CHAPTER VIII
Project Orion
There was an air of anticipation everywhere at the Scarlet Lake rocketbase. Rick, who was sensitive to such things, felt it keenly. He alsorecognized that under the anticipation, like thick, stagnant water underthe bright surface of a pond, there was fear.
The anticipation was spoken; the fear was not.
By mutual agreement, Rick and Scotty parted soon after their return tothe base. Each went back to his own unit, more on guard then ever beforefor the slightest hint of irregularity in personnel or equipment.
The electronics group of Pegasus was just about at a standstill. DickEarle and Frank Miller had gone to the firing area, to lend the Oriongroup a hand. Dr. Bond remained, along with Kassick and Sherman. Thethree were amusing themselves with a game of three-handed bridge, whilethe marmoset occasionally made things lively by stealing cards.
Rick watched for a few minutes, then wandered into the empty Orion shed,abandoned now that its crew and rocket had moved to the firing pad andblockhouse. As he stood looking at the complex test equipment a sedanpulled up and Gee-Gee Gould got out. The electronics chief waved at himand trotted by into the project office. He returned in a moment with aportable tube and circuit tester under his arm and paused to ask,"What's up, boy-oh?"
Rick answered briefly, "No transistors, no work."
"Bored?"
"Not exactly, sir. But I wish I could do something useful instead ofjust hanging around."
Gee-Gee stroked his magnificent mustache. "I'm with you," he saidfinally. "Jump in."
Rick needed no further invitation. He took the tester from the scientistand climbed into the sedan, holding the gadget on his lap. "Where are wegoing?" he asked.
"Pad. Work to do, and you can help. Do a good job with me and I'll giveyou a special reward. Check?"
"Check," Rick agreed, grinning. "What's the reward?"
"Watch Orion from the blockhouse with me. Good?"
"Plenty good," Rick said, pleased. "What's the work?"
Gee-Gee drove the way he talked, at high speed and with a flourish. Rickheld his breath as the sedan skidded around a gasoline truck, thenleveled off. Gee-Gee gave him a long glance and almost went off the roadin consequence.
"You're fairly new, Rick. But you know about this Earthman?"
"I've heard plenty of rumors," Rick agreed, "but I can't say I know manyfacts about him. He's a big, noctilucent mystery to me." He thought,"Now he's got me doing it!"
"I like that," Gee-Gee said appreciatively. "High, rare, and mysterious.Like noctilucent clouds high above the cirrus belt. I can use it."
Rick chuckled. "You were talking about the Earthman," he prompted.
"Yes. You weren't here for the first two shoots, so you are not thisEarthman. And I'm not. No one knows this but me, on account of everyonesuspects everyone. So far, only the Earthman knows who he is. But I'mtelling you, it's not me. You don't have to believe this, of course,but, young Brant, I'm going to check every electronic circuit in Orionmyself. And you're not only going to help me, you're going to check whatI check. Roger?"
"Roger," Rick replied grimly. "How long will it take?"
"All night. We'll live on sandwiches and coffee and get no sleep. Butwhen we're through, we'll both be satisfied that all electronics inOrion are correct and functioning."
"But hasn't the rocket been checked already?" Rick asked.
"Twice. Every circuit in it. The critical circuits have been checked adozen times. But is ole Gee-Gee satisfied? Negative, young Brant.Gee-Gee is not going to be satisfied until he personally rechecks andlocks all access doors and ports himself."
Rick sat back in the seat, smiling to himself. He had no doubt that Dr.Gerald Gould meant every word of it. If Orion failed tomorrow, it wouldnot be the fault of the electronics department.
The sedan pulled up at the pad and Rick got out, staring at the greatrocket. Myriad cables dripped from various parts of it, and he thoughtof Gulliver tied down by the threads of the Lilliputians. There wassomething magnificent about the clean, towering shape that stirred hisimagination. In the jargon of the rocketeer the great missiles werecalled "beasts" or "birds." The former was because they sometimes acted"beastly." The latter was a tribute to their beautiful flight when theyran true.
Rick thought, "How could anyone sabotage a thing like that?"
Gee-Gee brought him back to earth. "Ever climb a gantry?"
"No, sir."
"Well, start flying, young Brant. We go to the top and work down."
Rick went. He was too excited to be afraid. The first stage was byelevator. Then he and Gee-Gee climbed thin steel rungs to the very tipof the great rocket. Not until he reached the shaky, wind-blown,postage-stamp-size platform at the top did he take time to look down.
The thin steel web was no barrier to vision. He was on top of the world,at the doorstep to space, looking down on fantastic activity below. Therocket curved sweetly away below him, down to the sharp lines of thegreat stabilizer fins. He noted the breakaway zone where the first stageand second stage were joined. He could see, as one perched on a cloud,the tiny, busy forms of men below.
For an instant, as the nose access port yawned before him, Rick had avision of himself in pressure suit and plastic helmet, mounting therocket as a pilot mans his plane, anticipating the signal for blast-off.
Gee-Gee brought him back to earth with a prosaic, "Let's get at it,boy-oh."
It was the beginning. The picturesque but highly competent and efficientelectronics chief hadn't exaggerated. The fabulous world of rocketrynarrowed to a maze of wiring, circuit after circuit, checking, testing,and calling for test signals from the blockhouse. Rick checked andrechecked, following closely on Gee-Gee's heels. He missed nothing, tooknothing for granted. Once he snapped, "Wait a minute! You didn't checkthat circuit properly. Check for polarization as well as contact."
Gee-Gee looked at him in astonishment, then slowly grinned. He thrustout a grimy hand. "You're my boy, young Brant. Who taught you aboutpolarization?"
Rick was about to say, truthfully, "My father." But he caught himself intime. "A boss I had at Spindrift."
"He taught you well, and you're right. I did goof on that one. I'llcheck, and you recheck."
They went at it again, inch by inch through the incredible maze ofwiring in the rocket's innards. By very accurate analogy, they wereprobing the rocket's brains. The circuits, like nerves, carried messagesto and from the central rocket control. One would signal "_Rocketstarting to yaw_," and another would reply to the servomotors thatactivated the gimbal-mounted motor, "_Compensate! Two degrees correctionazimuth 350!_" and the great rocket would steady on course again. Therewas a circuit to carry the heartbeats of the monkey caged in the nosecone, and another to carry his skin temperature, and dozens more.
Rick didn't even notice when it grew dark. Sometime during the nightsomeone thrust ham sandwiches and a cup of steaming coffee into hishands and he ate and drank without taking his eyes from Gee-Gee.
Then, what seemed only minutes later, someone yelled, "Zero minus threehours!"
Gee-Gee looked up. He glared at Rick from red-rimmed eyes. "Quick!What's left to check?"
Rick stared at smudged, much-handled circuit diagrams through eyes thatrefused to focus sharply. "Only the control circuit for the pumps."
They were low on the crane now, working at the last access port. Thesewere the electronic nerves of the great pumps that would force fuel intothe rocket motor. Gee-Gee checked them, spoke into a walkie-talkie hehad carried through the night, and Dick Earle's voice came back from theblockhouse. "The board is green."
Rick took over and checked again. And once more Earle's voice sounded,harsh and definite. "The board is green."
Gee-Gee slammed the access port door and locked the patented fastenerswith a few turns of his screw driver. "We're done," he said flatly."Come on down."
Rick followed, jumping to the ground from the lowest platform. He lookedaround, dazed. The sky was pink i
n the east. It was dawn. Where had thenight gone? He stared amazed at grotesque figures that waited, silent,patient, like beings from another world. Then he realized it was thefueling crew dressed in protective clothing, swathed like strangecocoons in plastic that would keep their vulnerable human skins from theharm of corrosive liquid and fumes.
Gee-Gee led him to the blockhouse, and the walk across the barren plaincleared the mists from Rick's head. He knew, as clearly and finally asanyone can ever know anything, that the electronic circuits were all inorder and functioning.
The massive door of the blockhouse was open. Inside were two dozen men,each with his own place and his own job. Rick knew some of them bysight, but he knew few names. This was the Orion crew. He looked at themwith respect. They had made the great rocket on which he had worked allnight. They had created it from sketches on paper, followed it throughall the stages of construction until now it was ready.
A loud-speaker crackled, then boomed, "The time is now zero minus ninetyminutes."
They were the fastest ninety minutes Rick had ever spent. He wasenthralled by the activity in the blockhouse, and, careful to keep outof the way, he walked from station to station. Now and then he lookedthrough the thick glass ports, and he saw the green mist of boronhydride as fuel throbbed slowly into the rocket's tanks.
A thin, bald scientist in a scarlet sports shirt picked up a microphoneand spoke into it. "Tracking stations, report your readiness. Stand by.Lathrop Wells, report."
A loud-speaker over his head replied instantly. "Lathrop Wells ready andtracking."
Tonopah, Indian Springs, Mercury, Death Valley Junction, Shorty's Well,Chloride Cliff, Jubilee Pass: All ready and tracking. Then:
"Careless Mesa."
Big Mac's voice boomed forth. "Careless Mesa ready and tracking."
The time: "Zero minus thirty minutes!"
One by one red lights on the main board winked out and green lights cameon in their places, showing circuits and controls in operation. Only afew red lights remained now. Rick looked through the glass ports and sawthe gantry crane being wheeled away. Jeeps, trucks, and private carswere moving out of the area, haste evident in their spinning wheels andhunched drivers. The movement was like a scurry of ants. Rick watched,taking in everything. He didn't even notice when the massive door wasswung shut, closing against its airtight cushion with a sibilant hiss.
"Zero minus five minutes."
At last the frenzied activity ceased, and the rocket stood alone, clean,beautiful, and awesome, only the instrument cable tying it to earth.
Rick couldn't tear his eyes from the rocket, even to watch the last ofthe red lights flick out, the green glow showing readiness.
Then, zero minus five ... four ... three ... two ... one ...
FIRE!
A steady hand threw the final switch.
Green flame stabbed from Orion's tail, grew to white intensity. Theinstrument cable dropped from the rocket's nose and writhed to theground. Even through the thick walls of the blockhouse Rick heard themighty rocket's voice, an ear-shattering roar of triumph that sentlancing pain through his head. The rocket shuddered, eager to be away.Thrust built up, and up, and up, and the exhaust light grew until it waslike staring into the heart of a green sun. Then the great voicefaltered, the shuddering increased.
A yell of pure horror burst from Rick's throat. High on the rocket'sside, metal slowly peeled back like obscene steel lips opening, andgreen fire gushed forth. The shuddering ceased, and he knew the rocketwas dead. The gash opened wider ... wider ...
The blockhouse door swung open and men poured out--silent, horrifiedmen, helpless to do anything but watch, oblivious to the danger. Rickwent out with them.
The desert was alive with sound now, with the roaring torch of rocketpropellant and the scream of sirens. Speeding down from the base campcame the fire engines, to save what could be saved, to help still theflames so the Orion crew might find out what had gone wrong.
Behind the fire engines were jeeps, trucks, and cars, loaded with grimmen who carried picks, shovels, anything to help still the holocaust.
Scotty arrived right behind the fire engines and ran to where Rickstood, still stunned by the shocking turn of events.
"What happened to it?" Scotty asked hoarsely.
Rick shook his head. He couldn't talk.
The firemen were already at work. Crews from the trucks, protected byasbestos and plastic, carried hoses to the very edge of the roaringpropellant and began to smother it with mounds of foam. The men who hadfollowed with shovels and picks were also at work, hastily digging atrench to prevent the spread of the fiery liquid.
Someone yelled, then another yelled. Rick looked up in time to see therocket split wide open and most of the remaining tons of propellant gushout. The firemen saw it, too, saw that they would be engulfed. Theyturned and ran.
Horrified, Rick saw a fireman, clumsy in his protective suit, trip andfall before the oncoming flood of flaming boron hydride.
Scotty moved, instinctively, his finely trained body responding withperfect co-ordination. Straight toward the oncoming flood he ran, intothe edge of the flames, leaping the rapidly widening trench. Rick ran,too, but Scotty's fast reaction had carried his pal beyond reach. He sawthe husky ex-marine stoop into the flames, pick up the fallen fireman,and literally throw him across the trench to safety.
Then Rick was at his friend's side, slapping at the burning places onhis clothes, rushing him away from the spreading propellant. But Scottywasn't through. He helped the fireman to his feet and pulled at theprotective suit. Rick saw instantly what had happened. The suit had beentorn in the fall, and some propellant had gotten in through the rents.The fireman was burning under the protective cover!
Other hands came to help and they got the man out of his cover, out ofhis burning clothes. Then the first-aid squad moved in.
Not until the fireman had been cared for did Scotty say, almostapologetically, "Any of that stuff left? I've got a couple of burns."
Then Rick noticed for the first time that his own hands were scorchedand in need of the soothing unguent. By the time he and Scotty weresmeared with the ointment, the fire was out.
The boys watched as water was sprayed over the white-hot wreckage untilat last the safety officer pronounced the torn remnants cool enough forinspection. Then John Gordon and the senior staff moved in.
It was past noon before they emerged from their inch-by-inch examinationof the rocket, but no one left to eat, to change clothes, or even to sitdown. No one thought of it.
John Gordon motioned to Dr. Albert Hiller, the Orion project officer.Hiller nodded. He spoke quietly, but not one of the hundreds watchingmissed a single word.
"Apparently a fuel-pump bearing froze at the critical moment. With anunstable fuel like boron hydride, that made the difference. Internalpressure was too much for the shell to take."
The engineer paused, and the tense, waiting silence became almost toomuch to bear. Hiller knew what the men were waiting for.
"We found no pictures," he said. "We'll continue the examination in thelaboratory, of course. But as of this moment we cannot say whether itwas the kind of accident that rocketeers always have to expect, orwhether someone tampered with the pump. By someone, I mean--theEarthman."