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Spacewarp, v. 5, issue 5, whole no. 27, June 1949
Page 7
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"But. . ." "Quiet! Don't you realize she hasn't been any more successful than we? We're right back where we started from before she murdered von Heine." "Yes, but in the meantime her beastly tribe of yellow-belied Kartans are slowly winning the war against our beloved Daakta. And if she manages to conquer us.." "But now we shall see that she never does," hissed Vogar, the light of fanaticism dancing in his yellow-green eyes. * * * Half a light-year from Earth, and 36[[degree symbol]] above the plane of the ecliptic, a small metal bubble-craft reached aphelion and began a slow, powerless drift back toward the planets. * * * GOVER MACKINTOSH climbed into the cabin on the spaceship, closing the hatch behind him. There was a low hiss as the pressurizing mechanism went into action. He pulled the switch starting the rockets and watched the temperature indicator move. The ship was standing on end in a hastily-constructed concrete mounting, but the pilot's seat was swung on gimbals so that he felt no discomfort. Although the acceleration of the spaceship was likely to keep him in his present position for most of the voyage, the oscillation of the craft warranted the free swing. However the seat was often enough in this position to allow the control board to be placed against that part of the cabin which would be considered the "side" were the ship horizontal. The temperature of the engines had now risen sufficiently for takeoff. Mackintosh waved cheerfully to Upperberth an Starr, who were standing at a safe distance from the ship, and pulled the throttle. A dull roar filtered its way into the cabin and he felt himself pressed down in his seat as if by a giant hand. The seat itself dropped a yard on a powerful shock absorber. The gravity indicator flicked forward. A gray blur streaked pas the windows. The blur became dimmer and dimmer until it merged with the blackness of outer space. The ship continued to accelerate. Now Glover Mackintosh began to feel a strange fear and lonliness, in spite of his hypnotic conditioning. Alone in a small ship streaking through emptiness--alone in millions of miles of -- of nothing. What if there had been a miscalculation? A fraction of an inch off in the aiming of the mount would cause him to overshoot Mars. And out he would go -- out into the space beyond. Out until his fuel ran out and then he would stop. Stop and wait to suffocate. Or what would happen if the distance had been miscalculated? On one hand he would come in too fast, crashing to his death on the surface of an alien planet, Or, on the other hand, he might come to and stop in no man's land where no body exerted sufficient attraction to draw him to it. That would be even worse, he thought -- to die a slow death so near to Earth, and yet so far. For he could never, in that case, make the necessary calculations to correct his course. Although he had tables for the purpose, what good would they be if the basic figures were wrong? No, he couldn't escape, but would remain there, drawing ever closer to that boiling inferno that was the sun. Mackintosh shuddered. 7
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"But. . ." "Quiet! Don't you realize she hasn't been any more successful than we? We're right back where we started from before she murdered von Heine." "Yes, but in the meantime her beastly tribe of yellow-belied Kartans are slowly winning the war against our beloved Daakta. And if she manages to conquer us.." "But now we shall see that she never does," hissed Vogar, the light of fanaticism dancing in his yellow-green eyes. * * * Half a light-year from Earth, and 36[[degree symbol]] above the plane of the ecliptic, a small metal bubble-craft reached aphelion and began a slow, powerless drift back toward the planets. * * * GOVER MACKINTOSH climbed into the cabin on the spaceship, closing the hatch behind him. There was a low hiss as the pressurizing mechanism went into action. He pulled the switch starting the rockets and watched the temperature indicator move. The ship was standing on end in a hastily-constructed concrete mounting, but the pilot's seat was swung on gimbals so that he felt no discomfort. Although the acceleration of the spaceship was likely to keep him in his present position for most of the voyage, the oscillation of the craft warranted the free swing. However the seat was often enough in this position to allow the control board to be placed against that part of the cabin which would be considered the "side" were the ship horizontal. The temperature of the engines had now risen sufficiently for takeoff. Mackintosh waved cheerfully to Upperberth an Starr, who were standing at a safe distance from the ship, and pulled the throttle. A dull roar filtered its way into the cabin and he felt himself pressed down in his seat as if by a giant hand. The seat itself dropped a yard on a powerful shock absorber. The gravity indicator flicked forward. A gray blur streaked pas the windows. The blur became dimmer and dimmer until it merged with the blackness of outer space. The ship continued to accelerate. Now Glover Mackintosh began to feel a strange fear and lonliness, in spite of his hypnotic conditioning. Alone in a small ship streaking through emptiness--alone in millions of miles of -- of nothing. What if there had been a miscalculation? A fraction of an inch off in the aiming of the mount would cause him to overshoot Mars. And out he would go -- out into the space beyond. Out until his fuel ran out and then he would stop. Stop and wait to suffocate. Or what would happen if the distance had been miscalculated? On one hand he would come in too fast, crashing to his death on the surface of an alien planet, Or, on the other hand, he might come to and stop in no man's land where no body exerted sufficient attraction to draw him to it. That would be even worse, he thought -- to die a slow death so near to Earth, and yet so far. For he could never, in that case, make the necessary calculations to correct his course. Although he had tables for the purpose, what good would they be if the basic figures were wrong? No, he couldn't escape, but would remain there, drawing ever closer to that boiling inferno that was the sun. Mackintosh shuddered. 7
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