They looked more
than ever like farm machinery, save that their bulging tanks made them
look insectile, too. They were actually something between small
tow-boats and crash-wagons. A man in a space suit could climb into the
saddle of one of these creations, plug in the air-line of his suit to
the crash-wagon's tanks, and travel in space by means of the space
wagon's rockets. These weird vehicles had remarkably powerful magnetic
grapples. They were equipped with steering rockets as powerful as those
of a ship. They had banks of solid-fuel rockets of divers power and
length of burning. And they even mounted rocket missiles, small guided
rockets which could be used to destroy what could not be recovered. They
were intended to handle unmanned rocket shipments of supplies to the
Platform. There were reasons why the trick should be economical, if it
should happen to work at all.

When they were ready for testing, they seemed very small in the great
space lock. Joe and the Chief very carefully checked an extremely long
list of things that had to work right or nothing would work at all. That
part of the job wasn't thrilling, but Joe no longer looked for thrills.
He painstakingly did the things that produced results. If a sense of
adventure seemed to disappear, the sensations of achievement more than
made up for it.

They got into space suits. They were in an odd position on the Platform.
Lieutenant Commander Brown had avoided Joe as much as possible since his
arrival. So far he'd carefully avoided giving him direct orders, because
Joe was not certainly and officially his subordinate. Lacking exact
information, the only thing a conscientious rank-conscious naval officer
could do was exercise the maximum of tact and insistently ask authority
for a ruling on Joe's place in the hierarchy of rank.

Joe flung a leg over his eccentric, red-painted mount. He clipped his
safety-belt, plugged in his suit air-supply to the space wagon's tanks,
and spoke into his helmet transmitter.

"Okay to open the lock. Chief, you keep watch. If I make out all right,
you can join me. If I get in serious trouble, come after me in the ship
we rode up. But only if it's practical! Not otherwise!"

The Chief said something in Mohawk. He sounded indignant.

The plastic walls of the lock swelled inward, burying and overwhelming
them. Pumps pounded briefly, removing what air was left. Then the walls
drew back, straining against their netting, and Joe wait