Chapter 1 Stand By for Blastoff

Ted Baker leaned against the tower and watched the frantic figures hurry across the concrete area of the field. High above him, the Air Force’s Sugar Yoke radar antenna swept the skies like a giant, revolving bedspring. The sky was intensely blue, a clear wash of bright ink spilled onto a sheet of drawing paper. Bloated, lazy clouds broke the clear blue, somehow resembling white areas that had escaped the flow of the ink.

The excited activity of a spaceport in full gear was everywhere around him. Trucks, bright red under the brilliant canopy of the sky, flashed over the ground like bewildered beetles. Motor scooters and jeeps twisted in and out between the toolsheds, the radar and radio towers, the fuel tanks, the repair shops, the astronomical labs, the meteorological stations, the weather towers, the bright red and yellow markers on the field.

Men in coveralls, grease-spattered and sweat-stained, hurried over the field with the intensity of marauder ants.

“There will be no smoking in the fueling area,” the loud-speakers blared, their metallic voices loud and strident. “Repeat. There will be no smoking in the fueling area.”

Ted’s eyes roved over the field, picking up clusters of men and vehicles, following moving lines of equipment and testing gear. Like hungry insects drawn to a fallen morsel of food, the men and the machines moved steadily toward a towering perpendicular form that sharply jutted up into the blue.

Ted’s heart gave a sudden leap again, the way it did every time he thought of the spaceport and the three-stage rocket. He was here. He was really here on Johnston Island, far out in the Pacific, far from home and the Space Academy. And in just a little while, he would board that rocket.

A grin worked its way onto his face, and he passed a nervous hand over the bridge of his nose. He looked around him, caught up in the frantic movement of the island, yet wishing there were someone he could talk to. The excitement bubbled up inside him like a seething volcano, and he wanted to stop one of the hurrying men and shout, “Hey! I’m going up to the Space Station. Me, Ted Baker. What do you think of that?”

The figures hurried past, intent on their separate jobs, rushing toward the enormous rocket on the edge of the field. The blasting pits, heat-scorched holes dug deep into the concrete, stretched before him like a row of discolored pockmarks that led to the ship itself.

His eyes studied the sleek outlines of the ship, and the grin magically popped onto his face again. She was a beauty, all right, a dream materialized in metal.

She sat over the blasting pit, her stabilizer fins straddling the discolored depression in the ground. She looked like an enormous spear, squat and wide at the bottom, and tapering up to a finely pointed nose. Close to that nose, she wore a pair of slanted wings; and below these, a third of the way down the side of the ship, was another, larger pair of wings. Ted knew her dimensions well. He’d studied them and restudied them at the Academy for the past three years.

He almost laughed aloud as he remembered old Colonel York, with his beady eyes and sharply curving nose. The colonel would rap on his desk with the plastic tip of his riding crop and bellow, “Overall length, Baker! What’s the overall length?”

“Two hundred and sixty-five feet, sir,” Ted had always replied. He knew the figures as well as he knew his own age. But they had been only figures until just a little while ago. He’d known, of course, that two hundred and sixty-five feet were a heck of a lot of feet. But he had never formed a real concept of just what the three-stage looked like.

Even when the colonel had cleared his throat and shouted, “The base is sixty-five feet in diameter, gentlemen. Sixty-five feet. This is a rocket, gentlemen, not a toy. This is the machine that will take you to the Space Station in your senior year,” even then Ted had only vaguely pictured it.

No, nothing but a look at the three-stage could really explain it. She was huge, truly huge, taller than a high building, and just as solid-looking. She weighed fourteen million pounds, the figures said, seven thousand tons of metal and engines and equipment that would supply the power for the escape from Earth.

She was definitely not a toy.

She sat complacently on the horizon now, her fueling hoses winding around her like rubbery snakes. She drank thirstily, and the coveralled men scurried around her like obedient hand-servants. Ted watched her, the excitement climbing in his blood. He turned away then, sighed deeply, and began walking toward the commissary with long, full strides. The wind, blowing fresh over the Pacific, lifted the sandy strands of his hair, tossing them back against his forehead. He was a tall boy, with wide shoulders wedging down to a narrow waist. His eyes were blue, a deeper, darker blue than the sky above, and his nose was straight, plunging down to a narrow-lipped mouth. When his face was at rest, he looked extremely serious, almost too serious for a seventeen-year-old. But when he smiled, his whole face seemed to erupt into brilliance, and his eyes sparkled to match the even flash of his teeth.

He was serious now as he walked, head bent, to the commissary. His eyes appraised the long, low, clean-looking lines of the building. He quickened his pace and passed through the electric eye trigger across the doorjamb. The large glass, double doors swung wide, and he walked into the interior of the building. He felt the cool blast of the air-conditioning unit at once, and mused that it felt more like September inside than it did outside. He still couldn’t get used to the idea of September without leaves turning russet and brown, without the brisk winds of autumn tickling the back of his neck. It was only with great effort that he could remember he was out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, ready to board a rocket that would carry him 1,075 miles above the Earth.

A chill of apprehension wormed its way up his back again, and he knew it wasn’t caused by the air-conditioning system. He sought out the food counter and began crossing the noisy room. Here, as outside, everyone seemed to be in a hurry. There was a more playful, relaxed atmosphere here, but there was still the feeling that everything had to be done fast or not at all. He was walking toward the food counter when the voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Ted! Ted Baker!”

He whirled rapidly, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces milling around the counter. Now who...?

“Over here, boy. Here!”

Ted’s eyebrows climbed onto his forehead, and his teeth showed in a wide grin. “Jack! Well, for crying out loud. What...”

“Come on over, boy,” Jack called. Ted gestured impatiently, surprise and happiness mingled on his face. He shouldered his way through the crowd, nimbly dodging balanced trays and hurrying figures. He reached the food counter at last, smiled happily and held out an eager hand.

“Boy, this is a surprise,” he said, pumping Jack’s free hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going up to the Space Station,” Jack replied. He held his tray balanced on his left hand as he moved along the counter. He was slightly taller than Ted, a little broader across the chest and shoulders. His arms were heavy and muscular, curling with red hair that matched the naming crest atop his head. His gray eyes were set on either side of a freckle-spattered nose, and he had full lips that tilted impishly. “You want something to eat?” he asked.

“No, no.” Ted said. “Boy, it’s good to see you.”

He moved alongside Jack as the other boy made his way down the counter, picking up a large slab of chocolate cake and a glass of milk. He was really happy to have found Jack among all these strangers, and he kept smiling as he watched Jack pay the cashier. Jack joined him, and they crossed the room, finding an unoccupied table in a far corner.

Jack put his tray down and pulled up a chair. “There,” he said.

Ted sat opposite him, pulling his chair close to the table. “You know,” he said, “I guess I didn’t hear you right. You didn’t say you were going up to the Station, did you?”

Jack sliced a large piece of cake, scooped it onto his fork, and stuffed it into his mouth. “Yep.”

“But how come? You’ve already been there. I mean, you were graduated from the Academy last year, weren’t you?”

Jack shoveled another piece of cake into his mouth. “Yep.”

Ted tried again. “Does your speciality involve further training at the Station?”

“Nope.”

Ted scratched his jaw and sighed, cocking one eyebrow. “I guess you’re not feeling very talkative.”

A smile tilted the corners of Jack’s mouth, and his gray eyes narrowed. Somehow, Ted didn’t like the smile. It was more like a superior smirk, a condescending pat on the head for a curious little boy. The smile troubled him, but he tried to tell himself he was wrong. After all, he’d known Jack quite well at the Academy, even though the older boy had been a term ahead of him.

“Is it some kind of secret?” he asked. “Your going up there, I mean?”

“I suppose I can tell you,” Jack said, shrugging his broad shoulders. He picked up the glass of milk and half drained it. Ted watched, then fidgeted uncomfortably as he waited for Jack to begin. Instead, Jack turned to the chocolate cake again, seemingly fascinated by it.

Ted let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, Jack,” he began, “if you’re going to tell me, then I wish...”

“I’m going to the Moon,” Jack interrupted calmly.

Ted stopped speaking abruptly as the full impact of Jack’s words hit him. He clamped his jaws shut, and his eyes opened wide. When speech returned, he could only manage a stammering “Wh-wh-what?”

Jack smiled his superior smile again, and shoved the cake plate away from him. “You heard me.”

“The Moon, you said?”

“The Moon.” Jack nodded calmly.

Ted leaned across the table, lowering his voice as if he were discussing a military secret. “The Moon? Our satellite?”

“How many moons are there?” Jack asked.

Ted studied Jack’s face for a moment, and then leaned back in his chair. He waved an open palm at Jack and said, “You’re kidding me.”

“All right,” Jack said, shrugging, “I’m kidding you.”

“No one’s ever been to the Moon,” Ted insisted, as if trying to convince himself.

“I know.”

The noises in the background seemed to have faded, and Ted had the strange feeling that he and Jack were sitting alone in a large vacuum, and that he was the butt of some strange joke.

“Are you really going to the Moon, Jack? Is this on the level?”

Jack’s face turned serious for a moment. “I’m not kidding, Ted. I’m going up to the Station, and a rocket to Luna is waiting there.”

Ted spread his hands wide in helpless wonder. “Why, that’s terrific! Jack, that’s wonderful! You, going to the Moon, why...” He cut himself short and asked, “You’re not going alone, are you?”

“Heck, no,” Jack said, chuckling. “There’ll be five of us, all told.”

“But why you? I mean, the first trip to the Moon. I should think...”

“Well,” Jack said, “there are several good reasons for my going along.”

“Let’s hear them.” Ted leaned forward excitedly. “Brother, you must be in seventh heaven. I can hardly sit still.”

“I’ve gotten used to the idea by now.”

“How can you ever get used to that idea?” Ted said. “It’s a wonder you aren’t turning cart wheels. But how come you’re...”

“I started to explain,” Jack interrupted. “My marks at the Academy were pretty high, you know.”

“Sure, I know.”

“In fact, I placed highest in the graduating class. That’s what finally swung the deal, I suppose.”

“Well, that’s wonderful.”

“Don’t get the idea that I’m just going along for the ride,” Jack said quickly. “The Air Force figured an Academy man would be valuable on the expedition. All those courses in navigation, engineering, geology...”

“Sure,” Ted agreed. “I can see where they’d come in handy.”

“The idea is for me to be a sort of pinch hitter,” Jack went on. “If anything goes wrong with any member of the crew, I’ll be able to take his place. Except the doctor, of course.”

Ted nodded wordlessly. His eyes were shining and he couldn’t keep the smile off his lips. He wanted to slap Jack on the back and congratulate him for his good fortune, carry him around the room on his shoulders.

“Then, too, there’s the strictly commercial angle,” Jack said. “The gimmick.”

“How do you mean?”

“Simple,” Jack said. “Nobody gives you anything for nothing. If this trip to the Moon is successful, just about every guy and his brother will want to join the Academy — especially if an Academy grad is one of the first men to land on the Moon. Don’t forget, Ted, we’re going to need a lot of spacemen if this trip is successful. This may be the gateway to interplanetary flight.”

Ted nodded, his face serious. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, the Air Force thought of it. I’m partly useful and partly pure propaganda for the Academy.” He grinned and added, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’d have gone along if they offered me the job of scraping the jets.”

Ted laughed, and several scurrying, coveralled employees turned to look at him. “I’ll bet you would have. You’re getting a break any guy would...”

“Attention, please! Attention, please!”

Ted looked up as the loud-speaker on the wall cut through the noise in the commissary.

“Attention, please. All passengers for Rocket Ship Sugar Sugar report to blasting pit at once.”

“Sugar Sugar,” Ted said. “That’s S.S.”

“You’ve got it, boy,” Jack said. “S.S. for Space Station.”

“Repeat,” the metallic voice on the speaker said. “All passengers for Rocket Ship Sugar Sugar report to blasting pit at once.”

“We’d better go,” Ted said, shoving his chair back.

“Relax,” Jack advised, spreading his hand palm downward. “That means we’ve got at least fifteen minutes to blastoff.”

“But shouldn’t we...”

“Look, kid,” Jack said, “they’re not going to leave without us, believe me.”

“I know, but...”

“Attention, please,” the speaker repeated. “Ground crews report to launching site at once. Blastoff in fifteen minutes. Repeat. Blastoff in fifteen minutes.”

Jack smiled. “See?”

Activity within the commissary seemed to speed up. Chairs were shoved back rudely, coffees gulped hastily. The room began to clear as men and women in coveralls made their way toward the exit doors. Ted watched them, and the blood began to pound in his temples. He was getting closer, much closer. Soon. Soon. He began to drum his fingers nervously on the table, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his feet tapping the floor.

Jack watched him quietly, the smile clinging to his face.

“Look,” Ted said at last, “shouldn’t we go? The Manual says all hands should be aboard at least...”

Jack laughed, and there was something harsh in his laughter which Ted hadn’t noticed at the Academy. “Forget the Manual,” he said. “The Manual is for Earthlubbers. When you get up into space, you’ll see that nobody ever looks at the rules book.”

Ted got up, and then carefully pushed his chair under the table again. “Well, I’m still a lubber,” he said. “You coming?”

Jack shrugged. “Okay, okay. No need to get your jets all fired.” He pushed his chair back and stretched. “Come on.”

Ted set the pace, walking quickly to the large glass doors. The electric eye triggered them out, and as they stepped into the sunshine, every speaker on the field roared, “Stand by for blastoff. Blastoff in ten minutes.

“Repeat. Blastoff in ten minutes!”