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DESTINATION MOON by Robert A Heinlein

Farquharson, Ibid., III: 415

Barnes felt himself shoved back into the cushions. He gagged and fought to keep from swallowing his tongue. He felt paralyzed by body weight’of more than haifa ton; he strained to lift his chest. Worse than weight was noise, a mind-killing “white” sound from unbearable ultrasonics down to bass too low to be heard.

The sound Dopplered down the scale, rumbled off and left them. At five effective gravities they outraced their own din in six seconds, leaving an aching quiet broken only by noise of water coursing through pumps.

For a moment Barnes savored the silence. Then hi~ eyes caught the TV screen above him; in it was a, shrinking dot of fire. He realized that he was seeing himself, disappearing into the sky, and regretted that he had not watched the blast-away. “Mannie,” he labored, to say, “switch on ‘View After.”

“I can’t,” Traub groaned thickly. “I can’t move a muscle.”

“Do it!”

Traub managed it; the screen blurred, then formed a picture. Bowies grunted, “Great Caesar’s ghost!” Barnes stared. They were high above Los Angeles; the metropolitan area was map sharp, picked out in street lights and neon. It was shrinking visibly.

Rosy light flashed through the eastern port, followed at once by dazzling sunlight. Traub yelped, “What happened?”

Barnes himself had been startled but he strove to control his voice and answered, “Sunrise. We’re up that high.” He went on, “Doc-how’s the power plant?”

“Readings normal,” Corley replied in tongue-clogged tones. “How long — to go?”

Barnes looked at his board. “More than three minutes.”

Corley did not answer, three minutes seemed too long to bear. Presently Traub said, “Look at the sky!” Corley forced his head over and looked. Despite harsh sunlight the sky was black and spangled with stars.

At three minutes and fifty seconds the jets cut off. Like the first time, the cutoff was mushy, slow. The terrible weight left them gradually. But it left them completely. Rocket and crew were all in a free orbit “falling” upward toward the Moon. Relative to each other and to ship they had no weight.

Barnes felt that retching, frightening “falling elevator” feeling characteristic of no weight, but, expecting it, he steeled himself. “Power, plant,” he snapped, “report!”

“Power plant okay,” Corley replied weakly. “Notice the cutoff?”

“Later,” decided Barnes. “Co-pilot, my track seems high.”

“My display tracks on,” wheezed Bowles, ” — or a hair high.”

“Mannie!”

No answer. Barnes repeated, “Mannie? Answer, man-are you all right?”

Traub’s voice was weak. “I think I’m dying. This thing is falling-oh, God, make it stop!”

“Snap out of it!”

“Are we going to crash?”

“No, no! We’re all right.”

“All right,’ the man says,’~ Traub muttered, then added, “I don’t care if we do.”

Barnes called out, “Doc, get those pills. Mannie needs one bad.” He stopped to control a retch. “I could use one myself.”

“Me, too,” agreed Bowles. “I haven’t been this seasick since I was — ” He caught himself, then went on. ” — since I was a midshipman.”

Coriey loosened his straps and pulled himself out from his couch. Weightless, he floated free and turned slowly over, like a diver in slow motion. Traub turned his face away and groaned. —

“Stop it, Mannie,” ordered Barnes. “Try to raise White Sands. I want a series of time-altitude readings.”

“I can’t-I’m sick.”

“Do it!”

Corley floated near a stanchion, grabbed it, and pulled himself to a cupboard. He located the pill bottle and hastily gulped a pill. He then moved to Traub’s couch, pulling himself along. “Here, Traub-take this. You’ll feel better.”

“What is it?”

“Some stuff called Dramamine. It’s for seasickness.”

Traub put a pill in his mouth. “I can’t swallow.”

“Better try.” Traub got it down, clamped his jaw to keep it down. Corley pulled himself to Barnes. “Need one, Jim?”

Barnes started to answer, turned his head away, and threw up in his handkerchief. Tears streaming from his eyes, he accepted the pill. Bowles called out, “Doc — hurry up!” His voice cut off; presently he added, “Too late.”

“Sorry.” Corley moved over to Bowles. “Criminy, you’re a mess!”

“Gimme that pill and no comments.”

Traub was saying in a steadier voice, “Spaceship Luna, calling White Sands. Come in White Sands.”

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Categories: Heinlein, Robert
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