Martyr's Flight

by Hank Searls

"Buddy," said Mel, "if I know War, it isn't going to be that way very long...."

The intercom system burst into life. The flat, nasal voice of Lieutenant Goldstein, the sharp young Air Force radar officer, crackled through the room.

"Colonel Cramer, Mr. Stanton. Would you come to Control? I've picked up a missile. I think it's headed for us...."

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With the dim orange light of the PPI radar scope gleaming on his sharp features, Goldstein looked like some interested youngster staring into a campfire.

"It's on a tangential orbit now, just breaking into the exosphere—I'll be able to give you its free flight velocity in a minute."

"Was it three stage or two?" Cramer asked.

"Two, sir, apparently."

"So far," Mel Cramer said. "If it accelerates again, we'll know for sure."

From the huge transparent board behind them the plotter, Airman Lang, spoke. "I make it 700 knots relative to Platform speed, sir."