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Suppose they got a chance to kill you. They'd take the car keys. They'd drop your two bodies somewheres Gawdknowswhere. There'd be considerable of a hunt for you two. Major Holt would be upset plenty. Security might get loosened up. There might be breaks for guys who wanted to do a little extra sabotage besides maybe hamperin' the repairin' of the pilot gyros.
We're gonna have to weld a false frame on the lathe we picked, an' then cut out the bed plate to let the gyros fit in between the chucks. Mount it so the spinning is in the right line." That would be with the axis of the rotors parallel to the axis of the earth. Joe nodded. "We'll be able to get set up in the mornin'," added Haney, "and get started.
Somehow it was infinitely soothing, and he had an extraordinary sensation of peacefulness and relaxation and fulfillment. The pilot gyros were finished and in position. His responsibility to them was ended. And he had slept the clock around three times. He'd slept for thirty-six hours. He was starving.
With flaming jets still holding it up, and spinning gyros keeping it vertical, the rocket lowered gradually. The seats swung level, keeping their occupants right side up. There was a hovering pause, then the faint jolt of contact. The jet growl stopped; complete silence closed in like a hammer blow. "Do you men know where you are?" Rodan asked after a moment.
It was at this time that more crates and parcels arrived from the Kenmore Precision Tool plant, and Joe dropped his schoolroomlike instruction course in space flight for work of greater immediate need. He and his allies worked twice around the clock to assemble the replaced parts with the repaired elements of the pilot gyros.
They were to act, in a sense, as a sort of steering engine on the take-off and keep a useful function out in space. If a star photograph was to be made, it was essential that the Platform hold absolutely still while the exposure lasted. If a guided missile was to be launched, it must be started right, and the pilot gyros were needed. To turn to receive an arriving rocket from Earth....
He plucked down the microphone exactly like somebody picking up an interoffice telephone and reported the waybill number and description of the case that had been an extra bomb. The ship carrying the pilot gyros had been booby-trapped probably with a number of other ships and a bomb had been shipped on it, and a special saboteur with a private plane had shot at it with rockets.
And these pilot gyros would control the main gyros with just this precision, and after the Platform was out in space could hold the Platform itself with the steadiness needed for astronomical observation past achievement from the surface of the Earth. The pilot gyros, in a word, were ready for installation. Joe and Haney and the Chief and Mike were not beautiful to look at.
The matter they'd handled had been conspicuous, perhaps, but it was still only one of thousands that had to be accomplished before the Platform could take off. But they had the infinitely restful feeling of a job well done. "No more welding," said Haney meditatively, "and our job on the gyros finished. What are we gonna do?"
Mike the midget, you know called me back just now to suggest that the people who tried to spoil the gyros might try to harm the four of us to hinder their repair!" "It's not just foolishness," Sally admitted. "The strain is pretty bad, especially when you know things. You've noticed that Dad's getting gray. That's strain. And Miss Ross is about as tense.
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