lieutenant's face. But the reaction drive was here to be used, wasn't it? "Number One, pass the word."
"Attention, all hands," growled Brabham into the intercom. "Stand by for testing of reaction drive. Sudden variations in acceleration are to be expected. Stand by. Stand by."
Grimes pushed a button, looked down at his console. Under ROCKETS the READY light glowed vivid green. With all his faults, MacMorris kept every system in a state of go. Decisively Grimes cut the inertial drive. His stomach tried to push its way up into his throat as acceleration abruptly ceased. He brought a finger down to the FIRE button, pushed it down past the first, second, and third stops. He felt as well as heard the screaming roar as the incandescent gases rushed through the Venturis, and then the renewal of acceleration pushed him downward into the thick padding of his chair.
"Aerospace Control to Discovery. Are those pyrotechnics really necessary?"
"Tell him testing, testing," said Grimes to the radio officer. He succeeded in restarting the inertial drive and cutting the rockets at exactly the same instant. The ship continued to drive upward with no reduction of velocity.
Brabham loudly sighed his relief. "You're lucky," he commented. "Sir. Come to that, we're all lucky."
"What do you mean, Number One?" demanded Grimes.
The first lieutenant laughed sourly. "This is the first time that the reaction drive has been tested within the memory of the oldest man. Commander Tallis would never use it."
"How many times must I tell you that I am not Commander Tallis?"
The intercom speaker crackled, then, "Dr. Brandt here. I'm speaking from my laboratory. What the hell is going on? Do you know that you've smashed thousands of credits worth of valuable equipment?"
"You saw it stowed?" Grimes asked Brabham.
"Yes, sir. There was no chance of its shifting."
Grimes signaled to Tangye to take over the controls. "Keep her going as she is, pilot." Then he said into his microphone, "Captain here, Dr. Brandt. Did anything shift?"
"No. But I heard glass breaking in the cases. Delicate apparatus can't stand up to your needlessly violent maneuvers."
"Did you see the stuff packed, Doctor?"
"Of course."
"Then might I suggest that next time you see that your bits and pieces are packed properly? There are excellent padding materials available."
"I hold you entirely responsible for the breakages, Captain."
"You knew that you were embarking in a spaceship, Doctor."
"Yes. I did. But rockets went out generations ago."
"Reaction drive is still fitted to all Survey Service vessels, as you should have known, Commander Brandt."
"Pah!"
Grimes returned his attention to ship handling, taking over from Tangye. Overhead—or forward—the sky seen through the control room dome was a dark purple, almost black. In the periscope screen Lindisfarne was assuming a spherical aspect. Outside the ship there was still atmosphere—but atmosphere in the academic sense of the word only. On the dial of the radar altimeter the decades of kilometers were mounting up steadily and rapidly.
There was nothing to do now but to run out and clear of the Van Allens, while the globe that was Lindisfarne dwindled steadily in the periscope screen, a diminishing half-moon, the sunlit hemisphere opalescently aglow.
The stars were bright and unwinking in the black sky, and the polarizers were automatically dimming the harsh glare of the Lindisfarne sun on the beam. Grimes looked at the magnetometer. The bright red warning light was dimming. It gave one last flicker, then turned to green.
"Clear of the Van Allens, sir," announced Tangye belatedly.
Slow reaction time, thought Grimes. He said, "So I see. Cut the inertial drive and line her up on the target star, will you?"
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the young man, smartly enough.
The engines grumbled to a stammering halt. Only then did Tangye busy himself with a star chart, looking through the ports frequently to
"Attention, all hands," growled Brabham into the intercom. "Stand by for testing of reaction drive. Sudden variations in acceleration are to be expected. Stand by. Stand by."
Grimes pushed a button, looked down at his console. Under ROCKETS the READY light glowed vivid green. With all his faults, MacMorris kept every system in a state of go. Decisively Grimes cut the inertial drive. His stomach tried to push its way up into his throat as acceleration abruptly ceased. He brought a finger down to the FIRE button, pushed it down past the first, second, and third stops. He felt as well as heard the screaming roar as the incandescent gases rushed through the Venturis, and then the renewal of acceleration pushed him downward into the thick padding of his chair.
"Aerospace Control to Discovery. Are those pyrotechnics really necessary?"
"Tell him testing, testing," said Grimes to the radio officer. He succeeded in restarting the inertial drive and cutting the rockets at exactly the same instant. The ship continued to drive upward with no reduction of velocity.
Brabham loudly sighed his relief. "You're lucky," he commented. "Sir. Come to that, we're all lucky."
"What do you mean, Number One?" demanded Grimes.
The first lieutenant laughed sourly. "This is the first time that the reaction drive has been tested within the memory of the oldest man. Commander Tallis would never use it."
"How many times must I tell you that I am not Commander Tallis?"
The intercom speaker crackled, then, "Dr. Brandt here. I'm speaking from my laboratory. What the hell is going on? Do you know that you've smashed thousands of credits worth of valuable equipment?"
"You saw it stowed?" Grimes asked Brabham.
"Yes, sir. There was no chance of its shifting."
Grimes signaled to Tangye to take over the controls. "Keep her going as she is, pilot." Then he said into his microphone, "Captain here, Dr. Brandt. Did anything shift?"
"No. But I heard glass breaking in the cases. Delicate apparatus can't stand up to your needlessly violent maneuvers."
"Did you see the stuff packed, Doctor?"
"Of course."
"Then might I suggest that next time you see that your bits and pieces are packed properly? There are excellent padding materials available."
"I hold you entirely responsible for the breakages, Captain."
"You knew that you were embarking in a spaceship, Doctor."
"Yes. I did. But rockets went out generations ago."
"Reaction drive is still fitted to all Survey Service vessels, as you should have known, Commander Brandt."
"Pah!"
Grimes returned his attention to ship handling, taking over from Tangye. Overhead—or forward—the sky seen through the control room dome was a dark purple, almost black. In the periscope screen Lindisfarne was assuming a spherical aspect. Outside the ship there was still atmosphere—but atmosphere in the academic sense of the word only. On the dial of the radar altimeter the decades of kilometers were mounting up steadily and rapidly.
There was nothing to do now but to run out and clear of the Van Allens, while the globe that was Lindisfarne dwindled steadily in the periscope screen, a diminishing half-moon, the sunlit hemisphere opalescently aglow.
The stars were bright and unwinking in the black sky, and the polarizers were automatically dimming the harsh glare of the Lindisfarne sun on the beam. Grimes looked at the magnetometer. The bright red warning light was dimming. It gave one last flicker, then turned to green.
"Clear of the Van Allens, sir," announced Tangye belatedly.
Slow reaction time, thought Grimes. He said, "So I see. Cut the inertial drive and line her up on the target star, will you?"
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the young man, smartly enough.
The engines grumbled to a stammering halt. Only then did Tangye busy himself with a star chart, looking through the ports frequently to
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