He headed up to the bridge, “swimming” in zero gravity by flicking his fingertips against the passageway bulkheads to propel himself weightlessly forward.
Pancho had strapped herself into the command pilot’s chair, busily working both hands across the control board. Through the wide glassteel ports above the board, Dan could see the dead gray curve of the Moon’s limb and, beyond it, the beckoning bright crescent of the glowing Earth.
“I just disconnected ground control,” she said. “They oughtta start squawkin’ about it just about… now.”
“Put them on the speaker,” said Dan.
Amanda glided into the co-pilot’s chair and buckled the safety harness. Fuchs came up behind her and slid his feet into the restraint loops on the floor.
“We have a disconnect signal, S-l,” came a man’s voice from the speaker. He sounded more bored than annoyed.
Pancho looked over her shoulder toward Dan, who placed a finger before his lips. “Run silent, run deep,” he whispered.
Cupping her pin-mike with one hand, Pancho said, “I’m ready to separate the jumper.”
“Do it,” Dan replied.
“Jumper separation sequence initiated,” Pancho said into her mike.
“Are you aboard the jumper?” asked the controller. “We can’t launch S-l as long as that disconnect is in effect. We’ve lost command of the vehicle.”
A red light flashed on the control panel, then winked off.
“Jumper separated,” Pancho said.
“Repeat, are you aboard that jumper?” the controller asked, his voice rising with irritation.
“Where else would we be?” Pancho asked innocently. And she disconnected the radio link with Selene.
Amanda worked on the launch sequence program, her manicured fingers tapping dexterously on the touchscreen.
“Three minutes to launch,” she said calmly.
“Gotcha,” said Pancho.
Despite himself, Dan felt his palms go sweaty. Standing there behind the two pilots, ready to ride a man-made star out farther than any sane man had ever gone before, he said to himself, Everything I’ve got is riding on this bird. If we don’t make it, I’ve got nothing to come back to. Not a double-damned thing.
He looked at Fuchs. The kid was smiling fiercely, like an old-time warrior watching the approach of an enemy army, waiting for the battle to begin, eager to get into it. He’s got guts, Dan thought admiringly. We picked the right guy.
“Two minutes,” Amanda called out.
“They must be goin’ apeshit down there by now,” Pancho said, grinning.
“Nothing they can do about it,” said Dan. “They can’t shoot us down.”
“Couldn’t they send a Peacekeeper vessel after us?” Fuchs asked.
“Once we light the fusion rocket,” Dan answered, “nothing in the solar system will be able to catch us.”
“Till we come back,” said Pancho.
Dan frowned at the back of her head. Then he relaxed. “When we come back, we’ll be rich.”
“You’ll be rich, boss,” Pancho said. “The rest of us’ll still be employees.”
Dan laughed. “You’ll be rich, too. I’ll see to that. You’ll be rich.”
“Or dead,” Pancho countered.
“One minute,” Amanda said. “I really think we should pay attention to the countdown.”
“You’re right,” said Pancho.
Dan watched it all on the displays of the control board. The fusion reactor lit up as programmed. Star-hot plasma began generating energy. Through the MHD channel it roared, where a minor fraction of that heat energy was turned into electrical power. The ship’s internal batteries shut off and began recharging. Cryonically-cold liquid hydrogen and helium started pumping through the rocket nozzles’ cooling walls. The hot plasma streamed through the nozzles’ throats.
“Ignition,” Amanda said, using the traditional word even though it was now without physical meaning.
“Thrust building up,” Pancho said, Dan watched the curves rising on the thrust displays, but he didn’t need to; he could feel weight returning, feel the deck gaining solidity beneath his feet.
“We’re off and running,” Pancho announced. “Next stop, the Asteroid Belt!”
SPACEPORT ARMSTRONG
Flanked by his chief of security and the head of his legal department, Martin Humphries arrived at the spaceport just in time to see Starpower 1 light up and break orbit.
He stood at the rear of the control center, arms folded across his chest, and watched the telescopic view of the fusion ship displayed on the main wallscreen. It was not a spectacular sight: Starpower 1’s four rocket nozzles glowed slightly, and the ship drifted away so slowly that Humphries had to check the numbers running along the right edge of the screen to be certain that it was moving at all.