"I'm holding a gun against your back. It is a very small gun. No one can
see it and it probably wouldn't kill you. Then again, it might. We will
walk to the platform and stand together to watch the blast-off."
"You'd actually--_kill_, to get that ship into the air?"
"If I committed murder, I would certainly regret it the rest of my life,
but the rocket must be launched."
They stood in the glass enclosure on the platform and no one came near
them. Several people veered close and waved. Joshua waved back with his
free hand and the people went on their way.
An hour passed. There was vast activity on the field. Gorman said, "I'm
tired. I want to sit down."
"It was thoughtless of me. I should have provided chairs. It won't be
long now."
It wasn't long. Five minutes later there was a roar, an explosion of
color, and a silver rocket flash up into the sky almost faster than the
eye could follow.
Gorman slammed the heel of his hand against the side of his head in
order to restore hearing. "You can put that gun away."
"Of course. And you'll want to call the police."
Gorman growled like an annoyed bull. He jerked open the door and strode
away.
Three hours later, Joshua and Myra Lake were seated in the small patio
beside their home. They were seated very close together, and Myra was
stroking Joshua's hand. "It's been a long time, dear; a very long time."
"Yes."
"Are you happy?"
"I'm--well, satisfied--at least partially. We've passed a big milestone.
But it isn't over yet."
"You're sure this time, though?"
"Very sure."
"Thank heaven we won't have much longer to wait."
The wait was slightly less than ten minutes. Then Lee Gorman strode into
the patio. Joshua sprang to his feet. "Any news?"
"Yes."
"Then they should have phoned me. I left word to be called."
"No one could get up the courage. The rocket crashed in Canada."
Joshua swayed. When he looked at Lee, his eyes were filled with a mute
plea. "That _is_ the truth?"
"It's the truth. The first flash said it appears the tail broke off in
high space."