* * * * *

Rick was still tapping when he heard the sudden whine of servomotors.
The rocket tilted but continued its fall, rushing toward earth while its
nose swung slightly upward. Then the airfoils took hold and Pegasus
began to climb once more.

Rick was flat on the floor, thrown there for a few seconds when gravity
became normal. He climbed to his feet again, fighting pain and weakness.
Jerry Lipton was flying Pegasus. It was a reprieve. The boy and the
marmoset had a chance after all, if the heat didn't get them. Rick could
feel his skin tighten, feel the moisture baking out of him.

He held on to the channel with one hand and found the stethoscope with
the other. Concentrating, he tapped out a message.

E-R-T-H-M-A-N I-N E-L-E-C-T-R-O-N-C G-R-P H-E O-N-E O-F L-S-T T-O
E-N-T-R R-O-C-K-T.

He signed his initials.

The rocket was dipping toward earth again, in accordance with the
landing flight plan. It was traveling nearly ten thousand miles an hour.
The speed had to be lost, and the only way to lose it was by friction
against the air. But uncontrolled friction would turn it into a meteor,
so Jerry was letting the heat build up by diving the rocket, then
turning it upward again in a long glide, where it could cool in the
outer fringes of atmosphere. Little by little it was losing its excess
of kinetic energy.

Pegasus went into the atmosphere again in a long, shallow, turning
glide. The heat built up until Rick's tense, weakened condition couldn't
tolerate it any longer. He slid to the floor, unconscious.

* * * * *

Jerry Lipton had flown everything from small private planes to the
latest jet. He had directed drone planes into atomic clouds and on trial
bomb runs. But never in his career had he been faced with a piloting job
like Pegasus.

It had been difficult enough, with just the rocket to worry about. But
with Rick's life in his hands . . .

John Gordon and Gee-Gee Gould were standing by, relaying information to
the pilot. Jerry watched the shape on the radar screen climb to higher
altitude and asked, "What's his velocity?"

Dr. Bond was doing the calculations, based on the rocket's travel
through the radar beam.

"Just above five thousand miles an hour."

Jerry shook his head. "I can't keep him up there all day. How's the
temperature?"

Gee-Gee Gould consulted the temperature trace on the display.

"Cabin temperature