The Big Tomorrow by Richard S. Shaver (read after .txt) 📗

the field. Gorman said, "I'm tired. I want to sit down."

"It was thoughtless of me. I should have provided chairs. It won't be long now."

It wasn't long. Five minutes later there was a roar, an explosion of color, and a silver rocket flash up into the sky almost faster than the eye could follow.

Gorman slammed the heel of his hand against the side of his head in order to restore hearing. "You can put that gun away."

"Of course. And you'll want to call the police."

Gorman growled like an annoyed bull. He jerked open the door and strode away.

Three hours later, Joshua and Myra Lake were seated in the small patio beside their home. They were seated very close together, and Myra was stroking Joshua's hand. "It's been a long time, dear; a very long time."

"Yes."

"Are you happy?"

"I'm—well, satisfied—at least partially. We've passed a big milestone. But it isn't over yet."

"You're sure this time, though?"

"Very sure."

"Thank heaven we won't have much longer to wait."

The wait was slightly less than ten minutes. Then Lee Gorman strode into the patio. Joshua sprang to his feet. "Any news?"

"Yes."

"Then they should have phoned me. I left word to be called."

"No one could get up the courage. The rocket crashed in Canada."

Joshua swayed. When he looked at Lee, his eyes were filled with a mute plea. "That is the truth?"

"It's the truth. The first flash said it appears the tail broke off in high space."

Joshua sank into his chair. "The crew—died?"

"Four more men sacrificed to your—" Gorman stopped and did not use the word obsession. There was too much agony in Joshua's face. "I'm taking the plant—I'm taking everything. I've got to. I've paid for them."

Lee Gorman walked from the patio. His steps echoed and died.

Joshua and Myra sat for a long time in silence. Myra was holding his hand. Finally she spoke. "Well, at least it's over. Now you can rest. Successful or not—you've earned it."

Joshua turned and looked into her face—looked at her as though she had just entered. "Oh no, my dear. You certainly don't expect me to—"

"Joshua!"

"Why, I'm only sixty-three. I never felt better in my life. I have a lot of good productive years ahead."

"Joshua! What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to be the first man to send a rocket to the Moon."