camera 2’s light to go out as transmission switched back to camera 1, then sat
back in his seat to follow the proceedings.
“Master Sequencer is Go; Backup Sequencer is Go,” the Chief Engineer reported
from beside Vantz. “Checkpoint zero-minus-two, positive function. Ground Control
acknowledgment checks positive, and GC override veto standing down.”
“PSX status?” Vantz queried.
“GCV disconnects one through five confirmed,” another voice answered. “PSX
integration reads positive function. SSX confirms.”
“Tracking two seconds into exit window,” another called out.
“Main fields: six-eight, green; seven-seven, green; nine-five on synch.”
“Alignment good.”
“Focus fields good.”
“Injectors primed. Ten-ten, all beams.”
“Checkpoint zero-minus-one—holding now.”
Stillness descended for a second as General Vantz cast a final eye over the
information displays in front of him. He nodded and spoke into his console mike.
“Fire for exit phase one.”
“Phase one fire sequence activated. Zero-zero at GPZ plus seven point-three
seconds.”
Connel felt his seat nudge him gently in the back. The Orion was moving out of
freefall; the journey that would shrink the globe on the screen to a pinpoint
and replace it with another world had begun. From the gestures and grins being
exchanged among the crew, everything seemed to be going well. Connel relaxed
back in his seat and finished his coffee while a sequence of views went out
showing Earth, scenes from around the Control Deck, and shots being picked up
from the service vessels standing ten miles off in space. He checked the
schedule to confirm the next item, which was timed to relieve tenseness after
the launch by providing a contrast of subject and mood, then got up and moved
down to a space over to one side, where Zambendorf was talking to a production
assistant while he waited. With them were Dr. Periera, who Connel privately
considered to be crazy, and Zambendorf’s middle-aged, equally zany publicity
matron, who had bullied Herman Thoring into allocating Zambendorf some valuable
air-time at a moment when the world would be watching. In front of them, a
couple of technicians were repositioning camera 2.
“All set?” Connel inquired as he joined them. “There are some commercials
starting just about now. We’ll be going on immediately after.”
“Fine,” Zambendorf said.
Connel gestured at the sheet of paper in Zambendorf’s hand. “Are those questions
okay? Are there any you want me to miss?”
“No, these are fine. Were they otherwise, I would have saved you the trouble of
typing them by telling you beforehand.” Connel wasn’t sure whether Zambendorf’s
expression meant he was joking or not. Connel was skeptical toward claims of
paranormal abilities, although he usually had a tough time defending his views
with his friends. He grinned and then made a face, leaving Zambendorf free to
interpret the response either way. “You are not convinced?” Zambendorf asked,
watching him keenly and sounding surprised.
Connel shrugged in an easygoing way. “Well … I guess I can’t help remembering
that the Orion is driven by fusion power, not ESP power. I figure that has to
say something.”
“True,” Zambendorf agreed. “And the first ocean vessels were driven by wind
power.”
“Twenty seconds,” a technician advised. The others moved back while Connel and
Zambendorf took up their positions; the camera light came on, and they were
live.
“Don Connel talking to you again, this time on my way to Mars. Well, before all
the excitement of liftout, we talked to General Vantz and a couple of his
officers, and to some of the scientists we have with us. Now I’d like to say
hello to somebody else also with the mission, who’s standing next to me right
now—Hello, Karl Zambendorf.”
“Hello, Don.”
“Karl, this is a first-time experience for you too, I believe. Is that right?”
“Well, in my material body, anyway . . . yes.”
“You’re supposed to be able to make some uncanny predictions about future
events. What about Mars? Do you have anything you’d like to say in advance about
the mission, any major happenings in store for us on the Red Planet, big
surprises, anything like that?”
“Mars?”
Connel looked surprised. “Well, yes—sure. Is there anything you’d like to
predict about events following our arrival there?”
“Mmm … If you don’t mind, Don, I’d prefer not to make any comment in response