“I’d give anything if I could make one trip into deep space,” he thought fervently as he stepped into the outside elevator and was carried far above the brightly lighted Miami spaceport. For an instant he seemed to share a kinship with the silent stars that encircled him like a speckled bowl. Getting off on B Deck, Jim walked slowly along the polished corridor toward Suite 8. The finery of the deck fairly numbed his senses. While studying the turquoise carpet underfoot, his eyes shifted to his worn shoes, and then he felt out of place. It took money to go into space. If not that, it at least took extensive training to be a crewman. He had neither money nor training, not even a family. Not that Jim Vance was ready to cry about it, though. He had long ago accepted his lot without complaint. A senior-grade lieutenant stopped him outside of Suite 8. He wore a square red mustache, and he neatly filled a uniform of gray flannel with gold piping. “We’re blasting off at 0800 sharp, son,” he said. “Better remind your patron to get aboard.” “I will, sir,” Jim returned. For a moment he felt like a full-fledged crewman taking orders. He liked the feel of it, and he wished desperately that it were so. He went into the suite and set down the bags. His eyes roved over the rich trimmings, the deep honeycomb rubber cushions. An oval port looked out on the winking night lights of the coast city. There were two other rooms to the luxury quarters. The hideaway degravity cot in the main compartment had already been pulled down out of the wall by a steward, but its front clamps were not yet snapped to the floor. Jim closed the light beryllium door of the compartment and tried out the cot. He sank down into its cloudlike softness. As he lay there dreaming of worlds beyond Earth, suddenly the front end of the cot swung upward. In trying to scramble out before he was closed up in the wall, he was sent spinning into the air by the powerful spring action of the cot. His head cracked solidly against the metal wall, and he saw more stars than there were in the night. He lay in a daze for some time, stupefied, not realizing the passing of time. What finally roused him was the sensation of vibrating like a milk shake in a mixer. The floor beneath him throbbed like the surface of the Atlantic Ocean just beyond. Jim didn’t have to be a spaceman to know that the _Hercules_ was about to blast off. Cold sweat flowed over him as he realized he could not leave the ship in time. The only thing he could do was prepare himself for the shock of the blast-off. He yanked down the degravity cot again, making certain this time that it was clamped to the floor. He guessed that all he had to do was recline on the cot as he had before and strap himself down with the black leather bands and plastic buckles.