The Barrier
By Bryce Walton
If Stevens could cross the high velocity
barrier at the edge of space he would receive a
pardon on Earth. But would he live to claim it?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
February 1951
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
His features were twisted by the acceleration, and his sanity seemed to have gone.
There were maybe ten or fifteen people to see him off. They weren'tcheering. They stood in the gray curtain of rain, hunched over withtheir hands in their storm-coat pockets. Behind them was the vague bulkof the Experimental Station. And beyond that, invisible in the night,were the mountains he would never see again.
"O.K., Stevens. This is it."
So what? Stevens clanked as he turned toward the "Coffin." He wasencased in a bulging metal pressure suit and his head was a big alloybubble. No one smiled. No one raised a hand to say goodbye.
Doris would, of course, say goodbye, if she were here. She wasn't here.She didn't even know about his volunteering.
Major Kanin nodded stiffly. His gray eyes wrinkled. "Good luck,Stevens," he said dutifully. It was meaningless. Kanin had sent toomany poor guys out on a one-way trip. He knew Stevens wouldn't comedown. Not in any recognizable form.
A couple of gray-suited mechanics moved around behind Stevens. Stevensleaned over and thrust his head into the tubular opening of thetorpedo-like plane. The two mechanics lifted his legs, shoved him inheadfirst like he was ammunition being crammed into an ancient cannon.The metal hatch slid down past his feet. He was bound tightly by thecockpit which was only an air-conditioned tube but slightly larger thanhis body. When the canopy over his head closed, he had only two inchesbetween the plate in his helmet and the control and instrument panel.
For one agonizing moment, long and terrifying, Stevens felt an awfulcompressing suffocation and entrapment. The claustrophobia went away,in part, and left the plexglas plate in his helmet dewed with hissweat.
He tried to relax. He stared at the controls. He twisted his headcarefully then so as not to bump his helmet against the side—the noisewas numbing inside when he did bump anything—and looked through thetiny peep-hole in the tubular wall which would soon close too, leavinghim completely sealed. He looked out and waited for the signal. MajorKanin had turned his back and was discussing something with a Doctorand a Lieutenant. The mechanics were around preparing the kick-offrockets.
The "Coffin" was light, and it was new. A slight improvement over thelast one. But the so-called improvement was a farce, Stevens knew,because no one had any idea why none of the others had ever come back.None of them expected him to come back either, and they showed itplainly. Also, none of them cared particularly, from any human point ofview. The Military cared of course, from another view-point.
This was another velocity test run. Once around the Earth to thistake-off spot on the desert. The Military wanted to get to the Moonif they had to walk there over a suspension bridge of human dead.The first Sovereign State to get a military base on the Moon would,in theory, be the all-time victor in what certain kinds of humoristscalled the "game" of war. So far, no one had been able to stand thevelocity.