The Secret of Saturn’s Rings Read Online Free PDF Page A

of the small cabin.
    “I know,” said Bruce, not wanting Arpad to think him completely unfamiliar. “I made a vacation trip to the moon several years ago. I can handle this. You better hurry yourself.”
    Arpad nodded. “O.K. Don’t forget to strap yourself in.” He left on the run.
    Bruce climbed into the hammock, pulled the straps about him. He saw that he faced a window by his side, and turning his head, he got a fairly good view of what was going on.
    The ship had been resting on a sort of wide flatcar which was now being hooked up to a couple of squat atomic-engined land tugs. These huge tractor-like vehicles, once attached, then began to roll the space ship toward the mountain’s base.
    The ship vibrated gently as the wheels of the car turned. Finally it reached the beginning of the rack.
    Running up the side of the mountain, a huge peak, was a long track that was straight as an arrow. Great metal hoops ringed it in to make it a sort of skeleton tunnel bending upward until the top of it pointed directly into the sky like the barrel of some huge gun.
    The flatcar jolted up against the end of the track. The land tugs now puffed around to each side of the ship and by means of huge buffer arms shoved the long space rocket off the wheeled base and into the level end of the launching rack.
    Bruce could see most of this operation from his side porthole, through the thick unbreakable glassine substance that composed it. He knew what was going on and could imagine what he could not see.
    The land tugs chugged away. Up front, Garcia called out, on the ship’s internal phone system, “One minute more. Check your belts. Relax.”
    The phone system was left open. Bruce could hear their voices. Jennings was checking off the control-board readings with Dr. Rhodes. Then Dr. Rhodes said, “There’s a car back at the charthouse coming our way. I see someone standing up in it waving at us.”
    “Yes,” Jennings’ voice said. “Looks like a police car. Probably want us to hold our take-off.”
    “Don’t pay any attention, chief,” said Garcia anxiously. “We’ve got thirty seconds.”
    ‘Ignore them,” said Dr. Rhodes brusquely. “Twenty-five seconds.”
    They bent to their work. Bruce thought he heard the faint sound of a siren in the distance. He imagined the police rushing to the end of the launching rack trying to prevent the take-off.
    The time passed interminably now, with Garcia again calling off the seconds. Then finally came the five-second call, then four, three, two, one, off!
    The ship vibrated easily. At that instant, Jennings had thrown in the first jet, a small thrust capable only of moving the ship a little along the tracks. This was enough to start the automatic magnetic reaction.
    The tracks led upward through hoops that were magnetically activated. Once a space ship started in motion at the end of the track, each hoop picked up the metal cylindrical body and thrust it further along. Attraction from ahead, repulsion from the hoops they passed, and the ship was thrust faster and faster along the rails.
    Once started, the process could not be stopped. As the ship began its slide upward, Bruce felt the first effects of acceleration. His hammock began to slide down and the cabin tilted steadily as the ship began to nose upward along the tracks.
    Now faster and faster Bruce saw the hoops flash by his porthole. Jennings turned on more jets, adding to the speed of the vessel's passage.
    The rocket ship sped along the launching-rack slide with ever greater speed. Now it was angling almost straight up and from the control-room seats the open blue-sky end of the magnetic tunnel came into sight and enlarged rapidly.
    With steadily increasing momentum the great metal bullet raced upward, streams of atomic fire now blasting from its rear. Bruce felt himself being pushed down more and more into the padding of his hammock. He felt as if a great hand was shoving down on his