The release clearance gun timer on the panel showed three-two-one!
The Star Spear quivered the moment the signal light went out, and explosions at the coupling points sent vibrations through the rocket ship.
“There it goes!” Tom cried. “Off clean as a knife cut!”
“And feel that release of pressure!” Bud whistled. “That neutralator really melts away the G’s.”
The massive sixty-motored base section dropped down and veered into its own separate line of flight, parachuting slowly back to earth. Radar control would keep the stage out of the paths of planes and ships before it plummeted into the ocean.
“Right on schedule,” Tom announced. “We’re seventy miles up.”
“We’re going faster every second,” breathed Bud. “Time for a stretch.”
Now that the booster had cut away, and they were pretty well out of the atmosphere and traveling at a constant acceleration, the boys knew it was safe to get up. Bud was first in releasing the catches of his takeoff safety rack and sitting up. The hinged couch folded automatically and Bud climbed into his flight seat.
172 TOM SWIFT AND HIS ROCKET SHIP
Tom followed him but continued to watch the various gauges and oscilloscopes as well as the flight tape. Sitting down next to Bud, he said: “The next stage will drop off in sixty-three seconds.” A moment later he commented, “Listen to those radio signals from the tracking platform! Jones has a perfect plot on us.”
“Sure is a welcome sound,” Bud added. “I don’t feel so far from home. And speaking of home, how about taking a look?” When Tom nodded assent, Bud leaned over and began to remove the shutter from the starboard viewing port.