Progress Report
By Mark Clifton and Alex Apostolides
Illustrated by PAUL ORBAN
The final test was at hand. Theinstrument ship was to be sent outinto space, controlled from thissunken concrete bunker, to find outif the flimsy bodies of men couldendure there.
Jennings visualized other bunkersscattered through the area, observationposts, and farther awaythe field headquarters with opentelephone lines to the Pentagon, andbeyond that a world waiting fornews of the test—and not everyonewishing it well.
The monotonous buzz of the fieldphone pulled him away from hisfascinated gaze at the periscopeslit. He glanced at his two assistants,Professor Stein and Major Eddy.They were seated in front of theircontrol boards, staring at the blankeyes of their radar screens, patientlyenduring the beads of sweat ontheir faces and necks and hands,the odor of it arising from theirbodies. They too were feeling themoment. He picked up the phone.
"Jennings," he said crisply.
"Zero minus one half hour,Colonel. We start alert count infifteen minutes."
"Right," Colonel Jennings spokesoftly, showing none of the excitementhe felt. He replaced the fieldphone on its hook and spoke to thetwo men in front of him.
"This is it. Apparently this timewe'll go through with it."
Major Eddy's shoulders huncheda trifle, as if he were getting set to[103]have a load placed upon them.
[104]Professor Stein gave no indicationthat he had heard. His thin bodywas stooped over his instrumentbank, intense, alert, as if he were arunner crouched at the startingmark, as if he were young again.
Colonel Jennings walked over tothe periscope slit again and peeredthrough the shimmer of heat towhere the silvery ship lay arrowedin her cradle. The last few momentsof waiting, with a brassytaste in his mouth, with the visionof the test ship before him; thesewere the worst.
Everything had been done,checked and rechecked hours anddays ago. He found himself wishingthere were some little thing,some desperate little error whichmust be corrected hurriedly, justsomething to break the tension ofwaiting.
"You're all right, Sam, Prof?" heasked the major and professor unnecessarily.
"A little nervous," Major Eddyanswered without moving.
"Of course," Professor Steinsaid. There was a too heavy stresson the sibilant sound, as if the lasttraces of accent had not yet beenremoved.
"I expect everyone is nervous,not just the hundreds involved inthis, but everywhere," Jenningscommented. And then ruefully,"Except Professor Stei