Chapter 5. _Up the Rope of Space_

Burl's visit home was a curious interlude. Actually, he had been away

only a few weeks, since the summer vacation had begun, yet this single

day had an air about it different from that of any other homecoming. He

found himself continually looking at things in a more inquisitive, more

thoughtful manner.

That which had been commonplace was suddenly something valuable, a sight

to be treasured. For he had realized, as he sat in the fast plane

transporting him home, that the Earth was itself a planet among planets,

and that this might possibly prove to be his last visit to the town

where he had been born. He had pondered, as he had gazed out of the

ship's windows, just what it could mean to depart from this world and

travel among the uncharted reaches of empty and hostile space ... to

set foot upon planets where no human foot had ever touched and to meet

unguessable perils.

So his home, his mother, his friends, the street on which he lived, took

on a novel air. He studied them while enjoying a quiet day at home. He

watched the cars in the street, so amusingly compact and small, each

designed in the fleeting style of the year. The cars of a dozen years

ago had been designed for length and size, but the trend had been the

opposite for a decade now. The cars grew smaller and their lines weirder

as the manufacturers strove to compete.

What other planet could boast of such simultaneously astonishing

ingenuity and wondrous tomfoolery?

He looked at the people going about their business, the other boys of

his age intent on their summer jobs and summer fun, and wondered if he

would ever be able to join them again without the cares of a world on

his shoulders?

People were unaware of the crisis that hung over the solar system. There

had been news of the dimming of the Sun, but the meaning behind it had

been carefully screened, and the expedition was a top secret. It availed

the world nothing to panic about this matter. Now the odd weather quirks

had been forgotten, and the main subjects on people's tongues were the

baseball scores and the latest telemovies.

When Burl kissed his mother and father good-by, it was with a sense that

he was also kissing good-by to his youth, and entering upon a new

period of the most desperate responsibility.

This mood lingered with him back at the base, although his companions of

the trip to come seemingly did not share it. On the last day, quarters

had been assigned in the _Magellan_, and the men moved their belongings

to their tight bunks in the heart of the ship. Clyde had his way, and he

and Burl shared a double-decker chamber.

There was a hustle and bustle in the valley. The supplies seemed

unending, and Burl wondered why the variety. "For once, we've got

lifting power to spare," was Russ's comment. "Nobody knows what we're

going to need on the various planets, so Lockhart is simply piling

aboard everything he can think of. You'd be amazed at the space we have

for storage. And Caton says that the more we stick in there, the better

the shielding is against the radiation belt surrounding Earth--and

probably the other planets as well."

"I thought we were already well protected," said Burl. "With the atomic

generators, we had to be shielded anyway. Haven't we lead lining all

around our inner sphere quarters?"

Russell Clyde nodded. "Oh, sure, but the more the merrier."

He and Burl were already in their quarters, stowing their clothes. "We

leave in an hour," said Burl. "Are we going to the launching base at

Boothia, where the manned rockets go up?"

Clyde shook his head. "Lockhart talked it over with us yesterday, and we

decided to take off from right here." By "us," Burl knew the operational

group was meant, which consisted of the colonel, the two astronomers,

Caton as head of the engineering section, and Haines, "To tell the

truth, nobody knows how easily this ship will handle. We're shielded

well enough so that a short passage through the radiation belt three

hundred miles up and for the next fifteen hundred miles shouldn't have

any effect on us at all. The rockets, which can't be shielded because of

the weight limitations, have to go up at Boothia because there, at the

North Magnetic Pole, there's a hole in the radiation."

Boothia Peninsula was a barren spot far up in the Arctic Zone on

Canada's frozen eastern coast. On it was constructed the world's major

space port--a lonely outpost from which rockets departed for the equally

lonely Moon bases. Burl had read about it and had looked forward to

seeing it, but realized that the flight of the _Magellan_ marked still

another change in the fast-altering history of the conquest of space.

The hour passed quickly. The little valley was cleared of visitors. The

crew was called to take-off posts--Lockhart at the controls, Clyde and

Oberfield at the charts, Detmar watching the energy output. The rest of

the crew had been strapped into their bunks. By special request, Burl

was observing in the control room, seated in a half-reclining position

like the others, in a well-padded chair, strapped tight.

Haines had remarked as he had supervised the strapping-in, "Nobody knows

whether this is going to be necessary. But we're taking no chances."

He'd gone to his quarters and done the same thing.

Lockhart watched the registering of the dials in front of him, waiting

for the load to build up. There was a muffled whine from overhead as the

generators built up current. Detmar called out a cryptic number every

few seconds and the colonel checked it. The two astronomers were idle,

watching their viewers. They'd made their calculations long before.

"Time," called out the colonel, pressing a button. A gong rang

throughout the quarters. He moved a lever slowly.

Burl waited for the surge of pressure he had read always occurred at

take-off. But there was no such pressure. He lay back in his seat,

gripping the arms. Gradually he became aware of a curious sensation. He

seemed to be getting lightheaded, and to tingle with unexpected energy.

He felt an impulse to giggle, and he kicked up his foot to find it

surprisingly agile. About him the others were stirring in their seats as

if caught by the same impulses.

Now he felt loose against his bonds and he became a little dizzy. There

was a pounding in his head as blood surged within him. His heart began

to beat heavily.

"We're losing weight," muttered Clyde from his chair, and Burl knew the

ship was tensing to take off.

The great generators were beginning to push against Earth's gravity

and, as their force moved upward to match Earth's, the weight of

everything in their sway decreased accordingly. Lockhart's first move

was simply that--to reduce the pull of Earth to zero.

In a few moments that point was accomplished. A state of weightlessness

was obtained within the _Magellan_. Those watching outside from bunkers

in the surrounding mountains saw the huge teardrop shiver and begin to

rise slowly above its cradle of girders. It floated gently upward,

moving slowly off as the force of Earth's centrifugal drive began to

manifest itself against the metal bubble's great mass.

Everyone on the crew had experienced zero gravity, either in the same

tests Burl had undergone or on actual satellite flights, and thus far,

no one was too uncomfortable. The entire structure of the ship quivered,

and Burl realized that the inner sphere which housed their air space was

hanging free on its gymbals.

Lockhart rang a second gong, then turned a new control. The pitch of the

generators, faintly audible to them, changed, took on a new keening. The

ship seemed suddenly to jump as if something had grasped it. The feeling

of weightlessness vanished momentarily, then there was a moment of

dizziness and a sudden sensation of being upside down.

For a shocking instant, Burl felt himself hanging head downward from a

floor which had surprisingly turned into a ceiling. He opened his mouth

to shout, for he thought he was about to plunge onto the hard metal of

the ceiling which now hung below him so precipitously.

Then there was a whirling sensation, a sideways twisting that swung him

about against the straps. As it came, the room seemed to shift. The

curved base of the control room, which had been so suddenly a floor,

became in a moment a wall, lopsided and eerie. Then it shifted again,

and, startlingly, Burl sagged back into his cushioned seat as the

hemispherical room again resumed its normal aspect.

Lockhart bent over the controls, cautiously moving a lever bit by bit.

Clyde was bent over his viewer, calling out slight corrections.

Now, at last, Burl felt the pressure he had expected. His weight grew

steadily greater, back to normal, then increased. He found himself

concentrating on his breathing, forcing his lungs up against the

increasing weight of his ribs.

"Hold up," his buzzing eardrums heard someone say--possibly Oberfield.

"We don't need to accelerate more than one g. Take it easy."

The weight lessened instantly. Then the pressure was off. Everything

seemed normal. Lockhart sat back and began to unloosen his straps. The

others followed suit.

In one viewer, Burl glimpsed the black of outer space, and in another,

the wide grayish-green bowl of the Earth spreading out below. In a third

he saw the blazing disc of the Sun.

"Did everything go all right?" he asked quietly of Clyde.

The redhead looked up at him and smiled. "Better than we might have

expected for a first flight," he said.

"We're latching on to the Sun's grip now. We're falling toward the Sun;

not just falling, but pulling ourselves faster toward it, so that we can

keep up a normal gravity pressure. We're soon going to be going faster

than any rocket has ever gone. The living-space sphere rotated itself as

soon as we started that. That's what made everything seem upside down

that time and why everything has come back to normal."

Burl nodded. "But that means that in relation to Earth we are ourselves

upside down right now!"

"Of course," said Clyde. "But in space, everything is strictly relative.

We are no longer on Earth. We are a separate body in space, falling

through space toward the Sun."

"Why the Sun?" asked Burl. "I thought our first objective was to be the

planet Venus?"

"It was too hard to get a fix on Venus from so near the Earth. Instead,

we latched on to the Sun to pull us inward. When we are near to Venus'

orbit, we'll reverse and pull in on Venus," was the astronomer's answer.

"Isn't that rather risky?" asked Burl, remembering some of the quick

briefings he had been given. "That's a departure from your plans."

Lockhart looked up quickly. "Yes, you're right," he admitted. "But on a

trip like this we've got to learn to improvise and do it fast. We made

that decision at take-off."

For an instant Burl felt a chill. He realized then what all the other

men on the ship had known all along--that in this flight they were all

amateurs, that everything they did was to be improvisation in one way or

another, that they must always run the risk of a terrible mistake.

Had latching on to the Sun been the first such error?