"Mel," he said suddenly, forcing the words. "What happens if you miss?"
Mel Cramer's jaw tightened, "just a minute, Walt," he said slowly. "I don't quite know what you're getting at, but I have an idea. Are you suggesting that I fly into that thing?"
There was a long silence, and the ventilators whined.
Walter nodded his head slowly. "Yes, Mel. If necessary."
Mel Cramer stared at him. "This isn't a Japanese kamikaze pilot you're talking to! This is Mel Cramer. I was an ace as a kid in Korea, and nobody ever accused me of being yellow, but I didn't sign up for this job to commit suicide. That isn't the way we do it. That's why I'm carrying rockets instead of a warhead full of tetryl. And it's why we win wars; we don't sacrifice the men we've got; we give 'em every chance."
Walter Stanton said: "It's not my prerogative to ask you to sacrifice yourself. It's just that.... This project...."
"Everybody on this project is a volunteer."
"It isn't us; it's the Platform."
"Everybody on the Platform is a volunteer," Mel Cramer repeated doggedly. "Everyone knew the chances he was taking. And there isn't a one of them who loves his wife and kid anymore than I do."
Through the sickness of his disappointment, Walter Stanton forced a grin. "OK, Mel. My love to Marge when you get to Sandia; and tell Lynne ... tell her...."