Breakaway

  Produced by Greg Weeks and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding ScienceFiction December 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  BREAKAWAY

  BY STANLEY GIMBLE

  Illustrated by Freas

  _She surely got her wish ... but there was some question about gettingwhat she wanted._

  Phil Conover pulled the zipper of his flight suit up the front of hislong, thin body and came into the living room. His face, usually seriousand quietly handsome, had an alive, excited look. And the faint linesaround his dark, deep-set eyes were accentuated when he smiled at hiswife.

  "All set, honey. How do I look in my monkey suit?"

  His wife was sitting stiffly on the flowered couch that was still nottheirs completely. In her fingers she held a cigarette burned down toofar. She said, "You look fine, Phil. You look just right." She managed asmile. Then she leaned forward and crushed the cigarette in the ashtray on the maple coffee table and took another from the pack.

  He came to her and touched his hands to her soft blond hair, raising herface until she was looking into his eyes. "You're the most beautifulgirl I know. Did I ever tell you that?"

  "Yes, I think so. Yes, I'm sure you did," she said, finishing theritual; but her voice broke, and she turned her head away. Phil satbeside her and put his arm around her small shoulders. He had stoppedsmiling.

  "Honey, look at me," he said. "It isn't going to be bad. Honestly itisn't. We know exactly how it will be. If anything could go wrong, theywouldn't be sending me; you know that. I told you that we've sent fiveun-manned ships up and everyone came back without a hitch."

  She turned, facing him. There were tears starting in the corners of herwide, brown eyes, and she brushed them away with her hand.

  "Phil, don't go. Please don't. They can send Sammy. Sammy doesn't have awife. Can't he go? They'd understand, Phil. Please!" She was holding hisarms tightly with her hands, and the color had drained from her cheeks.

  "Mary, you know I can't back out now. How could I? It's been threeyears. You know how much I've wanted to be the first man to go. Nothingwould ever be right with me again if I didn't go. Please don't make ithard." He stopped talking and held her to him and stroked the back ofher head. He could feel her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Hereleased her and stood up.

  "I've got to get started, Mary. Will you come to the field with me?"

  "Yes, I'll come to say good-by." She paused and dropped her eyes. "Phil,if you go, I won't be here when you get back--if you get back. I won'tbe here because I won't be the wife of a space pilot for the rest of mylife. It isn't the kind of life I bargained for. No matter how much Ilove you, I just couldn't take that, Phil. I'm sorry. I guess I'm notthe noble sort of wife."

  She finished and took another cigarette from the pack on the coffeetable and put it to her lips. Her hand was trembling as she touched thelighter to the end of the cigarette and drew deeply. Phil stood watchingher, the excitement completely gone from his eyes.

  "I wish you had told me this a long time ago, Mary," Phil said. Hisvoice was dry and low. "I didn't know you felt this way about it."

  "Yes, you did. I told you how I felt. I told you I could never be thewife of a space pilot. But I don't think I ever really believed it waspossible--not until this morning when you said tonight was the take-off.It's so stupid to jeopardize everything we've got for a ridiculousdream!"

  He sat down on the edge of the couch and took her hands between his."Mary, listen to me," he said. "It isn't a dream. It's real. There'snothing means anything more to me than you do--you know that. But noman ever had the chance to do what I'm going to do tonight--no man ever.If I backed out now for any reason, I'd never be able to look at the skyagain. I'd be through."

  She looked at him without seeing him, and there was nothing at all inher eyes.

  "Let's go, if you're still going," she finally said.

  * * * * *

  They drove through the streets of the small town with its smallbungalows, each alike. There were no trees and very little grass. It wasa new town, a government built town, and it had no personality yet. Itexisted only because of the huge ship standing poised in the take-offzone five miles away in the desert. Its future as a town rested with theship, and the town seemed to feel the uncertainty of its future, seemedready to stop existing as a town and to give itself back to the desert,if such was its destiny.

  Phil turned the car off the highway onto the rutted dirt road that ledacross the sand to the field where the ship waited. In the distance theycould see the beams of the searchlights as they played across thetake-off zone and swept along the top of the high wire fence stretchingout of sight to right and left. At the gate they were stopped by theguard. He read Phil's pass, shined his flashlight in their faces, andthen saluted. "Good luck, colonel," he said, and shook Phil's hand.

  "Thanks, sergeant. I'll be seeing you next week," Phil said, and smiled.They drove between the rows of wooden buildings that lined the field,and he parked near the low barbed fence ringing the take-off zone. Heturned off the ignition, and sat quietly for a moment before lighting acigarette. Then he looked at his wife. She was staring through thewindshield at the rocket two hundred yards away. Its smooth polishedsurface gleamed in the spotlight glare, and it sloped up and up untilthe eye lost the tip against the stars.

  "She's beautiful, Mary. You've never seen her before, have you?"

  "No, I've never seen her before," she said. "Hadn't you better go?" Hervoice was strained and she held her hands closed tightly in her lap."Please go now, Phil," she said.

  He leaned toward her and touched her cheek. Then she was in his arms,her head buried against his shoulder.

  "Good-by, darling," she said.

  "Wish me luck, Mary?" he asked.

  "Yes, good luck, Phil," she said. He opened the car door and got out.The noise of men and machines scurrying around the ship broke the spellof the rocket waiting silently for flight.

  "Mary, I--" he began, and then turned and strode toward theadministration building without looking back.

  * * * * *

  Inside the building it was like a locker room before the big game. Thetension stood alone, and each man had the same happy, excited look thatPhil had worn earlier. When he came into the room, the noise and bustlestopped. They turned as one man toward him, and General Small came up tohim and took his hand.

  "Hello, Phil. We were beginning to think you weren't coming. You allset, son?"

  "Yes, sir, I'm all set, I guess," Phil said.

  "I'd like you to meet the Secretary of Defense, Phil. He's over here bythe radar."

  As they crossed the room, familiar faces smiled, and each man shook hishand or touched his arm. He saw Sammy, alone, by the coffee urn. Sammywaved to him, but he didn't smile. Phil wanted to talk to him, to saysomething; but there was nothing to be said now. Sammy's turn would comelater.

  "Mr. Secretary," the general said, "this is Colonel Conover. He'll bethe first man in history to see the other side of the Moon. Colonel--theSecretary of Defense."

  "How do you do, sir. I'm very proud to meet you," Phil said.

  "On the contrary, colonel. I'm very proud to meet you. I've been lookingat that ship out there and wondering. I almost wish I were a young managain. I'd like to be going. It's a thrilling thought--man's firstadventure into the universe. You're lighting a new dawn of history,colonel. It's a privilege few men have ever had; and those who have hadit didn't realize it at the time. Good luck, and God be with you."

  "Thank you, sir. I'm aware of all you say. It frightens me a little."

  Th
e general took Phil's arm and they walked to the briefing room. Therewere chairs set up for the scientists and Air Force officers directlyconnected with the take-off. They were seated now in a semicircle infront of a huge chart of the solar system. Phil took his seat, and thelast minute briefing began. It was a routine he knew by heart. He hadgone over and over it a thousand times, and he only half listened now.He kept thinking of Mary outside, alone by the fence.

  The voice of the briefing officer was a dull hum in his ears.

  "... And orbit at 18,000-mph. You will then accelerate for the breakawayto 24,900-mph for five minutes and then free-coast for 116 hoursuntil--"

  Phil asked a few questions about weather and solar conditions. And thenthe session was done. They rose and looked at each other, the sameunanswered questions on each man's face. There were forced smiles andhandshakes. They were ready now.

  "Phil," the general said, and took him aside.

  "Sir?"

  "Phil, you're ... you feel all right, don't you, son?"

  "Yes, sir. I feel fine. Why?"

  "Phil, I've spent nearly every day with you for three years. I know youbetter than I know myself in many ways. And I've studied thepsychologist's reports on you carefully. Maybe it's just nervousness,Phil, but I think there's something wrong. Is there?"

  "No, sir. There's nothing wrong," Phil said, but his voice didn't carryconviction. He reached for a cigarette.

  "Phil, if there is anything--anything at all--you know what it mightmean. You've got to be in the best mental and physical condition of yourlife tonight. You know better than any man here what that means to oursuccess. I think there is something more than just natural apprehensionwrong with you. Want to tell me?"

  * * * * *

  Outside, the take-off zone crawled with men and machines at the base ofthe rocket. For ten hours, the final check-outs had been in progress;and now the men were checking again, on their own time. The thing theyhad worked toward for six years was ready to happen, and each one feltthat he was sending just a little bit of himself into the sky. Beyondthe ring of lights and moving men, on the edge of the field, Mary stood.Her hands moved slowly over the top of the fence, twisting the barbs ofwire. But her eyes were on the ship.

  And then they were ready. A small group of excited men came out from theadministration building and moved forward. The check-out crews climbedinto their machines and drove back outside the take-off zone. And,alone, one man climbed the steel ladder up the side of therocket--ninety feet into the air. At the top he waved to the men on theground and then disappeared through a small port.

  Mary waved to him. "Good-by," she said to herself, but the words stucktight in her throat.

  The small group at the base of the ship turned and walked back to thefence. And for an eternity the great ship stood alone, waiting. Then,from deep inside, a rumble came, increasing in volume to a gigantic roarthat shook the earth and tore at the ears. Slowly, the first mannedrocket to the Moon lifted up and up to the sky.

  * * * * *

  For a long time after the rocket had become a tiny speck of light in theheavens, she stood holding her face in her hands and crying softly toherself. And then she felt the touch of a hand on her arm. She turned.

  "Phil! Oh, Phil." She held tightly to him and repeated his name over andover.

  "They wouldn't let me go, Mary," he said finally. "The general would notlet me go."

  She looked at him. His face was drawn tight, and there were tears on hischeeks. "Thank, God," she said. "It doesn't matter, darling. The onlything that matters is you didn't go."

  "You're right, Mary," he said. His voice was low--so low she couldhardly hear him. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now." He stood withhis hands at his sides, watching her. And then turned away and walkedtoward the car.

  THE END