"I should think it would be porous," Perry commented.
"It is, but it's got a mirror surface inside about two molecules thick that would stop the breath of scandal. The only hard metal in it otherwise is the jets themselves."
"Look here," put in Olga, "If you've got a little one across, why not build a bigger one and ride it over?"
"Well, you see all this little fellow has to do is to climb up to the change over point—that's where the attraction of the moon and the earth are equal—then fall down. To get to the moon and back means to climb up, then climb down to the moon, using rocket fuel to break your fall, then climb up again and climb back down to earth again, four stages. We can't do that yet. But we do think that we are well on the way to building one that will do two of those stages; go up, swing in an orbit around the moon, then climb back down to earth again. That's what Vivian, the girl you saw in the lobby, is working on. She's going to ride the ground tests on some new fuel."
"What do the ground tests amount to?"
"They are the nearest thing to flight conditions we can manage on the ground. This stuff has been laboratory tested, and fired in ground jets, and a rocket designed for it which should be strong enough and light enough to do the trick. Today it is tested in a dummy rocket with a full control panel and full size jets, but the whole framework is tied down solid. The rocket reaction produces stress and strain instead of acceleration. We measure the stresses by instrument. If it all checks out the way it should, we'll try the real rocket in flight."
Olga interrupted. "If you've made all those preliminary tests, what can you learn by running a rocket that is tied down? You already have the data on what it will do."
Joe shook his head. "No, not quite. We know what we think it ought to do, but we knew that when the equations of synthesis were for it. But this stuff is all new. Suppose it does something different? We've got to know before a ship leaves the ground."
Perry put in a word. "Why is this girl Vivian running the tests? Isn't it a man's job?"
"It's her right to. She's the molecular synthesist who designed the fuel. This is as far as she can take it though, as she's not a rocket pilot."
A siren howled mournfully from outside the building. Joe moved toward the door. "Come along if you want to see it." They followed him back through the corridor, through the entrance hall and up a spiral staircase which gave into a small observation room. On the side toward the field was a wide shallow window of amber glass. Several persons who were lined up along this window made room for them. Joe spoke to one of the spectators. "How soon do they start?"
"Any minute now. There goes Vivian." Perry looked down and saw a small figure, bunchy in coveralls, climb a ladder to a manhole in the top of a stubby metal shape. The figure hesitated halfway in and turned its helmeted head toward the building. Perry thought he could detect the flash of a smile. An arm waved and the figure disappeared. The manhole cover closed into place from the inside, made a quarter turn and stopped. For a moment all was still in the room and nothing moved on the field. Perry could hear Olga's quick breathing at his ear. Then a little burst of violet flame showed from the stern of the test rocket. Somebody said "There she goes!" and the tension relaxed. The flame shot out again, lightened in color and became a blinding white as solid to the eye as white-hot metal. It fanned a trifle and made a myriad little green sparks where it licked the desert soil. A buzz of conversation spread around the room. "Pretty neat, what?"—"Yeah, she's got it this time."—"Watch it fade. That'ud be clean kinetic in vacuo."—Then charged, the main jet darkened, turned purple and quit. Smaller jets around the waist of the craft lighted one after another, and a nose jet blazed out for an instant. More comment came from around them.—"Pretty as a picture, one-two-three."—"Yeah, but I still like precession. Those fractional controls are too complicated."—"It looks nice though, doesn't it."—The smaller jets cut out and the stern jet cut in again, passing quickly from violet to white. It held steady for several minutes, then trembled and Perry thought that he detected a faint shadow on the under side. The whole flame turned a deep purple and split into two parts. He heard a shout of "Down!" and someone jerked savagely at his arm, unbalancing him. He fell across Olga as a white glare like photographer's flashlight temporarily blinded him. A dumb rumble, a short grinding shock, and then silence. He stumbled to his knees and blinked his eyes. Joe was beside him, already rising. They hurried to the window. Before him still lay the rocket but it had lurched awkwardly toward them and a split had opened for several feet near the stern jet. A cloud of yellowish oily smoke partially obscured the scene. Joe turned and hurried down the stairs. The other spectators were gone. Perry had not noticed when or how. He stared again at the sight, trying to interpret it, when Olga's voice sounded beside him.
"Whatever happened, Perry?"
"I don't know yet. Something went wrong."
"That pretty little redhead—Was she hurt?"
"I can't tell. I don't think so. The rocket doesn't look much damaged."
"Let's go down."
They went back down to the reception room and waited in unease for someone to show up. Presently Joe appeared and Perry caught his eye. "Oh yes, you folks. I'd forgotten you." He stopped by them, apparently annoyed and uneasy. Perry questioned him.
"What happened?"
"Nobody knows yet. Either fuel or the nozzles."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Only the operator."
"Killed?"
"They haven't said so yet. She was burned to a crisp and her right leg's gone. Say, I don't want to be rude but I'm awful busy. Will you excuse me?"
"Oh, of course! Sorry!" And he was gone.
Olga took Perry's arm. "Let's get out of here, please, Perry."
"Right." Neither spoke again until they were back in the sky car.
XII
For the next several days Perry reveled in his new-found freedom. He made a number of trips purely for the pleasure of being out and free. Sometimes one or both of the girls accompanied him, more often he went alone. He made a practice of telling Olga or someone in authority where he was going and when he expected to return, but met with no objection to any of his plans. His trips were varied. By now he had practically complete familiarity with the customs of the country and could get around even in a metropolis without arousing comment. He spent several days in San Francisco just looking around and getting acquainted. He dropped in at Berkeley and looked up Master Cathcart, who appeared glad to see him and showed him around the University. Perry was struck by the un-collegiate quality of the place. There seemed to be few students and little of the ant hill activity that characterized the academic institutions of his day. He asked Cathcart what the enrollment was. Cathcart answered, "About fifty thousand." Perry commented that it must be vacation time. The older man said, no, but that few students were actually in residence at Berkeley. He explained that they made a practice of actually being present only when doing laboratory work, inasmuch as the lecture method had been superseded by the stereoscopic record, such as Perry had used. On the other hand there were close personal relationships between teachers and pupils, as most of the direct instruction was of the seminar rather than the classroom variety. Instruction was characterized by discussion groups and guidance in study rather than the cut-and-dried cram-and-exam methods of 1939.
At this time Cathcart was preparing to leave for a trip to Washington to hear the closing debates of the session of Congress. This was primarily a vacation as he could have heard them as well or better in his home and studied the records at his leisure. But, as he told Perry, he liked to browse around the sessions at Washington and gossip with the officials in order to get the smell of the place. He felt that it helped him when interpreting the current scene to others.