Rocket to Luna

“Simple,” Jack said. “Nobody gives you anything for nothing. If this trip to the Moon is successful, just about every guy and his brother will want to join the Academy — especially if an Academy grad is one of the first men to land on the Moon. Don’t forget, Ted, we’re going to need a lot of spacemen if this trip is successful. This may be the gateway to interplanetary flight.”

Ted nodded, his face serious. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, the Air Force thought of it. I’m partly useful and partly pure propaganda for the Academy.” He grinned and added, “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’d have gone along if they offered me the job of scraping the jets.”

Ted laughed, and several scurrying, coveralled employees turned to look at him. “I’ll bet you would have. You’re getting a break any guy would...”

“Attention, please! Attention, please!”

Ted looked up as the loud-speaker on the wall cut through the noise in the commissary.

“Attention, please. All passengers for Rocket Ship Sugar Sugar report to blasting pit at once.”

“Sugar Sugar,” Ted said. “That’s S.S.”

“You’ve got it, boy,” Jack said. “S.S. for Space Station.”

“Repeat,” the metallic voice on the speaker said. “All passengers for Rocket Ship Sugar Sugar report to blasting pit at once.”

“We’d better go,” Ted said, shoving his chair back.

“Relax,” Jack advised, spreading his hand palm downward. “That means we’ve got at least fifteen minutes to blastoff.”

“But shouldn’t we...”

“Look, kid,” Jack said, “they’re not going to leave without us, believe me.”

“I know, but...”

“Attention, please,” the speaker repeated. “Ground crews report to launching site at once. Blastoff in fifteen minutes. Repeat. Blastoff in fifteen minutes.”

Jack smiled. “See?”

Activity within the commissary seemed to speed up. Chairs were shoved back rudely, coffees gulped hastily. The room began to clear as men and women in coveralls made their way toward the exit doors. Ted watched them, and the blood began to pound in his temples. He was getting closer, much closer. Soon. Soon. He began to drum his fingers nervously on the table, his lower lip caught between his teeth, his feet tapping the floor.

Jack watched him quietly, the smile clinging to his face.

“Look,” Ted said at last, “shouldn’t we go? The Manual says all hands should be aboard at least...”

Jack laughed, and there was something harsh in his laughter which Ted hadn’t noticed at the Academy. “Forget the Manual,” he said. “The Manual is for Earthlubbers. When you get up into space, you’ll see that nobody ever looks at the rules book.”

Ted got up, and then carefully pushed his chair under the table again. “Well, I’m still a lubber,” he said. “You coming?”

Jack shrugged. “Okay, okay. No need to get your jets all fired.” He pushed his chair back and stretched. “Come on.”

Ted set the pace, walking quickly to the large glass doors. The electric eye triggered them out, and as they stepped into the sunshine, every speaker on the field roared, “Stand by for blastoff. Blastoff in ten minutes.

“Repeat. Blastoff in ten minutes!”

Chapter 2 Up from Earth

They ran breathlessly across the field, past the scurrying men and women, past the radar tower and the toolsheds, past the blasting pits that stretched out like a row of oversized dimples. When they reached the steel-wire fence enclosing the three-stage, an Air Force captain with a Colt .45 strapped to his hip stepped out of a small guard booth, blocking their path.

“Let’s slow down,” he barked.

“We’ve got to get on that ship, sir,” Ted blurted.

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers, handing them to the captain. “My friend’s a lubber, sir,” he said. “First time on the milk run.”

The captain nodded briefly. “There’s a first time for everyone,” he said, his voice dry.

A slow flush crept around Ted’s neck, shoved its way up into his face. He fumbled in his pockets, dug out his identification shield and his authorization papers.

“Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “I just didn’t...”

“That’s all right.” The captain turned his scrutiny to the papers, examining them carefully. He lifted his hat, held it in his hand as he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. He sighed, replaced his hat, and gave one last look at the papers. “These look all right,” he said. He pointed to the portable elevator rig standing in place beside the tall rocket. “Just take the lift up to the control cabin.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ted said, pocketing his papers.

The captain nodded. “Nice trip.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ted restrained the urge to run to the lift. Instead, he kept his pace down to a very fast walk, Jack beside him all the way. He glanced up once to look at the rocket, fully expecting it to leap into the air without him at almost any moment.

When they reached the skeletal structure of the lift, a corporal triggered the electronic lock on the gate, and the door slid back soundlessly. They stepped into the car, their backs to the rocket.

“All set?” the corporal asked, a tired expression on his face.