... ... ... Mark! X
Minus Fifteen Minutes!"

Jerry Markham said, "That's me!" He looked up at the lofty porthole and
almost lost his balance over backwards sighting it. He was a healthy
specimen, about twenty-four and full of life. He had spent the day going
through two routines that were sometimes simultaneous and at other times
serially; one re-stating his instructions letter by letter including the
various alternatives and contingencies that involved his making
decisions if the conditions on Venus were according to this theory or
that. The other was a rigorous medical checkup. Neither of them showed
that Jerry Markham had spent the previous night in activities not
recommended by his superiors but nothing that would bounce him if they
knew. He could hardly be broken for living it up at a party.

He shook hands with the boss and stepped into the elevator. It was not
his idea of a proper send-off. There should be bands playing and girls
throwing paper tape, flowers and a few drinks. Sally should send him off
with a proud smooch of lipstick and a tearful promise to wait. Instead
it was all very military and strict and serious--which is why he'd
whooped it up the night before. He'd had his good night and good by with
Sally Forman, but now eighteen hours later he was fit and raring for a
return match.

Jerry's mind was by no means concerned with this next half hour, which
would be the most perilous part of his flight. Tomorrow would take care
of itself. The possibility that thirty minutes from now he might be dead
in a flaming pyre did not cross his mind, the chance that an hour from
now he could be told that his bird was off-course and his fate
starvation if it obtained an untrue orbit or abrupt destruction if it
didn't orbit at all--nothing bothered him.

He sat there chanting the count down with the official timer and braced
himself when the call came:

"Zero! Fire!"

Inwardly, Jerry Markham's mind said, "We're off!" and he began to look
forward to his landing on Venus. Not the problems of landing, but what
he would find there when he soared down through the clouds.

Determined to hold up through the high-G even though nobody watched, he
went on and on and up and up, his radio voiced the progress tinnily.
Shock followed roaring pressure, release followed shock. Orientation was
lost; only logic and intellect told him where he was and which way he
was going.

Then he was free. Free to eat and drink and read and