say the side on which the F.S.S. Western Hemisphere was moored. Over on the other side of the course was the F.S.S.Saturn. We were both about midway in the course, and the racing craft would pass between the two great battle wagons.
I was curious—and more than that—to see how the toss for position came out. For as I said, the judging spacelaunch was on our side of the course and everything depended on Shane's being able to get the position farthest away from the side along which the judging spacelaunch would cruise. It was his job to see that the Saturn's lifecraft was always between our lifecraft and that space launch.
I went mad with despair when the red lifecraft—ours—nosed into the position closest to the sideline along which the judging spacelaunch would move! Now the Saturn lifecraft was farthest from the spacelaunch. Shane's rotten luck was holding. We'd never win now . . . that spacelaunch was loaded with plagterium we'd planted in the hull! Was I sick?
Fffffffllllllaaannng! The atomic cannon on the judging spacelaunch boomed out suddenly.
Both lifecraft lurched forward. The race was on!
I FELT tiny needles of cold sticking all over my spine. My knees were weak, and my stomach empty. The red lifecraft was already trailing by about four yards, caught napping. Saturn's white lifecraft was in front.
I could picture poor Shane, face streaked with sweat, exerting, imploring, screaming at those space tars bent over the pumps. I wanted to scream myself, for the white lifecraft was inching ahead another two yards. What I couldn't picture was how Shane could have lost the toss with a two-headed coin! Only a man as stupid as he could have done it!
Along the lane nearest our battle wagon, the judging spacelaunch was moving less than twenty yards abeam of the white Saturn lifecraft.
Those Saturn space tars must have been giving their pumps hell. At the quarter-way mark our red lifecraft was trailing by fifteen yards.
The bedlam and excitement all around me was nothing compared to the chills running up and down my spine. I couldn't have yelled if I tried. My mouth was cotton. This was the end for us.
At the half it was no better. We'd fallen astern the white lifecraft a little more and were now twenty yards behind.
I felt as if I was going to drop from nervous exhaustion.
At the three-quarter length I happened to turn my head upward and see Old Ironpants on the bridge. He had his visascreen fixed on the race, and his face was solid stone. I winced.
We were twenty-five yards behind, now, and going into the final half mile stretch. It was more than I could stand. I shut my eyes. When I opened them again everyone on board the F.S.S. Western Hemisphere was going crazy. Looking down at the boats I saw the reason why.
Our red lifecraft was in front! In front and less than forty yards from the finish line!
The white Saturn lifecraft was crawling along a full twenty yards behind our own bunch! It was impossible but true! How Shane must have been exhorting our crew!
And then we were over the wire—our lifecraft victor by thirty yards—and our entire ship going crazy, including Old Ironpants up on the bridge!
Me? I went off in a convenient cor-
