"Good morning, sir," said Joe. Major Holt's daughter Sally had a sort of
understanding with Joe, but the major hadn't the knack of cordiality,
and nobody felt too much at ease with him. Besides, Joe was wearing a
uniform for the first time this morning. There were only eight such
uniforms in the world, so far. It was black whipcord, with an Eisenhower
jacket, narrow silver braid on the collar and cuffs, and a silver rocket
for a badge where a plane pilot wears his wings. It was strictly
practical. Against accidental catchings in machinery, the trousers were
narrow and tucked into ten-inch soft leather boots, and the wide leather
belt had flat loops for the attachment of special equipment. Its width
was a brace against the strains of acceleration. Sally had had much to
do with its design.
But it hadn't yet been decided by the Pentagon whether the Space
Exploration Project would be taken over by the Army or the Navy or the
Air Corps, so Joe wore no insignia of rank. Technically he was still a
civilian.
The deep-toned noise to the south had become a howl, sweeping closer and
trailed by other howlings.
"The pushpots are on the way over, as you can hear," said the major
detachedly, in the curious light of daybreak and electric bulbs
together. "Your crew is up and about. So far there seems to be no hitch.
You're feeling all right for the attempt today?"
"If you want the truth, sir, I'd feel better with about ten years'
practical experience behind me. But my gang and myself--we've had all
the training we can get without an actual take-off. We're the
best-trained crew to try it. I think we'll manage."
"I see," said the major. "You'll do your best."
"We may have to do better than that," admitted Joe wrily.
"True enough. You may." The major paused. "You're well aware that there
are--ah--people who do not altogether like the idea of the United States
possessing an artificial satellite of Earth."
"I ought to know it," admitted Joe.
The Earth's second, man-constructed moon--out in space for just six
weeks now--didn't seem nowadays like the bitterly contested achievement
it actually was. From Earth it was merely a tiny speck of light in the
sky, identifiable for what it was only because it moved so swiftly and
serenely from the sunset toward the east, or from night's darkness into
the dawn-light. But it had been fought bitterly before it was launched.
It was first proposed to the United Nations, but even discussion in the
Council was vetoed. So the United States had built it alone. Yet the
nations which objected to it as an international project liked it even
less as a national one, and they'd done what they could to wreck it.
The building of the great steel hull now out there in emptiness had been
fought more bitterly, by more ruthless and more highly trained
saboteurs, than any other enterprise in history. There'd been two
attempts to blast it with atomic bombs. But it was high aloft, rolling
grandly around the Earth, so close to its primary that its period was
little more than four hours; and it rose in the west and set in the east
six times a day.
Today Joe would try to get a supply ship up to it, a very small
rocket-driven cargo ship named Pelican One. The crew of the Platform
needed food and air and water--and especially the means of self-defense.
Today's take-off would be the first attempt at a rocket-lift to space.
"The enemies of the Platform haven't given up," said the major
formidably. "And they used spectroscopes on the Platform's rocket fumes.
Apparently they've been able to duplicate our fuel."
Joe nodded.
Major Holt went on: "For more than a month Military Intelligence has
been aware that rockets were under construction behind the Iron Curtain.
They will be guided missiles, and they will carry atom bomb heads. One
or more may be finished any day. When they're finished, you can bet
that they'll be used against the Platform. And you will carry up the
first arms for the Platform. Your ship carries half a dozen long-range
interceptor rockets to handle any attack from Earth. It's vitally
important for them to be delivered."
"They'll attack the Platform?" demanded Joe angrily. "That's war!"
"Not if they deny guilt," said the major ironically, "and if we have
nothing to gain by war. The Platform is intended to defend the peace of
the world. If it is destroyed, we won't defend the peace of the world by
going to war over it. But while the Platform can defend itself, it is
not likely that anyone will dare to make war. So you have a very
worthwhile mission. I suggest that you have breakfast and report to the
Shed. I'm on my way there now."