The Scarlet Lake Mystery Part 26

He knew the answer. He hadn't been seen.

The flashlight picked out his wrist watch. It was now zero minus five!

He stood at the port and kept flas.h.i.+ng, his mind racing. Apparently whoever had closed the door hadn't known he was inside. His light hadn't been on at that moment. But it didn't make any difference now, because he was locked in from the outside. There was no way of opening the hatchway from inside.

Four minutes.

He had to think of something! Everyone was so occupied with last-minute details that probably no one was even looking at the rocket. Besides, it was light outdoors. His flashlight would be only a dim glow in the rising sunlight.

There had to be another way. He forced himself to calmness. Approach it logically, he told himself sternly. The way to do it is to signal the blockhouse.

He studied Prince Machiavelli, looking for a clue in the s.p.a.cemonk's draping of instruments. He could tap on the bell of the stethoscope. But then he realized the display would not yet be rolling.

He had a quick vision of d.i.c.k Earle and Gee-Gee watching the master board, checking the circuit lights as they flicked from red to green.

The board must be nearly all green now, he thought--and in the same instant he knew how he could attract attention.

Rick jumped to the center of the tiny room and crouched over the drone control. He removed the cover. There was one circuit that served only as a feed to the board, to show that the control was operative. Break that and the board would show red.

His flashlight probed the maze of wiring and he located the signal wire.

Fis.h.i.+ng into the spaghetti with his fingers, he got thumb and forefinger on it and tried to break it. The wire held.

He fumbled in his belt kit and found a pair of side-cutting pliers. They would do. He reached in and snipped the circuit wire, then he slumped down on the deck and mopped rivulets of water from his face.

Close! He glanced at his watch.

Zero minus two.

He grinned foolishly. This would be something to tell his grandchildren.

Once, because of a silly mistake he came within two minutes of being the first s.p.a.ceman!

Prince Machiavelli was looking down at him, the furry little face serious, like that of a very wise old owl. In the irregular light through the ports the tufted ears made the s.p.a.cemonk look even more owl-like.

"At least I got you a little reprieve by saving my own skin," Rick said aloud. "Poor little guy."

The marmoset chirruped happily, glad of the human companions.h.i.+p.

Zero minus one minute.

Rick wasn't worried about the pa.s.sage of time. Not until the drone circuit was thrown into operation in another thirty seconds would Gee-Gee and d.i.c.k realize that it wasn't functioning. A yell would stop Dr. Bernais, and the gantry would be wheeled back into place. Gee-Gee and d.i.c.k would probably come personally to check the circuit and find out why the board had shown red instead of switching to green.

Rick chuckled. What a surprise they'd get!

Fortunately, it would only take a few minutes to repair the signal wire and clear out. Pegasus would be a little late--perhaps fifteen minutes.

Again his thoughts turned to the awful moment when the hatchway closed.

Now that he could think more calmly, he decided that whoever had closed the hatch hadn't known he was inside. The interior was gloomy, and he had switched his light off to keep it from s.h.i.+ning in the marmoset's eyes.

He still couldn't be sure why the hatchway had been open, but in all probability Frank or Dr. Bond had simply gone down the gantry without closing it, not realizing until they were down that the team responsible for installing the s.p.a.cemonk was also responsible for b.u.t.toning up.

There was no evidence of sabotage that he could see, so the open hatchway was nothing but the kind of mistake people make when working under extreme pressure.

Again he wondered about the ident.i.ty of the Earthman. It was curious that no evidence of sabotage had been found in Orion, even though the theft of servomotors had taken place. Maybe, as Dr. Hiller had guessed, the picture left by the Earthman had been burned. Anyway, Pegasus was proof the Earthman wasn't infallible. This was one project he hadn't been able to sabotage.

His eye caught the glimmer of white on the bulkhead behind the s.p.a.cemonk. He didn't remember that. He got up and walked over to it, peering to see in the dimness. Then he remembered his flashlight and focused the beam on the paper.

The blood drained from his head and he gasped. It was a sketch of a knight in armor, lance upraised, thrust through a winged rocket!

Rick let out a hoa.r.s.e yell.

In the same instant he heard a whine, a rapidly accelerating whine. The pumps! The fuel pumps! The starting sequence had begun!

He looked at his watch, and saw that zero time was many seconds past.

But surely his watch was wrong. The board was red! Wasn't anyone watching? He ran to the port and looked out at the deserted desert. He was alone in the great rocket, and the fuel pumps were going. He could almost picture the stream of boron hydride blending with the oxidizer and flowing in an ever-increasing stream toward the combustion chamber.

He heard the sc.r.a.pe as the instrument cable dropped away outside.

Pegasus roared!

And Rick knew. He knew that somehow he had failed, that the board showed green!

CHAPTER XVII

Weight, One Ton

Rick had no time to think. He reacted. He pulled off the jacket he had worn against the chill of the desert night, and rolled it tightly. He dropped to the deck and stretched flat on his back, the jacket tucked under the back of his head and neck.

He put his hands flat on the deck and sensed the increasing shudder of the great rocket. It was building thrust! Fuel poured into the combustion chamber and fantastically hot exhaust gases flared from the motor exhaust. And with each pa.s.sing second thrust built up inside the motor chamber.

When the thrust exceeded the rocket's weight, Pegasus would take off!

He knew it wouldn't be long. Seconds more.

The entire rocket screamed as vibration ran in torturing waves through its metal skeleton and skin. It pa.s.sed the point of discomfort and became unbearable. Rick rocked his head from side to side, as though to get rid of the shattering howl, but it tore at his head, at his stomach, at his very skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he saw that Prince Machiavelli had moved, downward. The powerful springs that held his little chair were lengthening.

Air-borne!

Rick became conscious of weight. He was being pressed into the metal deck by a mighty hand. It was hard to breathe.

Pegasus was not designed to accommodate humans. No attention had been paid to limits of human endurance. It was all right for the marmoset; his spring chair would take up much of the G forces. But Rick had no padding at all, except for the thin jacket under his head. He had no support but the metal deck, and before this was over his body would be terribly distorted as forces many times gravity rammed him relentlessly into the metal.

In spite of the horrifying scream of the rocket and the increasing pressure, his mind was clear. The rocket was programmed to reach twelve G during first-stage flight--twelve times the force of gravity!

First-stage flight would last slightly over three minutes. By then, Pegasus would be nearly thirty miles up.

The pain began, the pain of tortured muscles and organs pressed slowly, inexorably toward the deck as acceleration built up. Rick wanted to turn over, at least to change the direction of pain, but he couldn't even do that. He was spread-eagled on the deck now, his muscles unable to move his increased weight.