Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
Fold it up firmly, like a parachute it makes a small package that can be carried up into orbit in a blastoff rocket with the best efficiency. There, attached flasks of breathable atmosphere fill it out in a minute. Eight pounds pressure makes it fairly solid in a vacuum. So, behold you've got breathing and living room, inside.
On a greater scale, it was almost nothing more than the first task that Nelsen had ever performed in space the jockying of a bubb from its blastoff drum, inflating it, rigging it, spinning it for centrifugal gravity, and fitting in its internal appointments. Nelsen looked at the fifty-odd stellene rings that they had broken out of their containers the others, still packed, were held in reserve.
Jupiter Equilateral would have its prisoners, all right. He wished now that he had not discarded the stunner, but those extra pounds might have made the difference between life and death during the blastoff. And at least he was not completely unarmed. He still had Dad's revolver at his side. He smiled to himself.
He had grown up, in those three years. He knew where he was heading, now, and nothing frightened him. He understood people. And he had one great goal which was coming closer and closer with each passing month. Blastoff day was the fifth of September, 3879. The orbit Alan finally settled on was a six-day trip at low acceleration across the 40,000,000-odd miles that separated Earth from Venus.
Only a tremendously costly rocket, with a thrust greater than its own weight when fully loaded, could do that. Buying a blastoff passage had to be expensive. "Figuring, scrounging, counting our pennies, risking our necks," Nelsen chuckled.
Two-and-Two Baines, for example, seemed more composed. There wasn't much work to do during those last days, after the equipment had been inspected and approved, the initials of each man painted in red on his blastoff drum, and all the necessary documents put in order. Mitch Storey rode a bus to Mississippi, to say goodbye to his folks. The Kuzaks flew to Pennsylvania for the same reason.
At once Frank was furiously busy, working the darkened stellene of his bubb from the drum, letting it spread like a long wisp of silvery cobweb against the stars, letting it inflate from the air-flasks to a firm and beautiful circle, attaching the rigging, the fine, radial spokewires for which the blastoff drum itself now formed the hub.
But some must have hoped that they'd get rich, themselves. Frank Nelsen was perched on his neatly packed blastoff drum in the back of one of the trucks, as big tires began to turn. Near him, similarly perched, were Mitch Storey, dark and thoughtful, Gimp Hines with a triumph in his face, Two-and-Two Baines biting his lip, and Dave Lester with his large Adam's apple bobbing.
Near the end of May, the Bunch lined up in the shop, the ten blastoff drums they had made, including two spares.
Everything was cut to minimum, to keep the weight down. The lined up drums made a utilitarian display that looked rather grim. The gear was set out like this, for the safety inspectors to look at during the next few days, and provide their stamp of approval. The blastoff tickets had also been purchased for June tenth. "Well, how do you think the Bunch should travel to New Mexico, Paul?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking