As the hand of the clock sliced off the last second of the 15 minutes, Swenson looked over his shoulder--and laughed, a great, resounding laugh. Then he flicked the switch and picked up the microphone. "Swenson dispatcher to 7 and 4. Blast! Over. Swenson dispatcher to 4 and 7. Blast!" Suddenly the silent room was filled with the roar of the jets as they thundered in the imaginations of the men and women crowded around the dispatcher's desk. The tension broke as almost a sob of gladness. What if it proved a hopeless dream, a mere stalling of inevitable ruin? They were no longer grounded. They were in space. To those in the room, it seemed only an instant until the ship-calling light flashed on. "Number 7 to dispatcher. In space. All clear." "Dispatcher to Number 7, steady as she goes." The red light was off for a moment. Then: "Number 4 to dispatcher. In space. All clear." "Dispatcher to Number 4. Temporary curve A 17. Will send exact curve plot in half an hour." Swenson turned to the astrographer. "Give me a plot for Chicago. I don't want to land her in this state. Just a matter of prudence. She's registered in this state." The astrographer shouldered his way through the crowd. When he reached the calculators, his swift fingers began pushing buttons. Swenson leaned back. "Mischief, thou art a'space," he said. "Now take whatever course thou wilt." * * * * * At 3:30, Swenson reached again for the microphone. "Dispatcher to Number 2. You are circling Earth at low orbital. Decelerate and drop to stratosphere. Maintain position over New York. Curve and blasting data...." At 4:00, he called Max Zempky at _Telenews_. "Anything frying at Luna?" "My God, yes! Senator Higby yapped sixteen minutes overtime and the shadow knife-edge caught everybody with their air tanks down. The control crews were listening to the speech and there wasn't anybody left to switch over the heating-cooling system. You've been to the Moon, so you know what happens. When day changes to night and you haven't got any atmosphere, the temperature drops from boiling to practically absolute zero. Sure, the automatic controls worked, but there wasn't any crew to adjust and service the heaters and coolers. It's a mess. Say, haven't you got a ship or two up there?" "I got 'em out in time." "Well, Moulton didn't. Their ship's been considerably damaged." "Thanks, Max. Let me know if anything else breaks." While Swenson had been talking, two Special Messages and an astrogram had been laid on his desk. He first read one of the Special Messages. _Acme Interplanetary Express_ _147 Z Street_ _New York_ _Gentlemen_: _We are holding you responsible for the damage to our ship Number 57, now on the Moon. The captain of your ship should have known the potential danger and warned Senator Higby of the time factor._ _We will contact the PCC at once._ _F. K. Esrov_ _Moulton Trust_