Moon of Mutiny

by Lester Del Rey

  Fred stared at him in shocked amazement. Here, where he'd been certain of a reasonable welcome if only because of the money from his lectures which he'd sent the colony, he seemed to be the Moon's number one unwanted guest.

  Chapter Ó Lunar Colony

  abruptly, the stiffness seemed to run out of Gantry. His big figure slumped over the stone slab that served as a desk and his hands went up wearily to shove the iron-gray hair back on his head.

  "Sorry," he said. "That wasn't the way I meant to say it. Sit down a minute and let me get my thoughts straight."

  Before Fred could move to the seat indicated, the air lock hissed and another man came through it. The space-suit was worn and patched, and the plastic helmet was clouded with scratches. There was something familiar about the figure inside it. Fred gasped as the helmet came off.

  "Mr. Jonas!"

  "Freddy!" Jonas gave an answering whoop and trotted forward, his arms outstretched. "Freddy, it's great to see you again! Man, how you've grown. And filled out. You're a sight for sore eyes."

  Fred studied the man before him, conscious that more changes had taken place in four years than his own growing up. Jonas had always seemed like the perfect picture of a successful businessman; he'd been one of

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  the top men in industry, yet he'd given up all that to organize the colony here. He was thinner, with deep folds of skin where fat had been once, and his hair was snow-white. Only his eyes were the same, twinkling with a keen awareness of every detail.

  He looked around quickly, seeming to take in the whole situation. "What's going on here?"

  "Governor Gantry is telling me I'm not welcome on the Moon," Fred answered.

  Jonas snorted in disbelief. "Nonsense. We know of what you've tried to do to help us. We haven't forgotten who our friends are, Fred."

  "I guess it came out that way," Gantry said. "Look, Fred, I like you. I always did. But I can't afford to trust you. You played the hero once and almost wrecked things for us. Maybe you've changed, but showing off to Poorhouse on the flight here, trying to be the great man who doesn't need a computer, reminds me of the same kid I knew. And that kid was a fool. Well, we can't afford fools. The smallest slip here can kill a man, and maybe kill a lot of others with him. So cut out the idea of pulling some great stunt and stick to doing what you have to do reliably. That's all I meant to say in the first place."

  Put that way, it was better, Fred realized, but the meaning wasn't much different. He still wasn't wanted until he could prove himself. How could a man prove himself unless he did try to do something important enough to be noticed? He said doubtfully, "I'll try."

  "Good." Gantry ended that part of the discussion. "Stick around and we'll try to show you the colony. Jonas, did you see the manifest of shipment?"

  "Bad?" the other asked.

  It was worse than just bad, from what Fred could gather. The sponsors of the expedition had made arrangements for the colony to provide fuel for the return and were supposed to pay for it with certain materials and tools desperately needed here. When the funds began to vanish too quickly, the sponsors were unable to live up to their bargain. At least half of what was most needed had not been brought along.

  "Clever men," Jonas commented bitterly. "They know perfectly well we can't refuse the fuel for the return, no matter what happens. So they save money by cutting our throats. Was Dr. Sessions part of this?"

  "He knew about it," Gantry answered. "But what could he do? He had to take what they gave him."

  Fred began to get some idea of the troubles here. He'd known of them before, but they had been distant problems; now, faced with the worry and desperation of the two men, he sensed the urgency of it all.

  The colony at Emmett Base had to be self-sustaining in the long run. Freighting material from Earth was so tremendously expensive that nothing the colony could produce would make it profitable. The only solution was to make everything needed on the Moon, which required more tools and power than they had. The two previous expeditions had helped by leaving behind their surplus supplies. Money from films and books, and contributions like those from Fred's lectures, had helped, but there had never been enough. With the United States going through an economy drive, there was no hope of American aid, either.

  They had licked part of the problem when they found a way to make fuel. Until it was worn beyond repair, they'd been able to freight supplies from the Station in one of the ships left behind on the second expedition. The present expedition was their last hope, and a feeble one at best. Time was running out. They were short of everything. Even with the supplies the expedition should have brought, the colony couldn't be sure of existing for more than another six months.

  "If we found uranium, so we could build a nuclear power reactor, we might make out," Jonas summed it up to Fred. "Or if we could get one of those new monopro-pellant ships. Peevy, our chemical engineer, says we can synthesize the monopropellant. In fact, with enough power and basic tools we could make anything. All the basic elements are here. Maybe, if Halpern could have found some way for Dr. Ramachundra to get here . . ."

  "He couldn't and there's no proof Ramachundra would do that much good. So we'll have to go it alone," Gantry stated flatly.

  Jonas took Fred around the little base. There wasn't much to see, but it represented four years of tremendous work. Except for the Administration hut, all the "buildings" were hollowed out of the soft rock of the cliffs. Sprayed plastic made the rooms airtight, and a central tunnel providing air and communication connected all dwellings. At regular intervals, doors in the tunnel could be slammed to cut off any section developing a leak. A whole family might live in a single room no more than eight feet by ten feet. Even the furniture was carved out of the rock whenever possible, and beds were niches cut into the walls.

  On the flat plateau across the crevasse from the landing field, the solar power station had been built. This was an arrangement of mirrors that directed the sunlight onto a big tank that served as a boiler to provide steam to drive a turbine and generator.

  "What do you do during the fourteen days of darkness?" Fred asked.

  "Run off stored power. During two weeks of light, we use a lot of the power to break water down into hydrogen and oxygen. We've got a couple of big natural caverns back that way to serve as tanks. Then, when it's dark, we run the steam generator by burning the hydrogen and oxygen back to water. It isn't efficient, but it's the best we can do."

  The problem seemed to be mostly a matter of accumulating reserve energy until they could build some proper source of power. They had found a vein of copper and a mine where low-grade iron ore could be worked. There were plenty of aluminum compounds. But getting the metal out of the ores required tremendous power, as did the casting and forging of parts. Once they could get over what Jonas called the "hump," where new developments yielded more than the cost in effort, they would be all right. Until then, the drain on their energy plant was greater than the return, meaning the deficit had to be made up in shipments from Earth.

  They came to a larger room which was the central kitchen. Here a group of tiny, very hot hydrogen flames were serving as stoves, and the women of the colony were preparing a meal to be eaten in the community dining room. The food seemed to be entirely vegetables. It looked and tasted good, but it must grow monotonous, and was hardly an ideal diet.

  Jonas pointed out the big gardens. These were set on the floor of the shallowest part of the crevasse, where sunlight could reach them easily, though artificial lights had to be used for long periods. The individual sections were roofed over with transparent plastic, and plants of all kinds were growing in beds of crushed rock and chemically fertilized soil. It was the source of most of the food and fresh air for the colony. Keeping a suitable temperature range during the hot day and freezing night was a problem.

  "Why do you stick it out?" Fred asked.

  But the question was needless. Fred couldn't put it into words, but he'd known years before that he mu
st leave Earth and get into space. There was a drive inside him to push back the frontier, to escape from the narrow limits of a single world. Like the people around him now, he felt that he belonged here—and that, in times to come, he'd probably belong even farther out, on other planets, perhaps some day around other stars. The only problem was to find some means by which he could join and remain in a group moving back the last frontiers.

  During the next couple of "days"—shifts were adjusted to Earth time—Fred found work could be just as hard here as anywhere else. The low gravity made lifting and carrying easier, but destroyed all the habits of muscular coordination. Even work in the Station hadn't been quite the same.

  They were unloading the ships and transferring the supplies to a base down in the crevasse. A dome of thin plastic had been set up there under a ledge to form a depot. Sessions insisted that all the supplies and equipment must be carefully inspected. A failure out on the Moon could mean death, and no precautions against defective equipment were too great. To Fred's surprise, he discovered that some of the equipment needed going over; apparently no one on Earth could imagine the closeness of danger existing here, and some of the work had been careless. One of the tractor motors took a full day of adjustment before it was dependable. It ran on the breakdown of hydrogen peroxide, like the fuel pumps on the ships; water and heat were the results of this action and they combined to form steam. Since the colony could produce the peroxide, it was the most practical fuel for motors on the airless moon.

  Fred found time for further inspection of the colony; he was amazed at the number of products they had been able to turn out from available supplies such as stone. They hoarded their metals for use where nothing else would do. Glass and plastics were scarce; these materials had to be shipped from Earth, since making them required special tools and too much power. With all their inventiveness, the colonists were poorer in possessions than the most impoverished settlers in the early days of America.

  Yet the people were eager to go on. They never seemed bored or sorry they were here. If they weren't happy, it was only because they knew the end of the colony was only months away.

  Apparently Jonas and Gantry had counted too much on the interest of Earth to get the colony started. Earth wasn't much interested. Once the two great blocs of nations—the Combine in the East and the Alliance in the West—had agreed that space was international, the drive to beat each other stopped. The people seemed content that men had already conquered space, and would not stand for the taxation that further exploration required. The Station was obviously valuable for weather predictions, and money for that could be found; but so far there were no benefits to be gained from the Moon. So why waste the taxpayers' money?

  The name of Ramachundra came up frequently. Fred asked for more details, but could learn little. All that was known was that the little man had been appointed by the World Congress to investigate the colony in any way he chose. It could mean nothing at all, though the World Congress had grown much stronger in the last few years as the minor nations began to make full use of it.

  Fred became somewhat sensitive about the whole business, since it was clear the colonists resented his coming, as if it had prevented Ramachundra's. The Hindu couldn't have piloted the ship, but that fact did not stop the feeling he should have come instead of Fred.

  They also bitterly resented the Cosmic Egg. Word came over the radio that the Egg had been successful on its first test flight to the Station. It had been piloted by Wickman, Fred discovered, with a feeling of resentment. To the Moon, the Egg would have meant the possibility of surviving and transporting needed supplies from Earth. The colonists couldn't understand why it was developed for use from Earth to the Station. It seemed as if Earth had deliberately created the answer to the colonists' needs and then had selfishly kept it away from the Moon.

  Nevertheless, they went on fighting. The mines, some distance from the Base, were being worked as fully as possible. They were also going ahead with plans for a new location for the colony.

  Jonas showed Fred the plans one day after dinner. Fred had brought his rations with him, to add to the common meal; he was deeply touched by how much a little variety added to their fare meant to these people. After dinner, Jonas took him into the Administration hut to see the sketches.

  They had found a group of connected caverns not far from the mines. What caused these caverns in a world without air and water was still a mystery, but the usual explanation was that ancient gas bubbles had been trapped under the cooling crust. In any event, once the caverns could be connected and sealed against air loss, they would provide shelter and a great deal more space than the colony now had. It might be possible to establish a city of several thousand in such a place, once the tremendous work of preparing them and partitioning them was finished.

  Jonas put the plans away regretfully. "That's for the future, though. If there is a future. What we need is something that will attract the interest of Earth enough to bring help or get a bunch of expeditions going. Only a near miracle will save us. Maybe finding some kind of life here would do it."

  "I thought the scientists of the second expedition reported no sign of life," Fred commented.

  "They did. But I'm not sure they're right. Some of our people claim they've seen signs to indicate something was growing here—some kind of plant." Jonas' eyes got the hungry look Fred was learning to expect from the colonists. "That would bring an interest, all right. If there's any type of life at all here, things would hum long enough to get us set up."

  There were a lot of ifs, and none of them looked like very hopeful ones.

  Dr. Sessions was waiting for Fred when he came back. The expedition leader sat in the control room of the Kepler, where Fred still slept, and his face was stern.

  "Your computer doesn't work," he announced. "I tried to solve a simple problem on it, and got gibberish. Did you know that?"

  Fred nodded reluctantly, and the scientist frowned more deeply. "All right, then. Did you disable it, Fred?"

  "No, sir. I think there's a short somewhere in the power supply."

  "Why didn't you report it?"

  Fred shook his head. He'd been trying to find an excuse that wouldn't reveal the fact he'd plotted the landing without using it. "There was no time. I only found the trouble again when we were landing. And Mona Williams hasn't had time to work on it since."

  "All right." Sessions seemed to drop the problem from his mind. "I hope you're telling the truth. If you are, I owe you a lot. If not, you're a fool. It won't matter now, anyhow. The expedition pulls out tomorrow. Maybe you can get the computer fixed before we return."

  Surprise hit Fred at that. "But—but I thought we'd all go."

  "No—not the pilots." Dr. Sessions said. "Pilots are very special people. They aren't supposed to do dirty work. They're the glamour boys of space. They fixed the rules three years ago so they don't even help loading cargo. Oh, I meant to thank you for your help there, Fred." He nodded his indebtedness. "But all you have to do is stay here and watch the ships."

  Fred frowned, remembering that the other pilots hadn't worked, now that he thought of it. It seemed strange to him, particularly when Sessions was short-handed. The leader had stressed that he wanted to time the return for fourteen weeks after the landing, but admitted it might take eighteen weeks; the trip could only be made at four-week intervals because of the position of the Moon.

  Four weeks could make a good deal of difference in the amount of supplies thirty people would consume— that could mean a lot to the colonists, since any remaining goods would be left for them.

  "I'd like to come, sir," he suggested. "That is, if you can find any work I can do. I'm not trained for much except piloting."

  "You could probably operate a tractor. You have good eyes and quick reflexes. I suppose you had a course in fuel pump motor maintenance at the Academy, so you should be a better tractor mechanic than any of the men I have. The co-pilot you replaced had volunteered for the job, an
d I was counting on him. I wish I could trust you." Sessions considered it. His eyes clouded for a second as he glanced at the computer. Then he shrugged.

  Fred could think of nothing to prove his trustworthiness. He waited silently as the scientist studied him.

  "All right, Fred," Dr. Sessions said finally. "I've been trying to persuade Gantry to assign a driver from the colony, but none can be spared. If you can take the discipline out there, I can use you. Get some sleep and be ready in the morning. It's going to be tough, and you'd better start out rested."

  He left, and Fred tried to follow his advice. But his mind was full of doubts. There had been so much said

  about his glory-hogging that he couldn't be sure of himself any longer. Yet he honestly felt that his going would help the colony. He wasn't looking for glory any more than he had been when necessity forced him to plot the landing without the computer.

  He wondered how difficult it would be to take the discipline Dr. Sessions kept emphasizing. Just how tough was it out there on the surface of the Moon, cut off from both ships and colony?

  ChaptCr / World of Death

  in spite of Dr. Sessions' financial troubles, the expedition was far better equipped than the previous two for traveling across the Moon. Already much had been learned by experience.

  There were three tractors, looking like early model military tanks with certain modifications. These had larger viewing ports at the front and sides, tracks made of a silicone rubber of tremendous strength, and a thin, reflective sheet of metal raised over each to shield it from the heat of the sun during the lunar day.

  Each tractor would haul one large and one small trailer. The small ones were for equipment and supplies, and resembled low boxes riding on four wheels. One of the larger trailers carried most of the scientific instruments and formed an office and laboratory, while the other two were compact quarters for the men and for the women of the expedition. These were not unlike automobile trailers, except that they were lower, with more wheels. They had to be airtight and equipped with air locks, of course, and they also carried screens to shield them from the sun.