He wanted to wake up Dr. Kokintz for comfort, but he didn’t. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think of the courtyard of the Castle of Grand Fenwick where he had last seen Cynthia Bentner. The weathered courtyard seemed like a paradise to him now.
CHAPTER XV
When the rocket was a little more than seven days on its journey, it entered the gravitational field of the moon. The effect of the gravity produced a slight acceleration of the rocket's speed. In relation to the surface of the moon, which now loomed before them as a tremendous glittering pockmarked stone ball, the two men in the rocket were now standing upside down, prevented from falling to the ceiling of their compartment by their magnetized boots, which anchored them to the floor. Dr. Kokintz was annoyed, however, to have his glasses slip off his nose and fall to the ceiling, and other objects which were not fastened down floated gently to the ceiling in the same manner, so dreamily, that the two were able to grab them in midair as they drifted off like feathers.
There was nothing in this that was not expected, and Vincent wanted to make a circuit of the moon if possible, photographing that side of it which is always hidden from the world. Kokintz voted against this.
"No tricks," he said. "We must get down as fast as we can, get a few samples of the composition of the surface and then take off again. We are not equipped for sightseeing."
"But it would only take a few hours to make a circuit," said Vincent. "We have plenty of Pinotium and it would be a pity not to do it while we have the chance."
"You are forgetting about the temperatures," said Kokintz. "On the sunless side, the cold will be perhaps a hundred degrees below zero on the Centigrade scale. To suddenly plunge from the terrible heat into that cold would cause the whole rocket to contract so fast that it might crumble into pieces. We will go ahead with our plan, which was to land in the twilight zone on the moon where we can hope the temperatures will not be extreme. That is the safest place for us. And, since the lunar day lasts about thirty of our days on earth, the twilight zone will persist for a long time to protect us. I repeat—no tricks. Remember that we are in a place we are not designed to be in."
Vincent agreed, though with some reluctance; and with the lunar surface but six thousand miles or six hours' travel distant, so that it filled the whole sky before them, turned to the task of preparing the rocket for its landing.
At Cape Canaveral all was ready for the launching of the six-stage U.S. space ship to the moon, and Dr. Meidel, with six hours in which to reach it with the rocket, was feeling very pleased with himself. The two American astronauts, fully dressed for space travel, were in the ready room with Dr. Meidel and the President, who had come to Cape Canaveral for the launching.
"We have plenty of time in hand, Mr. President," said Dr. Meidel. "We will launch in two hours time and get to the moon an hour before Grand Fenwick. Everything has been checked and rechecked and the weather reports are favorable. I am sure you will agree that this method—the scientific approach—is the best after all."
The President nodded. He was highly nervous and excited and hardly heard what Dr. Meidel was saying.
"When will the fueling be done?" he asked. He knew the answer for he had a timetable of the whole of the last-minute procedure before him. But he felt the need to ask a question, just to relieve his anxiety.
"In one hour," replied Meidel, looking at the clock in the ready room. "It is in its final stages."
The President turned to the two astronauts. "I won't feel happy until you boys are successfully on your way," he said.
"Nor we either," said one of them with a grin.
There was a battery of telephones on a table in the ready room and one of these started ringing now. All four present gave a little start and stared at it, and Dr. Meidel picked the instrument up.
"Meidel, ready room," he said into the mouthpiece and then listened for what seemed to be an age.
"Bring it in to me immediately." he said and put down the receiver and looked at the President, his face ashen.
"What is it?" asked the President.
Before Dr. Meidel could answer a man clad in flame-proof coveralls came into the room and, ignoring the President, put a sheet of tissue paper on the table.
"We found it in the filtering system," he said.
They all stared at the piece of paper. In the center of it lay a little black blob.
"What is it?" demanded the President testily.
"A fly, sir." said the man in the coveralls.
"A fly?" echoed the President.
"Yes, sir," said the man. "It was in the kerosene. The fuel, for the rocket."
"Well, what of it?" demanded the President. "It was filtered out. That's what the filters are for, I presume."
"Only half the fly in here, Mr. President," said Dr. Meidel. "It is reasonable to assume that the other half somehow got into the rocket. We will have to unbunker the rocket and refilter all the kerosene." He glanced at the dock. "That means we can't make it first to the moon, I'm afraid," he said. "It will take four hours to unload and refuel."
"Damnation!" cried the President. "For half a fly! We are to be beaten to the moon for half a fly! Do you mean to tell me that half a fly that may or may not be in the fuel tanks of that rocket, means that we are to be beaten to the moon?"
"I'm afraid so, Mr. President," said Dr. Meidel. "We can't risk the whole rocket and the lives of these two men when there is a reasonable certainty of impurities in the fuel. Of course, if you give the order, we will go ahead. But my advice is to empty the bunkers and refilter all the kerosene."
The President glanced at the two astronauts. They said nothing but seemed to be pleading with him to give the order to go ahead anyway. He looked from them to the mutilated corpse of the fly and then said inaudibly, "All right. Refuel." Then he got up and left the ready room.
In Russia the Soviet scientists waited patiently for news of the American take-off. The launching site was in a remote area, far to the east of the Urals, and a radio signal from Moscow was needed to give the word for the blast-off. The Russian astronauts were already in their capsule and the rocket fully fueled. But the hours went by and no signal came and the rocket remained on the launching pad.
The Grand Fenwick rocket landed on the moon without any incident whatever. By changing the angle of thrust of the shower nozzles which he was using for jets, Vincent was able to turn the rocket on its side so that it was parallel to the moon and then upended it to land it gently in the center of a large lunar crater on the extensible legs, which were operated electrically. The touchdown was so soft that there was not the slightest jar. He cut off the reactor and the two looked in silence at each other.
"Well, we made it," said Vincent at length.
"Certainly we made it," said Dr. Kokintz. "The matter was never in any doubt. Now let us get outside and get our samples and then take off again."
"We ought to explore a little," said Vincent. "We could spend a day and then come back to the rocket. In a day we could cover a lot of territory. Besides, we have to put up the flag."
"What flag?" asked Dr. Kokintz, struggling into his space suit.
"A Grand Fenwick flag," said Vincent. "We have to plant it on the moon to take possession in the name of Grand Fenwick. I promised my father before we left. He prepared a little speech which I have to read and you are to make a tape of it and take a picture of Grand Fenwick's flag floating over the moon."
"It won't float," said Dr. Kokintz. "There's no wind. No atmosphere."
"Well, I'll hold it out and then you'll take the picture."
When they had their space suits on, had checked them for leaks and to see that the pressure was that of the earth's atmosphere at the surface, they both entered a small airlock in the side of the rocket. Kokintz had a camera and a portable battery-operated tape recorder with him, and Vincent carried a flagstaff with, at its head, the double-headed eagle banner of Grand Fenwick saying "Aye" from one beak and "Nay" from the other.
They shut the door of the airlock behind them and then opened the exterior door leading outward to the moon. There was a tremendous hiss as the door opened and the air in it rushed outward into the lunar vacuum. Both were swept off their feet, sailing out of the rocket and landing fifty or more feet from it.
"You hurt, Doctor?" asked Vincent, switching on his walkie-talkie. (There being no atmosphere, communication between the two had to be by radio.)
"No," said the scientist. "It was stupid of me to let you open that door so fast. Well, one can't think of everything on an expedition of this sort." They dusted themselves off and looked around. The prospect before them was of utter bleakness and the starkest solitude. Vincent felt that he had landed on a drawing done in black ink on blinding white paper. Something seemed horribly wrong about the perspective and when he took a step forward he felt dizzy
"There's something the matter with it," he said. "It looks all wrong."
"It is the lack of atmosphere," said Kokintz. "The mountains in the distance are as sharply outlined as the ones close by. There is no air to soften things as they become distant as there is on earth. The shadows are all jet-black, the highlights blinding white."
"I feel like I'm going to bump into one of those mountain walls next step," Vincent said.
"You'll get used to it," said Kokintz.
"Well, we'd better get the flag raised," said Vincent. He glanced around and, seeing a rocky escarpment only twenty feet away, got to it in two bounds. Kokintz followed, drifting through the air at each step like Peter Pan with a soap bubble over his head. They got to the top of the escarpment without trouble and Vincent produced a sheet of paper in his father's handwriting from a pocket in his space suit.
"Got the tape recorder hooked up to your receiver?" he asked.
"Yes," said Kokintz. He wasn't paying much attention but was looking up at the sky rather anxiously. Vincent started to read from the paper as follows:
"Know all men by these Presents, that I, Vincent of Mountjoy, on behalf of the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, a sovereign and independent nation on the planet known as Earth, do here and now claim complete sovereignty over all the territories of that satellite of Earth known as the Moon on which, together with Dr. Theodore Kokintz, I am the first man to land. In token of our claim to possession of the Moon as a territory of the Duchy of Grand Fenwick to be subject in every way to the laws of the Duchy, I now raise the flag of Grand Fenwick on this peak and call upon all the nations of the Earth to respect the rights here asserted. God Save the Duchess Gloriana XII. May she live forever."
With that Vincent raised the flag, thrusting the staff into the pumice-like stone of the escarpment. He had no sooner done this than he was smothered in a shower of tin cans which floated down out of the heavens about him, as if the earth, having listened to hiss thrown all its garbage at him. Empty cans barbecued beans, of frankfurters, sauerkraut, condensed milk, beer, Coca-Cola, together with glass jars that had once contained peanut butter, pickled herrings and grape jelly—in fact, all the garbage which he had thrust out of the rocket during their nine-day journey from earth, now clattered around in a pile which buried both him and the flag.
"Damnation!" roared Vincent, fighting his way out of this pile. "Who did that?"
"You did," said Kokintz. "That's all the garbage you threw out of the rocket." He surveyed the odious pile sadly. "Even without a flag," he said, "it would be plain that people from earth were here."
Vincent started to move the cans and bottles aside. He found that he could kick an empty can a good quarter of a mile. But Dr. Kokintz was upset. "Such a litter," he said. "It would be better to dig a hole and bury them. What a disgrace—to come all this way and make the moon into a garbage dump."
He was so distressed that Vincent helped dig a hole and bury the cans and bottles, though this seemed a curious way to spend part of their precious time on the moon. The actual task of digging was not difficult. The moon's surface at this place was composed of material rather like soft pumice stone, covered with a couple of inches of fine powder. Beneath it the rock was cracked and they could lift up huge pieces with their hands. They soon had a hole big enough for the cans and bottles. But when they looked up from their work, they found they were swathed in a fog so heavy that though they could see each other the rocket, not more than a few yards away, had utterly disappeared.
"Pumice dust," said Kokintz. "With the low lunar gravity, it will probably take an hour for it to settle again. Come. We must walk out of it."
He led the way, Vincent following. Two steps took them twelve feet and well out of the column of dust which rose a hundred feet up over the area they had been working. The top of the column, catching the rays of the sun, glittered with an angelic light. Kokintz studied it with interest. Then he turned and bounded across the bottom of the crater to the lip, which he proceeded to climb. Vincent followed him. The lip of the crater was rimmed with sunlight as with liquid fire. There the heat would be appalling, a terrible challenge even in an insulated space suit. To Vincent's surprise, Kokintz bent down, picked up two handfuls of dust and flung them up over the lip of the crater. Immediately a vast smoke screen was laid over the area, casting a soft shadow on the side away from the sun.
"What are you up to?" asked Vincent.
"Investigating a method of exploring the side of the moon exposed to the sun," replied Kokintz. "It is very simple. All that is needed is to make a smoke screen with the dust and walk in the shadow of it."
"Hang the dust," said Vincent. "It gives me the willies. We could lose each other or the rocket in a minute. What causes it, anyway?"
"Alternating heat and cold," said Kokintz. "It has reduced the surface of the moon to powder. The powder acts as an insulator to protect what is below. But it is plain that the moon is gradually crumbling away. Soon it will be nothing but a ball of dust, no more solid than a fog bank"
"How soon?" asked Vincent.
"In about a billion years," said Kokintz.
"Then we can let someone else worry about that," said Vincent. "Come on. Let's look around some more."
But first they decided to try the radio again and call Grand Fenwick to announce that they had landed on the moon and taken possession of it in the name of the Duchy. They returned to the rocket, entering through the airlock, into which they pumped sufficient air to bring the pressure to that of the earth's surface.
"Eagle calling Grand Fenwick," signaled Vincent, that being the code agreed on. "Eagle calling Grand Fenwick."
"Come in, Eagle," said the voice of Tully. "Is that you, Vincent? Are you safe? Is all well? What happened?"
"Everything is fine," said Vincent. "The radio went out but it is working now. We've landed on the moon safely, half an hour ago. What do you want us to do with it?"
"I'm proud of you, my boy. Proud of you," came in the trembling voice of the Count of Mountjoy. "This is indeed a magnificent day in the history of our country. Not even Spain in the great days of Columbus and of Magellan could point to a feat as magnificent as you have achieved on behalf of your native land. Have you seen any sign of the others?"
"What others?" asked Vincent.
"The Russians and the Americans?"
"Are they supposed to be about?" cried Vincent, very surprised.
"They took off two hours ago," said the Count of Mountjoy. "Officially, both nations have sent rockets capable of tremendous velocity to the moon to help you, should you get into any trouble. Actually, it is a face-saving device, and I suspect that there is more to it than that. I suspect that both the Russian and the United States astronauts, on landing, have been instructed to claim the moon for their different countries. You are sure you got there first?"
"Positive," said Vincent. "Absolutely nobody around when we got out of the rocket. That's right, isn't it, Doctor?"
"Yes," said Kokintz. "How are the bobolinks?"
"Hang the bobolinks!" shouted Mountjoy. "Now listen to this very carefully. We are at a time of crisis and the fate of t
he world for generations to come may be in the balance. It is vital to humanity that our claim to the moon be fully established.
"I am going to announce your arrival on the moon ahead of any other nation and announce that you have claimed the moon for Grand Fenwick. That should take it out of the East-West conflict and will be of immense value to everybody. I expect to be able to rally the support of all the smaller members of the United Nations for our claim—though I am unsure of the Arab bloc. Anyway, if the Americans and Russians arrive and attempt to raise their standards on the moon, you are to demand that they take them down. If they do not comply, you may resort to whatever force is necessary to make them comply."
"We are not here an hour and you want us to start a war?" asked Kokintz.
"Quite the wrong way of looking at it," said the Count of Mountjoy. "I want you to ensure the peace by the threat of war. Militant pacifism. Pacifism alone is nothing short of warmongering. It should be possible to enter into an alliance with the Americans, if this is necessary, by discreet promises of mineral rights, to join you against the Russians. That would make the odds overwhelming—four to two—and ensure your success. Is there anything further you want to know?"
Vincent looked bleakly at Kokintz. "There is one thing I would like to know," said Kokintz.
"What is that?" asked the Count of Mountjoy.
The Mouse On The Moon: eBook Edition (The Grand Fenwick Series 2) Page 15