been into all that! We’re doing what we can. I told you, my boys are working right around the clock to get another spacecraft up. I know that won’t save the equipment if the worst happens, whatever the worst is and that we don’t know either, but my men are my first consideration.” Much of the activity going on below the wide window was in fact due to the frantic efforts being made to prepare a launch pad for sending up another vehicle. It could in certain circumstances become necessary to try to transfer the men in Skyprobe IV. “It takes twenty-nine days normally and the second spacecraft currently has a computer fault anyway. It’s probably hopeless and it probably won’t ever be needed if you ask me, but we’re trying all we know how, just as a precaution. Those fives are still my responsibility and I don’t want you or anybody else to think I regard that responsibility lightly, General. But I don’t need to remind you that this flight, if its successful, is going to put us a couple of decades ahead of the Russians, and maybe swing the uncommitted nations round to hitch their stars to us in the West, right?”
“That’s agreed. Militarily, we’re banking on complete success too. So we don’t want to bring the capsule down early, either. Only—”
Klaber went on as though he had scarcely heard. “The world is watching Skyprobe IV. All the world, General!” He slammed a fist into his open palm. “In this country every man, woman and child is going to be watching the TV screens for news of the capsule during all the next seven days. Or that’s what they expect to be doing. If the order goes up to ditch . . . well, we’re going to look so dam foolish it won't be true, if this thing, this threat, turns out to be all hooey! We’ll have to give a reason, too. You can’t interrupt a flight like this without saying a word.” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped runnels of sweat from his face. “Look, I have to keep remembering one thing above all till we know some more and I’m going to say it again and keep on saying it: the threat, if it exists at all, could be a deliberate plant, a calculated leak as phoney as hell, just to make us bring down the capsule and finish ofi the project. Bluff us into it. And if we fall once for that particular kind of blackmail. . . when do we ever get back into business again?”
The airman said heavily, “I’m well aware of that risk, too. But you know my point of view on that, Mr. Klaber. It’s a lesser risk to bring the capsule down now and bring it down intact, rather than let the world see we can’t control our own space flights.” He gave a grim laugh. “Aren’t we going to look much bigger mugs if that happens, Mr. Klaber?”
Klaber threw up his arms. He said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know. All I do know is—I’m going to give it a while longer before I even think about ordering Schuster to fire the retro-rockets. And something else: I’m still clamping right down on telling those men up there what we know— or rather, what we goddam don’t know—from the British security boys!”
The general took up his briefcase, slipped in some papers and snapped it shut. “In that case,” he said, “I’ll get back to Washington.” He stood for a moment looking hard at Klaber, his heavy, dark-shadowed face sombre. “Before I go, however, I’ll remind you, Mr. Klaber, that this time it’s a Presidential decision whether or not the capsule is ordered to ditch ahead of schedule. In the last analysis . . . you won’t be called upon to make that decision yourself.”
Klaber nodded. “I know the President takes the final decision,” he said, “but only as a result of the advice he gets. And I’m only one of his advisers—I know that too.” He paused. “You know something, General?”
“What?” Again the Air Force officer looked hard at Klaber, frowning from beneath shaggy, overhanging brows.
“Every minute,” Klaber said, “I’m
“That’s agreed. Militarily, we’re banking on complete success too. So we don’t want to bring the capsule down early, either. Only—”
Klaber went on as though he had scarcely heard. “The world is watching Skyprobe IV. All the world, General!” He slammed a fist into his open palm. “In this country every man, woman and child is going to be watching the TV screens for news of the capsule during all the next seven days. Or that’s what they expect to be doing. If the order goes up to ditch . . . well, we’re going to look so dam foolish it won't be true, if this thing, this threat, turns out to be all hooey! We’ll have to give a reason, too. You can’t interrupt a flight like this without saying a word.” He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped runnels of sweat from his face. “Look, I have to keep remembering one thing above all till we know some more and I’m going to say it again and keep on saying it: the threat, if it exists at all, could be a deliberate plant, a calculated leak as phoney as hell, just to make us bring down the capsule and finish ofi the project. Bluff us into it. And if we fall once for that particular kind of blackmail. . . when do we ever get back into business again?”
The airman said heavily, “I’m well aware of that risk, too. But you know my point of view on that, Mr. Klaber. It’s a lesser risk to bring the capsule down now and bring it down intact, rather than let the world see we can’t control our own space flights.” He gave a grim laugh. “Aren’t we going to look much bigger mugs if that happens, Mr. Klaber?”
Klaber threw up his arms. He said, “I don’t know. I just don’t know. All I do know is—I’m going to give it a while longer before I even think about ordering Schuster to fire the retro-rockets. And something else: I’m still clamping right down on telling those men up there what we know— or rather, what we goddam don’t know—from the British security boys!”
The general took up his briefcase, slipped in some papers and snapped it shut. “In that case,” he said, “I’ll get back to Washington.” He stood for a moment looking hard at Klaber, his heavy, dark-shadowed face sombre. “Before I go, however, I’ll remind you, Mr. Klaber, that this time it’s a Presidential decision whether or not the capsule is ordered to ditch ahead of schedule. In the last analysis . . . you won’t be called upon to make that decision yourself.”
Klaber nodded. “I know the President takes the final decision,” he said, “but only as a result of the advice he gets. And I’m only one of his advisers—I know that too.” He paused. “You know something, General?”
“What?” Again the Air Force officer looked hard at Klaber, frowning from beneath shaggy, overhanging brows.
“Every minute,” Klaber said, “I’m
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