Astounding Science Fiction (British edition) — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

36 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION name. The water was glassy with only a few gentle ground swells. He was doing over three hundred knots as he flared the ship out for a landing. The first contact was merely a bounce. In a shower of flying spray, the Nomad careened off the water like a skipping stone, leaped several miles, then hit again in another tremendous splash. Five times the ship did this, with Dick fighting her all the way. It finally got on the water and stayed there. Two Navy jet flying boats which had been tracking the Nomad were there almost at once. They wheeled around and dropped to the water like great blue cormorants. As the Nomad heaved up and down on the gentle swell, Dick relaxed and let the pain wash over him in great waves. I’ve won, he thought, and went out cold. Karlter and Streiker were waiting for him when the Navy rocket glided in at Muroc. Don rushed him away from the newsreels and TV pickups to a waiting stratoplane. As they winged their way across the continent, Don grinned and asked, “How does it feel to be the first spaceman?”’ Dick rested his cast on one crutch and drew deeply on a cigarette. It was good to be able to smoke again. “I'd rather have waited and bought a ticket.” “Man, you're the Lindbergh of the spaceways! Do you know this whole screwy country is slightly space-happy vight now because of you?” Dick shrugged. “So what?” “So you did it successfully; you proved it could be done! The Presi- dent’s going to decorate you. You’re slated for three TV-casts and magazine spreads. Congress—”’ ““Cancel them!” “Huh? Wait a minute, Dick—” Don objected. “I said: cancel the works! I don’t want to do anything for a couple of months; I’m tired.’ He was, too. He felt as though every last bit of strength and emotion had been drained from him. “Look, lad, we’re going to need this publicity,” Don explained. “It’s ap- propriation time in Congress, you know, and the Navy, and ourselves, are going to need money. We’ve been given the green light by the Navy to develop a space station.” “We're starting on a series of orbi- tal rockets first,” Streiker explained. “We've got a new trick up our sleeves this time: the Naval Aircraft Factory and DuPont have come up with a method of taking standard fuels, add- ing a catalyst, and getting fantastic exhaust velocities! It’s all been secret stuff and came out too late for the Nomad. We had to go ahead with what we had.” “So? Why tell me?” ““Because you've got more on-the- spot experience than any other man. You're needed on the next project: space station with single-stage shuttle rockets—and good gyros! You can write your own ticket!’ Don looked dog-tired, but happy. ““How does that sound?” Dick watched the smoke curl up from his cigarette. “I told you, Don, that from now on I’m just a spectator. Somebody else takes it from here. I wouldn’t do it again for anything. ’'m through.” “But, Dick—” Don began. Streiker sat up and looked worried. “I said I’m finished!’ Dick snapped angrily. “I don’t want to talk about it! What are you trying to do, make me out as a hardy pioneer? Nuts! I did a nasty job because I had to! I’m through! I’m... tired—’’ He said this last with utter weariness in his voice. Snuffing out his cigarette, he went on, ‘‘May I use your phone?” - Comiclboolkks.conn