"The nose of the ship is long. The only guides were on the tail at the rotating band. Think of shells. Bourrelets. The _big_ shells have bourrelets ... bands around the nose that dig into the grooves and steady the front of the shell. The ship ... its front began trembling because there was nothing to guide the nose in a steady path. The more velocity the rocket had, the worse the trembling became until it threw the whole ship out of control. Don't you see? That's all that was wrong with it! It would have been perfect if it had had guide wings on the bourrelet. The guide pieces could be withdrawn when the ship is launched ... but they would have to be there in order to _get_ it launched. I'm right, you know I am! That's your answer. That was the only part wrong with it!" The enormity of Mars' words left Bronsen speechless. He looked at the suddenly joyous man before him and saw the old bitterness replaced by the rapture of his discovery. Yes, that was what had been wrong. It was the solution ... the one tiny piece that made the puzzle into an understandable picture. He paused a moment, as if trying to make a great decision, then grabbed the older man by the arm. "Come on! Let's get it down on paper!" * * * * * The rocket lay huddled in the belly of the launching tower, her needle-like body quiet, waiting, her control panels flashing signals and instructions to her masters, her circuits buzzing with the tenseness of the seconds before blast off. The steady counting drummed through her wires, tripped relays, and her masters flipped the switches, pressed the buttons and pulled the levers that readied her for her maiden flight. Eight seconds, seven seconds. Six seconds, five, four. The switch was jerked upward and she felt the power beginning to move in her vitals. _Three, two, one!_ The driver button slammed home, her rockets roared out in ferocious birth, snarling, roaring, growing with each passing second. She settled back upon her rockets as if in protest at their screaming growth, then was forced to give ground and the ship moved up the shaft. Her rotating band and bourrelet fins dug deep into the spiraling grooves, her body began to turn ... slowly, so slowly. Then she suddenly leaped forward, her hull whirling upward; the shaft raced by in dizzy swiftness, her rockets roared louder and she raised her spinning body further. She was free! Her body hurtled up and up, her needle nose straight and true, her velocity leaping forward.... "Off rockets! Set up emergency interstellar drive for instant activation if needed. Signal in scanning screens. Activate force field and take a breather, boys. We're on our way and the blast off was perfect." The pilot's mechanical sounding voice droned through the speaker in the moon-bound observation room and simultaneously the air was ruffled by the deep exhale of relief, the rustle of slowly relaxing bodies strung tight with the hopeful tenseness of the blast off.