Moon of Mutiny
Page 17
The Station had been notified. Fred's father had not returned from the Earth where he'd been facing his old enemies, but there was a message, relayed from the Station:
"We have both won. Proud of you, Fred. Hope to see you soon/'
Fred gazed at it again, and slowly pulled his mind back to the account of the trip as it was being told. Sessions and Gantry had realized that the Station had been wrong again, and decided to scout between that area and the one Fred suggested. Then, when the message came telling of the flash of light, they? had doubled their speed to rescue the three men. The way had turned out to be one of the worst they had encountered; it was pockmarked with tiny craters, and the tractors had been forced to crawl cautiously. They hadn't known until Fred answered the call whether they would arrive in time.
Dr. Sessions stood up and motioned to Governor Gantry. The two men headed for the air lock, supposedly to plan the long trips back to their normal work. Sessions dropped a hand on Fred's shoulder as he passed. "I'd like to see you in the second tractor, Fred," he said quietly.
Fred nodded, glancing down at the telegram from his father again. "See you soon," he read. Maybe too soon. It would be nice to see his father, but not because he was kicked off the Moon. Sure, he was probably a hero again. He'd been that once before, and he knew how little it meant to the men who had to build the new world out of hard work and daily courage, not out of feats that simply made them heroes.
He finished his drink and stood up. There was a fresh bottle of oxygen on the suit now. That was one worry he no longer had.
He was disappointed to find both Gantry and Sessions in the tractor, going over the final details of the best routes. He'd hoped that he would have only the scientist to face. It was too late to back out now.
Sessions motioned him toward a seat, staring at him thoughtfully. The man's face was unreadable. Finally, Sessions shook his head. "All right, Fred, what do you think I should do with you?"
"Send me back to Earth, I suppose," Fred said. "I don't think you could execute me now, sir, in spite of your threat. But kicking me out is a pretty good substitute."
Sessions grinned briefly. "You've got an escape clause on that mutiny, you know. I remembered it after you pulled out."
Fred couldn't remember anything. He stared blankly at the other.
"I told you to use your own judgment, as I remember it," Sessions reminded him. "I suppose that entitled you to do anything you chose."
Fred considered it and rejected it. "No, sir. I knew perfectly well you meant I was to use my judgment by not running off. I was aware I was guilty of what you call mutiny when I left."
There was a sound that seemed to be an approving one from Gantry; Fred couldn't take his eyes from the face of the geologist.
Sessions sat playing with a pencil, apparently weighing every factor in his mind. Then he shrugged. "I'm not saying I'm not glad you disobeyed me, Fred. I'm the winner in this, too. I've already had more offers for funds than I ever thought there could be. Earth is waking up, particularly since the discovery of life here. The ships at Base will take off as soon as possible to return to the
Station for more men and supplies. I'm as much a winner from your actions as Governor Gantry is. But I'm not considering that now. This is between you and me. Okay?"
"I expected it to be," Fred agreed. But he wondered to himself. Had he truly believed he could be condemned for succeeding?
"Fine. Then we've got the question of what to do about a man who disobeys his leader. Balanced against that, the problem of what to do about a leader who gives an impossible order." He nodded to himself. "Because I guess I always knew the order was one you couldn't obey, Fred. That's something no man has a right to expect—impossible obedience."
Gantry chuckled. "You've got yourself a nice problem," he said.
Sessions agreed. "Too nice a one, I'm afraid. It doesn't really matter who is responsible any more. I've been on exploring trips where a man under the leader turned into a hero. It doesn't work. It divides the loyalty of the men. They'll always feel that in the big moment it was Fred who was proved right and I who made a mistake. That's not good for morale. So, Fred, I can't take you back with me. I'd like to, but it wouldn't be wise, at least for a while."
He stood up. He held out a hand for one of the warmest clasps Fred had ever felt. "I wish I had a son like you," he said. "We'll see a lot of each other someday. I'll see to that."
Then he clumped out of the tractor before Fred could think of anything to say. He sat back, slowly aware that
Gantry was watching him. The Governor reached out a large, work-toughened hand and rested it briefly on the young man's shoulder.
"Sessions is a hard man in some ways," he said, almost apologetically. "Maybe he's right, maybe not, but he has to do what he thinks best. He thinks a lot of you, though."
Sure, Fred thought. Everybody thought well of him this year—Sessions, Ramachundra, even Wickman. That would help somewhat back on Earth, but it wouldn't be enough. He grinned wryly. "I seem to be everyone's favorite son lately."
The Governor chuckled. Then he sobered.
"I can't afford the luxury of adopting sons, Fred. I've got a world here to build while the luck is running with me. For that I don't need favorite sons or heroes. I need the best men I can get to do the hard, day to day work. Men who can get results, however they manage it."
"I know it," Fred said. He stood up to go. He hadn't expected Gantry to suggest anything or to get sentimental, and for that he was grateful.
Gantry reached over again and pressed him back into the seat. "You're not understanding well right now, young man. I said I need men who can work and who get things done. Well, I've talked to Sessions, and I've seen some of the results. You're one of the men I want, Fred, if you're willing to join up with us in the colony."
He ripped a sheet of paper out of a notebook and began scribbling on it. "I guess we'd better be formal about things, if the World Congress is to take us in. Here, sign this if you want to become one of us."
Fred's hand shook on the pen. He never read the words, and he didn't care if it sold him into bondage for twenty years.
"But why?" he asked as Gantry put the paper away. "Why?"
For years, he'd been trying to find a way to become part of all this, and every effort had failed. Now, when he'd rebelled more than ever before, and when what he had done could be misunderstood as glory-hogging if anything could, he was suddenly given a chance.
Gantry leaned back, studying him as if trying to read his mind. The Governor shook his head doubtfully.
"It's hard to explain, Fred," he said at last. "Call it judgment. When you were a kid, you did things because you didn't think them out and see all the results. I don't think you were rebellious—just lacking in good judgment. Because you were able to get some results, even then, it took a long time to live down the reputation, even after you began to change. Now, though, you're different. You've learned to take discipline. You've also got the judgment to see the results of your actions and to know when you have to act on your own. Maybe it's because you've stopped thinking only of what you want and learned to think about what has to be done for everyone. I don't know. But I know when I see judgment in a man, and you've got it."
He turned back to his papers, dismissing Fred.
Fred began moving the few things he had acquired as his own from the cave and tractor into one of the worn machines Gantry had brought. He was nearly finished before someone bothered to tell him that Sessions had transferred his tractor to Gantry's group. Apparently everyone but he knew he was to be the driver on the way back to Base. Then, with his belongings back where they had been for so long, there was nothing for him to do.
He went outside. Sessions was getting his group together, ready for the long haul back through the pass Fred had discovered. Blasting a way over the little chasm would be no problem for a fully equipped group. Men and women passed him, saying good-by and wishing him luck. Even Mona Williams came u
p. Maybe she'd decided he was more computer than man, finally accepting him.
He moved away, out onto the surface beyond the group, where he could feel the Moon all around him and see the stars in space. It was partly his Moon now, and he wanted the feeling of it by himself for a few minutes before he rejoined the men going back to build the colony.
He was almost back to the tractor when he saw Wick-man hobbling toward him. There was a warm, friendly smile on the man's face as he bent over to touch helmets with Fred.
"Come on, Moon-man," he said. "We're almost ready." Fred laughed with Wickman, and they moved together toward the waiting colonists.
About the Author
Lester del Rey is a familiar name to readers of science fiction and science fact. He is the author of Rockets through Space, Mission to the Moon, Attack from Atlantis, Step to the Stars, and Marooned on Mars, which was the first science-fiction novel to win the Boys' Clubs of America Award.
Mr. del Rey grew up in Minnesota, attended college in Washington, D.C., and has traveled over most of the North American continent. Before he began writing, he was a carpenter, a photographer, a farmer, a machinist, and a hotel clerk. His interests are many: philology and linguistics, cooking, cabinet-making, and repairing old and unusual typewriters.