Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

18 _ ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION Their electronic eyes watched her as she went around and around the globe. The Asgard space station was also following the Fafnir’s beacon. All the information was being collected at White Sands. and fed into the . computers there. In the ship, Astrabadi was making pin-point fixes by bouncing dovar off Asgard’s beacon as well as the various spaceport beacons. It was a double-check system working from both ends. Hitting a thousand square-feet of ' concrete gently and precisely from several hundred miles in outer space is no mean trick. Human reactions are too slow and too inaccurate. The great-great-grandson of the GCA air- craft landing system was getting set to take over the final phase. As the Fafnir came in on her approach, five stations around White Sands picked her up on their long-range screens and began bouncing their microwaves off her hull. Their individual azimuth, elevation, range, and doppler beat data were going into the master computer and landing control system at White Sands. In case of failure of the ship’s automatic equipment, White Sands was relaying the information from the computer up to the ship by tele- metering. Vanderhoff had presenta- tions on his control panel showing the ship’s altitude, approach speed, and drift. : “Winch! Let’s go!’ Vanderhoff yelled up the hatch. As Winch sailed through it, the skipper stretched out on his cot and strapped in. He swung the switch panel over him and de- pressed the intercom button. “‘Power room! Stand by to bring her down!” ““Roger,”’ Garver’s voice came back. “Firebox hot! Standing by to start pumps on command!” Winch finished strapping down, put on his earphones, and threw a switch. “White Sands Control, White Sands Control, this is Spaceship Fafnir on landing approach. By for you. Over.” The loud-speaker in the bulkhead rasped, ‘“‘Fafnir, this is White Sands Control. Two-degrees drift north of the groove. Your beacon is S-9 and your path is cleared. White Sands Vanderhoff lay back and watched the scopes and meters in the panel above his head. There was nothing he could do about the drift until he fired. The Fafnir was now about. fifty-five miles up, ripping horizontally through the upper atmosphere and_ losing altitude. It was Vanderhoff’s job to judge all factors correctly, navigate by White Sands’ instructions, pull the nose up, and stall out over White Sands, killing the ship’s kinetic energy. He gave the crew the red light. **Fafnir, this is White Sands Control. Give us a count down so we can check our switching circuits. Over.” “Roger,” Winch replied and turned his head so he could see the chrono- meter. “Five .°.). tour .) s° three ... two... one... woof! Over.” “Thank you, Fafnir. Stand by to synch dovar.” Winch closed his dovar gating circuits and waited for the pulse from the ground to put his system in synchronization. The little pip finally danced momentarily on the face of a scope. “White Sands, Fafnir’s dovar system in synch. By for you.” It was.all a matter of waiting now. The red second hand crept around the clock dial as Vanderhoff watched. He was flying the ship by the seat of his pants. He began to sweat, although the control room was cool. He watched the pip of light which marked the White Sands’ beacon — creep across the face of his scope. As — it moved closer to the cross hairs, he thumbed a small wheel slightly and r CORMIE DOO KSn(EO)