"It's up to you, Mel. The whole shebang."
Mel's mouth worked dryly and he nodded. "Yep. Guess.... Guess I better
suit up...."
* * * * *
Walter Stanton waited inside the hub, gazing through the port at the
tiny fighter across the landing-lock. _I wish ... I wish it were me
who could fly it_, he thought desperately. He ran his hand along the
support rail, as if caressing the metal and plastic of the Platform.
He remembered the dreams, the toil, the heartbreak, far back to when
men laughed at the concept of a platform in space. He thought of the
pioneers of rocket work, some of them dead; the men at Peenemunde using
their brains for war but even so adding painstakingly to the fund of
knowledge. He thought of the moment of blinding elation three months
before, when the last reactor had been cut off and the core of Space
One swung easily into her orbit. _If only Mel could understand....
Better yet, if I could fly...._ He knew certainly that he himself
would give his life to save the Platform; knew surely that Lynne would
understand. But would Mel Cramer give _his_ life? For his country,
probably; for his home and family, surely; but for what he seemed to
consider a useless scientific gadget?
He heard a movement and turned. Mel Cramer, massive in his flight gear,
but with his helmet off, was standing behind him. His face was drawn.
"Well, Walter, wish me luck."
"Mel.... Do you know what this means? Really?"
"My indoctrination is complete, if that's what you mean. I can't agree
with you that the world will fall apart if Space One isn't a success,
but the world's falling apart anyway, so it really doesn't matter. I'll
make my passes as close as possible."
_And if you miss?_ thought Walter Stanton. _What will you do? Will
you make another pass, a sacrificial pass?_ He wished for a moment
that their culture embodied the Oriental concept of patriotism; the
disregard for human life, the fatalistic belief in some paradise for
battle-dead.
"Mel," he said suddenly, forcing the words. "What happens if you miss?"
Mel Cramer's jaw tightened, "just a minute, Walt," he said slowly. "I
don't quite know what you're getting at, but I have an idea. Are you
suggesting that I fly into that thing?"
There was a long silence, and the ventilators whined.