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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..34749d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66699 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66699) diff --git a/old/66699-0.txt b/old/66699-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 983b46c..0000000 --- a/old/66699-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1080 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Martyr's Flight, by Hank Searls - -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: Martyr's Flight - -Author: Hank Searls - -Release Date: November 10, 2021 [eBook #66699] - -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 MARTYR'S FLIGHT *** - - - - - - Mel Cramer's job was to defend the Space - Station in case of an enemy attack; still, there - wasn't anything in the book to order him on a-- - - MARTYR'S FLIGHT - - By Hank Searls - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - December 1955 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Some of the anguish and bitterness and fear left Walter Stanton's heart -as he gazed at the vista from the open landing-lock. It had been almost -three months since the core of Space Station One had nudged itself into -its silent orbit, but this, the only remaining view unhindered by the -bulbous fuel storage tanks, still fascinated him. Now, as the nose of -Cargo One crept backward into the blinding sunlight, he pulled himself -further along the catwalk. He waved with his free hand at the pilot, -Major Torrance, although he knew the Major could hardly be watching -during the delicate maneuver. Then, while the massive hatch was still -gaping, he looked earthward. - -Twenty-five thousand miles away, half of the western hemisphere shone -through the murky earth-haze, the other half still in darkness. -Through force of habit he oriented himself by looking at the center -of the half-darkened sphere; there lay the Galapagos Islands. Then he -traced the outline of the West Coast to Baja California and thence to -where he knew lay Sandia Base, New Mexico. He glanced at his watch; -7:00 A.M. Mountain Standard Time; Lynne would be making breakfast -for Karen, soon to leave for school. He felt a stab of loneliness and -a tug of envy for the men in Cargo II. Three skidding entries into -the atmosphere; three swinging returns to space, and they would have -decelerated enough to spiral to the incredible runway at Sandia. In -twelve hours they would be home with their wives. - -He watched as Torrance, drifting a hundred yards away, eased the -massive nose to a westerly direction and then, with a tiny burst of -power, slowed his relative speed enough to fall rapidly out of Space -One's orbit. He sighed and swung himself around. - -Colonel Mel Cramer was hanging on beside him, grotesquely familiar in -the flight gear he used as a Topside Suit. Walter Stanton's earphones -crackled. - -"Walt, I'm going to take the _Mistress_ out for a while and practice -some marriages, if it's OK with you." - -Walter Stanton glanced at the lethal fighter ship nested across the -landing-lock and essayed their old joke again, but his heart wasn't in -it. "What would Marge say, Mel?" - -Mel Cramer laughed. "She gave up to _Mel's Mistress_ a year ago. OK to -go?" - -Walter Stanton thought of the letter in his pocket. "No, Mel, I think -not." Then suddenly: "Is the _Mistress_ armed ... all ready to go?" - -Mel sounded hurt. "Of course, Walt. She's always ready.... Why?" - -Stanton pulled himself to the hatch in the hub. "Meet me in Control, -Mel. I want to talk to you." - - * * * * * - -Walter Stanton belted himself to his desk chair and pulled out the -letter from De La Rue, reading it again. He felt a surge of nostalgia -at the Old Man's quaint English; the Secretary-General's white-hot -internationalism had never impelled him to improve his languages. But -there was nothing quaint about the content of the letter.... - -Mel Cramer shuffled in with the strange gait that they had all -developed within days of arriving in space. Automatically he snapped -his safety belt to a grommet on Mel's desk, then sat on the top. - -"What's on your mind, Walt?" - -"This...." Walter Stanton handed him the letter. "Torrance brought it. -I guess De La Rue didn't have enough to go on to send a dispatch, so he -wrote the letter." - -Mel Cramer read the letter swiftly, smiling first at the whimsical -phraseology and then suddenly frowning. He whistled. - -"Sounds bad, Walter, sounds bad...." - -"Torrance said Sandia Base is on a 24 hour alert." - -"God," Mel said desperately. "I wish Marge would leave that place. Why -can't she move to the country somewhere?" - -"She feels like Lynne, probably.... That if we're here, the least she -can do is stay as close as possible...." - -"As close as possible," Mel said bitterly. He lit a cigarette. "Walt, -have you heard anything about my relief?" - -Walter Stanton felt a stab of anger at his friend. Professionally -ambitious, Mel had fought for his job as Platform Fighter Pilot; now, -with the decline of Space One in the eyes of the military, he probably -had his eyes on other fields. Carefully controlling his voice, he said: -"No, Mel. Nothing's come in. Why?" - -Mel Cramer shrugged. "I don't know.... They said three months, that's -all. And it's been nearly fourteen weeks...." He laughed. "Kind of feel -like the world's passing me by. Joke, Walter." - -Walter Stanton took back the letter and folded it carefully. Then, on -second thought, he lit a match and burned it. - -"I asked you in for advice, Mel," he said carefully, watching the -flickering flame. - -"You bet. Shoot." - -"If it starts, what are the wheels going to do?" - -"The brass?" Mel laughed. "You asking me? I'm just a light colonel." - -"You're the senior military man aboard. All I want is your opinion." - -Mel's brow furrowed. For a long moment he was silent, and Walter -Stanton heard the ceaseless whine of the ventilators. _Space Two, -when and if it's built_, he thought irrationally, _had better have -ventilators that don't cry like a cat in heat._ - -"Well, Mel?" - -"I think," Mel Cramer said thoughtfully, "they'll suggest that we -evacuate." - - * * * * * - -Walter Stanton slapped his hand on the desk and swung in his chair. "I -knew it! Can't they see? Can't they see at all?" - -"Walter," Mel said quietly. "Let's face it. From a military standpoint, -Space One is a failure." - -"The Russians don't seem to think so. Even with the agreement in their -pocket, they're still screaming." - -Mel shook his head doggedly. "Militarily, it's a failure." - -"It's _not_ a failure," Mel barked. He unsnapped his belt, shuffled to -the center of the compartment, and kicked open the cover of a port in -the rim-deck. "Look at that! Look at those stars, Mel. No one's ever -had a crack at them like this. The astronomers, and astro-physicists, -have learned more from Mike and Andre in the last three months than -they have in the last three centuries." As the rim rotated, the earth -came majestically into view. "Look at that," Stanton said. "See that -cold front over the Sierras? Petrovski's data has given them forecasts -down there that they've never conceived of." He waved his hand -expansively. "Vacuum! Billions and billions of cubic miles of hard, -hard vacuum. Trippler goes nuts at the thought of it. Any physicist, -any electronic engineer, would. Temperature? Absolute zero. Absolute -zero, Mel. Where else can you get absolute zero? Can't they see what it -means?" - -Mel Cramer ground out his cigarette. - -"What does absolute zero mean, Walt? To a general?" - -Walter kicked shut the hatch. "I don't know. I just don't know...." - -"Walt, this deal was oversold to the military. You know it, and I know -it. Frankly, you helped oversell it." - -Walter Stanton swung around angrily. "You're right, Mel. But the end -justified the means. We needed the funds; only the military could -provide them. And it _is_ useful to them; it will be, when it's -finished. It would be now, if--" - -"If we could break the agreement and leave the Galapagos Islands for a -spin around the world." - -"No!" Walter Stanton held his friend's eyes. "That isn't what I meant. -This platform wasn't meant for spying; the millions of man-hours -weren't spent for that. It's a UN deal, Mel, and we needed the -agreement; we had to see that the Russians kept hands-off. If the price -is an orbit that keeps us at earth-surface speed; if we have to stay -on our side of the iron curtain, OK. We agreed to it, and by God if we -grow roots down to Galapagos we're staying here." - -Mel shrugged. "That isn't the point. The wheels know that in case of -war you'd change orbits. If they thought it was worth while, they'd -order you to. The UN could order you to. What they doubt is that if you -_moved_ your orbit in behind the Curtain you'd see enough to do any -good." - -"I don't care to argue that point. Right now, probably not. When the -scope's completed and installed, we'll undoubtedly be able to spot -concentrations and new industries. The main thing would be to stay with -the station. But it's an academic question--" - -"Is it an academic question whether they can blow us out of the sky?" - -Walter Stanton shot him a glance. "That's your department. Can they?" - -"Let's not kid ourselves. If they have a missile they can get up here, -it'll track you. Manned or unmanned, regardless of what your orbit is -or where you are." - -"The theory is, Mel, that Ground Control Center will intercept." - -"Walter!" Cramer's lip twisted sardonically. "I'm surprised! You didn't -fall for that mullarkey, did you? How are they going to intercept -anything with a head start?" - -"Another part of the theory, Mel, is that you'll intercept if they -don't. Intercept it and destroy it...." - -"Destroy it...." For a sickening moment Walter Stanton thought he read -fear in his friend's eye. Mel said quietly: "Destroy it and try to get -to Sandia...." He stood up. "And suppose they have _another_ missile? -Who destroys that?" - -"Even a guided missile would cost almost as much as our original core. -Do you think they've built _one_, let alone two?" - -"We'd sure find out in a hurry. We'd be their first target." - -"And their second would probably be Sandia," Walt said thoughtfully. - -"Don't say that!" Mel shouted. Walter looked at him in surprise. -"Don't. Don't say that," Mel said again, more softly. There was a long -silence. The ventilators whined. Mel passed his hand over his face. -"Those damned ventilators.... How about my taking _Mel's Mistress_ out -now? Just for a while?" - -Walter Stanton glanced sympathetically at his friend. _He wants to get -away from the platform, even a few thousand yards. And I can't blame -him!_ - -"Sure, Mel. You've read the letter now, and you know how much fuel you -have, so it's up to you." - -Mel Cramer grimaced. "Yeah, fuel. Well, I guess I'll skip it. I'm going -to hit the sack." - -Walter Stanton stared after him thoughtfully.... - - * * * * * - -At dinner the talk was all of war; Peters, the Australian fuelman -and part time cook, flicked a switch in the galley and flooded the -Platform's PA system with the 10:00 P.M. news from Dallas. Petrovski, -the Russians' originally unwelcome contribution to the project, but -undeniably one of the world's top meteorologists, was embarrassed, -and the rest of the Team tried to keep the talk on an objective, -international plane. But Walter Stanton felt the strain and as Project -Head tried to change the subject. - -"Why we had to draft an Australian cook, with two Frenchmen on the -team," he said, toying with his custard. "I'll never know." - -Peters' voice from the galley said: "It's because one of the bloody -Frenchmen think a cheese souffle is a new galaxy and the other thinks -it's English for a cosmic particle. Besides, I don't see anybody losing -weight." - -"That's because--" began Walter Stanton, and then felt a tug at his -sleeve. It was Lang, the young radar plotter and radio operator. - -"Lieutenant Goldstein just broke this, sir," he said, handing him a -dispatch. Something in his eyes chilled Walter Stanton. He read the -message and cold fear squeezed him. He looked up. - -"Gentlemen," he said, raising his hand. "Can I have your attention?" - -The talk died. Petrovski, apparently guessing the contents of the -dispatch, looked sick. Mel Cramer was staring at his glass. - -"Gentlemen," Walter Stanton said quietly, "this is it. Mel, we were -wrong. We weren't the first target. Neither was Sandia. They just -bombed New York." - -There was deathly silence for a long moment, while each man riffled -through his thoughts. "Christ!" somebody swore. - -"I've been advised by Ground Control to stand by to evacuate. Cargo One -is refueling to take us off." - -An angry babble broke out around the table. Velez, the tiny Brazilian -astronomer, jumped up angrily. "Evacuate? But the Platform! What -happens to it?" - -Stanton shrugged. "Uncorrected perturbations build up, and eventually -it either skids off into space or falls into the atmosphere and burns. -Or maybe," he said bitterly, "we're supposed to jettison it ourselves. -Sink it in space before we leave, like a crew abandoning a submarine." - -Velez went white. "But the effort in building this; the time of the -thousands of scientists and billions of dollars; what becomes of them?" - -"They apparently consider the Platform a sitting duck, and are kind -enough to take a chance on evacuating us." - -Howard, a grey, unemotional power plant expert, a grim man whom Walter -Stanton barely liked, sat back and folded his hands. He spoke with -dogged emphasis. - -"This project has taken the best of science for the last four years. -It has held up research in other fields, and justifiably so. I do not -propose to let four years of mankind's progress go spinning off into -space alone, war or no war, Russians or no Russians. I shall not leave -it. I'm a civilian, and I refuse to go. Is that clear?" - -Walter Stanton stifled a wild impulse to laugh at the thought of Howard -spinning alone and infinitely through space. Suddenly he liked the man. - -"Any other comments?" - -Velez bristled like a bantam rooster. "I shall stay with Senor Howard." - -Walter Stanton set his jaw. "If I give the word, we'll evacuate, all -of us. _If_ I give the word." He glanced down the row of faces. "I'm -toying with the idea of allowing volunteers to stay." - -There was a chorus of assent. With a chill, Walter Stanton remembered -Petrovski. He glanced at him and the big Russian, blond and -bespectacled, arose ponderously and leaned on the table. - -"Gentlemen.... Could I speak?" - -"Go ahead, Ski," somebody said. - -"I ... I do not know whether those people who rule my country are -capable of destroying this ... this marvelous thing. I do not know -whether they would _want_ to destroy it...." He took off his glasses -and polished them fiercely. "But if you would allow me.... If it could -be arranged ... I should like to stay...." - -Walter Stanton, touched, cleared his throat. He spoke quietly. - -"And if it were turned into a weapon against your country?" - -Petrovski looked as if he were about to cry. "If my country tries to -destroy this wonderful thing of science.... Then it is no more my -country.... And I would still like to stay...." - -"Yes," said Stanton, a little embarrassed. "Well, we'll see...." - -Mel Cramer leaned back suddenly in his seat. "Could a beat-up old -light colonel have a few words, seeing as how this project is slipping -rapidly from your league into mine?" - -Walter Stanton gazed at him quizzically. "Of course, Mel. Go ahead." - -"You guys are all full of bull." Cramer leaned forward, counting on his -fingers. "In the first place, you wouldn't have a chance if they've got -a missile that can get here. In the second place, you wouldn't do any -good if you did stay. In the third place, if they tell you to get out, -you'll get out. Period. Is that clear?" - -Walter Stanton felt his blood rise. "Just a second. The Air Force -_advises_ us; the UN _tells_ us. Let's keep that straight." - -"Buddy," said Mel, "if I know War, it isn't going to be that way very -long...." - -The intercom system burst into life. The flat, nasal voice of -Lieutenant Goldstein, the sharp young Air Force radar officer, crackled -through the room. - -"Colonel Cramer, Mr. Stanton. Would you come to Control? I've picked up -a missile. I think it's headed for us...." - - * * * * * - -With the dim orange light of the PPI radar scope gleaming on his sharp -features, Goldstein looked like some interested youngster staring into -a campfire. - -"It's on a tangential orbit now, just breaking into the exosphere--I'll -be able to give you its free flight velocity in a minute." - -"Was it three stage or two?" Cramer asked. - -"Two, sir, apparently." - -"So far," Mel Cramer said. "If it accelerates again, we'll know for -sure." - -From the huge transparent board behind them the plotter, Airman Lang, -spoke. "I make it 700 knots relative to Platform speed, sir." - -"Give or take a few hundred," murmured Goldstein.... "Oops ... I think -she's started another burn-out period...." - -"She's accelerating, sir," said Lang. "But fast...." - -They watched the tiny pip while Goldstein worked with his cranks and -dials. "Spatial velocity will be about 1300 knots relative, sir." - -"Well," said Cramer. "At least I could catch it on a second pass ... if -I missed." He coughed nervously. "How much time have we got?" - -The circuit to Ground Control burst into life. "Space One, Space One, -this is Ground Control. We have a missile on our scope from relay -Four. Altitude four hundred miles, relative velocity 1370, Latitude--" - -Mel Cramer picked up the mike. "OK, OK, ground control. We have it." -He smiled bitterly and added: "I assume you're intercepting with a -missile." - -There was a long silence, then: "Mel, this is General Staves. You know -damn well we can't intercept. We just picked it up, and we're too late." - -Mel sounded cheerful enough, but Walter Stanton blanched as he saw the -hand shaking on the mike. - -"OK, General. We'll see what we can do. What's the status of Cargo One?" - -"She's still taking fuel. We may be able to evacuate you if you can get -this first one." - -Walter Stanton took the mike. "General, this is Stanton. If he gets -this one, we don't intend to evacuate." - -There was a shocked silence, and then the general's dry voice. - -"You'll evacuate, all right. And I suggest you take evasive action, in -spite of your agreement." - -"We are, General, I'm shortening our orbit now." - -"If you see anything good over Russia," the General said, "let us know. -New York you won't see." - -"Always joking," said Airman Lang bitterly. "That's the General." - -Walter Stanton faced Mel Cramer in the darkness. "Well, Mel...." - -Mel tried to laugh, but his voice sounded tight. "Well, Walter...." - -"It's up to you, Mel. The whole shebang." - -Mel's mouth worked dryly and he nodded. "Yep. Guess.... Guess I better -suit up...." - - * * * * * - -Walter Stanton waited inside the hub, gazing through the port at the -tiny fighter across the landing-lock. _I wish ... I wish it were me -who could fly it_, he thought desperately. He ran his hand along the -support rail, as if caressing the metal and plastic of the Platform. -He remembered the dreams, the toil, the heartbreak, far back to when -men laughed at the concept of a platform in space. He thought of the -pioneers of rocket work, some of them dead; the men at Peenemunde using -their brains for war but even so adding painstakingly to the fund of -knowledge. He thought of the moment of blinding elation three months -before, when the last reactor had been cut off and the core of Space -One swung easily into her orbit. _If only Mel could understand.... -Better yet, if I could fly...._ He knew certainly that he himself -would give his life to save the Platform; knew surely that Lynne would -understand. But would Mel Cramer give _his_ life? For his country, -probably; for his home and family, surely; but for what he seemed to -consider a useless scientific gadget? - -He heard a movement and turned. Mel Cramer, massive in his flight gear, -but with his helmet off, was standing behind him. His face was drawn. - -"Well, Walter, wish me luck." - -"Mel.... Do you know what this means? Really?" - -"My indoctrination is complete, if that's what you mean. I can't agree -with you that the world will fall apart if Space One isn't a success, -but the world's falling apart anyway, so it really doesn't matter. I'll -make my passes as close as possible." - -_And if you miss?_ thought Walter Stanton. _What will you do? Will -you make another pass, a sacrificial pass?_ He wished for a moment -that their culture embodied the Oriental concept of patriotism; the -disregard for human life, the fatalistic belief in some paradise for -battle-dead. - -"Mel," he said suddenly, forcing the words. "What happens if you miss?" - -Mel Cramer's jaw tightened, "just a minute, Walt," he said slowly. "I -don't quite know what you're getting at, but I have an idea. Are you -suggesting that I fly into that thing?" - -There was a long silence, and the ventilators whined. - -Walter nodded his head slowly. "Yes, Mel. If necessary." - -Mel Cramer stared at him. "This isn't a Japanese kamikaze pilot you're -talking to! This is Mel Cramer. I was an ace as a kid in Korea, and -nobody ever accused me of being yellow, but I didn't sign up for _this_ -job to commit suicide. That isn't the way we do it. That's why I'm -carrying rockets instead of a warhead full of tetryl. And it's why -we win wars; we don't sacrifice the men we've got; we give 'em every -chance." - -Walter Stanton said: "It's not my prerogative to ask you to sacrifice -yourself. It's just that.... This project...." - -"Everybody on this project is a volunteer." - -"It isn't _us_; it's the Platform." - -"Everybody on the Platform is a volunteer," Mel Cramer repeated -doggedly. "Everyone knew the chances he was taking. And there isn't a -one of them who loves his wife and kid anymore than I do." - -Through the sickness of his disappointment, Walter Stanton forced a -grin. "OK, Mel. My love to Marge when you get to Sandia; and tell -Lynne ... tell her...." - -"I'll tell her you'll be back on Cargo One by tomorrow," Mel Cramer -said. "If," he added softly, "I make it to Sandia Base, and if Sandia -Base is still there...." - -Cramer glanced through the port at the mechanic waiting to help him -into the tiny fighter, shivered a little, snapped on his helmet and -stepped out to the catwalk. Walter Stanton watched through the port -as the huge air-lock opened and Mel Cramer eased the _Mistress_ out. -She nestled next to the Platform like a small, angry wasp near a hive, -power off, waiting for intercept data from Goldstein in Control. Walter -Stanton felt a chill race up his back. He started up the ladder. - - * * * * * - -Goldstein had flicked on the remote telescreen and was watching it, -with one eye on the PPI scope. The screen came to life, and Walter -Stanton saw a clear picture of Space One as Mel Cramer pointed the -_Mistress_ at the platform to aid in focussing. - -"OK, Colonel," Goldstein said. "Screen controls locked." - -"Screen controls locked," Mel Cramer's voice repeated. The image of -Space One disappeared from the screen as the _Mistress_ swung to the -East, paralleling the motion of the platform in space, ready to add its -speed to that of the artificial satellite. "Heading zero-nine-zero," -said Cramer. "Ready to launch." - -"Blast for ten seconds," said Goldstein, "and stand by for intercept -information." - -"Blasting." Cramer's voice seemed strained. Then: "Power off! Swinging!" - -Walter Stanton stared at the telescreen, a duplicate of Mel's screen, -and the very eyes of the _Mistress_, since her windshield would be -covered against the sandblasting meteoric dust until the last seconds -of the firing run. The time seemed to press on the back of his neck, -and he felt his head ache with the strain. The ventilators moaned. -Goldstein spoke suddenly. - -"Missile eight hundred miles earthward, rate of closure 480 knots, -twelve o'clock from you." His voice rose slightly. "Have you got it, -Colonel? Is it on your screen?" - -There was an aching void of silence, then "Affirm! I have it. -Commencing first pass!" - -Walter Stanton became suddenly aware that Radar Control was crowded. He -heard Peters' voice: "How many runs can he make?" - -"Two runs; he'll fire two proximity rockets per pass. They ought to -track the missile." - -"Yeah," said Lang dryly. "It's all doped out. This science is -wonderful...." - -Walter Stanton jumped as an image of the missile appeared on the -telescreen. From a tiny flash it grew quickly more bright until it was -a circle on the screen. "Locked!" grated Cramer's voice. "Firing!" - -Two streaks appeared at the bottom of the screen and darted for the -circle. Walter Stanton heard a gasp of relief in the compartment as -they sped true, straight for the center. Then, amazingly, the streaks -wobbled erratically and streaked away. The circle of light moved slowly -downward off the screen as Mel Cramer pulled up. - -"Missed," breathed Goldstein. "Brother...." - -Mel Cramer's voice cut into the silence. It was strained and uncertain. -"I think it's jamming my control heads.... Putting out strips, maybe. -I'm making another pass." - -"Thanks, Colonel," whispered Lang from the plotting board. "This is -what Uncle pays you for.... Let's earn it...." - -For an eternity they waited, and again the circles appeared in the -center of the screen. "Locked," Mel Cramer said. Closer and closer -moved the light, and for a moment Walter Stanton had a wild burst of -hope. The target seemed too close to miss; the two rockets streaked for -it, reaching hungrily. Then they wobbled again and disappeared from the -screen as Mel Cramer pulled up. There was a chilling silence in the -room. - -"Well," said Goldstein, "that does it. We've got ... let's see ... 176 -seconds, if anyone cares to know." - -Mel Cramer's voice came into the room as if from the grave. "It.... It -was jamming ... I was right on!" - -"Excuses, Colonel," muttered Lang. "Always excuses...." - -Goldstein talked into the mike. "Colonel, I suggest you commence your -braking ellipse immediately. I don't know what effect the explosion -will have in this orbit, but I think you'd better leave it." - -Walter Stanton turned desperately to Goldstein. "Goldie, is it certain? -We've _got_ to save the platform! Suppose I use full reactors, shorten -our orbit even faster?" - -"It won't matter, sir." He jammed his thumb at the PPI scope. "That -thing's tailing us like a flying cadet after a WAF. It'd follow us all -the way back to Sandia if we could get there." - -Walter Stanton felt the Platform, his dream, pulsing around him. For -a moment he felt an affection even for the maddening wail of the -ventilators. Behind him, he knew, were some of the best brains in -science; men whose concepts cut across the lines of nationalism; who by -their presence on the Platform showed that they disregarded the very -instinct of self-preservation in the search for Truth. And he felt the -presence too of the thousands below who had helped make the Platform -a reality. He took a deep breath. Then he picked up the microphone and -spoke to his friend. - -"Mel, this is Walt. I've just received a dispatch. Do not--repeat--do -_not_ land at Sandia. Suggest you try to use White Sands." - -Mel's startled voice came back. "Why?" - -Walter Stanton felt his hands grow clammy. - -"They just destroyed Sandia Base." - -Goldstein gaped at him. "What.... What are you telling him?" He moved -for the mike, but Walter Stanton shook his head. - -The speaker crackled. "Destroyed? Sandia destroyed?" - -"Entirely." - -"The--The dependents' quarters too?" - -Walter Stanton forced out the words. "Everything, Mel." - -There was a long silence, and then Mel Cramer spoke, and his voice was -tired. "Vector me, Goldie." - -Goldstein said: "To White Sands, Colonel?" - -Behind the tiredness and the sadness Walter Stanton caught a hint of -strength in the voice that came back. - -"To the missile...." - -Goldstein hesitated, looked at Walter Stanton. - -"Do it, son," said Stanton.... - - * * * * * - -He could never afterwards remember how long he had been sitting at -his desk when Goldstein tapped on the hatch and entered, carrying a -message. The lean youth looked down at him. - -"First, sir, I want to say that I understand...." - -Walter Stanton looked at him gratefully. "You know it wasn't to save -us.... Just the Platform...." - -"I know it, and it took more guts than I've ever seen. But you'll need -guts for this too, sir...." - -He handed Stanton the message. - - FROM: EARTH CONTROL CENTER - TO: SPACE ONE - SANDIA BASE DESTROYED ENEMY BOMBING ATTACK STAVES - -The dull throbbing ache started in his chest, and he knew that it might -live with him for the rest of his life. He let the message fall. - -"If you get a list of dependent casualties, call a conference -immediately." - -"Yes sir. Anything else, sir?" - -He forced himself to forget Lynne and Karen and concentrate on the new -problems. He moved to the deck-port and kicked open the cover. On their -shortened orbit they were moving in relation to the earth's surface -now; the west coast of Africa lay below. - -"Did Cargo One get launched?" - -"No, sir. Destroyed while fueling." - -One of the problems, then, would be starvation; Cargo Two was months -from completion. But at least, if they could survive, they'd have a -chance to prove themselves; to prove the value of the Platform in war -as well as peace; to save the tiny satellite for its intended use. He -turned to Goldstein. - -"Pass the word for that conference now. We've got some high-powered -IQ's up here and there's a war going on. Maybe we can make it the last -one...." - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARTYR'S FLIGHT *** - -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. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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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: Martyr's Flight</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Hank Searls</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 10, 2021 [eBook #66699]</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 MARTYR'S FLIGHT ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p>Mel Cramer's job was to defend the Space<br /> -Station in case of an enemy attack; still, there<br /> -wasn't anything in the book to order him on a—</p> - -<h1>MARTYR'S FLIGHT</h1> - -<h2>By Hank Searls</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -December 1955<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>Some of the anguish and bitterness and fear left Walter Stanton's heart -as he gazed at the vista from the open landing-lock. It had been almost -three months since the core of Space Station One had nudged itself into -its silent orbit, but this, the only remaining view unhindered by the -bulbous fuel storage tanks, still fascinated him. Now, as the nose of -Cargo One crept backward into the blinding sunlight, he pulled himself -further along the catwalk. He waved with his free hand at the pilot, -Major Torrance, although he knew the Major could hardly be watching -during the delicate maneuver. Then, while the massive hatch was still -gaping, he looked earthward.</p> - -<p>Twenty-five thousand miles away, half of the western hemisphere shone -through the murky earth-haze, the other half still in darkness. -Through force of habit he oriented himself by looking at the center -of the half-darkened sphere; there lay the Galapagos Islands. Then he -traced the outline of the West Coast to Baja California and thence to -where he knew lay Sandia Base, New Mexico. He glanced at his watch; -7:00 A.M. Mountain Standard Time; Lynne would be making breakfast -for Karen, soon to leave for school. He felt a stab of loneliness and -a tug of envy for the men in Cargo II. Three skidding entries into -the atmosphere; three swinging returns to space, and they would have -decelerated enough to spiral to the incredible runway at Sandia. In -twelve hours they would be home with their wives.</p> - -<p>He watched as Torrance, drifting a hundred yards away, eased the -massive nose to a westerly direction and then, with a tiny burst of -power, slowed his relative speed enough to fall rapidly out of Space -One's orbit. He sighed and swung himself around.</p> - -<p>Colonel Mel Cramer was hanging on beside him, grotesquely familiar in -the flight gear he used as a Topside Suit. Walter Stanton's earphones -crackled.</p> - -<p>"Walt, I'm going to take the <i>Mistress</i> out for a while and practice -some marriages, if it's OK with you."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton glanced at the lethal fighter ship nested across the -landing-lock and essayed their old joke again, but his heart wasn't in -it. "What would Marge say, Mel?"</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer laughed. "She gave up to <i>Mel's Mistress</i> a year ago. OK to -go?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton thought of the letter in his pocket. "No, Mel, I think -not." Then suddenly: "Is the <i>Mistress</i> armed ... all ready to go?"</p> - -<p>Mel sounded hurt. "Of course, Walt. She's always ready.... Why?"</p> - -<p>Stanton pulled himself to the hatch in the hub. "Meet me in Control, -Mel. I want to talk to you."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Walter Stanton belted himself to his desk chair and pulled out the -letter from De La Rue, reading it again. He felt a surge of nostalgia -at the Old Man's quaint English; the Secretary-General's white-hot -internationalism had never impelled him to improve his languages. But -there was nothing quaint about the content of the letter....</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer shuffled in with the strange gait that they had all -developed within days of arriving in space. Automatically he snapped -his safety belt to a grommet on Mel's desk, then sat on the top.</p> - -<p>"What's on your mind, Walt?"</p> - -<p>"This...." Walter Stanton handed him the letter. "Torrance brought it. -I guess De La Rue didn't have enough to go on to send a dispatch, so he -wrote the letter."</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer read the letter swiftly, smiling first at the whimsical -phraseology and then suddenly frowning. He whistled.</p> - -<p>"Sounds bad, Walter, sounds bad...."</p> - -<p>"Torrance said Sandia Base is on a 24 hour alert."</p> - -<p>"God," Mel said desperately. "I wish Marge would leave that place. Why -can't she move to the country somewhere?"</p> - -<p>"She feels like Lynne, probably.... That if we're here, the least she -can do is stay as close as possible...."</p> - -<p>"As close as possible," Mel said bitterly. He lit a cigarette. "Walt, -have you heard anything about my relief?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton felt a stab of anger at his friend. Professionally -ambitious, Mel had fought for his job as Platform Fighter Pilot; now, -with the decline of Space One in the eyes of the military, he probably -had his eyes on other fields. Carefully controlling his voice, he said: -"No, Mel. Nothing's come in. Why?"</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer shrugged. "I don't know.... They said three months, that's -all. And it's been nearly fourteen weeks...." He laughed. "Kind of feel -like the world's passing me by. Joke, Walter."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton took back the letter and folded it carefully. Then, on -second thought, he lit a match and burned it.</p> - -<p>"I asked you in for advice, Mel," he said carefully, watching the -flickering flame.</p> - -<p>"You bet. Shoot."</p> - -<p>"If it starts, what are the wheels going to do?"</p> - -<p>"The brass?" Mel laughed. "You asking me? I'm just a light colonel."</p> - -<p>"You're the senior military man aboard. All I want is your opinion."</p> - -<p>Mel's brow furrowed. For a long moment he was silent, and Walter -Stanton heard the ceaseless whine of the ventilators. <i>Space Two, -when and if it's built</i>, he thought irrationally, <i>had better have -ventilators that don't cry like a cat in heat.</i></p> - -<p>"Well, Mel?"</p> - -<p>"I think," Mel Cramer said thoughtfully, "they'll suggest that we -evacuate."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Walter Stanton slapped his hand on the desk and swung in his chair. "I -knew it! Can't they see? Can't they see at all?"</p> - -<p>"Walter," Mel said quietly. "Let's face it. From a military standpoint, -Space One is a failure."</p> - -<p>"The Russians don't seem to think so. Even with the agreement in their -pocket, they're still screaming."</p> - -<p>Mel shook his head doggedly. "Militarily, it's a failure."</p> - -<p>"It's <i>not</i> a failure," Mel barked. He unsnapped his belt, shuffled to -the center of the compartment, and kicked open the cover of a port in -the rim-deck. "Look at that! Look at those stars, Mel. No one's ever -had a crack at them like this. The astronomers, and astro-physicists, -have learned more from Mike and Andre in the last three months than -they have in the last three centuries." As the rim rotated, the earth -came majestically into view. "Look at that," Stanton said. "See that -cold front over the Sierras? Petrovski's data has given them forecasts -down there that they've never conceived of." He waved his hand -expansively. "Vacuum! Billions and billions of cubic miles of hard, -hard vacuum. Trippler goes nuts at the thought of it. Any physicist, -any electronic engineer, would. Temperature? Absolute zero. Absolute -zero, Mel. Where else can you get absolute zero? Can't they see what it -means?"</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer ground out his cigarette.</p> - -<p>"What does absolute zero mean, Walt? To a general?"</p> - -<p>Walter kicked shut the hatch. "I don't know. I just don't know...."</p> - -<p>"Walt, this deal was oversold to the military. You know it, and I know -it. Frankly, you helped oversell it."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton swung around angrily. "You're right, Mel. But the end -justified the means. We needed the funds; only the military could -provide them. And it <i>is</i> useful to them; it will be, when it's -finished. It would be now, if—"</p> - -<p>"If we could break the agreement and leave the Galapagos Islands for a -spin around the world."</p> - -<p>"No!" Walter Stanton held his friend's eyes. "That isn't what I meant. -This platform wasn't meant for spying; the millions of man-hours -weren't spent for that. It's a UN deal, Mel, and we needed the -agreement; we had to see that the Russians kept hands-off. If the price -is an orbit that keeps us at earth-surface speed; if we have to stay -on our side of the iron curtain, OK. We agreed to it, and by God if we -grow roots down to Galapagos we're staying here."</p> - -<p>Mel shrugged. "That isn't the point. The wheels know that in case of -war you'd change orbits. If they thought it was worth while, they'd -order you to. The UN could order you to. What they doubt is that if you -<i>moved</i> your orbit in behind the Curtain you'd see enough to do any -good."</p> - -<p>"I don't care to argue that point. Right now, probably not. When the -scope's completed and installed, we'll undoubtedly be able to spot -concentrations and new industries. The main thing would be to stay with -the station. But it's an academic question—"</p> - -<p>"Is it an academic question whether they can blow us out of the sky?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton shot him a glance. "That's your department. Can they?"</p> - -<p>"Let's not kid ourselves. If they have a missile they can get up here, -it'll track you. Manned or unmanned, regardless of what your orbit is -or where you are."</p> - -<p>"The theory is, Mel, that Ground Control Center will intercept."</p> - -<p>"Walter!" Cramer's lip twisted sardonically. "I'm surprised! You didn't -fall for that mullarkey, did you? How are they going to intercept -anything with a head start?"</p> - -<p>"Another part of the theory, Mel, is that you'll intercept if they -don't. Intercept it and destroy it...."</p> - -<p>"Destroy it...." For a sickening moment Walter Stanton thought he read -fear in his friend's eye. Mel said quietly: "Destroy it and try to get -to Sandia...." He stood up. "And suppose they have <i>another</i> missile? -Who destroys that?"</p> - -<p>"Even a guided missile would cost almost as much as our original core. -Do you think they've built <i>one</i>, let alone two?"</p> - -<p>"We'd sure find out in a hurry. We'd be their first target."</p> - -<p>"And their second would probably be Sandia," Walt said thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"Don't say that!" Mel shouted. Walter looked at him in surprise. -"Don't. Don't say that," Mel said again, more softly. There was a long -silence. The ventilators whined. Mel passed his hand over his face. -"Those damned ventilators.... How about my taking <i>Mel's Mistress</i> out -now? Just for a while?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton glanced sympathetically at his friend. <i>He wants to get -away from the platform, even a few thousand yards. And I can't blame -him!</i></p> - -<p>"Sure, Mel. You've read the letter now, and you know how much fuel you -have, so it's up to you."</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer grimaced. "Yeah, fuel. Well, I guess I'll skip it. I'm going -to hit the sack."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton stared after him thoughtfully....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At dinner the talk was all of war; Peters, the Australian fuelman -and part time cook, flicked a switch in the galley and flooded the -Platform's PA system with the 10:00 P.M. news from Dallas. Petrovski, -the Russians' originally unwelcome contribution to the project, but -undeniably one of the world's top meteorologists, was embarrassed, -and the rest of the Team tried to keep the talk on an objective, -international plane. But Walter Stanton felt the strain and as Project -Head tried to change the subject.</p> - -<p>"Why we had to draft an Australian cook, with two Frenchmen on the -team," he said, toying with his custard. "I'll never know."</p> - -<p>Peters' voice from the galley said: "It's because one of the bloody -Frenchmen think a cheese souffle is a new galaxy and the other thinks -it's English for a cosmic particle. Besides, I don't see anybody losing -weight."</p> - -<p>"That's because—" began Walter Stanton, and then felt a tug at his -sleeve. It was Lang, the young radar plotter and radio operator.</p> - -<p>"Lieutenant Goldstein just broke this, sir," he said, handing him a -dispatch. Something in his eyes chilled Walter Stanton. He read the -message and cold fear squeezed him. He looked up.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," he said, raising his hand. "Can I have your attention?"</p> - -<p>The talk died. Petrovski, apparently guessing the contents of the -dispatch, looked sick. Mel Cramer was staring at his glass.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," Walter Stanton said quietly, "this is it. Mel, we were -wrong. We weren't the first target. Neither was Sandia. They just -bombed New York."</p> - -<p>There was deathly silence for a long moment, while each man riffled -through his thoughts. "Christ!" somebody swore.</p> - -<p>"I've been advised by Ground Control to stand by to evacuate. Cargo One -is refueling to take us off."</p> - -<p>An angry babble broke out around the table. Velez, the tiny Brazilian -astronomer, jumped up angrily. "Evacuate? But the Platform! What -happens to it?"</p> - -<p>Stanton shrugged. "Uncorrected perturbations build up, and eventually -it either skids off into space or falls into the atmosphere and burns. -Or maybe," he said bitterly, "we're supposed to jettison it ourselves. -Sink it in space before we leave, like a crew abandoning a submarine."</p> - -<p>Velez went white. "But the effort in building this; the time of the -thousands of scientists and billions of dollars; what becomes of them?"</p> - -<p>"They apparently consider the Platform a sitting duck, and are kind -enough to take a chance on evacuating us."</p> - -<p>Howard, a grey, unemotional power plant expert, a grim man whom Walter -Stanton barely liked, sat back and folded his hands. He spoke with -dogged emphasis.</p> - -<p>"This project has taken the best of science for the last four years. -It has held up research in other fields, and justifiably so. I do not -propose to let four years of mankind's progress go spinning off into -space alone, war or no war, Russians or no Russians. I shall not leave -it. I'm a civilian, and I refuse to go. Is that clear?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton stifled a wild impulse to laugh at the thought of Howard -spinning alone and infinitely through space. Suddenly he liked the man.</p> - -<p>"Any other comments?"</p> - -<p>Velez bristled like a bantam rooster. "I shall stay with Senor Howard."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton set his jaw. "If I give the word, we'll evacuate, all -of us. <i>If</i> I give the word." He glanced down the row of faces. "I'm -toying with the idea of allowing volunteers to stay."</p> - -<p>There was a chorus of assent. With a chill, Walter Stanton remembered -Petrovski. He glanced at him and the big Russian, blond and -bespectacled, arose ponderously and leaned on the table.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen.... Could I speak?"</p> - -<p>"Go ahead, Ski," somebody said.</p> - -<p>"I ... I do not know whether those people who rule my country are -capable of destroying this ... this marvelous thing. I do not know -whether they would <i>want</i> to destroy it...." He took off his glasses -and polished them fiercely. "But if you would allow me.... If it could -be arranged ... I should like to stay...."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton, touched, cleared his throat. He spoke quietly.</p> - -<p>"And if it were turned into a weapon against your country?"</p> - -<p>Petrovski looked as if he were about to cry. "If my country tries to -destroy this wonderful thing of science.... Then it is no more my -country.... And I would still like to stay...."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Stanton, a little embarrassed. "Well, we'll see...."</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer leaned back suddenly in his seat. "Could a beat-up old -light colonel have a few words, seeing as how this project is slipping -rapidly from your league into mine?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton gazed at him quizzically. "Of course, Mel. Go ahead."</p> - -<p>"You guys are all full of bull." Cramer leaned forward, counting on his -fingers. "In the first place, you wouldn't have a chance if they've got -a missile that can get here. In the second place, you wouldn't do any -good if you did stay. In the third place, if they tell you to get out, -you'll get out. Period. Is that clear?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton felt his blood rise. "Just a second. The Air Force -<i>advises</i> us; the UN <i>tells</i> us. Let's keep that straight."</p> - -<p>"Buddy," said Mel, "if I know War, it isn't going to be that way very -long...."</p> - -<p>The intercom system burst into life. The flat, nasal voice of -Lieutenant Goldstein, the sharp young Air Force radar officer, crackled -through the room.</p> - -<p>"Colonel Cramer, Mr. Stanton. Would you come to Control? I've picked up -a missile. I think it's headed for us...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>With the dim orange light of the PPI radar scope gleaming on his sharp -features, Goldstein looked like some interested youngster staring into -a campfire.</p> - -<p>"It's on a tangential orbit now, just breaking into the exosphere—I'll -be able to give you its free flight velocity in a minute."</p> - -<p>"Was it three stage or two?" Cramer asked.</p> - -<p>"Two, sir, apparently."</p> - -<p>"So far," Mel Cramer said. "If it accelerates again, we'll know for -sure."</p> - -<p>From the huge transparent board behind them the plotter, Airman Lang, -spoke. "I make it 700 knots relative to Platform speed, sir."</p> - -<p>"Give or take a few hundred," murmured Goldstein.... "Oops ... I think -she's started another burn-out period...."</p> - -<p>"She's accelerating, sir," said Lang. "But fast...."</p> - -<p>They watched the tiny pip while Goldstein worked with his cranks and -dials. "Spatial velocity will be about 1300 knots relative, sir."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Well," said Cramer. "At least I could catch it on a second pass ... if -I missed." He coughed nervously. "How much time have we got?"</p> - -<p>The circuit to Ground Control burst into life. "Space One, Space One, -this is Ground Control. We have a missile on our scope from relay -Four. Altitude four hundred miles, relative velocity 1370, Latitude—"</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer picked up the mike. "OK, OK, ground control. We have it." -He smiled bitterly and added: "I assume you're intercepting with a -missile."</p> - -<p>There was a long silence, then: "Mel, this is General Staves. You know -damn well we can't intercept. We just picked it up, and we're too late."</p> - -<p>Mel sounded cheerful enough, but Walter Stanton blanched as he saw the -hand shaking on the mike.</p> - -<p>"OK, General. We'll see what we can do. What's the status of Cargo One?"</p> - -<p>"She's still taking fuel. We may be able to evacuate you if you can get -this first one."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton took the mike. "General, this is Stanton. If he gets -this one, we don't intend to evacuate."</p> - -<p>There was a shocked silence, and then the general's dry voice.</p> - -<p>"You'll evacuate, all right. And I suggest you take evasive action, in -spite of your agreement."</p> - -<p>"We are, General, I'm shortening our orbit now."</p> - -<p>"If you see anything good over Russia," the General said, "let us know. -New York you won't see."</p> - -<p>"Always joking," said Airman Lang bitterly. "That's the General."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton faced Mel Cramer in the darkness. "Well, Mel...."</p> - -<p>Mel tried to laugh, but his voice sounded tight. "Well, Walter...."</p> - -<p>"It's up to you, Mel. The whole shebang."</p> - -<p>Mel's mouth worked dryly and he nodded. "Yep. Guess.... Guess I better -suit up...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Walter Stanton waited inside the hub, gazing through the port at the -tiny fighter across the landing-lock. <i>I wish ... I wish it were me -who could fly it</i>, he thought desperately. He ran his hand along the -support rail, as if caressing the metal and plastic of the Platform. -He remembered the dreams, the toil, the heartbreak, far back to when -men laughed at the concept of a platform in space. He thought of the -pioneers of rocket work, some of them dead; the men at Peenemunde using -their brains for war but even so adding painstakingly to the fund of -knowledge. He thought of the moment of blinding elation three months -before, when the last reactor had been cut off and the core of Space -One swung easily into her orbit. <i>If only Mel could understand.... -Better yet, if I could fly....</i> He knew certainly that he himself -would give his life to save the Platform; knew surely that Lynne would -understand. But would Mel Cramer give <i>his</i> life? For his country, -probably; for his home and family, surely; but for what he seemed to -consider a useless scientific gadget?</p> - -<p>He heard a movement and turned. Mel Cramer, massive in his flight gear, -but with his helmet off, was standing behind him. His face was drawn.</p> - -<p>"Well, Walter, wish me luck."</p> - -<p>"Mel.... Do you know what this means? Really?"</p> - -<p>"My indoctrination is complete, if that's what you mean. I can't agree -with you that the world will fall apart if Space One isn't a success, -but the world's falling apart anyway, so it really doesn't matter. I'll -make my passes as close as possible."</p> - -<p><i>And if you miss?</i> thought Walter Stanton. <i>What will you do? Will -you make another pass, a sacrificial pass?</i> He wished for a moment -that their culture embodied the Oriental concept of patriotism; the -disregard for human life, the fatalistic belief in some paradise for -battle-dead.</p> - -<p>"Mel," he said suddenly, forcing the words. "What happens if you miss?"</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer's jaw tightened, "just a minute, Walt," he said slowly. "I -don't quite know what you're getting at, but I have an idea. Are you -suggesting that I fly into that thing?"</p> - -<p>There was a long silence, and the ventilators whined.</p> - -<p>Walter nodded his head slowly. "Yes, Mel. If necessary."</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer stared at him. "This isn't a Japanese kamikaze pilot you're -talking to! This is Mel Cramer. I was an ace as a kid in Korea, and -nobody ever accused me of being yellow, but I didn't sign up for <i>this</i> -job to commit suicide. That isn't the way we do it. That's why I'm -carrying rockets instead of a warhead full of tetryl. And it's why -we win wars; we don't sacrifice the men we've got; we give 'em every -chance."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton said: "It's not my prerogative to ask you to sacrifice -yourself. It's just that.... This project...."</p> - -<p>"Everybody on this project is a volunteer."</p> - -<p>"It isn't <i>us</i>; it's the Platform."</p> - -<p>"Everybody on the Platform is a volunteer," Mel Cramer repeated -doggedly. "Everyone knew the chances he was taking. And there isn't a -one of them who loves his wife and kid anymore than I do."</p> - -<p>Through the sickness of his disappointment, Walter Stanton forced a -grin. "OK, Mel. My love to Marge when you get to Sandia; and tell -Lynne ... tell her...."</p> - -<p>"I'll tell her you'll be back on Cargo One by tomorrow," Mel Cramer -said. "If," he added softly, "I make it to Sandia Base, and if Sandia -Base is still there...."</p> - -<p>Cramer glanced through the port at the mechanic waiting to help him -into the tiny fighter, shivered a little, snapped on his helmet and -stepped out to the catwalk. Walter Stanton watched through the port -as the huge air-lock opened and Mel Cramer eased the <i>Mistress</i> out. -She nestled next to the Platform like a small, angry wasp near a hive, -power off, waiting for intercept data from Goldstein in Control. Walter -Stanton felt a chill race up his back. He started up the ladder.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Goldstein had flicked on the remote telescreen and was watching it, -with one eye on the PPI scope. The screen came to life, and Walter -Stanton saw a clear picture of Space One as Mel Cramer pointed the -<i>Mistress</i> at the platform to aid in focussing.</p> - -<p>"OK, Colonel," Goldstein said. "Screen controls locked."</p> - -<p>"Screen controls locked," Mel Cramer's voice repeated. The image of -Space One disappeared from the screen as the <i>Mistress</i> swung to the -East, paralleling the motion of the platform in space, ready to add its -speed to that of the artificial satellite. "Heading zero-nine-zero," -said Cramer. "Ready to launch."</p> - -<p>"Blast for ten seconds," said Goldstein, "and stand by for intercept -information."</p> - -<p>"Blasting." Cramer's voice seemed strained. Then: "Power off! Swinging!"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton stared at the telescreen, a duplicate of Mel's screen, -and the very eyes of the <i>Mistress</i>, since her windshield would be -covered against the sandblasting meteoric dust until the last seconds -of the firing run. The time seemed to press on the back of his neck, -and he felt his head ache with the strain. The ventilators moaned. -Goldstein spoke suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Missile eight hundred miles earthward, rate of closure 480 knots, -twelve o'clock from you." His voice rose slightly. "Have you got it, -Colonel? Is it on your screen?"</p> - -<p>There was an aching void of silence, then "Affirm! I have it. -Commencing first pass!"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton became suddenly aware that Radar Control was crowded. He -heard Peters' voice: "How many runs can he make?"</p> - -<p>"Two runs; he'll fire two proximity rockets per pass. They ought to -track the missile."</p> - -<p>"Yeah," said Lang dryly. "It's all doped out. This science is -wonderful...."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton jumped as an image of the missile appeared on the -telescreen. From a tiny flash it grew quickly more bright until it was -a circle on the screen. "Locked!" grated Cramer's voice. "Firing!"</p> - -<p>Two streaks appeared at the bottom of the screen and darted for the -circle. Walter Stanton heard a gasp of relief in the compartment as -they sped true, straight for the center. Then, amazingly, the streaks -wobbled erratically and streaked away. The circle of light moved slowly -downward off the screen as Mel Cramer pulled up.</p> - -<p>"Missed," breathed Goldstein. "Brother...."</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer's voice cut into the silence. It was strained and uncertain. -"I think it's jamming my control heads.... Putting out strips, maybe. -I'm making another pass."</p> - -<p>"Thanks, Colonel," whispered Lang from the plotting board. "This is -what Uncle pays you for.... Let's earn it...."</p> - -<p>For an eternity they waited, and again the circles appeared in the -center of the screen. "Locked," Mel Cramer said. Closer and closer -moved the light, and for a moment Walter Stanton had a wild burst of -hope. The target seemed too close to miss; the two rockets streaked for -it, reaching hungrily. Then they wobbled again and disappeared from the -screen as Mel Cramer pulled up. There was a chilling silence in the -room.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Goldstein, "that does it. We've got ... let's see ... 176 -seconds, if anyone cares to know."</p> - -<p>Mel Cramer's voice came into the room as if from the grave. "It.... It -was jamming ... I was right on!"</p> - -<p>"Excuses, Colonel," muttered Lang. "Always excuses...."</p> - -<p>Goldstein talked into the mike. "Colonel, I suggest you commence your -braking ellipse immediately. I don't know what effect the explosion -will have in this orbit, but I think you'd better leave it."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton turned desperately to Goldstein. "Goldie, is it certain? -We've <i>got</i> to save the platform! Suppose I use full reactors, shorten -our orbit even faster?"</p> - -<p>"It won't matter, sir." He jammed his thumb at the PPI scope. "That -thing's tailing us like a flying cadet after a WAF. It'd follow us all -the way back to Sandia if we could get there."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton felt the Platform, his dream, pulsing around him. For -a moment he felt an affection even for the maddening wail of the -ventilators. Behind him, he knew, were some of the best brains in -science; men whose concepts cut across the lines of nationalism; who by -their presence on the Platform showed that they disregarded the very -instinct of self-preservation in the search for Truth. And he felt the -presence too of the thousands below who had helped make the Platform -a reality. He took a deep breath. Then he picked up the microphone and -spoke to his friend.</p> - -<p>"Mel, this is Walt. I've just received a dispatch. Do not—repeat—do -<i>not</i> land at Sandia. Suggest you try to use White Sands."</p> - -<p>Mel's startled voice came back. "Why?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton felt his hands grow clammy.</p> - -<p>"They just destroyed Sandia Base."</p> - -<p>Goldstein gaped at him. "What.... What are you telling him?" He moved -for the mike, but Walter Stanton shook his head.</p> - -<p>The speaker crackled. "Destroyed? Sandia destroyed?"</p> - -<p>"Entirely."</p> - -<p>"The—The dependents' quarters too?"</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton forced out the words. "Everything, Mel."</p> - -<p>There was a long silence, and then Mel Cramer spoke, and his voice was -tired. "Vector me, Goldie."</p> - -<p>Goldstein said: "To White Sands, Colonel?"</p> - -<p>Behind the tiredness and the sadness Walter Stanton caught a hint of -strength in the voice that came back.</p> - -<p>"To the missile...."</p> - -<p>Goldstein hesitated, looked at Walter Stanton.</p> - -<p>"Do it, son," said Stanton....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He could never afterwards remember how long he had been sitting at -his desk when Goldstein tapped on the hatch and entered, carrying a -message. The lean youth looked down at him.</p> - -<p>"First, sir, I want to say that I understand...."</p> - -<p>Walter Stanton looked at him gratefully. "You know it wasn't to save -us.... Just the Platform...."</p> - -<p>"I know it, and it took more guts than I've ever seen. But you'll need -guts for this too, sir...."</p> - -<p>He handed Stanton the message.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>FROM: EARTH CONTROL CENTER</p> - -<p>TO: SPACE ONE</p> - -<p>SANDIA BASE DESTROYED ENEMY BOMBING ATTACK STAVES</p></div> - -<p>The dull throbbing ache started in his chest, and he knew that it might -live with him for the rest of his life. He let the message fall.</p> - -<p>"If you get a list of dependent casualties, call a conference -immediately."</p> - -<p>"Yes sir. Anything else, sir?"</p> - -<p>He forced himself to forget Lynne and Karen and concentrate on the new -problems. He moved to the deck-port and kicked open the cover. On their -shortened orbit they were moving in relation to the earth's surface -now; the west coast of Africa lay below.</p> - -<p>"Did Cargo One get launched?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. Destroyed while fueling."</p> - -<p>One of the problems, then, would be starvation; Cargo Two was months -from completion. But at least, if they could survive, they'd have a -chance to prove themselves; to prove the value of the Platform in war -as well as peace; to save the tiny satellite for its intended use. He -turned to Goldstein.</p> - -<p>"Pass the word for that conference now. We've got some high-powered -IQ's up here and there's a war going on. Maybe we can make it the last -one...."</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARTYR'S FLIGHT ***</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. 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