Then Garry found it. Printed on the door was the heartening word: “G-COUCHES.” He flung open the door and saw a row of six S-shaped reclining seats. Garry grabbed the arm of his quaking friend in a tight grip and told him, “Listen to me, Patch, and do what I tell you. Jump on a couch just as fast as you can and don’t waste a second getting those buckles fastened across your chest, body, and legs. Now get going!” Garry helped him along with a shove, then dove for one of the couches close by. As he hastily fastened his own straps in place, Garry cast worried glances at his friend, who was fumbling as best he could in his nervous state. A speaker warned of the passing moments: “Zero minus twenty seconds, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen....” A few seconds more, and Garry’s straps were securely fastened. He twisted his head to see how Patch was doing. Patch had almost all his straps in place, but he could not seem to get the chest buckle tightened. “Hurry, Patch, please hurry!” Garry cried. “I—I’m doing the best I can,” Patch said, and Garry could see the streams of sweat trickling down his round face. Then, with a final lucky tug, Patch had it. Turning his weakly smiling face to Garry, he murmured, “Garry, I guess I just barely did....” Garry never heard the rest of the words, for at that moment the _Orion_ shook herself like a big dog, began a slow tug upward into the black night, and then, a few seconds later, with a deafening roar tore free of her earthly bonds and flung herself into space. 3. STOWAWAYS IN SPACE Garry had read about the rough effects of blast-off, but the real thing was even worse than he had imagined. He felt like one of those characters in movie cartoons who gets flattened to the thickness of paper when run over. His lungs felt as though they had collapsed, and he could suck in only the barest trace of breath. But the discomfort did not last long. His body seemed to fill out like an inflated balloon, although he still felt the ache of having been nearly squashed. His stomach felt as though it had been stirred up with an egg beater, and his head swam. But no sooner had he recovered from the first violent thrust than it came again as the rocket’s second stage began firing. Then the crushing pressure eased once more, only to return once again as the third stage, the occupied section of the _Orion_, began firing away. When this force let up, Garry knew it was the last. The ship did not appear to be moving, but Garry knew it must be traveling many thousands of miles an hour. Garry’s shaky hands groped for the belts of the harness that snugly fitted his body. He worked the buckles loose from his upper body and sat up on his G-couch. He did not release his legs, because he was already feeling the dizzying effects of weightlessness. He looked across at Patch on the next couch. Patch was still lying flat, and his face was pasty white. His eyes were closed, and this alarmed Garry.