The First One

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Jaxon Bradlaw leaned forward, his belly against the edge of his walnut desk, leveled a fat finger at the lean young man who sat across from him and said, “Remember Lindbergh, Bannister I Remember Lindbergh!”

He sighed and leaned back, as though the argument was settled.

“Bus” Bannister, recently liberated via the discharge route, from the discipline of Army Test Rocket Center Three, smiled gently.

“You remember him, Bradlaw. I can’t. He flew the ocean three years before I was born.”

Bradlaw sighed again. “I’ll go over it once more, Bannister. No more. And this time I want a straight answer.”

“I’ve been giving you a straight answer, mister. No.”

“We don’t like that answer, Bannister. Now listen. You know the legislation. It says, in effect, that the proceeds of the Miller Fund will be turned over to the first commercial outfit that can successfully demonstrate a practical method of space travel. A circling of the moon and safe return to earth will be considered as a successful demonstration. My boy, that fund is seventeen million dollars and we mean to have it.”

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