The kiss, too, turned out to be a fraud.
My four companions also kissed her—on the cheek. Then we stepped into the cherry-picker which would lift us to the nose capsule of the Saturn.
Two technicians rode with us to help adjust our harnesses and to make sure we were snug in our seats before the lift-off.
The seats were backed against the wall in a hexagonal arrangement, with a small instrument panel directly in front of Spartan's position.
"Sit on my left, Ludson," said Spartan. "Joel, you sit on my right. I think we can allow the bride and groom to sit side-by-side, since this is to be their honeymoon ride."
Morrie Grover snickered.
"There's no cause for mirth," said Spartan sharply. "There's going to be nothing funny about this trip."
Morrie sobered and grew red-faced. I felt sorry for the kid. The laugh had been caused by nervousness. All of us had been in space, of course, but this trip was anything but routine. The lift-off and the re-entry are the most dangerous phases of space flight, any way you look at it.
We put on our helmets and the technicians adjusted them. There was a microphone in each so that we could communicate, but no one, not even Spartan, said anything.
"Sixty minutes!" came the voice from the countdown.