The rocket reached the lowering platform and Bronsen watched in nervous anxiety as the ship was lowered into the ground tail first, then slowly began its upward ascent into the belly of the launcher. He thought of a thousand things that could happen right then, found that none of them were going to and returned to his office. The rocket was safely nestled in the launcher's belly, patiently waiting for the human crew to arrive and give it life.
When they gathered about the launching field that afternoon Bronsen found himself sweating in both the heat of the day and the torrid intensity of Mars' insistence that the whole thing was going to be one big flop.
"Just one blast from those rockets and we'll all be blown into the next galaxy, without benefit of a space ship. Trying to shoot a 70,000 pound rocket as if it were a toy gun. You'll learn one of these days, Corbow, that the old way was still the best. It got us to Mars and back and if you'd work on that instead of this, it would be good for intergalactic flight too. But no, you've got to have your name up there in print."
"Oh, shut up your damned mumbling, Mars!"
Bronsen shot the words out savagely. He gave the older man a withering look and turned his attention again to the ship. The men that were to take her up had disappeared inside the expanse of the launching tower and the other figures darted back and forth, making last minute preparations. The minutes began to tick off. Five minutes until blast off. Four minutes. Three minutes. The field was now completely devoid of human figures. Two minutes. One minute. Ten seconds, nine, eight. The launcher looked lonely and terrifying in its greatness and Bronsen tried to wish the rocket up out of her belly by will power alone. Four, three, two, one....
The ground trembled as the ear-shattering roar jumped across the lunar landscape. The sound grew louder, sharper, and Bronsen began to think his head would split with the noise. The rockets pitched higher, their scream pierced the air and then the silver nose of the ship edged above the top of the launcher. It pulled further into view, the shimmering silver glinting in the sun and Bronsen clenched his fists in anxiety. Come on baby; show them what you can do. That's it baby, keep right on coming. Come on girl! The ship rose clear of the launcher, the distance making it look as if it were shot straight out, but Bronsen knew the steadily spinning hull was heading right.
Suddenly he noticed it. Something was wrong! The ship wasn't acting right. What was it? His eyes tried to leap from his head to get closer to the rising needle and then he saw it. It was shaking. The whole ship was trembling as if in human terror. He watched the tremors pass from the nose to the tail, each one more violent than the last, until the whole ship was wracked with a shaking like palsy. Why? It had worked so beautifully with the experimental models. What was causing it? The bow of the ship was now visibly shaking, the tremors becoming more savage and then the nose began to dip. With a final shudder of resignation, the rocket pitched over and began its screaming descent. Bronsen watched the plunging ship, felt his heart grab in pain in his chest and stumbled back from the observation window unable to watch any longer. The burst of a million shells at once slammed into the unyielding lunar plain. In his mind's eye he could see the twisted, exploding mass of metal and the thought sickened him.
