Wade looked at the narrow back of Harry Lowe. And he knew how the man became Secretary of Defense. It was shrewd getting him to open up like that. They both knew how lucky they were to have Allen Ackerson. Finding men capable of making such a flight hadn't been easy. Of the dozen volunteers only Ackerson remained. Mental and physical tests had eliminated all but a few. Those remaining were unfit for space travel, weeded out by the psychological teams, unable to cope with the morbid phobia of being alone so long wrapped in a metal cocoon. Only Ackerson and Tomer had succeeded. Now there was only Ackerson.
"Colonel!" Wade turned and faced the rawboned sergeant standing beside him. Meyers was a big man with a deep tan browning his face.
"What is it, sergeant?"
Meyers handed him a large white envelope. "Captain Ackerson said to give this to you just before take-off."
"Thanks, sergeant."
"Two minutes," someone said. Wade stuffed the envelope inside his jacket. Then he hurried over to the radar man. The envelope had to wait, there was no time now.
"Are we set?" he asked. The man nodded as he adjusted the dials. Wade smiled. These men were experts in their fields. To double check them would be to insult them. Besides, this wasn't the first time for them. The same crew had been operating when they fired the test rocket. He knew they wouldn't fail.
"One minute ... 59 ... 58 ... 57...." Wade found himself counting under his breath while he stared at the small screen on the table. Would the reactors work? They would go on at 30. And the Starfrost! Would it lift—or would it, like some others before it, slowly hesitate, then begin a weird, frightening slide to the side to become a flaming blowtorch of death.
"30!" Major Gormely closed the switch. Wade became conscious of the Secretary watching the screen with him.
"... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2...." The counter continued. "FIRE!"