and perhaps even an admirable sensation of humility and unworthiness to
accomplish what was expected of him today. And, deep enough inside, he
felt suitable emotion. But it happened that he couldn't take time to
feel things adequately today.

He was much more aware that he wanted some coffee rather badly, and that
he hoped everything would go all right. He looked out of the windows at
empty, dreary desert under the dawn sky. Today was the day he'd be
leaving on a rather important journey. He hoped that Haney and the
Chief and Mike weren't nervous. He also hoped that nobody had gotten at
the fuel for the pushpots, and that the slide-rule crew that had
calculated everything hadn't made any mistakes. He was also bothered
about the steering-rocket fuel, and he was uncomfortable about the
business of releasing the spaceship from the launching cage. There was,
too, cause for worry in the take-off rockets--if the tube linings had
shrunk there would be some rather gruesome consequences--and there could
always be last-minute orders from Washington to delay or even cancel
everything.

In short, his mind was full of strictly practical details. He didn't
have time to feel noble aspirations or sensations of high destiny. He
had a very tricky and exacting job ahead of him.

The sky was growing lighter outside. Stars faded in a paling blue and
the desert showed faint colorings. He tied his necktie. A deep-toned
keening set up off to the southward, over the sere and dreary landscape.
It was a faraway noise, something like the lament of a mountain-sized
calf bleating for its mother. Joe took a deep breath. He looked, but saw
nothing. The noise, though, told him that there'd been no cancellation
of orders so far. He mentally uncrossed one pair of fingers. He couldn't
possibly cross fingers against all foreseeable disasters. There weren't
enough fingers--or toes either. But it was good that so far the schedule
held.

He went downstairs. Major Holt was pacing up and down the living room of
his quarters. Electric lights burned, but already the windows were
brightening. Joe straightened up and tried to look casual. Strictly
speaking, Major Holt was a family friend who happened also to be
security officer here, in charge of protecting what went on in the giant
construction Shed. He'd had a sufficiently difficult time of it in the
past, and the difficulties might keep on in the future. He was also the
ranking officer here and consequently