urned. Anyway, Pegasus was
proof the Earthman wasn't infallible. This was one project he hadn't
been able to sabotage.

His eye caught the glimmer of white on the bulkhead behind the
spacemonk. He didn't remember that. He got up and walked over to it,
peering to see in the dimness. Then he remembered his flashlight and
focused the beam on the paper.

The blood drained from his head and he gasped. It was a sketch of a
knight in armor, lance upraised, thrust through a winged rocket!

Rick let out a hoarse yell.

In the same instant he heard a whine, a rapidly accelerating whine. The
pumps! The fuel pumps! The starting sequence had begun!

He looked at his watch, and saw that zero time was many seconds past.
But surely his watch was wrong. The board was red! Wasn't anyone
watching? He ran to the port and looked out at the deserted desert. He
was alone in the great rocket, and the fuel pumps were going. He could
almost picture the stream of boron hydride blending with the oxidizer
and flowing in an ever-increasing stream toward the combustion chamber.
He heard the scrape as the instrument cable dropped away outside.

Pegasus roared!

And Rick knew. He knew that somehow he had failed, that the board showed
green!

CHAPTER XVII

Weight, One Ton

Rick had no time to think. He reacted. He pulled off the jacket he had
worn against the chill of the desert night, and rolled it tightly. He
dropped to the deck and stretched flat on his back, the jacket tucked
under the back of his head and neck.

He put his hands flat on the deck and sensed the increasing shudder of
the great rocket. It was building thrust! Fuel poured into the
combustion chamber and fantastically hot exhaust gases flared from the
motor exhaust. And with each passing second thrust built up inside the
motor chamber.

When the thrust exceeded the rocket's weight, Pegasus would take off!

He knew it wouldn't be long. Seconds more.

The entire rocket screamed as vibration ran in torturing waves through
its metal skeleton and skin. It passed the point of discomfort and
became unbearable. Rick rocked his head from side to side, as though to
get rid of the shattering howl, but it tore at his head, at his stomach,
at his very skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again he saw
that Prince Machiavelli had moved, downward. The powerful springs that
held his little chair were lengthening.

Air-borne!

Rick became conscio