The kite was ascending smoothly now, with a gentle enough acceleration to allow Tom and Bud free use of their limbs. A myriad of stars studded the blackness of the void around them.
“How goes it, skipper?” radioed George Dilling.
“Perfect so far,” Tom reported happily.
A series of technical checks with the launching crew followed. Dial readings were being automatically telemetered in the blockhouse, but Tom added to these his own coded remarks about the kite’s performance. At last the astronauts settled back to enjoy their kite ride through space.
“Tom, this is really terrific!” Bud exclaimed. “You know, someday people may go space-kite rid-ADRIFT! 99
ing for fun, just as they go skiing or skin diving now in their leisure time.”
“Could be,” Tom agreed with a chuckle.
Both boys watched in fascination as the cosmic altimeter needle climbed steadily. From 5,000 miles above the earth, they zoomed upward to 10,000 miles … 25,000 . . , 50,000.
Each thousand miles seemed to click off almost as rapidly as two or three on an automobile mileage gauge. The boys were hurtling through space at incredible speed-yet all the while they were seated in comfort, watching the tremendous spectacle of the starry heavens unreel before their eyes.
“Skipper! Look!” Bud suddenly jerked forward against his seat belt and pointed to the radarscope. A tiny blip had formed on the screen.
Tom was instantly alert. He tuned the radar controls to bring the spot of light into sharper focus. It held the bearing on the radar screen, indicating that the unknown object was heading straight toward them on a collision course!