wade boeman let his eyes wander up the hull of the huge silver ship. he thought; if only tomer were here now! he caught himself and quickly erased the thought before he remembered more ... things that were better left alone, hidden behind the thin veil he had created in his mind.

the quick blink of a signal light from the tower caught the corner of his eye. h-hour minus fifteen minutes. the ground crews had cleared the area. he hadn't noticed. he turned to the huge, blond man standing beside him.

"well, allen. this is it. i've checked everything myself. you should have no trouble. be sure and strap yourself in tightly and don't forget to check the gyro. its the only thing we can't double check from the tower."

"you're all through instructing now, teacher," the blond man said. "i can take it from here. and i can't say i'm sorry."

wade wanted to say then all the little things that had been building up within him during the past long months. he bit back the words. it took much effort.

he said: "good luck, captain. i really mean it."

allen gave him a tight smile. "drop dead, colonel."

wade dropped his outstretched hand as the big man ignored him. ackerson turned his back and began to climb the metal rungs leading up the hull of the ship.

tomer, wade thought. if only it could be tomer instead of ackerson.

he waited until the blond man entered the hatch before he climbed into the jeep. he glanced once more at the silver hull of the starfrost, then he jammed down on the accelerator. hate was a word wade seldom used. there was too much of it in the world already. but he was beginning to hate ackerson.

he parked the jeep beside the concrete and steel structure housing operations. the instant his hand touched the door handle he tried to cease being wade boeman the man. he tried to become colonel wadon g. boeman, senior officer in charge of 'operation boomerang,' with no personal feelings. it didn't come off fully.

the four walls were lined with banks of instruments. small lights flickered and died, only to come alive again the next instant. a man coughed.

he nodded at a communications man, a civilian, as he hurried to the small table where the television set was resting. the closed circuit showed the starfrost resting alone on the sand with her nose pointed toward the sky.

he took off his cap, then lighted a cigarette. he checked his wrist watch with the large clock on the wall. he set the sweep second hand to coincide with the larger one.

"twelve minutes, colonel," someone behind wade said.

he wiped his dry lips as he flicked his eyes in the direction of the major in charge of the control panel. the major gave him a tight smile. wade nodded. major gormely was a good man ... they were all good men. wade felt proud to be part of the team.

he took in the radar man checking the never-ending sweep of the beam. frank piluis, a tall, lanky man of twenty-three. he was checking the screen, adjusting, as if his own life depended on its operation instead of a man he hardly knew.

wade checked his own screen again.

the starfrost was so silent ... so latent ... so important. wade found tomer creeping into his thoughts again. he shut the thought out quickly. wade was a military man. he had orders to forget tomer. he gave orders. he also had to take them.

wade became mindful of someone standing behind him. he turned. the man was tall, wearing the cloak of authority in the very way he smiled. distinguished looking streaks of gray ran over his once brown hair. tiny wrinkles at the eyes told that he was a man with a sense of humor even though pressed with responsibility.

"a penny for your thoughts, wade." the secretary of defense said as boeman got up. wade wondered if the man had been in the control room all the time. he hadn't seen him.

"they aren't worth it, harry," he answered, offering his hand.

"as bad as that," the secretary laughed. "here we are on the edge of a history making moment and you're wasting your time with worthless thoughts."

worthless thoughts. wade wondered if they were, really.

wade first met harry lowe a long time ago when the project was just a dream on the drawing boards. since that time he had come to know the secretary intimately. now, suddenly, he felt awkward before the man. perhaps it was because lowe seemed to have a special talent for reading peoples' expressions, converting them into sentences. like now, wade felt the man was reading his face like a book.

"that's right, harry. history is being made isn't it?"

the secretary's face became very serious. "more than that, wade. perhaps salvation depends on it."

"ten minutes," a voice said.

wade nodded at the technician. tiny lights came into play on the control panel as major gormely began closing circuits. the communications man made a final type check on the huge p.c.r. set.

"starfrost. this is mother. how do you read me? over."

"mother. this is starfrost. loud and clear. five by five." ackerson's strong voice came from the loud-speaker located in the center of the equipment. "oxygen checks. i've bedded down. give the colonel my love."

the radio man looked at wade. there had been no mistaking the sarcasm in ackerson's voice. wade felt his face grow red.

"he hasn't changed," he heard the secretary say.

"no. he hasn't changed." wade said softly.

"don't let it throw you, wade. you've done a good job. we both know that nothing counts but the project."

nothing counts but the project. personal feelings, ideals, not even human lives. nothing counts but the project. how many times had he said that to himself, trying to be convincing.

"it's tomer. isn't it?" the secretary said.

wade's eyes locked with those of the older man. there was no sense going over that now. they had had it out a dozen times already.

"that and other things," he said.

"like ackerson's attitude, i suppose."

"like ackerson's attitude."

the secretary gave a tight smile. "we all have reasons for doing things, wade. to you this is a military feat that could spell security for years to come. to me it does that and more. it could be the opening of a new frontier, something that will provide a new outlet for humanity instead of war."

wade said: "and to ackerson it will mean fame and fortune. nothing more. his name will go in the history books. there will be personal appearances, contracts, money. he has no feelings at all about what this will mean to his country."

the secretary nodded. "you're a professional military man, wade. you're making it your life. i understand how you feel."

wade laughed bitterly, inside. did harry know how he felt? did he think that military men were just brass and polish with no feelings, no friends to worry about, no cares outside of regulations and orders!

"eight minutes." the voice came again.

wade left the secretary, went to the mike resting on the communications desk.

"starfrost. this is mother," he said.

"go ahead, mother." ackerson recognized his voice.

"double check everything. repeat. double check everything, oxygen, hammock straps, loose objects, everything."

"relax, mother! you sound like you're going to have another baby." ackerson laughed over the loud-speaker.

wade gave the mike back to the radio man carefully. he walked back to the small television screen and sat down. the starfrost looked like a silver monument standing alone out there on the sand. soon there would be nothing there but sand. wade felt like a mother hen waiting for her first egg.

he adjusted the contrast, brightened the picture. perhaps the secretary was right. everyone had their reasons for doing things. he wondered what tomer's were?

"do you think he will make it, wade?"

the secretary sat down on the edge of the desk. he looked out of place. he should have been behind one, a large mahogany one.

"i think he will," wade said softly. "the test ship we sent made it. there is no reason to believe a ship with a man in it should fail."

"do you want him to make it?"

the words jarred boeman. he searched the secretary's face. "of course i do. what makes you say a thing like that?"

the secretary toyed with his tie. he said nothing.

wade got up. he could feel the anger begin to seep through his body. "you know what this trip means to me—to the country." he faced the gray-haired man squarely. "if you're insinuating that i want him to fail because i disagree with his reasons for volunteering, you're wrong. dead wrong."

wade found himself lighting a cigarette. "sure. i dislike ackerson. dislike him violently. i've taken more lip from him in the past months than i've taken during my entire life. and when he returns that will be finished or i'll finish him. one way or another." wade inhaled deeply. "it's the project that counts. only the project. it's bigger than one man ... it's bigger than all of us put together."

lowe smiled. his face seemed younger. "i knew you felt that way, wade. i just wanted you to say it for your own benefit. perhaps it will make this entire thing easier for you."

the secretary moved then, over to the communication panel.

"three minutes," someone said.

wade looked at the narrow back of harry lowe. and he knew how the man became secretary of defense. it was shrewd getting him to open up like that. they both knew how lucky they were to have allen ackerson. finding men capable of making such a flight hadn't been easy. of the dozen volunteers only ackerson remained. mental and physical tests had eliminated all but a few. those remaining were unfit for space travel, weeded out by the psychological teams, unable to cope with the morbid phobia of being alone so long wrapped in a metal cocoon. only ackerson and tomer had succeeded. now there was only ackerson.

"colonel!" wade turned and faced the rawboned sergeant standing beside him. meyers was a big man with a deep tan browning his face.

"what is it, sergeant?"

meyers handed him a large white envelope. "captain ackerson said to give this to you just before take-off."

"thanks, sergeant."

"two minutes," someone said. wade stuffed the envelope inside his jacket. then he hurried over to the radar man. the envelope had to wait, there was no time now.

"are we set?" he asked. the man nodded as he adjusted the dials. wade smiled. these men were experts in their fields. to double check them would be to insult them. besides, this wasn't the first time for them. the same crew had been operating when they fired the test rocket. he knew they wouldn't fail.

"one minute ... 59 ... 58 ... 57...." wade found himself counting under his breath while he stared at the small screen on the table. would the reactors work? they would go on at 30. and the starfrost! would it lift—or would it, like some others before it, slowly hesitate, then begin a weird, frightening slide to the side to become a flaming blowtorch of death.

"30!" major gormely closed the switch. wade became conscious of the secretary watching the screen with him.

"... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2...." the counter continued. "fire!"

the starfrost shivered.

wade felt his heart skip a beat. slowly, ever so slowly, the huge ship began to move. dust, sand and smoke mingled with the sheets of flame pouring from her stern. the platform disappeared in a puff of smoke.

the starfrost lifted.

"thank god!" the secretary sighed.

"amen." wade muttered. he took out another cigarette. he was glad it had begun; the project. now there was only the long wait.

"ackerson's a brave man." the secretary said.

"of course he is." wade never had any doubts about allen's intestinal fortitude. the man had a good war record. confidence seemed to ooze out of the man. it was his attitude, damn it.

wade drew deeply on the cigarette. tomer had been the same type in many ways. eager, filled with the enthusiasm, unafraid. a small man compared to the blond ackerson, he seemed to carry himself tall. and his attitude. he felt the same intensity about national defense as boeman did himself. perhaps that was another reason he had felt close to the boy. tomer would have made this trip with no thought whatsoever about the financial rewards or what the history books would have to say about him.

"... sixty thousand ..." someone said.

"start communication," wade commanded automatically.

"romeo." the commo picked up the small hand mike. all eyes in the room centered on the silent speaker on the wall.

"starfrost. this is mother. how do you read me, over?"

the speaker remained silent.

"starfrost. can you read me. over!"