The Captain said, “The Henry is on her final run-down … ten seconds… five seconds… now!”
I saw something like heat lightning even though I was in a closed room. For a few seconds there was a sound over the speaker like sleet on a window, soft and sibilant and far away. Pat said, “Boy!”
(“What is it, Pat?”)
“She got up out of there as if she had sat on a bee. Just a hole in the water and a flash of light. Wait a sec-they’re shifting the view pick-up from the space station to Luna.”
(“You’ve got a lot better view than I have. All I can see is the ceiling of this room.”)
The female voice said, “Mr. Warner! Miss Furtney! Tween-ships telepairs start recording.”
The Captain said, “All hands, ready for boost. Stand by for count down,” and another voice started in, “Sixty seconds … fifty-five … fifty … forty-five … holding on-forty-five … holding forty-five… holding… holding…”
-until I was ready to scream.
“Tom, what’s wrong?”
(“How should I know?”)
“Forty… thirty-five … thirty…”
“Tom, Mum wants me to tell you to be very careful.”
(“What does she think I can do? I’m just lying here, strapped down.”)
“I know.” Pat chuckled. “Hang on tight to the brush, you lucky stiff; they are about to take away the ladder.”
“… four!… Three!… Two!… ONE!”
I didn’t see a flash, I didn’t hear anything. I simply got very heavy-like being on the bottom of a football pile-up.
“There’s nothing but steam where you were.”
I didn’t answer, I was having trouble breathing.
“They’ve shifted the pick-up. They’re following you with a telephoto now. Tom, you ought to see this … you look just like a sun. It burns the rest of the picture right out of the tank.”
(“How can I see it?”) I said crossly. (“I’m in it.’)
“You sound choked up. Are you all right?”
(“You’d sound choked, too, if you had sand bags piled across your chest.”)
“Is it bad?”
(“It’s not good. But it’s all right, I guess.”)
Pat let up on me and did a right good job of describing what he was seeing by television. The Richard E. Byrd took off just after we did, before we had finished the high boost to get escape velocity from Earth; he told me all about it. I didn’t have anything to say anyhow; I couldn’t see anything and I didn’t feel like chattering. I just wanted to hold still and feel miserable.
I suppose it was only six minutes but it felt more like an hour. After a long, long time, when I had decided the controls were jammed and we were going to keep on at high boost until we passed the speed of light, the pressure suddenly relaxed and I felt light as a snowflake … if it hadn’t been for the straps I would have floated up to the ceiling.
“We have reduced to one hundred and ten per cent of one gravity,” the Captain said cheerfully. “Our cruising boost will be higher, but we will give the newcomers among us a while to get used to it.” His tone changed and he said briskly, “All stations, secure from blast-off and set space watches, third section.”
I loosened my straps and sat up and then stood up. Maybe we were ten per cent heavy, but it did not feel like it; I felt fine. I started for the door, intending to look around more than I had been able to when I came aboard.
Dusty Rhodes yelled at me. “Hey! Come back here and unstrap me! That moron fastened the buckles out of my reach.”
I turned and looked at him. “Say ‘please.’“
What Dusty answered was not “please.” Nevertheless I let him loose. I should have made him say it; it might have saved trouble later.
VII 19,900 WAYS
The first thing that happened in the L.C. made me think I was dreaming-I ran into Uncle Steve.
I was walking along the circular passageway that joined the staterooms on my deck and looking for the passage inboard, toward the axis of the ship. As I turned the comer I bumped into someone. I said, “Excuse me,” and started to go past when the other person grabbed my arm and clapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and it was Uncle Steve, grinning and shouting at me. “Hi, shipmate! Welcome aboard!”