Charles Chilton [Journey into Journey into Space (v2.0) (epub

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.I know we must have made, principally for our own amusement, drawings of dozens of ships, satellite stations and fancy rockets of all kinds.Our plans and models were complete to the smallest detail, from space suits, living quarters, air conditioning, food containers and pressure couches to motors, meteor bumper and solar mirror.Moon ships, ferry ships and space station were all systematically dealt with.When it came to designing the radio, televiewer and radar equipment, we were enthusiastically joined by Lemmy Barnet, Jet’s first radio operator on the Atlantic run, who, although he did not share our enthusiasm for space travel as such, could never resist the challenge to design some special piece of radio apparatus for any purpose we cared to name.Between the three of us we once constructed a working model of a ship, complete with crew’s quarters, that took off, climbed three miles, turned itself over and landed gently on its tail in exactly the way a real ship would have landed on the Moon.The whole operation was radio controlled.The hours I spent in the centrifuge and the days I spent watching other guinea pigs undergoing its cruel pressure proved, without a doubt, that it was possible for a man to stand more gravities than he would ever need to experience during a journey to the Moon or planets--should any genius invent a ship economical enough to get him there.The pressurised suits were, as far as I could tell, quite adequate but, of course, it was impossible to test them under full outer-space conditions.We had a fair idea of how man would react under the long, gravity-less periods he would have to spend in space but, for obvious reasons, could never put these theories to a practical test either.So we just continued working and hoped that in the not too distant future our efforts would help launch the first Moon-bound ship on its way.Our hopes were not very high.Then came the blow.With the first rocket to reach free orbit revolving, uselessly, 700 miles or so above the Earth’s surface, all work other than on missiles of a military nature was stopped.I guess Washington considered further research on theoretical space travel to be a waste of time and, further, that, with elections coming up in just a few months, a little widely publicised economy in public funds would not come amiss.Something like half the personnel at Poker Flats was fired.But space medicine, even when it was for military purposes only, was still an important factor in rocket research so I retained my position although my field was narrowed down so much I was thinking of handing in my resignation.Then I received the call from Jet whom I had not seen for nearly a month and who had, or so I thought then, no reason whatsoever for being anywhere near Australia.His presence there intrigued me and as the tone of his message was urgent I had little trouble in persuading myself to fly out to Adelaide to see what was going on.I was due for a vacation anyway.I packed my bags and left New Mexico for New York a week later.I made the journey across the world in two stratospheric hops--New York to Bombay, Bombay to Melbourne--and reached the Australian city the same day.From Melbourne I travelled to Adelaide by aircraft and found Jet waiting to meet me.He gave me no time to ask questions.I had hardly greeted him when I was swept to another comer of the airfield where a helicopter, its blades already rotating, was waiting.My baggage was bundled inside and I took my seat next to Jet who sat at the controls.Within a few seconds we were in the air, heading over the city towards the irrigated, agricultural land to the north.Five minutes later the pink, sandy wastes of the Australian bush were passing below us.Jet, in the small pilot’s seat, his long legs stretched out before him, seemed taller than ever.His mop of black hair from which he gained his nickname, was as unruly as ever and there was a glint of good humour in his boyish, grey eyes.He put the craft on its course, set the automatic pilot, leant leisurely back in his seat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.“Well, Doc, how do you like Australia?” he said at last.“I’ve hardly had time to form any opinion about it,” I told him.“Not very different from New Mexico, do you think?”“Not really, but there’s a deal more of it.”“How would you like to work in this part of the world?”“Me? What at?”“Space medicine research, plus the opportunity to put many of your theories into practice.”“Is there another rocket proving ground out here then-- besides Woomera?”“You might call it that.Launching ground would be a better description.”“It amounts to the same thing.”“Not exactly.This is something quite new.It has revolutionized the whole business of rocket construction.”“I don’t get you, Jet.Why don’t you come to the point?”“Very well.Within a year from now, a serious attempt will be made to reach the Moon--in one hop.”Had Jet told me he intended to run for President of the United States, I could not have been more surprised.I said nothing for a few moments; instead I gazed at the ground slowly unrolling below us.Ahead was the Flinders Range, a group of hills which, in Australia, pass as mountains.Stretching from below us to the foothills were the sand ridges topped by the inevitable grey-green mulga which is to this sparse country what sagebrush is to the American desert.“In one hop?” That was all I could say.Jet laughed [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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