A giant's fist came from out of nothingness and smashed into his body. His chest was compressed, his face was flattened, he could not get enough air to breathe. The heavy sledge of acceleration crushed him back into the padded chair, inexorable, implacable, relentless, heavy. His vision clouded in red and he thought he would die. Instead, he spoke into the lip mike, resenting it bitterly. "Acceleration ... nine gee." He looked at the gauge that shimmered redly before him, disbelieving. "Altitude 20,000." He blacked out, sinking helplessly into the black plush night of unawareness. _I had a true I had I had--_ Awakening to pain, he glanced at the gauges. He had been gone only a split second. "Altitude 28,000, acceleration pressure dropping." His face began to resume its normal shape as the acceleration dropped. "... six gee," he said, and breathing was easier. The giant reluctantly began to withdraw his massive fist from Johnny's face. He tipped a lever, watched the artificial horizon tilt slightly. "Air control surfaces respond," he said. But soon there would be no air for the surfaces to move against, and then he would control by flicking the power that rumbled behind him. "Altitude 40,000 ... "... 85,000 ... "... 100,000...." The sky was glistening black, he was passing from the earth's envelope of air into the nothingness that was space. Now. Now. Now it was time to change angle, flatten the ship out, bring it into position to run around the earth. _Once around lightly._ There was a high-pitched scream in his earphones. He remembered it had been there for long, and wondered if he had told Control. He flicked the switch that ignited the powerful steering rockets, and the whine grew louder, unbearably loud. It sang to him, his bitch sang, _I had a true wife, but I left her ... oh, oh, oh._ He began to feel a light tingle over his body, tiny needles delicately jabbing every inch. His face became wooden, felt prickly. He tried to lick his lips and could feel no sensation there. His vision fogged again, and he knew it was not from acceleration this time, it was something else. Something else. _What's it like out there?_ His belly told him. Fear. He reached out his hand to touch the control panel, and his arm did not respond. It was shaking, uncontrollably, and moved off to the right of where he wanted it to go. When he tried to correct, it swung too far to the left, waving as if it were alive. It hung there before him as in a dream, oscillating back and forth. He could not control his body, and the realization nurtured the tiny seed of panic that lay heavily in his belly. _Dump it...._ What did that mean? _Dump it ... go home now, baby ... _I had_ a true ..._ Decision ... there was a decision he had to make, but he was too frightened to know what it was.