nfortunately, space
exploration isn't a stunt. We've gotten this far because--somebody
wanted to do something. But----" Then he said, "It could be done and the
United Nations wouldn't do it. So the United States had to, or--somebody
else would have. You can figure who that would be, and what use they'd
make of space travel! So it's important. It's more important than stunt
flights we could make!"

"Nobody could stop us if we wanted to take off!" Mike said rebelliously.

"True," Joe said. "But we four can stand three gravities acceleration
and handle any more manned rockets that start out here. We've lived
through plenty more than that! But Brent and the others couldn't put up
a fight in space. They're wearing harness now, and they're coming back
to strength. But we're going to stay right here and do stevedoring--and
fighting too, if it comes to that--until the job is done."

And that was the way it was, too. Of stevedoring there was plenty. Two
robot ships a day for weeks on end. Three ships a day for a time. Four.
Sometimes things went smoothly, and the little space wagons could go out
and bring back the great, rocket-scarred hulls from Earth. But once in
three times the robots were going too fast or too slow. The space wagons
couldn't handle them. Then the new ship, the space tug, went out and
hooked onto the robot with a chain and used the power it had to bring
them to their destination. And sometimes the robots didn't climb
straight. At least once the space tug captured an erratic robot 400
miles from its destination and hauled it in. It used some heavy
solid-fuel rockets on that trip.

The Platform had become, in fact, a port in space, though so far it had
had only arrivals and no departures. Its storage compartments almost
bulged with fuel stores and food stores and equipment of every
imaginable variety. It had a stock of rockets which were enough to land
it safely on Earth, though there was surely no intention of doing so. It
had food and air for centuries. It had repair parts for all its own
equipment. And it had weapons. It contained, in robot hulls anchored to
its sides, enough fissionable material to conduct a deadly war--which
was only stored for transfer to the Moon base when that should be
established.

And it had communication with Earth of high quality. So far the actual
mail was only a one-way service, but even entertainment came up, and
news. Once there was a television shot of the interior of the