Operation: Outer Space | Page 2

glinted vividly as it settled into the inferno of its
own making.
Then the light went out. The glare cut off abruptly. There was only a

dim redness where the space-port tarmac had been made incandescent
for a little while. That glow faded--and Cochrane became aware of the
enormous stillness. He had not really noticed the rocket's deafening
roar until it ended.
The helicab flew onward almost silently, with only the throbbing pulses
of its overhead vanes making any sound at all.
"I kidded myself about those rockets, too," said Cochrane bitterly to
himself. "I thought getting to the moon meant starting to the stars. New
worlds to live on. I had a lot more fun before I found out the facts of
life!"
But he knew that this cynicism and this bitterness came out of the hurt
to the vanity that still insisted everything was a mistake. He'd received
orders which disillusioned him about his importance to the firm and to
the business to which he'd given years of his life. It hurt to find out that
he was just another man, just another expendable. Most people fought
against making the discovery, and some succeeded in avoiding it. But
Cochrane saw his own self-deceptions with a savage clarity even as he
tried to keep them. He did not admire himself at all.
The helicab began to slant down toward the space-port buildings. The
sky was full of stars. The earth--of course--was covered with buildings.
Except for the space-port there was no unoccupied ground for thirty
miles in any direction. The cab was down to a thousand feet. To five
hundred. Cochrane saw the just-arrived rocket with tender-vehicles
running busily to and fro and hovering around it. He saw the rocket he
should take, standing upright on the faintly lighted field.
The cab touched ground. Cochrane stood up and paid the fare. He got
out and the cab rose four or five feet and flitted over to the waiting-line.
He went into the space-port building. He felt himself growing more
bitter still. Then he found Bill Holden--Doctor William
Holden--standing dejectedly against a wall.
"I believe you've got some orders for me, Bill," said Cochrane

sardonically. "And just what psychiatric help can I give you?"
Holden said tiredly:
"I don't like this any better than you do, Jed. I'm scared to death of
space-travel. But go get your ticket and I'll tell you about it on the way
up. It's a special production job. I'm roped in on it too."
"Happy holiday!" said Cochrane, because Holden looked about as
miserable as a man could look.
He went to the ticket desk. He gave his name. On request, he produced
identification. Then he said sourly:
"While you're working on this I'll make a phone-call."
He went to a pay visiphone. And again there were different levels of
awareness in his mind--one consciously and defensively cynical, and
one frightened at the revelation of his unimportance, and the third
finding the others an unedifying spectacle.
He put the call through with an over-elaborate confidence which he
angrily recognized as an attempt to deceive himself. He got the office.
He said calmly:
"This is Jed Cochrane. I asked for a visiphone contact with Mr.
Hopkins."
He had a secretary on the phone-screen. She looked at memos and said
pleasantly:
"Oh, yes. Mr. Hopkins is at dinner. He said he couldn't be disturbed,
but for you to go on to the moon according to your instructions, Mr.
Cochrane."
Cochrane hung up and raged, with one part of his mind. Another
part--and he despised it--began to argue that after all, he had better wait
before thinking there was any intent to humiliate him. After all, his
orders must have been issued with due consideration. The third part

disliked the other two parts intensely--one for raging without daring to
speak, and one for trying to find alibis for not even raging. He went
back to the ticket-desk. The clerk said heartily:
"Here you are! The rest of your party's already on board, Mr. Cochrane.
You'd better hurry! Take-off's in five minutes."
Holden joined him. They went through the gate and got into the
tender-vehicle that would rush them out to the rocket. Holden said
heavily:
"I was waiting for you and hoping you wouldn't come. I'm not a good
traveller, Jed."
The small vehicle rushed. To a city man, the dark expanse of the
space-port was astounding. Then a spidery metal framework swallowed
the tender-truck, and them. The vehicle stopped. An elevator accepted
them and lifted an indefinite distance through the night, toward the
stars. A sort of gangplank with a canvas siderail reached out across
emptiness. Cochrane crossed it, and found himself at the bottom of a
spiral ramp inside the rocket's passenger-compartment. A stewardess
looked at the tickets. She