Robert Heinlein - Destination Moon

Traub lifted his head and peered out one of the two large quartz ports. "It's clouding up. '1 can't see the -- ~ Moon."

Barnes answered, "Out where we're going there won't be any clouds."

"No clouds?"

"What do you expect, out in space?"

"Uh, I don't know. I guess I got most of my ideas about space travel from -- Buck Rogers. Electronics is my game." "Twenty-three minutes," announced Bowles. "Skipper, what's the name Of this bucket?"

"Huh?"

"When you launch a ship you have to name her."

"Eh, I suppose so. Doc, what do you say? She's your baby."

"Me? I've never thought about it."

"How," Bowles went on, "about calling her the Luna?"

Corley considered. "Suits me, if it suits the rest of you."

"The space ship Luna, " agreed Barnes. "Sounds good."

Traub chuckled nervously. "That makes us 'the Lunatics.'"

"And why not?" agreed Barnes.

"Twenty minutes," announced Bowles.

"Warm her up, Doc. Check-off lists, everybody."

"She's hot now," Corley answered. "If I increase the fission rate, I'll have to give her something to chew. Jim, I've been thinking. We could still test her."

"Huh?"

"Set her for a half-g lift, and clear her throat once I've got her set for that."

"What's the point? She' either works, or she blows up."

"Okay," Corley answered.

Traub gulped. "Could she blow up?"

"Don't worry," Cqrley reassured him. "The scale model ran an hour and twenty-three minutes before it blew up."

"Oh. Is that good?"~ --

"Mannie," Barnes ordered. "Switch on 'Ground PickUp.' We might as well watch."

"Yes, sir." Above them was a large TV screen. Traub could hook it in to a scanner in the tail, another in the nose, or-as now-pick up an ordinary video channel. The screen lighted up; they saw their own ship, lonely and tall in the floodlights.

An announcer's voice came with the picture: " -- this ship, the mightiest ever built, will soon plunge into outer space. Its flight was unannounced until tonight, its destination has not been revealed. Is this -- "

The broadcast was interrupted by Herb Styles. "Mr. Barnes! Boss!"

Barnes leaned out and looked at Traub in the couch beneath. "Are you hooked in?"

"Just a sec-go ahead."

"What is it, Herb?"

"Somebody tearing down the road, heading this way."

"Who?"

"Don't know. We can't contact the north road block."

"Call the pass gate. Head 'em off."

"It's no longer manned. Hey-wait. North road block coming in." After a pause, Styles yelled, "Truck loaded with men-they crushed through and ran over a deputy!"

"Keep your shirt on," cautioned Barnes. "They can't reach us. If they hang around down below, it's their misfortune. I'm blasting on time."

Bowles sat up. "Don't be too sure, Jim.'~

"Eh? What can they do to us now?"

"What would six sticks of dynamite against one of the tail jacks do to this ship? Let's take off-now!"

"Before calculated time? Red, don't be silly."

"Blast off and correct later!"

"Doe-could we do that?"

"Eh? No!"

Barnes stared at the TV picture. "Mannie-tell blockhouse to sound sirens!"

"Jim," protested Corley, "you can't take off now!"

"Are you still set up to test? Half g?"

"Yes, but -- "

"Stand by!" His eyes were fixed on the pictured scene outside; headlights came around the foundry, sped toward the pen. The moaning of sirens drowned out Corieyas answer.

The truck was almost at the gate. Barnes' forefinger stabbed the firing button.

A whine of great pumps was blanked out by a roar they could feel in their bones. The Luna shivered.

In the TV screen a flower of white light burst from the tail of the ship, billowed up, blanketing the headlights, the buildings, the lower half of the ship.

Barnes jerked his finger back. The noise died out; the cloud changed from incandescent to opaque. In the silence Styles' voice came over the speaker. "Great -- Day-in the Morning!"

"Herb-can you hear me?"

"Yes. What happened?"

"Use the bull horn to warn them off. Tell 'em to scram; if they come closer I'll fry them."

"I think you have."

"Get busy." He watched the screen, his finger raised. The cloud lifted; he made out the truck.

"Nine minutes," Bowles announced, calmly.

Through the speaker Barnes could hear a voice on the bull horn, warning the attacking party back. A man jumped down from the truck, was followed by others.

Barnes' finger trembled.

They turned and ran.

Barnes sighed. "Doc, did the test suit you?"

"A mushy cutoff," Corley complained. "It should have been sharp."

"Do we blast, or don't we?"

Corley hesitated. "Well?" demanded Barnes.

"We blast."

Traub heaved a mournful sigh. Barnes snapped, "Power plant-shift to automatic! All hands-prepare for acceleration. Mannie, tell blockhouse, Muroc, and White Sands to stand by for count off at oh three five two."

"Oh three five two," Traub repeated, then went on, "Ship~ calling blockhouse, Muroc, White Sands."

"Power plant, report."

"Automatic, all green."

"Co-pilot?"

"Tracking on autopilot." Bowles added, "Eight minutes."

"Doc, is she hot as she'll take?"

"I'm carrying the fission rate as high as I dare," Corley answered, strain in his voice. "She's on the ragged edge."

"Keep her so. All hands, strap down."

Corley reared up. "Jim-I forgot to pass out the drop-sick pills."

"Stay where you are! If we get seasick, we get seasick."

"One minute, coming up!" Bowles' voice was harsh.

"Take it, 'Mannie!"

"Blockhouse-Muroc-White Sands. Ready for count off!" Traub paused; the room was still.

"Sixty! Fifty-nine-fifty-eight-fifty-seven -- "

Barnes gripped his arm rests, tried to slow down his heart. He watched the -- seconds click off as Traub counted them. "Thirty-nine! Thirty-eight! Thirty-seven!" Traub's voice was shrill. "Thirty-one! Ha/fl"

Barnes could hear sirens, rising and falling, out on the field. Above him in the TV screen, the Luna stood straight and proud, her head in darkness.

"Eleven"

"And ten"

"And nine!"

"And eight!" -- Barnes licked his lips and swallowed.

"Five-four-three -- two --

"Fire!"

The word was lost in sound, a roar that made the test blast seem as nothing. The Luna shrugged-and climbed for the sky.

If we are to understand those men, we must reorient. Crossing the Atlantic was high adventure-when Columbus did it. So with the early spacemen. The ships they rode in were incredibly makeshift.

They did not know what they were doing. Had they known, they would not have gone.

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.