Books About Skydiving

Sky High: Visions Of Affordable Spaceflight

"Ignition."

A ragged sequence of bumps and bangs signaled rocket motor ignition. Linda was bounced and jostled in her snug seat. Maybe this tight packing case Jim and Norman had squeezed her into was a good idea. Then they had nailed the windowless cover on like a coffin lid. NO, don't think that! There is no point to sending a reporter on a one way trip. Space Capsules. That's what NASA always called them. I'm in a Space Capsule.

The noises became a sustained roar as the clustered motors began to work together, but the shuddering and bumps continued. The central part of the glowing display panel changed from -10 to -9.

...

An assignment! More than a week - all expenses. A feature article, about the Space Program. Linda had trouble believing that this outfit had something good for her. After several years of receiving only half a loaf she didn't expect much from the publisher. But it still rated as a break.

Her luggage was piled at the door before the call came. House sitting for two years! Sweet! No bills, and food money to boot. She could plunge into her writing and build the reputation - and contacts - that a professional needed.

The plan was working, but more slowly than expected. She built up contacts from her part time days, and made new ones. But all too often prospects involved next month, next quarter, next year. Then the couple called with a change of plans. Transferred home a year early. Two weeks notice had dwindled to eighteen hours. Linda was now officially homeless but she had no intention of intruding on her benefactor's homecoming. Before this call from the publisher she hadn't known what she was going to tell the cab driver.

...

The throaty roar and shuddering were building up. Linda could picture flame streaming from the end of the tubular sections. Long ugly yellow things, lashed together like a bundle of Dynamite sticks. Unfinished, with black notes jotted on them. And just big enough, when all lashed together, to prop up this tiny capsule.

The display changed from -6 to -5.

...

The cab had taken her to the airport. She smiled a lot and talked them into ignoring her excess baggage. The fact that it was a half empty red eye helped. Linda was mentally drafting "My Life as a Bag Lady." when a final cab delivered her, and her load, to the publisher's offices. She didn't talk to an editor, but to the legal eagle.

Free agent. No obligation. No liability. Prepaid expenses were considered an advance against payment for an acceptable article. Yes, certainly, necessary and appropriate expenses would be added to the publication's normal payment. Should she be invited to participate in any portion of Astronaut training, she could do so at her own discretion and of her own free will, with no liability construed to fall on the publisher.

Linda confirmed that she had spent a weekend skydiving. She was a certified SCUBA diver. She had made it up Mt. Rainier with a group. But the focus had been on pages of forms that spelled out NO LIABILITY in many different ways. All signed, witnessed and Notarized. The 'Next of kin' question surprised her, but she settled on her sister as the one who would get her excess baggage when and if... She was repeatedly promised that her questions would be answered after the formalities had been taken care of. Yet at the end of the day she found herself headed back to the airport with no answers except the confirmation of an Internet bargain flight in her hand. This publisher loved discount red eye flights. But Houston? Linda had expected Florida.

...

The roar and shaking seemed to double in strength every second. Nothing could contain it - an explosion was inevitable.

"God, how did I get here? I wish I could remember how to pray. Now I lay me down to sleep and pray the Lord my soul to keep..." That didn't sound so good. "Our Father, who art in heaven ... Help! "

The display changed from -3 to -2

...

In Houston she was met by two teenagers holding a LINDA WILLIAMS sign. Jim was taller, with his pocketed T shirt loaded with pens and colored markers. Norman had wild and woolly hair and a similar array in his plaid shirt. Both wore loaded cargo pants. Linda was too sleepy to talk, or even listen to small talk. She spoke up when they turned off I-45 to the west.

"Isn't the Space Flight Center the other way?"

"Did you think we were connected with NASA?"

Norman had a grating laugh. Jim's was more civilized but equally disconcerting. This assignment was starting to make sense - let her accept an invitation from a private "space flight" outfit and expose the whole batch of wackos and con-men. That fit her publisher's style. Particularly if there was a reason for those liability wavers. They called themselves 'Sky Lift, Inc.'

The dirt roads and prefab sheds fit the pattern. They even hauled a big model rocket to the Gulf shore. She kept waiting for the slick Head Man to show up. These two were pleasant, intelligent and remarkable actors. If you closed your eyes you could believe they expected to fly something into space.

The pressure suit was something new for Linda, so she played along. She donned and exited it three times and checked all the valves and mechanisms as if she were actually going to use it. Some of it resembled SCUBA gear. The leakage test made sense and seemed to indicate that it was fit for space.

She was prepared to skip the parachute harness fitting, as she had been through that before.

"When you go up, your life will depend on it." Jim insisted.

"If I were to leave the ground, I know it would."

"When. You are scheduled to fly to orbit in the morning."

Count to ten - slowly.

"OK. You've had your fun and games. Now get back to class before the Truant Officer shows up."

Linda was treated to a second dose of Norman's laugh. Nothing she said disrupted their act, so she went back to playing along. She made sure that the parachute harness was secure. She insisted on helping inspecting and repack the parafoil parachute as she had done before, and the backup chute as well. The control brakes were a new design and she made sure she understood them. She also leaned to operate the dual communications radios and GPS units. It was a well planned rig. If this bunch ever got their hands on a real rocket they might do all right. Late in the night Linda crashed on a bunk in the storage room.

The game continued in the morning. Norman had added a striped tie to his plaid shirt and greased down his hair. He gave Linda a big smile and a cheery good morning, then the three of them got to work. She was shown a small display panel with a few controls and taught the function of each. Linda had slept poorly and was in no mood to be rushed, but the boys glances at the clock implied an unannounced schedule.

Obviously a full dress rehearsal was planned, for Linda was rigged with pressure suit, parachutes and all the rest before climbing with her instructors to the top of the model rocket. A nearly full size pilot's seat was perched there.

They didn't seem ready to take their publicity photos yet. They wanted her IN the seat? It was a BIG model rocket. Maybe she could scrunch in and look like she was ready to fly. It was very snug, but not impossible. Norman snapped a spindly frame into place and Linda recognized the display panel.

Now if only it were real! Linda hoped she could get a big copy of the photograph. It would help her to daydream about going into space - someday.

But instead of "Smile", "Waive" and flashbulbs, the next step involved dropping a windowless cover over her.

"They called it a shroud." she thought as they nailed it in place. "How are they going to take their photos?"

...

BLAM

The explosion was inevitable. Time almost stood still. The shock wave of the explosion was pressing her upward but the milliseconds it would take for her to become part of the fireball were incredibly extended.

"Liftoff. Acceleration nominal."

Jim? Jim shouldn't be meeting her. She had just met him, and he was still alive, wasn't he? No tunnel of light. Just the glowing display panel. The central display changed from +3 to +4.

"One thousand Feet."

Oh. Now if the baby elephant would just get off her chest... She could actually breath, but it took an effort.

"Good, you can't hold your breath all the way to orbit, you know."

"Unh..."

"May I quote you? I know it's hard to talk, and you don't need to. Five thousand feet, all systems nominal."

"Aah!..." The capsule lurched sideways as if struck.

"Something frightened you, but nothing is wrong. Breath deep and try to relax."

Could Jim hear her pounding heart? The capsule lurched again, but nothing seemed to be broken. Actually, the jogs felt elastic, more like bumper cars than an auto wreck.

"Fifty thousand feet. A perfect flight: in the groove. You are passing through light turbulence."

Memory of a Pacific flight popped into Linda's mind. She had been seated in the last row of a 747. The plane occasionally seemed to lurch sideways, then bounce back and wobble to a stop. She had realized that the plane was wagging its tail, and she was in it! This contraption was wagging its nose!

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.

Linda hoped they would stop feeding the elephant, it was getting really heavy.

"G" forces. Linda was light headed and getting tunnel vision. This was more G force than she could handle. It was a good thing she wasn't driving.

HISS.SS.SS.SS......

WHAT ! Oh, good they were letting the air out of the elephant. She felt lighter. But it didn't help. She was about to black out.

"BREATH! BREATH! It's very hard at max G, but you need to make up for it now!"

Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. Linda's vision cleared. It was easy to forget details - like breathing.

"Three seconds to stage drop."

BLAM ...

Almost as loud as at liftoff. Explosive bolts? Yes, that's what they called them.

A few bumps, squeaks and a joggle, and then only the diminished roar of the remaining rocket.

"Three seconds to shroud drop."

Linda wished they wouldn't call it a shroud. She was too young to need a shroud.

A smaller bang, and her capsule cracked open. Sunlight flooded in as the pieces fell away.

"Oh my God!..."

She was seated one hundred miles above the sparkling, colorful planet Earth, as if in a sky high chair lift. You've been to I MAX movies? It doesn't begin to do justice to the reality! It was not just the incredible detail she could see - but also the elusive details just at the edge of her visual limit.

The gulf showed textured patches where the water was touched by the winds. A scintillating V caught the sun behind a large ship. Part of the coast was veiled by a gauzy mist. Elsewhere a line of thunderheads were impossibly bright. The land was a crazy quilt of colored patches, some with the texture of silk, and some of felt. Lakes in the Yucatan burned with sunlight for long seconds, then disappeared into the lush green. She could just make out the foamy breakers rolling onto the shore at Cancun. She sailed on a pale blue sea of air which met the velvet black sky dead ahead.

"Flex your fingers."

Linda's fingers had the arm rest bars locked in a death grip. She realized that she was still pressed firmly in her seat by the acceleration, and remembered that she was lashed to the seat by an array of massive straps. She was not dangling above a precipice, clinging to life by the strength of her hands. She slowly extended her fingers, and noticed that they ached. What did they call those bars on the arm rests? .. Psych Bars - that's what they called them!

Relaxing a bit, Linda turned her attention back to the world below. New coastlines were rolling over the horizon ahead. What an incredible view of a awesome world! It called forth musical memories. Throaty strings and delicious woodwinds. Now the flute. But she was Hearing the flute, not imagining it!

"Background music for space-flight?"

"It helps people relax. Would you like me to turn it off, Linda?"

"No. Not yet."

It did fit the view. And it helped to take her mind off the new growing elephant.

HISS..SS..SS..SS....

This elephant finally blew away. Linda's fingers locked onto the bars again, she was falling out of her seat!

"Welcome to orbit! You might try breathing a little less, just at the moment."

The straps were all in place: safety lines, snap links, the whole works. OK, she couldn't fall out. Linda concentrated on sounding less like a laboring steam engine. The view didn't match the feeling. She closed her eyes and found she could imagine floating in a bathtub. OK, she was circling the world in a bathtub. She slowly reopened her eyes. She really didn't want to miss any of this! Whenever she started to feel disoriented she conjured up the feeling of warm water swirling around her shoulders. Occasionally she closed her eyes. Everything was OK as long as she could stay in the bathtub.

"Uh, Jim... Just how badly did you goof?"

"Goof? You are 27 meters from your intended position."

"There is no Space Station up here, Jim."

"We slip up to the station in steps. They don't want to feel like the target in a turkey shoot."

"And what happens if you can't find it?"

"Then you come home today instead of tomorrow."

"Don't I run out of Oxygen, or something?"

"Not for more than twelve hours, and you will be settled in here or there long before then. It would have been a lot easier on you if you had been better briefed."

"So, I'm a mushroom."

"A what? Oh, yes."

Cuba and the Yucatan were now well behind. The northern coast of South America was almost underfoot.

"Prepare for transfer burn."

"Does that mean I am supposed to actually do something?"

"Sure. See if you can leave fingerprints in the Psych Bars. It is supposed to warn you that another Bump, Bang and Burn sequence is imminent. But you are, in fact, just along for the ride. Work on some good copy for our tourist brochure. 'Overwhelmed by boredom? Sky Lift will raise your spirits!'."

"Tired of Life? Sky Lift will free your Spirits!"

"Please, Linda, I should hope not!"

Bump, Bang, Burn, Squeak, Scrunch, Wobble. It is easier in the comic books than in real life.

Linda watched the Earth.

East Africa was now behind, and the world was growing darker. But the terminator - the sunset line in this case - was neither sharp nor straight. Long ruddy fingers reached through clouds to glow on the ocean beyond. As the world lost its brilliance, the stars came into view. Not just the handful seen earlier, but hundreds, then thousands. Several minutes after the ocean turned black, the sun went out. The oddments of her craft which had caught the sun behind disappeared. The black mass below ate into the starry sky. As her eyes adapted to the darkness, the horizon sharpened and she watched the bulk of the Milky Way roll up into view. Scattered stars glowed with pale color before and beside this bulk. Non twinkling stars frozen in the void.

But now the horizon was breached. A golden glow rolled downward. Soon smaller patches of light were visible nearby and connecting filaments.

"G'day, Linda. Welcome to Australia."

"She's been there before." Jim's voice interjected.

"So, welcome back! Stay longer next trip. You'll see daybreak before I finish my cupa tea."

By the time the east coast of Australian rolled underfoot, the horizon became a red arc below the stars. Within minutes, the sun leapt into the sky just to the right of her path. A sunshade allowed Linda to reopen her eyes and see the sun glittering on the Pacific ocean.

"Are you ready to see something new?"

"What does that mean? Everything's new! I never imagined the world would look like this." Linda replied.

"I'm looking forward to seeing it myself. Now look up."

The craft had been slowly tilting up toward the black sky. Now an ungainly firefly glowed in the sun. Polished metal fittings flashed too bright for anything natural.

"You really did find the Space Station, Jim!"

"You have such confidence in our abilities! I found both of them."

"Both of them? I only see one."

"You see the multi billion dollar jewel. Now look for a little yellow doghouse behind it."

"Oh. Now I see it."

"Which one do you think you are going to?"

Linda knew her employer well enough to reach the right conclusion. Room service - on assignment - might mean you could get someone to unplug the toilet.

A few quiet puffs marked the last maneuvering efforts. She was floating close to that doghouse. It would hold a BIG dog. It looked like a large propane tank with solar panels tacked on. A space suited figure jumped from its end, and floated over trailing a lifeline. This alien clipped part of the line to the craft and part directly to Linda's harness. Next he released the straps securing Linda and helped her out. She was not at all anxious to leave, but found she had no choice.

"Wash ne ma ding." He said helpfully.

"Yah. Sure."

The alien eased the saucer like remnant of her capsule up to a hitching post on the side of the tank, and clipped it in place. Next he stuffed her into a rabbit hole in the curved end of that tank and slammed a door.

HISS..SS..SS..SS...

An airlock? The hiss tapered off and a hole opened over her head. Framed in that hole were two gnomes - one or the other had to be upside down.

Linda closed her eyes and went limp. The last seventy two hours had been a blur of activity. The last two overwhelmingly awesome and awful.

"Please God, let me wake up."

Multiple hands eased Linda out of the airlock. Her helmet was unlatched, and a hand tested her forehead.

"I think she's in shock."

"Is there a human being in here? If you're all demons, I'm not going to open my eyes."

"Three humans now, plus yourself, and one on the way in."

Linda cautiously opened one eye and saw the worried face of a human male. The other eye seconded the evaluation.

"I'm Mark. Our compact crewmen you have already met. Ronald and Oliver. Charlie was outside. His accent takes getting used to. He doesn't think you understood him. Jim and Norman thought you were pushing exhaustion before they even loaded you, and I agree. My prescription is a bag of hot chicken soup and a long nap. OK?"

When you nod in zero G your whole body participates. The warm soup felt good even in her confused tummy. They folded her into a puffy wrap and tucked her into a dark shelf on the wall.

...

Hours later Linda woke up. It wasn't morning, since that term didn't mean anything, but she was greatly refreshed. Adequate if awkward facilities existed. Now she floated next to a bulkhead with a squeeze bulb of coffee in one hand, and a breakfast burrito in the other. Everything which wasn't finger food was either sucked out of a plastic bag directly, or smeared onto a tortilla. Crumbs and escaped globules of liquid were always a problem. A mini vacuum wand was used frequently.

"OK, Linda. You're the reporter. What are your impressions so far?"

"It's obscene to imagine that a toy rocket which fits on top of a car can carry anybody into space!"

"It's a long bed pickup, and the booster hangs over both ends."

Linda glared at him.

"And it got you here."

"At least you could paint it so that it looks finished. You mad scientists need to fake up a professional facade."

Mark pondered these words for several seconds.

"OK. Point well taken."

"Do we get to visit the International Space Station?"

"Not this trip. We used to." Mark grimaced. "User fees. A breath of NASA's air now costs more than your whole trip. Next year WE will be selling oxygen to THEM, and they will welcome us aboard."

"Do you guys actually do something up here, or is this an amusement park ride?"

Linda did not expect the laughs, chuckles and shaking heads.

"Our gleaming neighbor, the ISS, exists to prove that men can live in space. The crew is occupied full time in maintaining it so that men can live in space, and thereby prove that men can live in space." Mark explained.

"That's all?"

"That is an official NASA statement. They promise that given several Billion Dollars of additional funding they will begin to figure out how the ISS can do actual research."

"Our whole space program is an amusement park ride?"

"Not at all. The planetary robots run interesting studies, and billions of dollars of services are provided through satellites. It is the manned space program that has been hard to justify."

"So you guys are offering a cheaper amusement park?"

"Probably - on some days. Yet when a rich entrepreneur checks out your neighborhood, he can't keep from thinking about the commercial possibilities. It takes a serious pessimist to forget that. And the more an entrepreneur likes the prospects, the less he will talk about them. That's why you're here."

"I guess that means I'm too dumb to keep my mouth shut?" It got a smile out of Mark.

"Your job is to talk, to communicate. It is not to store up ideas which will give you a jump on the competition. Frankly we need to stir up thinking about profitable uses of space. We have the launch system, but we need more customers. Our incremental cost per launch is low enough to write this one off as advertising."

"I am very happy that your plans require that I get home alive!"

"We have lost only one astronaut, and that was on I-45 north of Houston." Mark was not smiling.

"So, other than using unfinished hardware, how do you save money?"

"NASA puts twenty thousand pounds of dead weight into orbit with every passenger. We minimize that."

"But their rocket is reusable."

"You've used disposable cameras? We build a disposable plastic rocket. Our costs per passenger are one hundred times lower than NASA's and will go down further. The cost benefit ratio for manned space-flight has been insane. Our prices will make entrepreneurs reevaluate the possibilities."

"Oddly enough, I don't think I have seen any of those rich entrepreneurs."

"We've had six up here. But this group is not on vacation. I'm doorman at this hovering Hilton. Charlie Chantin is on a low budget University project. Space manufacturing. If it works, it will double as his Doctoral study. Ron and Oly are headed upstairs."

"This hovel has a penthouse?"

"No. Twenty thousand miles up. The first manned flight above Low Earth Orbit in thirty years. They are going to fix a satellite.

Oliver spoke up; "Actually, we probably won't fix anything this trip. But we will take pictures."

Ronald added: "Lloyd's suspects insurance fraud. The owner insured both launch and function. They were in financial trouble before the launch. If their bird is a gold plated brick which never worked, they could be saved by the insurance payout. But Lloyd's has never been an easy mark."

Oly took over again; "They fronted our expenses. If we manage to rendezvous and prove fraud, our Fix-Sat company will be in the black and have some credibility."

"So, where is your spaceship?"

"Would you call a broomstick with two seats lashed on a 'spaceship'?" Mark responded.

"Such as it is, its tethered just outside. Lloyd's fronted a little money. These two compact geniuses travel for the price of one, and two hands may not be enough. They have been practicing for a week to make sure they have all the tools they will need. The fuel they need to boost to synchronous orbit will be sent up in three days. "

"How are you going to live without a ship?"

Oliver shrugged. "The same way you did. In a spacesuit."

"They have been practicing a lot of things. They will have to be in their space suits for several days."

Charlie Chantin was checking the suitcase sized instrument package he had brought up with him, so Linda scooted closer.

"Tell me about your project."

"It does crustas." Linda worked on the accent while Charlie continued to work with the box. It got easier.

"Organic crystals. Float zone refining. Old thing with semiconductors. Doesn't work with organics on Earth. Should make very pure, very perfect crystals. Even separates stereo isomers. "

Charlie noticed Linda's puzzled look, so he explained. "Some molecules can be right and left hand shaped, like scissors. No chemical difference. Different biological effect, like Lemon and Lime flavoring, but difference can be very important in medicine. These crystals not only pure, but separates stereo isomers."

Charlie had his equipment in a diagnostic mode, with fans running and data scrolling on a small display.

A distinct pop was followed by a harsh sizzling. A moment later flame belched from vents on the box.

Linda was still staring at the fireworks, when Charlie grabbed her and tossed her towards the end of the chamber. She flailed uselessly in free fall, then hit Mark back first. Mark clamped one arm over her chest and pressed something over her mouth with the other. She convulsively coughed out the acrid fumes in her lungs, and tried to take a deep breath. Linda fought Mark, who wouldn't let her get the air she needed, then coughed again. Mark had her pinned, so she sucked in what breath she could get. Exhaling was easier. She continued to suck the meager air as she prepared to fight free.

"Breath oxygen mask!" Mark gulped out.

As Linda paused to ponder these words, she become aware of a hooting horn, drifting smoke and a sustained hiss. The other three were blasting the white jet from a fire extinguisher into the vents of Charlie's box.

"Space Suits!" Mark gulped again.

As he eased her toward her space suit, she noted that the four of them were sucking oxygen from tubes in the front of their cloths, and exchanging hand signals.

They took turns donning their suits so that two always guarded the box, watching for a flare-up. Once in their suits they could all talk by radio.

"OK, we've got enough CO2 in here to damp down this firebomb." Mark was angry. They all needed a few minutes to cool down after the emergency.

"Linda, can you stand a couple of hours in your suit? And, by the way, are you all right?"

"I'm not impressed by the sequence of your questions, but Yes and Yes."

"If we can scavenge and scrub the gases in here we won't have to loose any more. We've already vented twenty pounds of oxygen, and it's worth its weight in gold up here."

As they were planning the details of this process, Linda interrupted with her own observation.

"Could one of you geniuses tell me why Charlie looks as if he is going to cry?"

It took some coaxing to get the story.

"It was miracle I could leave Thailand and study in US. Another miracle get in good graduate program. Big miracle that Doc could find money for this space experiment. Now miracles end."

"It's not your fault!" Linda said. "Fix this and do it next trip."

"Too much money. Engineer who can work in space gets good job. Engineer who spends lots of money and fails, gets no job."

They all understood the truth to this, even as they said encouraging words. Oliver was very quiet. Finally he spoke up.

"Ron and I think we can fix things in space. Looks to me like we have something to practice on. This unit isn't designed to work in vacuum - that creates extra heat problems. If we can leave the CO2 in here for a while, we can try to fix it, and maybe even do a short run with no danger of fire. It's up to you, boss."

It took more discussion, but they agreed to try. Linda volunteered to work the communications unit, and get layouts and schematics from the outfit that actually built Charlie's unit. This was a lot like her old tech-writing job. After her scare, it was gratifying to badger the people who had put them all at risk. But, once they got the picture, these people worked very hard to help. Their small company also needed to score a success.

"The battery pack wasn't fused. PVC insulation. One short, and the wires burn in oxygen like gunpowder. We got the CO2 in so fast that little is burned. I think it will still work, but we won't try it in oxygen." Oliver's diagnosis was followed by the repairs.

Charlie moved back in to rerun his tests, and then got the go ahead to actually run the experiments. For these, the box was positioned in the center of the chamber on small elastic strands to minimize vibration.

They had been in their space suits for twelve hours when Charlie shut down the unit, and gave them all a big smile. The experimental data had already been sent back to Earth. The purified crystals themselves would be the final proof of the technique.

Part of the air scrubbing operation had been completed, but it took two more hours to restore a breathable oxygen atmosphere. The group ate and agreed to call it a night - it was night somewhere on their home planet. The four were in a good mood when they awakened, but Linda was troubled. She cornered Mark.

"This could have been like the Apollo fire in 1967?"

"They weren't equipped to flood the capsule with CO2."

"I can't breath CO2. You guys got me out of the way before I fried my lungs with smoke and flame."

"Yes."

"You forced me to breath the oxygen I needed before I asphyxiated?"

"Yes."

"So you saved my life?"

Mark shook his head and explained. "You've climbed with ropes? Crossed glaciers?"

Linda admitted that she had.

"Did you ever slip and have yourself caught on belay?"

"Yes. I wasn't very good."

Mark waved that away.

"Anyone who pushes his ability makes use of the belay rope. Even the best. Your team members make technical climbing safe enough to be sane. " Mark gestured at the other three. "The attention of these team members is your belay rope. They make this safe enough to be sane. When one does his job on belay, no-one talks about 'saving a life'.

"Some people don't have what it takes to be a team member on a rope. Or here."

"True."

"Like me."

"No. Emphatically no. You have a lot to learn, Linda, but you listen, and you do learn. If you didn't have what it takes, Norman would have vetoed your trip."

"Norman? He hardly said anything."

"Norman doesn't talk very much, but he listens and watches people. He has a knack for knowing who's getting it and who's faking it. You passed. More than passed. You are the kind of person who belongs up here, and I think you'll be back."

Linda hoped Mark didn't notice the flush of pleasure these words gave her. She was surprised herself. Years of editors, critics and nasty letters had burned out her ability to care about other's opinions. But she found that she did care about the opinion of this group.

"By the way, did I miss my flight home?"

"Return schedules are flexible, in twenty four hour increments. The hard part is getting here. A person only uses five pounds of oxygen and food a day, so there is little point in rushing back. You aren't a heavyweight, so we actually tucked an extra seventy pounds of supplies into your pod on the way up."

"You don't expect me to stay that long, do you?"

"No. We get extra supplies flown up whenever we can. I think the extra day has helped you understand us. Unless you want to stay longer, tomorrow would be good for a return."

Mark switched subjects. "With so little information, why were you willing to risk the flight?"

"Norman and Jim are bright. They sounded like they knew what they were talking about. Whenever they hit on something within my experience, it was obvious they knew what they were talking about. But mostly it was the realization that they both really wanted to be climbing into the capsule in my place."

"They will get their chance."

"Why did you pick my publisher for this story?"

"We didn't. We picked you. Your employer would have been low on our list. But we really wanted a writer who did freelance and could get stories into several publications." Mark paused for emphasis.

"We needed an able reporter who was adventurous and had related experience - like SCUBA. Intelligent, familiar with technology and young enough to handle a little jostling. We rated you one of the top six in the country. Most of the others were tied up. Your employer promised us that you would accept the assignment."

Linda's flattery shields were up. "So you called at the last minute?"

"We have been working with your publisher for two months."

Linda realized it was true. It had taken time to work up all those legal papers.

There were a lot of gaps in her understanding of Space Lift, Inc., so the questions continued. As they tapered off Mark offered:

"We get email up here, so you can ask questions after you go back."

...

Linda was remarkably refreshed after another long nap. In spite of all that had happened, she felt better than she had at any time in the last five days. They started preparing for her descent early and had time to show her Ron and Oly's 'Broomstick'. It was as slender as one, but overly long. A cluster of hardware fanned out at one end with a smaller assembly at the other. Two fragile frameworks qualified as the seats. They showed her one of the fuel tanks which would go part of the way with them.

Linda's pod - what was left of the capsule with the shroud gone - looked palatial by comparison. She was strapped back into it for the trip home.

"Good morning, Linda, ready for some sky diving?" Jim's voice greeted her.

"Yes, I am. One thing. I'm starting to feel like a chimpanzee. Could I do the alignment for reentry myself?"

"We showed you the controls. You have a half hour to practice. This isn't a hot rod, so go slowly."

It wasn't possible to turn rapidly. The puny attitude jets would nudge the pod into a tumble so slow that you had to watch closely to see any motion at all. In spite of that, you had to plan ahead to keep from overshooting badly. The top of the projected reference T had to lie on the horizon. The vertical part had to be straight ahead so that features on earth did not slide across it, but traced its length. On the third try, she had the timing worked out and nailed it without overshooting.

"I think I'm lined up."

"Bullseye. Actually three bullseyes, but the last one was pretty. In five minutes we fire the retro rocket."

The center of the panel lit up again in a countdown. The pod had just left Australia when the count reached zero and a small rocket motor lit. This time the thrust pulled her into the restraining straps and away from the seat, but it wasn't very strong. When the motor quit, it was ejected by a spring and drifted away, tumbling very slowly. She flipped the capsule so the reentry shield was forward, lined up carefully and waited.

Linda was looking forward to writing up this trip. The article would be fun. Articles, she amended the thought. She owed the first one to the publisher who helped arrange it. But others would go to more receptive markets. She smiled at a thought. A carefully balanced report would simultaneously confirm the fears of the cowardly and inspire the adventurous. She was going to make certain the first article worked that way.

An eerie glow ringed the pod before she noticed any deceleration. The glow grew until it merged into a fireball trailing her, and the elephant was back. The pod wobbled slightly as layers on the heat shield burned away, but no control corrections were needed. It was very hard to breath for about one minute, then eased up.

As the glow faded, she noticed that the blue sky now extended above her on all sides. Overhead it was still nearly black.

A minute later, a drogue parachute popped out of a box over her head. It tilted the pod up on edge, so that she was sitting normally, and slowed it down. She recognized the Texas coast near where the launch had taken place.

"It's time to make like a bird." Jim spoke up.

Linda worked the strap releases, and used the arm rest bars for the last time. As she rolled forward out of the seat, a static line activated her own drogue chute. Seconds later, the main deployed and inflated into an elliptical wing.

Flying the parafoil was fun. She worked the brakes to turn toward a small city by the sea. She was high enough to have lots of landing choices.

"It looks like you've picked the high-school field for a landing." Jim was monitoring her GPS readouts.

"You know what's on main street just north of the high-school? See you there."

Linda was eating a banana split at Dairy Queen when Jim and Norman showed up.