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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f539b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66313 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66313) diff --git a/old/66313-0.txt b/old/66313-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d45f52d..0000000 --- a/old/66313-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1065 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Journey For The Brave, by Alan E. -Nourse - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Journey For The Brave - -Author: Alan E. Nourse - -Release Date: September 15, 2021 [eBook #66313] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEY FOR THE BRAVE *** - - - - - - Journey For The Brave - - By Alan E. Nourse - - Courage will be a big qualification for - the pilot who flies the first moon rocket. But - who decides if a man is brave--or a coward?... - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - April 1954 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -The base diner was hot and stuffy that night as Scotty Johnson sat -with Mitch and Jack and the other boys, sipping his last cup of -coffee before Zero Hour rolled around. Mitch and Jack had succeeded -in sneaking him out of town before the reporters had guessed what was -happening. Now they sat in silence, sipping their coffee, glancing at -him from time to time as though to make sure he were still there. It -annoyed Scotty. This was the time to laugh, and joke, and bull away as -if nothing was going to happen at all. - -The waitress trotted over with a coffee pot, and Scotty gave her his -widest leer. "You know, I can't think of anything I'd rather have right -now than a cup of coffee from you," he said. "How about a date in about -ten days?" - -The girl looked startled, and glanced away nervously. Mitch gave a -tight little laugh. "Better watch out. Scotty. She's liable to be -waiting on the landing field when you get back--" - -They all laughed at that, and then silence fell again. They were -nervous. Scotty could sense it, even though they tried to cover it up. -All through these weeks of preparation in the hot New Mexico sun, the -tension had been growing. But _he_ should be the one to be nervous, not -these lads. After all, who was the star of this show? Scotty nuzzled -his coffee, and twisted his wiry five-foot-two inch frame around so -that he could see the door. "Better drink up," he said. "The jeep -should be here any minute." - -Mitch nodded and emptied his cup as the jeep's tires screeched on the -pavement outside. The door of the coffeeshop burst open, and a head -with an MP's crash helmet popped in. "All set, Scotty? Let's go!" - -Scotty nodded. His blue eyes were bright as he buttoned up his jacket -and winked at the waitress. Then he led the group to the door. "Love -that gal," he said. - -The driver raced the motor as they piled in and the jeep took off down -the concrete strip with a roar. The driver turned an admiring glance -toward Scotty. "All set for the big trip, man?" - -Scotty grinned. "Been sleeping in a coffin all week, just for practice." - -"Man, you may need that practice. You'll be good and stiff before you -get out--" He broke off, horrified at the pun. - -Scotty roared with glee. "You think you're kidding! That's all -right--the way I see it, I'm getting ten days vacation on the -Government, and plenty of pay besides. And once I get up there, I -won't need much muscle to make my way around, they tell me." He lit a -cigarette, peering down the strip ahead of them. Far ahead he could see -the batteries of searchlights, picking out the tall, shiny spire of the -ship. It stood tall in its scaffolding, pointing like a needle toward -the black star-lit sky. Already the ground below it was swarming with -tiny figures, moving about on the final check-down. My ship, thought -Scotty. I helped to build it. And here's one job where they need a -cocky, loud-mouthed little shrimp more than anything else in the world-- - - * * * * * - -Another jeep swerved in beside them on the strip. Scotty caught a -glimpse of the General and a couple of official-looking civilians. - -"Everybody's going to see you off," said Mitch from the back seat. - -"Yeah--the whole damned crowd. My big day." - -"You sure you got everything down cold?" - -Scotty gave him a scornful glance. "You kidding? How could I miss?" -His freckled face broke into a grin from ear to ear, and his eyes were -bright with excitement. "Why I've got nothing to do but crawl in and -zip things up after me. Don't even have to throw the fatal switch--they -take care of everything from outside. I'm telling you, it's a cinch. -Three days to tell myself sea stories--and then I'll crawl out and tell -you boys what Lady Moon _really_ looks like." - -A crowd of reporters and photographers were waiting as the jeep sped -up to the huge barbed-wire enclosure surrounding the ship. Scotty stuck -his head out of the jeep and gave them a big grin. The flashbulbs -popped. Then the jeep roared on toward the field shack. Scotty stepped -out, staring up at the tall sleek ship. A little bottom-heavy now, -perhaps, but with the first and second stages disengaged--a beauty of a -ship. He stepped into the field shack, and grinned up at the General. -"Final check go all right?" - -The General nodded and smiled. "This is the Secretary of Defense, -Scotty--" - -"Well! Guess I'm rating big visitors tonight!" He gave the man's hand a -jaunty shake. - -"You're taking a big trip," said the Secretary. "Tell me, Mr. -Johnson--how does it feel to be the first man to go to the Moon?" - -"Can't say. I haven't been there yet." - -"You'd better get aboard," said the General. "Everything's been checked -down. You'll have half an hour to make your own checks from inside. -How's your weight?" - -"Down to 128." - -"Fine. That's better than we'd hoped. But don't be afraid to holler if -something doesn't look right--" He extended his hand, gripped Scotty's -tightly. "Good luck, lad. We're with you all the way." - -A soldier rode up the gantry with him, high up past the break-lines -of the first and second stages, to the small open port in the final -stage of the rocket. Scotty could feel the eyes on him from below as -he climbed into the port--one lone man to jockey the first manned ship -to the Moon. A big job, a job that really took guts. He grinned, and -slid through into the passenger chamber. Carefully he reached back and -slammed the port shut behind him with a farewell wave to the soldier, -and gave the lock-wheel a spin, until he heard the seal click. Then he -slipped down into the half-sitting, half-reclining couch which nearly -filled the tiny chamber. His heart was pounding in his throat as he -snapped on the radio phone. "Okay, I'm in," he said. - -"Got her locked up?" Mitch's voice grated in his earphones. - -"Ay, ay." - -"Give her a careful check inside there. Then stand by." - -Scotty nodded and checked the banks of instruments on the tiny panel -before him. He was the payload on this trip; the ship was little more -than an upholstered tube, with him jammed tight in one end and enough -fuel to land him on the Moon and shoot him off again in behind him. -The other sections, far huger than this little pellet with him in the -middle, would drive him out, break the frightful hold that Earth held -on her subjects. But there was nothing superfluous here, nothing he -did not actually need, and he checked quickly. Then he leaned back and -flipped on the forward televiewer.... - -The vast black expanse of space, peppered with a thousand bright -pinpoints of light, suddenly appeared on the screen inches from his -face. It took him by surprise; his hand jerked down on the switch -again, and he wiped a line of droplets from his upper lip, and closed -his eyes, his heart pounding against his ribs. - -The radio blipped in his ear. "Thirty minutes to Zero," it said-- - - * * * * * - -It struck Scotty Johnson, then, how very much alone he was. - -He felt a chill go down his spine, and he turned his eyes about the -tiny chamber. Forward, within arm's length, was the dull glint of metal -panelling and coiled wires and tight atmosphere sealing. His small wiry -body sank against the deep couch, and he drew the safety webbing across -his chest and thighs, the chill in his mind deepening. Above him was -another pad of soft material to protect his head; his feet were lodged -against a solid bar at the foot of the couch. Inevitably, he thought -of a cocoon. A tight, soft, warm cocoon. And he was alone inside it-- - -He tried to think when, in all his thirty-four years, he had been so -completely and utterly alone. - -He sat very still, listening. All about him was silence. A muted, -deathly silence. His head-set pressed tight against his ears, and he -shook his head, wondering if he had actually heard the words coming -into his ears a few seconds before. Zero minus thirty minutes. Thirty -minutes to wait, alone-- - -Suddenly, he knew that he was very much afraid-- - -His lips formed a sneer, and he tried to fight the idea out of his -mind. He was no longer afraid of anything. Those days were gone, far -away. Nothing could scare Scotty Johnson--not even being completely -alone. He reached out his hand, ran a finger over the control board. -Oxygen, chamber pressure, emergency anaesthetic, blast-control--his -hand trembled, and the thought seeped back into his mind again. A voice -was whispering, deep in his ear, _you're afraid, little man, afraid--!_ -He could feel the droplets of moisture forming on his forehead, and -even the sound of his breath was muted in the silent chamber. - -The seconds ticked by. Still the voice whispered. He was alone--alone -and afraid. No one could help him now, no one in the world. This was -his own world, here in this tight little cabin, and he could die here -and nobody would ever know-- - -He shook his head savagely. Alone? Ridiculous! At the foot of the ship -were a hundred people, all watching, all thinking about him. They had -built this ship, they were for him all the way. They would get him -safely off the ground, and then it would be just like a subway ride-- - -But after the blast-off--what then? The hundred men were staying -behind. There were no men where he was going. There was nothing there. -Nothing but death. - -His breath was coming faster, and he felt the first chill of panic -stir in his mind. He tried to fight it down angrily. What was there to -get excited about? Nobody had forced him into this seat. He'd begged -for it! For five long years it had been an obsession, his wildest -dream, to be sitting in this seat, waiting for the Zero-count to come -through the headphones. Years of hoping, of pulling strings, of talking -to people and dropping chance remarks, of studying and working and -practicing--and finally, the note in his box, the trip down to the -General's field office that day. - - * * * * * - -Inside the office the General had sat down, regarding him for a long -moment with those cool grey eyes of his. Then he said, "You're sure you -want to do this, Scotty? Dead sure?" - -Scotty had nodded, hardly able to find his voice. "I'd give anything. -You've got to let me go." - -The General nodded slowly. "You might have to give your life. Does it -mean that much to you? Millions of dollars have gone into this ship, -but there's no way to be sure of it. It's a fearful gamble." - -"I'll take any odds, General. The sheep and the chickens came back. -I'll come back." - -The General looked out the window, his face carved with weary lines. -"I hate to send a man, alone. But what we need to know, one man can -find out. Two would be a waste--a tragic waste. The sheep and chickens -didn't land, they just circled. But one man must go up, to land a ship, -and take off again, for the first time." His eyes caught Scotty's -gravely. "I want you to know why it's got to be you alone. We can't -gamble on two men's lives, when one will do. _You're the guinea pig!_" - -Scotty had stood up then, laughing. "Are you trying to frighten me? -Look, General--I've been working on this ship since it first started. -I know it inside out and backwards. I'm not afraid of this trip. I've -got to be the one to go." - -The General had shifted some papers on his desk. "All right. They -weighed you in at 142 pounds. Our calculations call for 135. Every -ounce over that cuts a hard percentage out of your fuel. You'll have to -suck down." - -"I can do that." - -"All right--but don't starve yourself. And don't dehydrate any more -than you absolutely must. You'll have enough water for ten days, no -more. Three up, three back, four there. Now then. The psych boys will -go to work on your coordination for the next few days. That's critical. -The first and second stages will disengage automatically, but you'll -have to maneuver your own landing." - -Scotty nodded. "I've been maneuvering dummies until I'm blue in the -face." - -"You'll need it pounded in." - -"It's pounded, don't worry." - -The General gave a satisfied nod. "All right, Scotty. See you at the -blast-off. And remember, if you want to pull out--nobody will blame -you. Right down to the last minute before Zero, you can pull out--" - -"I don't think so," said Scotty. "I don't think I'm going to pull out. -Not on this one." - - * * * * * - -"_Zero minus twenty minutes--_" - -The harsh metallic voice dragged Scotty back to the present with -a jolt. For a moment he had almost regained the old familiar burn -of self-assured bravado he had felt as he had finished talking to -the General that day and sauntered out toward the ship standing in -the launching scaffold. He had even been smiling as he recalled the -interview-- - -But now his eye caught the dull gleam of the control board before him, -and his smile faded. - -The voice was whispering softly, deep inside his head: _Come off it, -Scotty. Who are you trying to kid?_ - -His hand trembled, and he leaned back, forcing his tense leg muscles to -relax. What do you mean, who am I trying to kid? he thought, angrily. -You're crazy. Would I be kidding myself? I quit kidding myself years -ago. I know what I'm up to. This is a journey for heroes, and I'm going -to be the hero, this time. _For sure._ This time there won't be any -doubt. _They_ won't have any doubt, and _I_ won't have any doubt-- - -_You're alone, Scotty. Remember? You can quit acting now._ - -He shuddered, and glanced uneasily around the tiny closed chamber. -Alone? What a laugh. A man can never be alone. There are always a -million memories, wheeling and spinning and roaring around inside your -head. Memories of people, of hopes and dreams and fears. You can build -a heavy wall in your mind to keep them back, but when you're alone, and -scared, and helpless, the wall starts to crumble down-- - -There's nobody to fool any more, Scotty. The act is over. Admit it, -you're scared, _you can hardly hold still you're so scared_-- - -He clapped his hands to his ears, trying to shut out the whisper. He -kept shaking his head, but it came through like a heavy surf. He sat -tense, trembling, with salty droplets pouring down his face, shaking -his head helplessly-- - -You're caught now, the voice whispered. This is a one-way ride, and you -know it, and you're _scared_-- - -"_I'm not!_" - -The earphones clicked. "You say something, Scotty?" - -Scotty took a deep breath, unclenching his hands. "No, no--nothing. -What's the Zero-count, Mitch?" - -"Zero minus sixteen minutes. Everything set?" - -"All set. I wish we could get going." Scotty twisted on the couch, -feeling the silence close down around him like a stifling blanket. -He was almost shouting to himself. All right, I'm scared! Wouldn't -anybody be scared? Sitting here, waiting, thinking about two hundred -thousand miles of nothing with a rocky world of death at the other end -to land on? Why shouldn't I be scared? They can stay back here, and -track me with their scopes and radar--it's fine for them. It's fine -for the Secretary of Defense, too--no skin off his back if something -happens. And the big boys in Hollywood can sit back at their desks and -rub their fat hands together and hope their cameras work all right, -hope the pictures come out good, so they can make their pile, _if I get -back_. Big gamble for them. FIRST MOON PICTURES RELEASED--SEE MAN'S -GREATEST ADVENTURE IN GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOR--AUTHENTIC FILMS FROM THE -FIRST MOON ROCKET--PRICES ONLY SLIGHTLY ADVANCED. Big gamble. Those -films will help pay for a lot of fuel, a lot of metal and man-hours -spent on this ship-- - -But can it pay for a life? - - * * * * * - -Bitterness swept through Scotty's mind, sharply. It was _his_ life they -were bartering, _he_ was to be the star of those films--dead or alive. -He could be killed in the blast-off, and the films would keep rolling, -keep churning out the yardage, and thirty years later they could pick -up the film and still make their nice safe pile--thirty years of cold -death for him-- - -But why are you whining now, little man? Why all the tears, all of a -sudden? You asked for it. You made your bed, right from scratch. You -wanted to be the hero, nothing else would do. Well, here you are, Hero. -Tough. You asked for it-- - -But _why_? - -And then something was tugging at his mind, seeping through the heavy -wall of memory. A terrible, loathsome thought. He shook his head, -desperately, trying to fight it back, but the wall began to crumble. -Long-dead pictures began drifting through, long-hidden memories. A bare -whisper of thought, cold, relentless, devastating. Admit it, Scotty. -_You had to come._ You had to be sitting in this seat; you couldn't do -anything else, could you? You couldn't let them know about you. You -couldn't bear to let the boys down on the field suspect the truth, -could you, Scotty? You looked into their eyes, and you were afraid they -suspected, like Matty had suspected, like Dad had suspected so many -years ago--You had to come here. _You couldn't help yourself, could -you?_ - -The whisper broke into a coarse, derisive laugh, and Scotty cowered -back, shaking his head in denial, his whole body trembling. _Take a -look, Scotty--take a good look!_ Are you trying to hide the truth from -_yourself_? But you can't get away with that. You can't hide it from -yourself any longer-- - -And then the wall of memory buckled, and split wide open. You can -fool the whole world, Scotty--but you can't fool yourself, the voice -screamed in his ear. You can run, and hide, and twist, and lie, but you -can't ever really fool yourself. You know it's true. You always have -known. - -_You're a coward, Scotty. A dirty yellow coward. You always have been, -and you always will be--_ - -"_Zero minus ten minutes--_" - - * * * * * - -It wasn't true. He shook his head helplessly as his fingers found the -safety belts, tightened them down fiercely on his chest and legs. -Wasn't he sitting here now, waiting for the last count, waiting to -start on the greatest adventure man had ever attempted? Would he be -_here_ if he were a coward? He snarled and clenched his fists tight on -the arm-rests. It was a lie, it _couldn't_ be true. No man can stare -himself in the face and call himself a coward when there is a spark -of life left in him at all. He can call himself a cheat, or a liar, or -a fake--those were things that could be changed, things that could be -made up for. But a coward had something wrong deep inside, something -that was built in, that could never be changed as long as a man lived. -No man could call himself _that_. - -Scotty shook his head, half laughing, half crying. He was scared, sure. -Anybody would be scared. But he wasn't a coward. He was in this ship -because he wanted fame, because he craved excitement and adventure. -Nothing had made him volunteer. He'd done it because he was that kind -of guy-- - -But he knew that was a lie. Its very falsehood writhed in his brain as -he thought it. You're here because your cheap, cowardly little soul -couldn't bear to face itself. You're here because you couldn't bear -the looks of the men around you, with their barbed wise-cracks and -their guarded half-smiles. They thought you couldn't see them! But the -whispers were there, and you couldn't stand for them to guess-- - -But what did he care what _they_ thought? What were they to him? _He_ -knew he was better than they were--quicker, smarter, braver. He didn't -have to prove anything to them-- - -_And Matty? Does Matty know how brave you are, Hero? Can you prove to -Matty that you're not a coward? Matty knows about you. Remember?_ - -Scotty shook his head, fearfully. That was so long ago-- - -But things like that are never long ago, Scotty. They stay with you as -long as you live. Sure, the Army said you were a hero, they gave you a -Silver Star--but what would Matty say--if he could ever say anything -again? Would _he_ say you were a hero? - -Suddenly Matty's torn and twisted face seemed to be peering out at him -from the control panel. His mind went whirling back through the years, -completely out of control. In an instant he had slipped back fifteen -long years, back to the hot, stinking sweaty deadliness of that little -jungle island. They had been deep in the jungle that night, holed -in, scared to move, afraid even to breath. For a week they had been -waiting, waiting for the snipers to move in and spot them. He could -remember the cold, desperate fear that had gnawed at him that night -as he and Bill Matthews had clutched their rifles, waiting, creeping -forward along the jungle trail through the blackness and the night -sounds. His clothes had stuck to his body with sweat as they crept, -the sweat of mortal fear. The mosquitoes whined in clouds around his -head; his body stung with a thousand insect bites. Up ahead, somewhere -in the sticky blackness, was a machine-gun, blocking them from their -supplies, blocking them from the plasma and penicillin powder the -patrol needed more than any food or water. They had been waiting for -many days, and they were weak with hunger and thirst--but there was a -gun, and sharp, cruel eyes watching-- - - * * * * * - -They had been moving in pairs, and Scotty had felt the fear clutching -his chest, fear beyond any words. He and Matty were working their way -down a swampy river bottom, sliding on their bellies in the muck, when -they had spotted the nest. And then the fear and panic building up -inside him had broken through. He had jumped up, screaming, and burst -forward, gun chattering in his hand. - -Blind rage and fear drove him forward as the startled gunners swivelled -their gun, piercing the night with their sharp cries. Matty had shouted -at him to get down, but he ran forward in the darkness, wildly. A burst -of fire screamed out at him through the jungle; he slid into the mud, -panting, still firing into the face of the blazing machine-gun, until -he saw the last man twist, and fall, and the gun fell silent. - -A hero, they said. But later he had found Matty, lying twisted with his -head split open, a line of open holes cutting down through his neck and -across his shoulders-- - -Another few seconds, another instant of control would have given them -time to get the machine-gun in crossfire. But something had exploded in -Scotty's brain that night--a fear greater than any fear of being shot, -a fear of being exposed for what he was, what he knew he was. He had -dragged Matty back, through the long miles of sniper-ridden jungle, and -they called him a hero, and he had never told them who had broken first -and drawn the deadly fire-- - -His forehead stood out with sweat now, and he tried to hide his eyes. -He had spent many years forgetting that horrible night, trying to -cleanse himself of the depths of guilt that had eaten away at him--and -now it was back, harsh and undeniable, intensified by years of -self-deceit and self-justification and rationalization. But the chips -were down now. In a few moments a great fire would explode deep in -the bowels of this ship, and he would be driven forward, far out into -space, along trails never blazed by man. - -"_Zero minus five minutes. Give her a final check, Scotty--_" - -He jerked in his seat as though he had been struck. _Five minutes!_ -His mind whirled with memories, and the cold fear cut through him like -a knife. In a moment of panic his mind was screaming, get out, now, -before it's too late! The General said you could pull out, right down -to the last minute--well, _pull out, now, before the engines start_-- - -But a peal of derisive laughter roared through his mind. There had been -reporters, news stories. He had said things that had been splashed -across a million newspapers. Back out now? Tell the world what a coward -he was? Then everybody would know--the boys down below, Matty, Dad--Dad -had never actually _said_ it, but it had always been there, as long as -Scotty could remember. He had tried and tried to make up for his small -size, for his skinny legs and bony chest. - -It hadn't been his fault that Dad was such a big man, such a rugged, -powerful man. Those long hunting trips up through Canada--a man had to -share the load, there was no place for weakness and weariness there. -And Dad had taken him along, once, until he had tired, and turned his -ankle on a short portage. They had carried him out--and he knew that -he had lost his Dad that day. Dad hadn't admitted it, but it was true. -There was always the half-hidden disgust and sadness and disappointment -in his cool, grey eyes-- - -"_Minus two, Scotty. Final check--_" - -His hand flicked out automatically, as fear and dismay welled up in his -mind. Everything he had ever done he had flubbed, somehow--he searched -frantically through his mind for one small, pure act of absolute -bravery, unadorned by words, unaltered by empty rationalizations and -built-up courage, and his mind yielded nothing but hoarse, heavy -laughter. Somewhere there was a key. It had started somewhere, if only -he could remember. Somewhere beneath the years of futile failure, there -was a core-- - -"_Sixty seconds, Scotty--Good luck, boy!_" - -He froze, his hands clutching the safety belt in a grip of iron as the -words pounded in his ear: "--forty--thirty five--thirty--twenty five--" - -And then, like a great door opening up in his mind, he remembered-- - - * * * * * - -A day so long ago, so deeply buried that it had not come to mind in -years. A day when he had been walking down a village street, on the way -to the store for his mother, a small boy, hardly ten-- - -A group of boys, appearing suddenly from the old garage he was passing. -A thin-faced lad, tall and sharp-boned, with cold eyes and a sneer -on his thin lips. Other boys, too, mostly bigger than he. His eyes -widened, and he started to back away when Thin-face grabbed his collar, -pulled him up sharp. "Where you think you goin', bud?" - -"Just down the street--" - -"Who said you could walk on this street?" - -"It's not your street. I can walk where I want--" - -A gleam of cruelty in Thin-face's eyes. "Sissy thinks he's smart." A -sharp-knuckled hand struck him across the nose. "You want to fight?" - -Scotty shook his head, eyes wide. "No, I just want to--" His eye caught -one of the others, sidling around behind him-- - -"Stand still!" - -He had been paralyzed. The rabbit-punch struck him a hammer-blow, -and tears streamed down his face. Thin-face hit him again, and blood -spurted from his nose. "Put up your hands and fight--" - -"I can't--" - -"You'd better fight, sissy--I'll kill ya!" - -"I don't want to fight--" The fear, the mortification, the blind, -paralyzing fear. Another blow struck him, and he tumbled backwards -over the boy who had crouched behind him, and struck his head on the -sidewalk. They had roared with laughter, and one of them kicked him. -And then he was on his feet, darting between them, running for his -life, running with blind fear snarling at his heels, down an alley, -into a backyard, across into another alley--He had seen the open -cellarway, then, and crawled down in, heart pounding in his throat, -waiting as the boys came through the yard, looking, laughing at the -sport, walking on. He waited for hours before he dared come out, and -every minute of those hours he trembled, desperately sick and ashamed, -wondering what Dad would ever think of him if he should find out-- - - * * * * * - -Something struck him in the chest then, a firm, gentle pressure that -grew and grew as the cabin vibrated with a powerful roar. The pressure -grew larger, choking the breath from him. In a last terrible panic of -fear Scotty tried to fight his safety belt open, tried to cry out to -_stop, stop, stop_, but it was too late. He pressed back, deeper and -deeper into the couch as the age-long seconds ticked by--and in the -viewer the Earth fell away, farther and farther, dwindling, dimming-- - -He heard the explosion as the first stage disengaged, and his mind -froze as the pressure shoved harder at his chest. Then suddenly there -was a jerk, a bone-crushing jar that nearly broke his neck, and the -ship started spinning crazily. - -"_Scotty--Scotty, can you hear me?_" It was Mitch's voice in the -earphones, heavy with frantic urgency. "_Can you hear me, Scotty?_" - -Scotty groaned. "I can hear you," he croaked. - -"Scotty, the second stage didn't disengage properly--you've got it on -your tail yet--" - -Scotty gasped for breath, trying to focus his mind on the -present, trying to drive out the paralyzing phantoms of the past. -"Second--stage?" - -"It--wait a minute--you're way off course--there it goes, you've -lost it--" There was a scraping sound in the earphones, and then the -General's voice snapped out, sharp and clear. "Scotty--listen, boy, -you're off course, you aren't out far enough--you'll have to orbit -back--" - -"Orbit?" The word was wrenched from his throat, and he stared at the -viewer in horror. - -"Listen, Scotty, get this straight--can you hear me, lad?" - -"Yeah, yeah, I can hear--" - -"Then listen. Orbit your ship. Slam down the cut-off and--" - -"I can correct," Scotty cried. "I can get back on beam, and make it--" - -"Scotty, you'd use too much fuel. You didn't get out far enough, you -dragged dead weight--" - -"I can correct--" - -"You'll never be able to land up there. If you do, you'll never be able -to take off again--" - -"I've--got--to--get--out--there!" - -The General's voice was frantic. "This is an order, man. _Orbit your -ship._ We'll find some way to get you down. But you'll have to come -back--" - -Something exploded in Scotty's mind then. Rage bubbled over in his -mind, and he was screaming in the speaker, "I'm going on out. I'm going -to land up there--I can't flub it now, I can't--" - -"Scotty, _orbit while you can_. There'll be another try--" - -"I can't hear you--" - -"_I said--_" - -"_I'm going out._ Get somebody up there to get me if you want to, but -I'm going--" - -He ripped off the earphones, the bitterness and rage and frustration -of long years welling into his mind. He was seething, almost crying -out in his rage. Everything he had ever done he had flubbed--but he -wouldn't flub this one. Fiercely, he went to work on the controls, -tears rolling down his cheeks as he worked. He was going to go on, if -it killed him-- - - * * * * * - -He felt the ship respond to its new course, slightly, and then, -gradually, the weight began to lift from his chest. He sank back, -panting. Up in the screen was a pale yellow ball, and he was racing -toward it as fast as a man could race. There would be plenty of time -for the sensitive calculations, for careful course-plotting, later. But -he was not going back. - -They might get a ship up to get him in time--and again, they might not. -He had food and water for ten days at full rations. He could live for -thirty days on it. Maybe more. And when the rations were gone, how long -could he live then? - -_How long did we live in the jungle without food or water?_ - -He sat back, then, and laughed. It would be better to die up there, -than to spend the rest of his life dying down on Earth. Dying every -day, a thousand thousand deaths-- - -They might be able to rescue him, with fast work, with a fearful margin -of incredible luck. But it didn't really matter to him now whether they -did or didn't. He knew that now. He had already died, back there on the -ground, waiting for the zero-count to come. He was reborn now, a new -man with a great, courageous job to do. This time he would do the job -right. Fear was behind him now, for he could never be afraid again like -he had been afraid a few short minutes before. The gauntlet was run. - -He would land on the Moon, and no man nor memory would stop him from -doing it. No fear, no cowardice-- - -_Because a coward would have turned back--_ - -He settled back in the couch, and drifted into sleep with a peaceful -smile on his lips. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEY FOR THE BRAVE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Nourse</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Journey For The Brave</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Alan E. Nourse</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 15, 2021 [eBook #66313]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEY FOR THE BRAVE ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Journey For The Brave</h1> - -<h2>By Alan E. Nourse</h2> - -<p>Courage will be a big qualification for<br /> -the pilot who flies the first moon rocket. But<br /> -who decides if a man is brave—or a coward?...</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -April 1954<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The base diner was hot and stuffy that night as Scotty Johnson sat -with Mitch and Jack and the other boys, sipping his last cup of -coffee before Zero Hour rolled around. Mitch and Jack had succeeded -in sneaking him out of town before the reporters had guessed what was -happening. Now they sat in silence, sipping their coffee, glancing at -him from time to time as though to make sure he were still there. It -annoyed Scotty. This was the time to laugh, and joke, and bull away as -if nothing was going to happen at all.</p> - -<p>The waitress trotted over with a coffee pot, and Scotty gave her his -widest leer. "You know, I can't think of anything I'd rather have right -now than a cup of coffee from you," he said. "How about a date in about -ten days?"</p> - -<p>The girl looked startled, and glanced away nervously. Mitch gave a -tight little laugh. "Better watch out. Scotty. She's liable to be -waiting on the landing field when you get back—"</p> - -<p>They all laughed at that, and then silence fell again. They were -nervous. Scotty could sense it, even though they tried to cover it up. -All through these weeks of preparation in the hot New Mexico sun, the -tension had been growing. But <i>he</i> should be the one to be nervous, not -these lads. After all, who was the star of this show? Scotty nuzzled -his coffee, and twisted his wiry five-foot-two inch frame around so -that he could see the door. "Better drink up," he said. "The jeep -should be here any minute."</p> - -<p>Mitch nodded and emptied his cup as the jeep's tires screeched on the -pavement outside. The door of the coffeeshop burst open, and a head -with an MP's crash helmet popped in. "All set, Scotty? Let's go!"</p> - -<p>Scotty nodded. His blue eyes were bright as he buttoned up his jacket -and winked at the waitress. Then he led the group to the door. "Love -that gal," he said.</p> - -<p>The driver raced the motor as they piled in and the jeep took off down -the concrete strip with a roar. The driver turned an admiring glance -toward Scotty. "All set for the big trip, man?"</p> - -<p>Scotty grinned. "Been sleeping in a coffin all week, just for practice."</p> - -<p>"Man, you may need that practice. You'll be good and stiff before you -get out—" He broke off, horrified at the pun.</p> - -<p>Scotty roared with glee. "You think you're kidding! That's all -right—the way I see it, I'm getting ten days vacation on the -Government, and plenty of pay besides. And once I get up there, I -won't need much muscle to make my way around, they tell me." He lit a -cigarette, peering down the strip ahead of them. Far ahead he could see -the batteries of searchlights, picking out the tall, shiny spire of the -ship. It stood tall in its scaffolding, pointing like a needle toward -the black star-lit sky. Already the ground below it was swarming with -tiny figures, moving about on the final check-down. My ship, thought -Scotty. I helped to build it. And here's one job where they need a -cocky, loud-mouthed little shrimp more than anything else in the world—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Another jeep swerved in beside them on the strip. Scotty caught a -glimpse of the General and a couple of official-looking civilians.</p> - -<p>"Everybody's going to see you off," said Mitch from the back seat.</p> - -<p>"Yeah—the whole damned crowd. My big day."</p> - -<p>"You sure you got everything down cold?"</p> - -<p>Scotty gave him a scornful glance. "You kidding? How could I miss?" -His freckled face broke into a grin from ear to ear, and his eyes were -bright with excitement. "Why I've got nothing to do but crawl in and -zip things up after me. Don't even have to throw the fatal switch—they -take care of everything from outside. I'm telling you, it's a cinch. -Three days to tell myself sea stories—and then I'll crawl out and tell -you boys what Lady Moon <i>really</i> looks like."</p> - -<p>A crowd of reporters and photographers were waiting as the jeep sped -up to the huge barbed-wire enclosure surrounding the ship. Scotty stuck -his head out of the jeep and gave them a big grin. The flashbulbs -popped. Then the jeep roared on toward the field shack. Scotty stepped -out, staring up at the tall sleek ship. A little bottom-heavy now, -perhaps, but with the first and second stages disengaged—a beauty of a -ship. He stepped into the field shack, and grinned up at the General. -"Final check go all right?"</p> - -<p>The General nodded and smiled. "This is the Secretary of Defense, -Scotty—"</p> - -<p>"Well! Guess I'm rating big visitors tonight!" He gave the man's hand a -jaunty shake.</p> - -<p>"You're taking a big trip," said the Secretary. "Tell me, Mr. -Johnson—how does it feel to be the first man to go to the Moon?"</p> - -<p>"Can't say. I haven't been there yet."</p> - -<p>"You'd better get aboard," said the General. "Everything's been checked -down. You'll have half an hour to make your own checks from inside. -How's your weight?"</p> - -<p>"Down to 128."</p> - -<p>"Fine. That's better than we'd hoped. But don't be afraid to holler if -something doesn't look right—" He extended his hand, gripped Scotty's -tightly. "Good luck, lad. We're with you all the way."</p> - -<p>A soldier rode up the gantry with him, high up past the break-lines -of the first and second stages, to the small open port in the final -stage of the rocket. Scotty could feel the eyes on him from below as -he climbed into the port—one lone man to jockey the first manned ship -to the Moon. A big job, a job that really took guts. He grinned, and -slid through into the passenger chamber. Carefully he reached back and -slammed the port shut behind him with a farewell wave to the soldier, -and gave the lock-wheel a spin, until he heard the seal click. Then he -slipped down into the half-sitting, half-reclining couch which nearly -filled the tiny chamber. His heart was pounding in his throat as he -snapped on the radio phone. "Okay, I'm in," he said.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Got her locked up?" Mitch's voice grated in his earphones.</p> - -<p>"Ay, ay."</p> - -<p>"Give her a careful check inside there. Then stand by."</p> - -<p>Scotty nodded and checked the banks of instruments on the tiny panel -before him. He was the payload on this trip; the ship was little more -than an upholstered tube, with him jammed tight in one end and enough -fuel to land him on the Moon and shoot him off again in behind him. -The other sections, far huger than this little pellet with him in the -middle, would drive him out, break the frightful hold that Earth held -on her subjects. But there was nothing superfluous here, nothing he -did not actually need, and he checked quickly. Then he leaned back and -flipped on the forward televiewer....</p> - -<p>The vast black expanse of space, peppered with a thousand bright -pinpoints of light, suddenly appeared on the screen inches from his -face. It took him by surprise; his hand jerked down on the switch -again, and he wiped a line of droplets from his upper lip, and closed -his eyes, his heart pounding against his ribs.</p> - -<p>The radio blipped in his ear. "Thirty minutes to Zero," it said—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It struck Scotty Johnson, then, how very much alone he was.</p> - -<p>He felt a chill go down his spine, and he turned his eyes about the -tiny chamber. Forward, within arm's length, was the dull glint of metal -panelling and coiled wires and tight atmosphere sealing. His small wiry -body sank against the deep couch, and he drew the safety webbing across -his chest and thighs, the chill in his mind deepening. Above him was -another pad of soft material to protect his head; his feet were lodged -against a solid bar at the foot of the couch. Inevitably, he thought -of a cocoon. A tight, soft, warm cocoon. And he was alone inside it—</p> - -<p>He tried to think when, in all his thirty-four years, he had been so -completely and utterly alone.</p> - -<p>He sat very still, listening. All about him was silence. A muted, -deathly silence. His head-set pressed tight against his ears, and he -shook his head, wondering if he had actually heard the words coming -into his ears a few seconds before. Zero minus thirty minutes. Thirty -minutes to wait, alone—</p> - -<p>Suddenly, he knew that he was very much afraid—</p> - -<p>His lips formed a sneer, and he tried to fight the idea out of his -mind. He was no longer afraid of anything. Those days were gone, far -away. Nothing could scare Scotty Johnson—not even being completely -alone. He reached out his hand, ran a finger over the control board. -Oxygen, chamber pressure, emergency anaesthetic, blast-control—his -hand trembled, and the thought seeped back into his mind again. A voice -was whispering, deep in his ear, <i>you're afraid, little man, afraid—!</i> -He could feel the droplets of moisture forming on his forehead, and -even the sound of his breath was muted in the silent chamber.</p> - -<p>The seconds ticked by. Still the voice whispered. He was alone—alone -and afraid. No one could help him now, no one in the world. This was -his own world, here in this tight little cabin, and he could die here -and nobody would ever know—</p> - -<p>He shook his head savagely. Alone? Ridiculous! At the foot of the ship -were a hundred people, all watching, all thinking about him. They had -built this ship, they were for him all the way. They would get him -safely off the ground, and then it would be just like a subway ride—</p> - -<p>But after the blast-off—what then? The hundred men were staying -behind. There were no men where he was going. There was nothing there. -Nothing but death.</p> - -<p>His breath was coming faster, and he felt the first chill of panic -stir in his mind. He tried to fight it down angrily. What was there to -get excited about? Nobody had forced him into this seat. He'd begged -for it! For five long years it had been an obsession, his wildest -dream, to be sitting in this seat, waiting for the Zero-count to come -through the headphones. Years of hoping, of pulling strings, of talking -to people and dropping chance remarks, of studying and working and -practicing—and finally, the note in his box, the trip down to the -General's field office that day.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Inside the office the General had sat down, regarding him for a long -moment with those cool grey eyes of his. Then he said, "You're sure you -want to do this, Scotty? Dead sure?"</p> - -<p>Scotty had nodded, hardly able to find his voice. "I'd give anything. -You've got to let me go."</p> - -<p>The General nodded slowly. "You might have to give your life. Does it -mean that much to you? Millions of dollars have gone into this ship, -but there's no way to be sure of it. It's a fearful gamble."</p> - -<p>"I'll take any odds, General. The sheep and the chickens came back. -I'll come back."</p> - -<p>The General looked out the window, his face carved with weary lines. -"I hate to send a man, alone. But what we need to know, one man can -find out. Two would be a waste—a tragic waste. The sheep and chickens -didn't land, they just circled. But one man must go up, to land a ship, -and take off again, for the first time." His eyes caught Scotty's -gravely. "I want you to know why it's got to be you alone. We can't -gamble on two men's lives, when one will do. <i>You're the guinea pig!</i>"</p> - -<p>Scotty had stood up then, laughing. "Are you trying to frighten me? -Look, General—I've been working on this ship since it first started. -I know it inside out and backwards. I'm not afraid of this trip. I've -got to be the one to go."</p> - -<p>The General had shifted some papers on his desk. "All right. They -weighed you in at 142 pounds. Our calculations call for 135. Every -ounce over that cuts a hard percentage out of your fuel. You'll have to -suck down."</p> - -<p>"I can do that."</p> - -<p>"All right—but don't starve yourself. And don't dehydrate any more -than you absolutely must. You'll have enough water for ten days, no -more. Three up, three back, four there. Now then. The psych boys will -go to work on your coordination for the next few days. That's critical. -The first and second stages will disengage automatically, but you'll -have to maneuver your own landing."</p> - -<p>Scotty nodded. "I've been maneuvering dummies until I'm blue in the -face."</p> - -<p>"You'll need it pounded in."</p> - -<p>"It's pounded, don't worry."</p> - -<p>The General gave a satisfied nod. "All right, Scotty. See you at the -blast-off. And remember, if you want to pull out—nobody will blame -you. Right down to the last minute before Zero, you can pull out—"</p> - -<p>"I don't think so," said Scotty. "I don't think I'm going to pull out. -Not on this one."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"<i>Zero minus twenty minutes—</i>"</p> - -<p>The harsh metallic voice dragged Scotty back to the present with -a jolt. For a moment he had almost regained the old familiar burn -of self-assured bravado he had felt as he had finished talking to -the General that day and sauntered out toward the ship standing in -the launching scaffold. He had even been smiling as he recalled the -interview—</p> - -<p>But now his eye caught the dull gleam of the control board before him, -and his smile faded.</p> - -<p>The voice was whispering softly, deep inside his head: <i>Come off it, -Scotty. Who are you trying to kid?</i></p> - -<p>His hand trembled, and he leaned back, forcing his tense leg muscles to -relax. What do you mean, who am I trying to kid? he thought, angrily. -You're crazy. Would I be kidding myself? I quit kidding myself years -ago. I know what I'm up to. This is a journey for heroes, and I'm going -to be the hero, this time. <i>For sure.</i> This time there won't be any -doubt. <i>They</i> won't have any doubt, and <i>I</i> won't have any doubt—</p> - -<p><i>You're alone, Scotty. Remember? You can quit acting now.</i></p> - -<p>He shuddered, and glanced uneasily around the tiny closed chamber. -Alone? What a laugh. A man can never be alone. There are always a -million memories, wheeling and spinning and roaring around inside your -head. Memories of people, of hopes and dreams and fears. You can build -a heavy wall in your mind to keep them back, but when you're alone, and -scared, and helpless, the wall starts to crumble down—</p> - -<p>There's nobody to fool any more, Scotty. The act is over. Admit it, -you're scared, <i>you can hardly hold still you're so scared</i>—</p> - -<p>He clapped his hands to his ears, trying to shut out the whisper. He -kept shaking his head, but it came through like a heavy surf. He sat -tense, trembling, with salty droplets pouring down his face, shaking -his head helplessly—</p> - -<p>You're caught now, the voice whispered. This is a one-way ride, and you -know it, and you're <i>scared</i>—</p> - -<p>"<i>I'm not!</i>"</p> - -<p>The earphones clicked. "You say something, Scotty?"</p> - -<p>Scotty took a deep breath, unclenching his hands. "No, no—nothing. -What's the Zero-count, Mitch?"</p> - -<p>"Zero minus sixteen minutes. Everything set?"</p> - -<p>"All set. I wish we could get going." Scotty twisted on the couch, -feeling the silence close down around him like a stifling blanket. -He was almost shouting to himself. All right, I'm scared! Wouldn't -anybody be scared? Sitting here, waiting, thinking about two hundred -thousand miles of nothing with a rocky world of death at the other end -to land on? Why shouldn't I be scared? They can stay back here, and -track me with their scopes and radar—it's fine for them. It's fine -for the Secretary of Defense, too—no skin off his back if something -happens. And the big boys in Hollywood can sit back at their desks and -rub their fat hands together and hope their cameras work all right, -hope the pictures come out good, so they can make their pile, <i>if I get -back</i>. Big gamble for them. FIRST MOON PICTURES RELEASED—SEE MAN'S -GREATEST ADVENTURE IN GLORIOUS TECHNICOLOR—AUTHENTIC FILMS FROM THE -FIRST MOON ROCKET—PRICES ONLY SLIGHTLY ADVANCED. Big gamble. Those -films will help pay for a lot of fuel, a lot of metal and man-hours -spent on this ship—</p> - -<p>But can it pay for a life?</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bitterness swept through Scotty's mind, sharply. It was <i>his</i> life they -were bartering, <i>he</i> was to be the star of those films—dead or alive. -He could be killed in the blast-off, and the films would keep rolling, -keep churning out the yardage, and thirty years later they could pick -up the film and still make their nice safe pile—thirty years of cold -death for him—</p> - -<p>But why are you whining now, little man? Why all the tears, all of a -sudden? You asked for it. You made your bed, right from scratch. You -wanted to be the hero, nothing else would do. Well, here you are, Hero. -Tough. You asked for it—</p> - -<p>But <i>why</i>?</p> - -<p>And then something was tugging at his mind, seeping through the heavy -wall of memory. A terrible, loathsome thought. He shook his head, -desperately, trying to fight it back, but the wall began to crumble. -Long-dead pictures began drifting through, long-hidden memories. A bare -whisper of thought, cold, relentless, devastating. Admit it, Scotty. -<i>You had to come.</i> You had to be sitting in this seat; you couldn't do -anything else, could you? You couldn't let them know about you. You -couldn't bear to let the boys down on the field suspect the truth, -could you, Scotty? You looked into their eyes, and you were afraid they -suspected, like Matty had suspected, like Dad had suspected so many -years ago—You had to come here. <i>You couldn't help yourself, could -you?</i></p> - -<p>The whisper broke into a coarse, derisive laugh, and Scotty cowered -back, shaking his head in denial, his whole body trembling. <i>Take a -look, Scotty—take a good look!</i> Are you trying to hide the truth from -<i>yourself</i>? But you can't get away with that. You can't hide it from -yourself any longer—</p> - -<p>And then the wall of memory buckled, and split wide open. You can -fool the whole world, Scotty—but you can't fool yourself, the voice -screamed in his ear. You can run, and hide, and twist, and lie, but you -can't ever really fool yourself. You know it's true. You always have -known.</p> - -<p><i>You're a coward, Scotty. A dirty yellow coward. You always have been, -and you always will be—</i></p> - -<p>"<i>Zero minus ten minutes—</i>"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It wasn't true. He shook his head helplessly as his fingers found the -safety belts, tightened them down fiercely on his chest and legs. -Wasn't he sitting here now, waiting for the last count, waiting to -start on the greatest adventure man had ever attempted? Would he be -<i>here</i> if he were a coward? He snarled and clenched his fists tight on -the arm-rests. It was a lie, it <i>couldn't</i> be true. No man can stare -himself in the face and call himself a coward when there is a spark -of life left in him at all. He can call himself a cheat, or a liar, or -a fake—those were things that could be changed, things that could be -made up for. But a coward had something wrong deep inside, something -that was built in, that could never be changed as long as a man lived. -No man could call himself <i>that</i>.</p> - -<p>Scotty shook his head, half laughing, half crying. He was scared, sure. -Anybody would be scared. But he wasn't a coward. He was in this ship -because he wanted fame, because he craved excitement and adventure. -Nothing had made him volunteer. He'd done it because he was that kind -of guy—</p> - -<p>But he knew that was a lie. Its very falsehood writhed in his brain as -he thought it. You're here because your cheap, cowardly little soul -couldn't bear to face itself. You're here because you couldn't bear -the looks of the men around you, with their barbed wise-cracks and -their guarded half-smiles. They thought you couldn't see them! But the -whispers were there, and you couldn't stand for them to guess—</p> - -<p>But what did he care what <i>they</i> thought? What were they to him? <i>He</i> -knew he was better than they were—quicker, smarter, braver. He didn't -have to prove anything to them—</p> - -<p><i>And Matty? Does Matty know how brave you are, Hero? Can you prove to -Matty that you're not a coward? Matty knows about you. Remember?</i></p> - -<p>Scotty shook his head, fearfully. That was so long ago—</p> - -<p>But things like that are never long ago, Scotty. They stay with you as -long as you live. Sure, the Army said you were a hero, they gave you a -Silver Star—but what would Matty say—if he could ever say anything -again? Would <i>he</i> say you were a hero?</p> - -<p>Suddenly Matty's torn and twisted face seemed to be peering out at him -from the control panel. His mind went whirling back through the years, -completely out of control. In an instant he had slipped back fifteen -long years, back to the hot, stinking sweaty deadliness of that little -jungle island. They had been deep in the jungle that night, holed -in, scared to move, afraid even to breath. For a week they had been -waiting, waiting for the snipers to move in and spot them. He could -remember the cold, desperate fear that had gnawed at him that night -as he and Bill Matthews had clutched their rifles, waiting, creeping -forward along the jungle trail through the blackness and the night -sounds. His clothes had stuck to his body with sweat as they crept, -the sweat of mortal fear. The mosquitoes whined in clouds around his -head; his body stung with a thousand insect bites. Up ahead, somewhere -in the sticky blackness, was a machine-gun, blocking them from their -supplies, blocking them from the plasma and penicillin powder the -patrol needed more than any food or water. They had been waiting for -many days, and they were weak with hunger and thirst—but there was a -gun, and sharp, cruel eyes watching—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>They had been moving in pairs, and Scotty had felt the fear clutching -his chest, fear beyond any words. He and Matty were working their way -down a swampy river bottom, sliding on their bellies in the muck, when -they had spotted the nest. And then the fear and panic building up -inside him had broken through. He had jumped up, screaming, and burst -forward, gun chattering in his hand.</p> - -<p>Blind rage and fear drove him forward as the startled gunners swivelled -their gun, piercing the night with their sharp cries. Matty had shouted -at him to get down, but he ran forward in the darkness, wildly. A burst -of fire screamed out at him through the jungle; he slid into the mud, -panting, still firing into the face of the blazing machine-gun, until -he saw the last man twist, and fall, and the gun fell silent.</p> - -<p>A hero, they said. But later he had found Matty, lying twisted with his -head split open, a line of open holes cutting down through his neck and -across his shoulders—</p> - -<p>Another few seconds, another instant of control would have given them -time to get the machine-gun in crossfire. But something had exploded in -Scotty's brain that night—a fear greater than any fear of being shot, -a fear of being exposed for what he was, what he knew he was. He had -dragged Matty back, through the long miles of sniper-ridden jungle, and -they called him a hero, and he had never told them who had broken first -and drawn the deadly fire—</p> - -<p>His forehead stood out with sweat now, and he tried to hide his eyes. -He had spent many years forgetting that horrible night, trying to -cleanse himself of the depths of guilt that had eaten away at him—and -now it was back, harsh and undeniable, intensified by years of -self-deceit and self-justification and rationalization. But the chips -were down now. In a few moments a great fire would explode deep in -the bowels of this ship, and he would be driven forward, far out into -space, along trails never blazed by man.</p> - -<p>"<i>Zero minus five minutes. Give her a final check, Scotty—</i>"</p> - -<p>He jerked in his seat as though he had been struck. <i>Five minutes!</i> -His mind whirled with memories, and the cold fear cut through him like -a knife. In a moment of panic his mind was screaming, get out, now, -before it's too late! The General said you could pull out, right down -to the last minute—well, <i>pull out, now, before the engines start</i>—</p> - -<p>But a peal of derisive laughter roared through his mind. There had been -reporters, news stories. He had said things that had been splashed -across a million newspapers. Back out now? Tell the world what a coward -he was? Then everybody would know—the boys down below, Matty, Dad—Dad -had never actually <i>said</i> it, but it had always been there, as long as -Scotty could remember. He had tried and tried to make up for his small -size, for his skinny legs and bony chest.</p> - -<p>It hadn't been his fault that Dad was such a big man, such a rugged, -powerful man. Those long hunting trips up through Canada—a man had to -share the load, there was no place for weakness and weariness there. -And Dad had taken him along, once, until he had tired, and turned his -ankle on a short portage. They had carried him out—and he knew that -he had lost his Dad that day. Dad hadn't admitted it, but it was true. -There was always the half-hidden disgust and sadness and disappointment -in his cool, grey eyes—</p> - -<p>"<i>Minus two, Scotty. Final check—</i>"</p> - -<p>His hand flicked out automatically, as fear and dismay welled up in his -mind. Everything he had ever done he had flubbed, somehow—he searched -frantically through his mind for one small, pure act of absolute -bravery, unadorned by words, unaltered by empty rationalizations and -built-up courage, and his mind yielded nothing but hoarse, heavy -laughter. Somewhere there was a key. It had started somewhere, if only -he could remember. Somewhere beneath the years of futile failure, there -was a core—</p> - -<p>"<i>Sixty seconds, Scotty—Good luck, boy!</i>"</p> - -<p>He froze, his hands clutching the safety belt in a grip of iron as the -words pounded in his ear: "—forty—thirty five—thirty—twenty five—"</p> - -<p>And then, like a great door opening up in his mind, he remembered—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A day so long ago, so deeply buried that it had not come to mind in -years. A day when he had been walking down a village street, on the way -to the store for his mother, a small boy, hardly ten—</p> - -<p>A group of boys, appearing suddenly from the old garage he was passing. -A thin-faced lad, tall and sharp-boned, with cold eyes and a sneer -on his thin lips. Other boys, too, mostly bigger than he. His eyes -widened, and he started to back away when Thin-face grabbed his collar, -pulled him up sharp. "Where you think you goin', bud?"</p> - -<p>"Just down the street—"</p> - -<p>"Who said you could walk on this street?"</p> - -<p>"It's not your street. I can walk where I want—"</p> - -<p>A gleam of cruelty in Thin-face's eyes. "Sissy thinks he's smart." A -sharp-knuckled hand struck him across the nose. "You want to fight?"</p> - -<p>Scotty shook his head, eyes wide. "No, I just want to—" His eye caught -one of the others, sidling around behind him—</p> - -<p>"Stand still!"</p> - -<p>He had been paralyzed. The rabbit-punch struck him a hammer-blow, -and tears streamed down his face. Thin-face hit him again, and blood -spurted from his nose. "Put up your hands and fight—"</p> - -<p>"I can't—"</p> - -<p>"You'd better fight, sissy—I'll kill ya!"</p> - -<p>"I don't want to fight—" The fear, the mortification, the blind, -paralyzing fear. Another blow struck him, and he tumbled backwards -over the boy who had crouched behind him, and struck his head on the -sidewalk. They had roared with laughter, and one of them kicked him. -And then he was on his feet, darting between them, running for his -life, running with blind fear snarling at his heels, down an alley, -into a backyard, across into another alley—He had seen the open -cellarway, then, and crawled down in, heart pounding in his throat, -waiting as the boys came through the yard, looking, laughing at the -sport, walking on. He waited for hours before he dared come out, and -every minute of those hours he trembled, desperately sick and ashamed, -wondering what Dad would ever think of him if he should find out—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Something struck him in the chest then, a firm, gentle pressure that -grew and grew as the cabin vibrated with a powerful roar. The pressure -grew larger, choking the breath from him. In a last terrible panic of -fear Scotty tried to fight his safety belt open, tried to cry out to -<i>stop, stop, stop</i>, but it was too late. He pressed back, deeper and -deeper into the couch as the age-long seconds ticked by—and in the -viewer the Earth fell away, farther and farther, dwindling, dimming—</p> - -<p>He heard the explosion as the first stage disengaged, and his mind -froze as the pressure shoved harder at his chest. Then suddenly there -was a jerk, a bone-crushing jar that nearly broke his neck, and the -ship started spinning crazily.</p> - -<p>"<i>Scotty—Scotty, can you hear me?</i>" It was Mitch's voice in the -earphones, heavy with frantic urgency. "<i>Can you hear me, Scotty?</i>"</p> - -<p>Scotty groaned. "I can hear you," he croaked.</p> - -<p>"Scotty, the second stage didn't disengage properly—you've got it on -your tail yet—"</p> - -<p>Scotty gasped for breath, trying to focus his mind on the -present, trying to drive out the paralyzing phantoms of the past. -"Second—stage?"</p> - -<p>"It—wait a minute—you're way off course—there it goes, you've -lost it—" There was a scraping sound in the earphones, and then the -General's voice snapped out, sharp and clear. "Scotty—listen, boy, -you're off course, you aren't out far enough—you'll have to orbit -back—"</p> - -<p>"Orbit?" The word was wrenched from his throat, and he stared at the -viewer in horror.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Scotty, get this straight—can you hear me, lad?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah, yeah, I can hear—"</p> - -<p>"Then listen. Orbit your ship. Slam down the cut-off and—"</p> - -<p>"I can correct," Scotty cried. "I can get back on beam, and make it—"</p> - -<p>"Scotty, you'd use too much fuel. You didn't get out far enough, you -dragged dead weight—"</p> - -<p>"I can correct—"</p> - -<p>"You'll never be able to land up there. If you do, you'll never be able -to take off again—"</p> - -<p>"I've—got—to—get—out—there!"</p> - -<p>The General's voice was frantic. "This is an order, man. <i>Orbit your -ship.</i> We'll find some way to get you down. But you'll have to come -back—"</p> - -<p>Something exploded in Scotty's mind then. Rage bubbled over in his -mind, and he was screaming in the speaker, "I'm going on out. I'm going -to land up there—I can't flub it now, I can't—"</p> - -<p>"Scotty, <i>orbit while you can</i>. There'll be another try—"</p> - -<p>"I can't hear you—"</p> - -<p>"<i>I said—</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>I'm going out.</i> Get somebody up there to get me if you want to, but -I'm going—"</p> - -<p>He ripped off the earphones, the bitterness and rage and frustration -of long years welling into his mind. He was seething, almost crying -out in his rage. Everything he had ever done he had flubbed—but he -wouldn't flub this one. Fiercely, he went to work on the controls, -tears rolling down his cheeks as he worked. He was going to go on, if -it killed him—</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He felt the ship respond to its new course, slightly, and then, -gradually, the weight began to lift from his chest. He sank back, -panting. Up in the screen was a pale yellow ball, and he was racing -toward it as fast as a man could race. There would be plenty of time -for the sensitive calculations, for careful course-plotting, later. But -he was not going back.</p> - -<p>They might get a ship up to get him in time—and again, they might not. -He had food and water for ten days at full rations. He could live for -thirty days on it. Maybe more. And when the rations were gone, how long -could he live then?</p> - -<p><i>How long did we live in the jungle without food or water?</i></p> - -<p>He sat back, then, and laughed. It would be better to die up there, -than to spend the rest of his life dying down on Earth. Dying every -day, a thousand thousand deaths—</p> - -<p>They might be able to rescue him, with fast work, with a fearful margin -of incredible luck. But it didn't really matter to him now whether they -did or didn't. He knew that now. He had already died, back there on the -ground, waiting for the zero-count to come. He was reborn now, a new -man with a great, courageous job to do. This time he would do the job -right. Fear was behind him now, for he could never be afraid again like -he had been afraid a few short minutes before. The gauntlet was run.</p> - -<p>He would land on the Moon, and no man nor memory would stop him from -doing it. No fear, no cowardice—</p> - -<p><i>Because a coward would have turned back—</i></p> - -<p>He settled back in the couch, and drifted into sleep with a peaceful -smile on his lips.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNEY FOR THE BRAVE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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