Operation: Outer Space | Page 4

of his feet was going to sleep. He
tried to move it and succeeded only in stirring it feebly. The roaring
went on and on and on....
The red letters in the panel said: "First stage ends in five seconds."
By the time he'd read it, the rocket hiccoughed and stopped. Then he
felt a surge of panic. He was falling! He had no weight! It was the
sensation of a suddenly dropping elevator a hundred times multiplied.
He bounced out of the depression in the foam-cushion. He was
prevented from floating away only by the straps that held him.
There was a sputter and a series of jerks. Then he had weight again as
roarings began once more. This was not the ghastly continued impact
of the take-off, but still it was weight--considerably greater weight than
the normal weight of Earth. Cochrane wiggled the foot that had gone to
sleep. Pins and needles lessened their annoyance as sensation returned
to it. He was able to move his arms and hands. They felt abnormally
heavy, and he experienced an extreme and intolerable weariness. He
wanted to go to sleep.
This was the second-stage rocket-phase. The moon-rocket had blasted
off at six gravities acceleration until clear of atmosphere and a little
more. Acceleration-chairs of remarkably effective design, plus the
pre-saturation of one's blood with oxygen, made so high an acceleration
safe and not unendurable for the necessary length of time it lasted. Now,
at three gravities, one did not feel on the receiving end of a violent
thrust, but one did feel utterly worn out and spent. Most people stayed
awake through the six-gravity stage and went heavily to sleep under
three gravities.
Cochrane fought the sensation of fatigue. He had not liked himself for
accepting the orders that had brought him here. They had been issued in

bland confidence that he had no personal affairs which could not be
abandoned to obey cryptic orders from the secretary of a boss he had
actually never seen. He felt a sort of self-contempt which it would have
been restful to forget in three-gravity sleep. But he grimaced and held
himself awake to contemplate the unpretty spectacle of himself and his
actions.
The red light said: "Second stage ends ten seconds."
And in ten seconds the rockets hiccoughed once more and were silent,
and there was that sickening feeling of free fall, but he grimly made
himself think of it as soaring upward instead of dropping--which was
the fact, too--and waited until the third-stage rockets boomed suddenly
and went on and on and on.
This was nearly normal acceleration; the effect of this acceleration was
the feel of nearly normal weight. He felt about as one would feel in
Earth in a contour-chair tilted back so that one faced the ceiling. He
knew approximately where the ship would be by this time, and it ought
to have been a thrill. Cochrane was hundreds of miles above Earth and
headed eastward out and up. If a port were open at this height, his
glance should span continents.
No.... The ship had taken off at night. It would still be in Earth's
shadow. There would be nothing at all to be seen below, unless one or
two small patches of misty light which would be Earth's too-many great
cities. But overhead there would be stars by myriads and myriads, of
every possible color and degree of brightness. They would crowd each
other for room in which to shine. The rocket-ship was spiralling out
and out and up and up, to keep its rendezvous with the space platform.
The platform, of course, was that artificial satellite of Earth which was
four thousand miles out and went around the planet in a little over four
hours, traveling from west to east. It had been made because to break
the bonds of Earth's gravity was terribly costly in fuel--when a ship had
to accelerate slowly to avoid harm to human cargo. The space platform
was a filling station in emptiness, at which the moon-rocket would
refuel for its next and longer and much less difficult journey of two

hundred thirty-odd thousand miles.
The stewardess came up the ramp, moving briskly. She stopped and
glanced at each passenger in each chair in turn. When Cochrane turned
his open eyes upon her, she said soothingly:
"There's no need to be disturbed. Everything is going perfectly."
"I'm not disturbed," said Cochrane. "I'm not even nervous. I'm perfectly
all right."
"But you should be drowsy!" she observed, concerned. "Most people
are. If you nap you'll feel better for it."
She felt his pulse in a businesslike manner. It was normal.
"Take my nap for me," said Cochrane, "or put it back in stock. I don't
want it. I'm perfectly all right."
She considered him