dawn touched the high sierras as the station whirled in from the pacific, 500 miles high.

"bert. get me a radar fix on white sands."

morrow huddled over the small computer, feeding in radar information as it came from his assistant.

"rocket away!" blared a radio speaker on the bulkhead. the same message carried to the four space-suited tugmen floating beyond the rim of the wheel, linked with life-lines.

jones watched interestedly out the port.

"there she is!" he yelled.

sunlight caught the ascending rocket, held it in a splash of light. the intercept technique was routine now, a matter of timing, but for a moment kevin succumbed to the frightening optical illusion that the rocket was approaching apex far below the station. then, slowly, the slender cylinder matched velocity and pulled into the orbit, crept to its destination.

with deceptive ease, the four human tugs attached magnetic shoes and guided the projectile into the space station hub with short, expert blasts of heavy rocket pistols.

"take over bert," morrow directed, "i guess i'm the official greeter." he hurried out of the control room, through a short connecting tube and emerged floating in the central space surrounding the hub where artificial gravity fell to zero. air pressure was normal to transfer passengers without space suits.

the connecting lock clanked open. the rocket pilot stepped out.

"he got sick," the pilot whispered to kevin. "i swabbed him off, but he's hoppin' mad."

the senator's mop of white hair appeared in the port. kevin braced to absorb a tirade, but mckelvie's deep scowl changed to an expression of bliss as he floated weightless into the tiny room.

"why, this is wonderful!" he sputtered. he waved his arms like a bird and kicked experimentally with a foot.

"grab him!" kevin shouted. "he's gone happy with it."

the pilot was too late. mckelvie's body sailed gracefully through the air and his head smacked the bulkhead. his eyes glazed in a frozen expression of carefree happiness.

kevin swore. "now he'll accuse us of a plot against his life. help me get him to sick bay."

the two men guided the weightless form into a tube connecting with the outer ring. as they pushed outward, mckelvie's weight increased until they carried him the last 50 feet into the dispensary compartment.

max gordon burst wild-eyed into the room.

"what have you done to the senator?" he shouted. "why didn't you tell me he was coming up?" morrow made sure mckelvie was receiving full medical attention before he turned to the junior officer.

"he went space happy and bumped his head," kevin said curtly, "and there was no more reason to notify you than the rest of the crew." he walked away. gordon bent solicitously over his unconscious patron.

kevin found anderson in the passageway.

"i ordered them to start fueling moonbeam," bert said.

"good. is mark awake?"

"eating breakfast. the psycho's giving him a clinical chat."

"i wish it were over." morrow brushed back his hair.

"you've really got the jitters, huh chief?"

morrow turned angrily and then tried to laugh.

"i'd sell my job for a nickel right now, bert. this will be touch and go, without having the worst enemy of space flight aboard. if this ship fails, it's more than a rocket or the death of a man. it'll set the whole program back 50 years."

"i know," bert answered, "but he'll make it."

footsteps sounded in the tube outside the cabin. mark kramer walked in.

"hi, chief," he grinned, "moonbeam ready to go?"

"the techs are out now and fuel's aboard. how about you? shouldn't you get some rest?"

"that's all i've had since they shipped me out here." kramer laughed. "it'll be a snap. after all, i'll never make over two gees and pick up 7000 mph to leave you guys behind. then i play ring around the rosy, take a look at luna's off side and come home. just like that."

"just like that," kevin whispered meditatively. the moon rocket, floating there outside the station's rim was ugly, designed never to touch a planet's atmosphere, but it was the most beautiful thing man had ever built, assembled in space from individual fragments boosted laboriously from the earth's surface.

another clatter of footsteps approached the hatch. max gordon entered and stood at attention as senator mckelvie made a dignified entrance. the senator wore an adhesive patch on his high forehead. he turned to kramer.

"young man," he rumbled, "are you the fool risking your life in that—that thing out there? you must know it'll never reach the moon. i know it'll never—"

kramer's face paled slightly and he moved swiftly between the two men. without using force, he backed the senator and gordon through the hatch and slammed it behind him. anger was a knot of green snakes in his belly.

"i want to talk to that pilot," mckelvie said belligerently.

"i'm sorry, senator. the best psychiatrists on earth worked eight months to condition kramer for this flight. he must not be emotionally disturbed. you can't talk to him."

"you forbid...?" mckelvie exploded, but morrow intercepted smoothly.

"gordon. i'm sure the senator would like a tour of the station. will you escort him?"

mckelvie's face reddened and max opened his mouth to object.

"gordon!" morrow said sharply. max closed his mouth and guided the grumbling congressman up the tube.