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Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction October and November 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
"WHERE I WASN'T GOING"
"The Spaceman's Lament" concerned a man who wound up where he wasn't going ... but the men on Space Station One knew they weren't going anywhere. Until Confusion set in....
WALT AND LEIGH RICHMOND
ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN SCHOENHERR
_I studied and worked and learned my trade I had the life of an earthman made; But I met a spaceman and got way-laid-- I went where I wasn't going!_
THE SPACEMAN'S LAMENT
* * * * *
Making his way from square to square of the big rope hairnet thatserved as guidelines on the outer surface of the big wheel, MikeBlackhawk completed his inspection of the gold-plated plastic hull,with its alternate dark and shiny squares.
He had scanned every foot of the curved surface in this firstinspection, familiarizing himself completely with that which other menhad constructed from his drawings, and which he would now take overin the capacity of chief engineer.
Mike attached his safety line to a guideline leading to the southpolar lock and kicked off, satisfied that the lab was ready for thejob of turning on the spin with which he would begin his three monthstour of duty aboard.
The laws of radiation exposure set the three-month deadline to serviceaboard the lab, and he had timed his own tour aboard to start as theship reached completion, and the delicate job of turning her was readyto begin.
U.N. Space Lab One was man's largest project to date in space. Itmight not be tremendous in size by earth standards of construction,but the two hundred thirty-two foot wheel represented sixty-fourmillion pounds of very careful engineering and assembly that had beenraised from Earth's surface to this thirty-six-hour orbit.
Many crews had come and gone in the eighteen months since the firstpayload had arrived at this orbit--but now the first of the scientistsfor whom the lab was built were aboard; and the pick of the crewsselected for the construction job had been shuttled up for the finaltesting and spin-out.
Far off to Mike's left and slightly below him a flicker of flamecaught his eye, and he realized without even looking down that theretro-rockets of the shuttle on which he had arrived were slowlyputting it out of orbit and tipping it over the edge of the longgravitic well back to Earth. It would be two weeks before it returned.
Nearing the lock he grasped the cable with one hand, slowing himself,turned with the skill of an acrobat, and landed catlike, feet first,on the stat-magnetic walk around the lock.
He had gone over, minutely, the inside of the satellite before comingto its surface. Now there was only one more inspection job before heturned on the spin.
Around this south polar hub-lock, which would rotate with the wheel,was the stationary anchor ring on which rode free both the stat-walkand the anchor tubes for the smaller satellites that served as distantcomponents of the mother ship.
Kept rigid by air pressure, any deviation corrected by pressure tanksin the stationary ring, the tubes served both to keep the smallerbodies from drifting too close to Space Lab One, and prevented theirdrifting off.
The anchor tubes were just over one foot in diameter, weighing lessthan five ounces to the yard--gray plastic and fiber, air-rigidfingers pointing away into space--but they could take over twothousand pounds of compression or tension, far more than needed fortheir job, which was to cancel out the light drift motion caused bycrews kicking in or out, or activities aboard. Uncanceled, thesemotions might otherwise have caused the baby satellites to comenudging against the space lab; or to scatter to the stars.
There had been talk of making them larger, so that they might alsoprovide passageway for personnel without the necessity for suiting up;but as yet this had not been done. Perhaps later they would becomethe forerunners of space corridors in the growing complex that wouldinevitably develop around such a center of man's activities as thislaboratory in its thirty-six hour orbit.
At the far end of the longest anchor tube, ten miles away and barelyvisible from here, was located the unshielded, remote-controlled powerpile that supplied the necessary energy for the operation of thewheel. Later, it was hoped, experimental research now in progresswould make this massive device unnecessary. Solar energy would make anideal replacement; but as yet the research was not complete, and solarenergy had not yet been successfully harnessed for the high powerrequirements of the Lab.
Inside this anchor tube ran the thick coaxial cable that fedthree-phase electric power from the atomic pile to the ship.
At the far end of the second anchor tube, five miles off in space, wasProject Hot Rod, the latest in the long series of experiments by whichman was attempting to convert the sun's radiant energy to usefulpower.
At the end of the third anchor tube, and comparatively near the ship,was the dump--a conglomeration of equipment, used and unused boosterrocket cases, oddments of all sorts, some to be installed aboard thewheel, others to be used as building components of other projects; andsome oddments of materials that no one could have given a logicalreason for keeping at all except that they "might be useful"--all heldloosely together by short guidelines to an anchor ring at the tube'send.
* * * * *
Carefully, Mike checked the servo-motor that would maintain thestationary position of the ring with clocklike precision against thedrag of bearing friction and the spin of the hub on which it wasmounted; then briefly looked over the network of tubes before enteringthe air lock.
Inside, he stripped off the heavy, complicated armor of an articulatedspacesuit, with its springs designed to compensate for the Bourdontube effect of internal air pressure against the vacuum of space,appearing in the comfortable shorts, T-shirt, and light, knitmoccasins with their thin, plastic soles, that were standard wear forall personnel.
He was ready to roll the wheel.
Feeling as elated as a schoolboy, Mike dove down the central axialtube of the hub, past the passenger entrances from the rim, theentrances to the bridge and the gymnasium-shield area, to theengineering quarters just below the other passenger entrances from therim, and the observatory that occupied the north polar section of thehub.
The engineering quarters, like all the quarters of the hub, werethirty-two feet in diameter. Ignoring the ladder up the flat wall,Mike pushed out of the port in the central axis tunnel and dropped tothe circular floor beside the power console.
Strapping himself down in the console seat, he flipped the switchthat would connect him with Systems Control Officer Bessandra Khamarat the console of the ship's big computer, acronymically known as SadCow.
"Aiee-yiee, Bessie! It's me, Chief Blackhawk!" he said irreverentlyinto the mike. "Ready to swing this buffalo!"
Bessie's mike gave its preliminary hum of power, and he could almostfeel her seeking out the words with which to reprimand him. Then,instead, she laughed.
"_Varyjat!_ Mike, haven't you learned yet how to talk over anintercom? Blasting a girl's eardrums at this early hour. It's no wayto maintain beautiful relationships and harmony. I'm still waiting formy second cup of coffee," she added.
"Wait an hour, and this cup of coffee you shall have in a cup instead of ababy bottle," Mike told her cheerfully. "Space One's checked out ready toroll. Want to tell our pre
occupied slipstick and test-tube boys in the rimbefore we roll her, or just wait and see what happens? They shouldn't gettoo badly scrambled at one-half RPM--that's about .009 gee on therim-deck--and I sort of like surprises!"
"No, you don't" Bessie said severely. "No, you don't. They need analert, and I need to finish the programming on Sad Cow to be sure thisthing doesn't wobble enough to shake us all apart. Even at a half RPM,your seams might not hold with a real wobble, and I don't like theidea of falling into a vacuum bottle as big as the one out therewithout a suit."
"How much time do you need?"
"On my mark, make it T minus thirty minutes. That ought to do it.O.K., here we go." There was a brief pause, then Bessie's voice cameformally over the all-stations annunciator system.
"Now hear this. Now hear this. All personnel. On my mark it is T minusthirty minutes to spin-out check. According to program, accelerationwill begin at