and from there they could look down on a group of trainee astronauts clustered around what seemed like the cockpit of an aeroplane affixed to a transfusion system of wires and jointed rods. As Bond watched a trainee climbed into the cockpit and seated himself at the controls, which represented, Holly informed him, those of a Moonraker. Hardly was he in position than the cockpit began to buck and rock. Bond looked at Holly anxiously. She brushed a wisp of hair behind an ear calmly. ‘You’re watching a flight simulator,’ she told him. ‘It can replicate every possible problem contingency that might arise under actual flying conditions.’ The simulator suddenly shot forward and rose steeply into the air, with the metal rods bending grotesquely like the limbs of a stick-insect. A television camera moved in synchronism over a nearby panorama of the Earth’s surface. The fuselage slipped backwards and lurched sideways like the chamber of a revolver turning as the gun was fired. Bond was not sorry to be standing where he was. He looked across at the opposite catwalk and saw the oval bulk of Chang observing him balefully. The figure folded its arms as if in contemplation and then turned and disappeared through a shadowy doorway.
‘Technical competence is of course vital,’ said Holly, as if repeating a lecture she had given many times. ‘However, no subject can perform at optimum unless he or she is in a state of peak physical fitness.’ She looked at Bond pointedly as she said the last words and for a moment he wondered if she had read his medical report. ‘What we are going to see next covers this aspect of preparation.’
Bond said nothing but moved with Holly into the nearest elevator, which deposited them before a door with the word ‘Gymnasium’ emblazoned on it. Beyond the open door was a space which could have contained a football pitch and still left plenty of room for a couple of thousand spectators. It was equipped with vaulting horses, ropes, wooden bars and all the paraphernalia that Bond remembered from his schooldays. Half a dozen very pretty girls in the now familiar black leotards were working out on the parallel bars under the tuition of a barrel-chested instructor.
Bond looked at them appreciatively. ‘Astronaut trainees?’
Holly looked at him sharply. ‘Do I detect a note of disapproval?’
‘It was certainly not intentional,’ said Bond honestly. ‘Perhaps in the past I might have been guilty of thinking that there were enough heavenly bodies in space.’
The corners of Holly’s mouth pinched together disapprovingly. ‘Forgive me saying so, but I find that kind of schoolboy humour particularly obnoxious, Mr Bond. There is more to being an astronaut than the ability to wear heavy boots.’
‘Of course,’ said Bond.
Holly had not finished. ‘There are many ways in which women are better suited for space than men. They are more patient. Their ability to rationalize a situation is often far more highly developed than a man’s. Their aural-visual senses are in no way inferior. In the matter of smell —’
‘I know,’ said Bond. ‘Women smell better than men.’
Holly looked at him coldly. ‘I think your persistent recourse to bad jokes is a kind of defence mechanism. Let’s test your eyesight, Mr James Bond, 007, licensed to kill.’
Before Bond could reply, she had turned her back and was stalking towards a long narrow chamber not unlike a shooting gallery. At the far end Bond could see a number of charts bearing rows of letters in diminishing sizes. He sighed and walked towards the gallery.
Holly was waiting for him, bustling with eagerness. It was the first emotion she had shown since their meeting. ‘Let’s take the chart in the middle,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you have any trouble reading the top line?’
Bond tilted his head to one side. ‘X-H-Y -’
‘Good,’ said Holly briskly. ‘If you couldn’t read that you wouldn’t qualify for a driving
‘Technical competence is of course vital,’ said Holly, as if repeating a lecture she had given many times. ‘However, no subject can perform at optimum unless he or she is in a state of peak physical fitness.’ She looked at Bond pointedly as she said the last words and for a moment he wondered if she had read his medical report. ‘What we are going to see next covers this aspect of preparation.’
Bond said nothing but moved with Holly into the nearest elevator, which deposited them before a door with the word ‘Gymnasium’ emblazoned on it. Beyond the open door was a space which could have contained a football pitch and still left plenty of room for a couple of thousand spectators. It was equipped with vaulting horses, ropes, wooden bars and all the paraphernalia that Bond remembered from his schooldays. Half a dozen very pretty girls in the now familiar black leotards were working out on the parallel bars under the tuition of a barrel-chested instructor.
Bond looked at them appreciatively. ‘Astronaut trainees?’
Holly looked at him sharply. ‘Do I detect a note of disapproval?’
‘It was certainly not intentional,’ said Bond honestly. ‘Perhaps in the past I might have been guilty of thinking that there were enough heavenly bodies in space.’
The corners of Holly’s mouth pinched together disapprovingly. ‘Forgive me saying so, but I find that kind of schoolboy humour particularly obnoxious, Mr Bond. There is more to being an astronaut than the ability to wear heavy boots.’
‘Of course,’ said Bond.
Holly had not finished. ‘There are many ways in which women are better suited for space than men. They are more patient. Their ability to rationalize a situation is often far more highly developed than a man’s. Their aural-visual senses are in no way inferior. In the matter of smell —’
‘I know,’ said Bond. ‘Women smell better than men.’
Holly looked at him coldly. ‘I think your persistent recourse to bad jokes is a kind of defence mechanism. Let’s test your eyesight, Mr James Bond, 007, licensed to kill.’
Before Bond could reply, she had turned her back and was stalking towards a long narrow chamber not unlike a shooting gallery. At the far end Bond could see a number of charts bearing rows of letters in diminishing sizes. He sighed and walked towards the gallery.
Holly was waiting for him, bustling with eagerness. It was the first emotion she had shown since their meeting. ‘Let’s take the chart in the middle,’ she said. ‘I don’t suppose you have any trouble reading the top line?’
Bond tilted his head to one side. ‘X-H-Y -’
‘Good,’ said Holly briskly. ‘If you couldn’t read that you wouldn’t qualify for a driving