Suddenly the seats swung beneath them; then as the ship shot forward
with ever greater speed, ever greater acceleration, it seemed that it
turned and headed upward, although they knew that the main stabilizing
gyroscopes were holding it level. In a moment the ship was headed out
over the Atlantic at a speed no rifle bullet had ever known. The radio
speedometer needle pushed farther and farther over as the speed
increased to unheard of values. Before they left the North American
shoreline they were traveling faster than a mile a second. They were in
the middle of the Atlantic before Arcot gradually shut off the
acceleration, letting the seats drop back into position.
A hubbub of excited comments rose from the four men. Momentarily, with
the full realization of the historical importance of this flight, no one
paid any attention to anyone else. Finally a question of the Air
Inspector reached Arcot's ears.
"What speed did we attain, Dr. Arcot? Look--there's the coast of Europe!
How fast are we going now?"
"We were traveling at the rate of three miles a second at the peak."
Arcot answered. "Now it has fallen to two and a half."
Again Arcot turned his attention to his controls. "I'm going to try to
see what the ultimate ceiling of this machine is. It must have a
ceiling, since it depends on the operation of the generator to operate
the power-units. This, in turn, depends on the heat of the air, helped
somewhat by the sun's rays. Up we go!"
The ship was put into a vertical climb, and steadily the great machine
rose. Soon, however, the generator began to slow down. The readings of
the instruments were dropping rapidly. The temperature of the
exceedingly tenuous air outside was so close to absolute zero that it
provided very little energy.
"Get up some forward speed," Morey suggested, "so that you'll have the
aid of the air scoop to force the air in faster."
"Right, Morey." Arcot slowly applied the power to the forward propulsion
units. As they took hold, the ship began to move forward. The increase
in power was apparent at once. The machine started rising again. But at
last, at a height of fifty-one miles, her ceiling had been reached.
The cold of the cabin became unbearable, for every kilowatt of power
that the generator could get from the air outside was needed to run the
power units. The air, too, became foul and heavy, for the pumps could
not replace it with a fresh supply from the near-vacuum outside. Oxygen
tanks had not been carried on this trip. As the power of the generator
was being used to warm the cabin once more, they began to fall. Though
the machine was held stable by the gyroscopes, she was dropping freely;
but they had fifty miles to fall, and as the resistance of the denser
air mounted, they could begin to feel the sense of weight return.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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