. And I've studied the
psychologist's reports on you carefully. Maybe it's just nervousness,
Phil, but I think there's something wrong. Is there?"

"No, sir. There's nothing wrong," Phil said, but his voice didn't carry
conviction. He reached for a cigarette.

"Phil, if there is anything--anything at all--you know what it might
mean. You've got to be in the best mental and physical condition of your
life tonight. You know better than any man here what that means to our
success. I think there is something more than just natural apprehension
wrong with you. Want to tell me?"

* * * * *

Outside, the take-off zone crawled with men and machines at the base of
the rocket. For ten hours, the final check-outs had been in progress;
and now the men were checking again, on their own time. The thing they
had worked toward for six years was ready to happen, and each one felt
that he was sending just a little bit of himself into the sky. Beyond
the ring of lights and moving men, on the edge of the field, Mary stood.
Her hands moved slowly over the top of the fence, twisting the barbs of
wire. But her eyes were on the ship.

And then they were ready. A small group of excited men came out from the
administration building and moved forward. The check-out crews climbed
into their machines and drove back outside the take-off zone. And,
alone, one man climbed the steel ladder up the side of the
rocket--ninety feet into the air. At the top he waved to the men on the
ground and then disappeared through a small port.

Mary waved to him. "Good-by," she said to herself, but the words stuck
tight in her throat.

The small group at the base of the ship turned and walked back to the
fence. And for an eternity the great ship stood alone, waiting. Then,
from deep inside, a rumble came, increasing in volume to a gigantic roar
that shook the earth and tore at the ears. Slowly, the first manned
rocket to the Moon lifted up and up to the sky.

* * * * *

For a long time after the rocket had become a tiny speck of light in the
heavens, she stood holding her face in her hands and crying softly to
herself. And then she felt the touch of a hand on her arm. She turned.

"Phil! Oh, Phil." She held tightly to him and repeated his name over and
over.

"They wouldn't let me go, Mary," he said finally. "The general would not
let me go."

She looked at him. His face was drawn tight, and