The fourth launch was always a subdued affair. No one ever took a first launch seriously, and the second could always be discounted as a fluke. When a third launch goes off as easy as scratching your neck, though, folk start to sit up. Folk start to notice.

Lin sidled past the group clustered around prototype 44, clutching her logscreen backwards to display its glow.

“Take no notice of me,” she said under her breath, “I’m busy, busy, busy….”

She needn’t have bothered. The techs were busily dividing themselves into “There is room to improve” versus “This is no time to tinker” camps.

Lin hated fourth launches. It had been two years of cozy failure since the last- now this had to happen. She risked a glance back at the partially disassembled mass of osmiridium tubes.

It would be 44, too, she thought sourly. Fourth launch, 44th prototype, 440 damn years of damn bad luck.

Lin hated fourth launches. Fourth launches always came with a room full of dignitaries and expectations.

And damn, damn hope.