Time passed. A lot of time. The feeling of unending fall continued. They
knew what it was, but they had to keep thinking of its cause to endure
it. Joe found that if his mind concentrated fully on something else, it
jerked back to panic and the feel of falling. But the crew of the Space
Platform--now out in space for more weeks than Joe had been
quarter-hours--reported that one got partly used to it, in time. When
awake, at least. Asleep was another matter.

They were 1,600 miles high and still going out and up. The Earth as seen
through the ports was still an utterly monstrous, bulging mass, specked
with clouds above vast mottlings which were its seas and land. They
might have looked for cities, but they would be mere patches in a
telescope. Their task now was to wait until their orbit curved into
accordance with that of the Platform and they kept their rendezvous. The
artificial satellite was swinging up behind them, and was only a
quarter-circle about Earth behind them. Their speed in miles per second
was, at the moment, greater than that of the Platform. But they were
climbing. They slowed as they climbed. When their path intersected that
of the Platform, the two velocities should be exactly equal.

Major Holt's voice came on the Communicator.

"_Joe_," he said harshly, "_I have very bad news. A message came from
Central Intelligence within minutes of your take-off. I--ah--with Sally
I had been following your progress. I did not decode the message until
now. But Central Intelligence has definite information that more than
ten days ago the--ah--enemies of our Space Exploration Project_--" even
on a tight beam to the small spaceship, Major Holt did not name the
nation everybody knew was most desperately resolved to smash space