By Earthlight

The rocket skin was like a dun-colored wall in the dim light under the hill. Three anonymous men who were beyond suspicion, who had worked on the rocket, were taking Barlow up in the elevator, up along the rocket's curving walls. Earlier, scores of men had climbed up many ladders to various platforms where doors opened into the rocket's compartments for the insertion and repair of the many highly-specialized instruments. We all have to die sometime, but it's more the manner of our going, and the reason why we must die when we do that's the rub.