Space Tug | Page 3

it moved
so swiftly and serenely from the sunset toward the east, or from night's darkness into the
dawn-light. But it had been fought bitterly before it was launched. It was first proposed to
the United Nations, but even discussion in the Council was vetoed. So the United States
had built it alone. Yet the nations which objected to it as an international project liked it
even less as a national one, and they'd done what they could to wreck it.
The building of the great steel hull now out there in emptiness had been fought more
bitterly, by more ruthless and more highly trained saboteurs, than any other enterprise in
history. There'd been two attempts to blast it with atomic bombs. But it was high aloft,
rolling grandly around the Earth, so close to its primary that its period was little more
than four hours; and it rose in the west and set in the east six times a day.
Today Joe would try to get a supply ship up to it, a very small rocket-driven cargo ship
named Pelican One. The crew of the Platform needed food and air and water--and
especially the means of self-defense. Today's take-off would be the first attempt at a
rocket-lift to space.
"The enemies of the Platform haven't given up," said the major formidably. "And they
used spectroscopes on the Platform's rocket fumes. Apparently they've been able to
duplicate our fuel."
Joe nodded.
Major Holt went on: "For more than a month Military Intelligence has been aware that
rockets were under construction behind the Iron Curtain. They will be guided missiles,
and they will carry atom bomb heads. One or more may be finished any day. When
they're finished, you can bet that they'll be used against the Platform. And you will carry
up the first arms for the Platform. Your ship carries half a dozen long-range interceptor
rockets to handle any attack from Earth. It's vitally important for them to be delivered."
"They'll attack the Platform?" demanded Joe angrily. "That's war!"
"Not if they deny guilt," said the major ironically, "and if we have nothing to gain by war.
The Platform is intended to defend the peace of the world. If it is destroyed, we won't
defend the peace of the world by going to war over it. But while the Platform can defend

itself, it is not likely that anyone will dare to make war. So you have a very worthwhile
mission. I suggest that you have breakfast and report to the Shed. I'm on my way there
now."
Joe said, "Yes, sir."
The major started for the door. Then he stopped. He hesitated, and said abruptly, "If my
security measures have failed, Joe, you'll be killed. If there has been sabotage or
carelessness, it will be my fault."
"I'm sure, sir, that everything anybody could do--"
"Everything anybody can do to destroy you has been done," said the major grimly. "Not
only sabotage, Joe, but blunders and mistakes and stupidities. That always happens.
But--I've done my best. I suspect I'm asking your forgiveness if my best hasn't been good
enough."
Then, before Joe could reply, the major went hurriedly away.
Joe frowned for a moment. It occurred to him that it must be pretty tough to be
responsible for the things that other men's lives depend on--when you can't share their
danger. But just then the smell of coffee reached his nostrils. He trailed the scent. There
was a coffeepot steaming on the table in the dining-room. There was a note on a plate.
Good luck. I'll see you in the Shed.
Sally
Joe was relieved. Sally Holt had been somewhere around underfoot all his life. She was a
swell girl, but he was grateful that he didn't have to talk to her just now.
He poured coffee and looked at his watch. He went to the window. The faraway howling
was much nearer, and dawn had definitely arrived. Small cloudlets in a pale blue sky
were tinted pinkish by the rising sun. Patches of yucca and mesquite and sage out beyond
the officers' quarters area stretched away to a far-off horizon. They were now visibly
different in color from the red-yellow earth between them, and cast long, streaky shadows.
The cause of the howling was still invisible.
But Joe cared nothing for that. He stared skyward, searching. And he saw what he looked
for.
There was a small bright sliver of sunlight high aloft. It moved slowly toward the east. It
showed the unmistakable glint of sunshine upon polished steel. It was the artificial
satellite--a huge steel hull--which had been built in the gigantic Shed from whose shadow
Joe looked upward. It was the size of an ocean liner, and six weeks since some hundreds
of pushpots, all straining