frighten me?
Look, General--I've been working on this ship since it first started.
I know it inside out and backwards. I'm not afraid of this trip. I've
got to be the one to go."
The General had shifted some papers on his desk. "All right. They
weighed you in at 142 pounds. Our calculations call for 135. Every
ounce over that cuts a hard percentage out of your fuel. You'll have to
suck down."
"I can do that."
"All right--but don't starve yourself. And don't dehydrate any more
than you absolutely must. You'll have enough water for ten days, no
more. Three up, three back, four there. Now then. The psych boys will
go to work on your coordination for the next few days. That's critical.
The first and second stages will disengage automatically, but you'll
have to maneuver your own landing."
Scotty nodded. "I've been maneuvering dummies until I'm blue in the
face."
"You'll need it pounded in."
"It's pounded, don't worry."
The General gave a satisfied nod. "All right, Scotty. See you at the
blast-off. And remember, if you want to pull out--nobody will blame
you. Right down to the last minute before Zero, you can pull out--"
"I don't think so," said Scotty. "I don't think I'm going to pull out.
Not on this one."
* * * * *
"_Zero minus twenty minutes--_"
The harsh metallic voice dragged Scotty back to the present with
a jolt. For a moment he had almost regained the old familiar burn
of self-assured bravado he had felt as he had finished talking to
the General that day and sauntered out toward the ship standing in
the launching scaffold. He had even been smiling as he recalled the
interview--
But now his eye caught the dull gleam of the control board before him,
and his smile faded.
The voice was whispering softly, deep inside his head: _Come off it,
Scotty. Who are you trying to kid?_
His hand trembled, and he leaned back, forcing his tense leg muscles to
relax. What do you mean, who am I trying to kid? he thought, angrily.
You're crazy. Would I be kidding myself? I quit kidding myself years
ago. I know what I'm up to. This is a journey for heroes, and I'm going
to be the hero, this time. _For sure._ This time there won't be any
doubt. _They_ won't have any doubt, and _I_ won't have any doubt--
_You're alone, Scotty. Remember? You can quit acting now._
He shuddered, and glanced uneasily around the tiny closed chamber.
Alone? What a laugh. A man can never be alone. There are always a
million memories, wheeling and spinning and roaring around inside your
head. Memories of people, of hopes and dreams and fears. You can build
a heavy wall in your mind to keep them back, but when you're alone, and
scared, and helpless, the wall starts to crumble down--
There's nobody to fool any more, Scotty. The act is over. Admit it,
you're scared, _you can hardly hold still you're so scared_--
He clapped his hands to his ears, trying to shut out the whisper. He
kept shaking his head, but it came through like a heavy surf. He sat
tense, trembling, with salty droplets pouring down his face, shaking
his head helplessly--
You're caught now, the voice whispered. This is a one-way ride, and you
know it, and you're _scared_--
"_I'm not!_"