"Yep," Jeffrey continued, "a manned satellite. Our scientists had developed the tiny, unmanned 'mouse.' A full-scale version was tougher--but possible. "And a nation in control of such a satellite would watch over all the world. From its near-zero gravity it could launch guided atomic missiles to any point on the earth." Jeffrey cleared his throat. His listener was still attentive. "So Project Pandora began. Like the Manhattan Project, it was top secret, because we didn't want the Russians to start like crazy on their own Project. I never learned how many men were involved--probably about 100,000. But all except maybe a hundred or so thought they were working on new types of jets or fuels. "A new town--Pandora City--sprang up in New Mexico for general research. Really top secret stuff, like the construction of our rockets, was handled in Hell Canyon, which probably still isn't on your maps. You couldn't get there except by cargo-carrying helicopter. "I was a guided missile man transferred from Point Mugu to the Canyon. Entering that hell-hole was like being sentenced for life. We had our movies and beer, but the sun and mountains were still there. I used to look at those mountains and wonder if I dared try to escape. Then I thought of the desert on the other side. There _was_ no escape--except through death or by finishing the damn project. "By the fall of '58 we had our fuel. Dilute monatomic hydrogen--powerful as the guts of an H-bomb, but controllable, suitable for atomic engines. Powered with that fuel, a rocket could rip through the old seven-mile-a-second barrier like a knife cutting through tissue paper. "Then a new question came up. Was the artificial satellite the ideal solution to our problem? Even at a height of a thousand miles, it could be visible to Russian astronomers. Russian knowledge of our secret could start off a Third World War. And, if the Russians developed their own guided missile program, the satellite might be vulnerable. "We'd developed an alloy of rare earths for our jet tubes, so there was no reason why we couldn't hit the moon direct. A Lunar station could be camouflaged, and launching platforms for missiles could be scattered. Most important, the moon would give us utter secrecy." Jeffrey's voice trailed. A cloud of memory seemed to drift before his vision. "And--and I guess there was something else, too. We didn't want to stop with just a satellite. We had the power to take space by the nose and pull it around like a whipped dog. The first men to leave our planet--think of those words. The first, the very first. The thought makes you a little drunk." He smiled. "The President, his cabinet, the top brass okayed our ideas. So the moon it was!" * * * * * Lieutenant Andrews rose, his mouth a tight, white line. "Afraid we'll have to call it a day," he muttered. "It's time for me to go off duty. Sorry." "But--but your relief isn't here. You can't--"