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Updated: May 27, 2025
In other words, I'd guess its maximum altitude at nearly twenty-three miles." "Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" Rick asked quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure McDevitt had said "time." "The altitude isn't important. I'd say time was the principal factor." "But if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon?
"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the rocket know when to fire?" "Two ways.
I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon idea of yours about cinches things." Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?" "Go to bed," Steve said sternly.
The whole unit, scarcely larger than a common soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. It was a highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, storing it, then retransmitting it. "But why?" Rick demanded. "Why send up a rockoon at all?
The Swiss torsion clock on Steve Ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. Rick and Scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried to stay awake. The small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a newspaper on Steve's table. "Rockoon," Rick said. "That explains the funny antenna, the presence of the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched."
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