The crowds came right up to the rail of the catapult. There was no need to keep them back from the ship; the jets would not blast until she was high over the peak. Only the ship itself was guarded, the ship and the gleaming rails.
Dixon and Strong, together for company and mutual support, hung back at the edge of the area roped off for passengers and officials. They watched Harriman jollying those about to leave: “Good-bye, Doctor. Keep an eye on him, Janet. Don’t let him go looking for Moon Maidens.” They saw him engage Coster in private conversation, then clap the younger man on the back.
“Keeps his chin up, doesn’t he?” whispered Dixon.
“Maybe we should have let him go,” answered Strong.
“Eh? Nonsense! We’ve got to have him. Anyway, his place in history is secure.”
“He doesn’t care about history,” Strong answered seriously, “he just wants to go to the Moon.”
“Well, confound it—he can go to the Moon . . . as soon as he gets his job done. After all, it’s his job. He made it.”
“I know.”
Harriman turned around, saw them, started toward them. They shut up. “Don’t duck,” he said jovially. “It’s all right. I’ll go on the next trip. By then I plan to have it running itself. You’ll see.” He turned back toward the Mayflower. “Quite a sight, isn’t she?”
The outer door was closed; ready lights winked along the track and from the control tower. A siren sounded.
Harriman moved a step or two closer.
“There she goes!”
It was a shout from the whole crowd. The great ship started slowly, softly up the track, gathered speed, and shot toward the distant peak. She was already tiny by the time she curved up the face and burst into the sky.
She hung there a split second, then a plume of light exploded from her tail. Her jets had fired.
Then she was a shining light in the sky, a ball of flame, then—nothing. She was gone, upward and outward, to her rendezvous with her tankers.
The crowd had pushed to the west end of the platform as the ship swarmed up the mountain. Harriman had stayed where he was, nor had Dixon and Strong followed the crowd. The three were alone, Harriman most alone for he did not seem aware that the others were near him. He was watching the sky.
Strong was watching him. Presently Strong barely whispered to Dixon, “Do you read the Bible?”
“Some.”
“He looks as Moses must have looked, when he gazed out over the promised land.”
Harriman dropped his eyes from the sky and saw them. “You guys still here?” he said. “Come on—there’s work to be done.”