She was not exactly sure how it had happened.
The jets screamed low again and there were torpedo boats now visible, boxing in the Galathea while she wallowed through the low waves. Ungainly.
“Stopping,” Baxter said. “I wonder why, trouble …” Then his eyes widened and he half rose from his chair. “No! They’re not going to!”
They were. The torpedo boats drew back and the jets thundered away into the distance.
And light as a balloon the Galathea rose from the water. For only a moment she hung there, free of the sea, invisibly borne, then moved upward, faster and faster, accelerating, a vanishing blur that disappeared almost instantly in the clouds.
Martha took her handkerchief out, not knowing whether she wanted to laugh or cry, crumpling it in her hands.
“You see.” His voice was contemptuous and seemed to come from a great distance. “They even lie to you. The whole affair with the King was a lie. They are running away, trying tricks.”
She stood and left, not wanting to hear any more.
17
Moon Base
“I really cannot do it,” Arnie said. “There are a number of other people who can do the job just as well, far better in fact. Professor Rasmussen here, for one. He knows everything about the work.”
Ove Rasmussen shook his head. “I would if I could, Arnie. But you are the only one who can say what must be said. In fact I’m the one who suggested that you speak.”
Arnie was surprised at this, and his eyes almost accused Ove of betrayal. But he said nothing about it. He turned instead to the efficient young man from the Ministry of State who had come to the Moon to arrange all the details.
“I have never spoken on television before,” Arnie told him. “Nor am I equipped to lie in public.”
“No one would ever ask you to lie, Professor Klein,” the efficient young man said, snapping open his attaché case and slipping out a folder. “We are asking you to tell only the truth. Someone else will discuss the situation here, tell all the details, and not lie at all. The most that will be said—or not said—will be an error of omission. The work here at Månebasen is not completely finished, and it is no grave crime to suggest that it is. This ship is part of the base now, there are depots outside for the equipment, and construction continues right around the clock.”
“He’s right,” Ove said quietly. “The situation is getting worse all the time in Denmark. There was an attack on the atomic institute last night. A car full of men dressed like police. They broke in, shot it out with the troops when they were discovered. Fourteen dead in all.”
“Like Israel—the terror raids,” Arnie said, mostly to himself, his eyes mirroring a long-remembered pain.
“Not the same at all,” Ove insisted quickly. “You can’t hold yourself to blame at all for anything that has happened. But you can help stop any further trouble, you realize that?” Arnie nodded, silently, looking out of the lounge window. The pitted lunar plain stretched away from the ship, but the view of most of the sky was cut off by the sharply rising lip of a large crater. Closer in, a large yellow diesel tractor was digging an immense gouge in the soil, its blue cloud of exhaust vanishing into the vacuum at almost the same instant it appeared. A nest of six large oxygen cylinders was strapped behind the driver.
“Yes, I will do it,” Arnie said, and once the decision had been made he dismissed it from his mind. He pointed at the tractor driver, who was dressed in a black and yellow suit with a bubble helmet.
“Any more troubles with suit leaks?” he asked as the State Ministry man hurried out.
“Little ones, but we watch and keep them patched. We’re keeping the suit pressure at five pounds, so there is no real trouble. We should be happy we could get pressure suits at all. I don’t know what we would have done if we hadn’t been able to buy these from the British, surplus from their scotched space program. Once things are settled the Americans and the Soviets will be falling over each other to supply us with suits for—what is the expression?”
“A piece of the action.”
“Right. We’ll soon have this base dug in and completely roofed over, and we’ll convert everything to electrical operation so we won’t have to keep bringing oxygen cylinders from Earth.”
He broke off as the television crews wheeled in their equipment. Lights and cameras were quickly mounted, the microphone cords spread across the floor. The director, a busy man with a pointed beard and dark glasses, shouted instructions continually.
“Could I ask you boys to move,” he said to Ove and Arnie, and waved the prop men toward their chairs. The furniture was shoved aside and rearranged, a long table moved over, while the director framed the scene in his hands.
“I want that window off to one side, the speakers below it, mikes on the table, get a carafe of water and some glasses, find something for that blank hunk of wall.” He spun on his heel and pointed. “There. That picture of the Moon. Move it over here.”
“It’s bolted down,” someone complained.
“Well unbolt it! That’s what you have fat fingers and a little tool kit for.” He ran back and looked through the viewer on the camera.
Leif Holm stamped into the room, large as life, wearing the same ancient-cut suit that he had worn in his office in Helsingør.
“Some flight I had in that little Blaeksprutte,” he said, shaking hands firmly with the two physicists. “If I was a Catholic I would have been crossing myself all the way. Couldn’t even smoke. Nils was afraid I would clog up the air equipment or something.” Reminding himself of his forced abstinence, he took his large cigar case from an inner pocket.
“Is Nils here now?” Arnie asked..
“He took off right away,” Ove told him. “They’re using the ship for a television relay and he is holding position above the horizon.”
“Back of the Moon, that’s the way,” Leif Holm said, clipping off the end of his immense cigar with a cutter hung from his watch chain. “So they can’t watch us with their damned great telescopes.”
“I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you yet,” Ove said. “Very kind, thank you. Minister for Space. It has a good sound to it. I also don’t have to worry what my predecessors did—since I don’t have any.”
“If you will please take your places we can have the briefing now,” the State Ministry man said, hurrying in. He was beginning to sweat. Arnie and Leif Holm sat behind the table, and someone went running for an ashtray. “Here are the main points we want to mention.” He laid the stapled sheets in front of both of them. “I know you have been briefed, but these will be of help in any case. Minister Holm, you will make your opening statements. Then the journalists on Earth will ask questions. The technical ones will be answered by Professor Klein.”
“Who are the journalists?” Arnie asked. “From what countries?”
“Top people. A tough crowd. The Soviets and Americans, of course, and the major European countries. The other countries have been pooled and have elected their own representatives. There are about twenty-five in all.”
“Israeli?”
“Yes. They insisted on having a representative of their own. All things considered, you know, we agreed.”
“The link is open,” the director called out. “Stand by. Three minutes. We are tied into Eurovision, by satellite to the Americas and Asia. Top viewing. Just watch the monitor and you will know when you are on.”
A television set with a large screen was placed under camera one. The picture was adequate, the scene tense. The Danish announcer was finishing the introduction, in English, the language that would be used for this broadcast.
“… from all over the world, gathered here in Copenhagen today, to talk to them on the Moon. It must be remembered that it takes radio waves nearly two seconds to reach the Moon, and the same amount of time to return, so there will be this amount of time between question and reply during the latter half of this session. We will now switch you over to the Danish Moon Station, to Mr. Leif H
olm, the Minister for Space.”
The red light glowed on camera two, and they appeared on the monitor screen. Leif Holm carefully tapped his ash into the ashtray and inhaled from his cigar, so that his first words were accompanied by a generous cloud of smoke.
“I am speaking from the Moon, where Denmark has established a base for research and commercial development of the Daleth drive that has permitted these flights. The construction is in its earliest stages—you can see the operation continuing behind me through the window—and will continue until there is a small city here. For the beginning this base will be dedicated to scientific research, to continue the development of the Daleth drive that has made this all possible. In one sense this portion of the work is already completed because all”—he leaned forward to stare grimly at the camera—”all of the Daleth project is now at this base. Professor Klein, sitting on my right, is here to direct the research. He has brought his assistants with him, all of his equipment, records, everything to do with this project.” He leaned back and drew oh his cigar again before continuing.
“You will excuse my insistence on this fact, but I wish to make it clear. Denmark in the past months has suffered many acts of violence within her borders. Crimes have been committed. People have been killed. It is sad to admit but there are national powers on Earth that will go to any lengths to obtain information about the Daleth drive. I speak to them now, and I beg forgiveness in advance from all of the peace-loving countries of the world, the overwhelming majority. You can stop now. Leave. There is nothing for you to steal. We in Denmark intend to develop the Daleth effect for the greater benefit of mankind. Not for violence.”
He stopped, almost glaring at the screen, then leaned back. Arnie was staring straight ahead, expressionless, as he had done during the entire talk.
“We will now answer any specific questions that you may have.”
The scene on the monitor changed to the auditorium in Copenhagen where the press representatives waited. They sat on chairs, in neat rows, in attitudes of silent attention, while slow seconds slipped by. It was disconcerting to realize that radio waves, even at the speed of light, took measurable seconds to cross the great distance between the Moon and Earth. In an abrupt, galvanic change the scene altered as a number of the newsmen jumped to their feet, clamoring for attention. One of them was recognized and the cameras focused on him, a burly man with a great shock of hair. The white letters UNITED STATES OF AMERICA appeared below him on the screen.
“Can you tell us who is making these alleged attacks in Denmark? These so called ‘national powers,’ to use your own term, in the plural, could, by inference, mean any country. Therefore all the countries stand condemned by innuendo. This is highly unfair.” He glowered at the camera.
“I am sorry that you find it so,” Holm responded calmly. “But it is the truth. Attacks have occurred. People have died. It is unimportant to go into the question further. Surely the world press must have more relevant questions than this one.”
Before the angry reporter could answer, another man was recognized, the representative of the Soviet Union who, if he was also angry, managed to conceal it very well.
“Of course the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics joins in with all the peace-loving nations of the world to condemn the acts of aggression that have occurred in Denmark.” He exchanged a look of mutual hatred with the American reporter, then went on. “A more important question would be, What does your country intend to do with this Daleth drive?”
“We intend to exploit it commercially,” Holm answered after the mandatory seconds, had passed. “In the same way that Danish shipping opened up the commercial possibilities of East Asia during the last century. A company has been formed, Del Forenede Rumskibsselskab, The United Spaceship Company, a partnership between the government and private industry. We mean to open up the Moon and the planets. At this time there are of course no specific plans, but we are sure that great opportunities lie ahead. Raw materials, research, tourism—who knows where it will end? We in Denmark are most enthusiastic, because at this time we see no end to the good that will come from it.”
“Good for Denmark,” the Russian said before another questioner could be recognized. “Does not this monopoly mean that you will deprive the rest of the world of fair share in the venture? Should you not, as a socialist country, share your discovery in the true socialist spirit?”
Leif Holm nodded solemn agreement. “Though many of our public institutions are socialistic, enough of our private ones are sufficiently capitalistic to keep us from giving away what you have called a ‘monopoly.’ It is a monopoly only in the sense that we shall operate the Daleth ships, at a fair profit, that will open up the solar system to all the countries of the Earth. We will try not to be greedy. We have already entered into an agreement with other Scandinavian countries for the manufacture of the ships. Our belief is that this invention will benefit all of mankind, and we consider it our duty to implement that belief.”
The representative of the Israeli press was recognized from the crowd of excited, waving men, and he addressed the camera. He had a detached, scholarly manner, with a tendency to look over the top of his rimless glasses, but Arnie recognized him as one of the shrewdest commentators that country had.
“If this discovery is of such a great benefit to mankind, I would like to ask why it has not been made available to the entire world? My question is directed to Professor Klein.”
Arnie had short seconds to prepare his answer—but he had been expecting the question. He looked directly into the camera and spoke slowly and clearly.
“The Daleth effect is more than a means of propulsion. It could be turned to destructive uses with ease. A country with the will to conquer the world could conquer the world through utilization of this effect. Or destroy the world in the attempt.”
“Could you elaborate? I am anxious to discover how this species of rocket ship engine could do all you say.”
He smiled, but Arnie knew better than to believe the smile. They both knew more about the history of the Daleth effect than they were admitting aloud.
“It can do more because it is not a kind of rocket engine. It is a new principle. It can be applied to lift a small ship—or a large ship. Or even an entire concrete-and-steel fortress mounting the heaviest cannon, and to take this anywhere in the world in a matter of minutes. It could hang in space, on top of the gravity well, immune from any retaliation by rockets, even atom-bomb-equipped rockets, and could destroy any target it wished with bombs or shells. Or if that image is not horrific enough for you, the Daleth effect could be made to pick up great boulders—or even small mountains —from here on the Moon, and drop them on Earth. There is no limit to the imaginable destruction.”
“And you feel that the other countries of the world would use the Daleth effect for destruction if they had it?” The other reporters were silent for the moment, recognizing the underplay in the dialogue between the two men.
“You know they would,” Arnie snapped back. “Since when has the horrible potential of a weapon stopped it from being used? The cultures who have practiced genocide, used poison gas and atom bombs in warfare, will stop at nothing.”
“And you felt that Israel would do these things? Since I understand you first developed the Daleth effect in Israel and took it from this country.”
Arnie had been expecting this, but he still wilted visibly beneath the blow. When he spoke again his voice was so low that the engineers had to turn up the volume of their transmission.
“I did not wish to see Israel forced to choose between her survival and the unleashing of great evil upon the world. At first I considered destroying my papers, until I realized that there was a very good chance that someone else might reach the same conclusions and make the same discovery that I did. I was forced to come to a decision—and I did.” He was angry now, defiant in his words.
“To the best of my knowledge I did the right thing, and I would do it over again if I wer
e forced to. I brought my discovery to Denmark because, as much as I love Israel, it is a country at war, that might eventually be forced to use the Daleth effect for war. It was my belief that if I found a way for my work to benefit all mankind, Israel would benefit too. Benefit first, for all that I owe her. But Denmark—I know this country, I was born there—could never be tempted into war by aggression. This is the country that twice almost voted unilateral disarmament for itself. In a world of tigers they wished to go unarmed! They have faith. I have faith in them. I could be wrong but, God save me, I have done the best I could… .”
His voice choked with emotion, and he looked away from the camera. The director instantly switched the scene back to Earth. After the moments of waiting an Indian reporter was recognized, the representative of an Asiatic reporter pool.
“Would the Minister of Space be so kind as to elaborate upon the benefits to accrue from the utilization of this discovery and to suggest, if possible, what specific benefits there might be for the countries of southern Asia?”
“I can do that,” Holm said, and looked down at his cigar, surprised to see that he had completely forgotten it, and that it had gone out.
18
Rungsted Kyst
“It’s a perfect day for it,” Martha Hansen said, rubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray, then clasping her hands together to conceal how excited she was.
“It certainly is, it certainly is,” Skou said, his nose pushed forward, looking around as though sniffing out trouble. “Will you excuse me a moment?”
In Our Hands the Stars Page 14