Mission to the Moon

by Lester Del Rey

  At the answer, he handed the phones to Pierotti. There was still half a minute before he had to begin blasting, and he'd already made the corrections to the tilt of the ship. He waited, then signaled that blast would begin, while they buckled down.

  After ten days, even the light pull seemed like a leaden weight at first as the rockets went on. He saw the other two, sharing the microphone, wince. Some of the energy from the tubes always managed to stir up a trace of static. It must have blasted into their ears. But as they drew nearer and the strength of the incoming signal increased, it wouldn't bother them.

  He heard an exultant shout from Charkejian. "You hear that, Jim? I'm now entitled to top honors at home! And that means I'm free from taxes for the rest of my life!"

  Jim smiled, realizing how much that could mean. Scientists seldom drew large salaries, and the Combine had a stiff tax rate that must have cost the man a lot of the books he'd probably needed.

  Then Jim began working in earnest. They were nearly where they were supposed to be, but inevitably there had been trifling errors in the amount of pull the Moon had exerted and in other factors. The prefigured course was only an approximation now, and he had no time to calculate a new one precisely. He could have used the calculations he'd gone over with Charkejian, and then corrected any tiny differences with a final blast; but he wasn't too sure of the amount of fuel left. Anyhow, it would look better if he could bring the ship to a perfect stop, and he'd learned to do it with the ferry and taxi, so it should be possible.

  It meant using the sense of feel, but he had come to rely on that. Now he began regulating the blast and working the gyroscopes carefully. They were rushing down at the top speed of over 19,000 miles an hour, almost a mile a second faster than the station, but beginning to slow as the rocket fought against the speed. They were curving in close to the Earth, aiming to land at the same spot where they'd taken off.

  It felt right to him, and his observations fitted with what he expected. He began to relax, leaving the controls as they were. He could hear Pierotti saying something to the station about how relaxed he looked, and it sounded good to him.

  Then abruptly Pierotti began shouting into the phones. He jiggled the controls of the radio and shouted again. "Dead!" he explained. Then he hesitated. "No, we're getting the carrier wave still. But nobody is talking. Maybe they've pulled out their mike plug."

  "I heard somebody yelling something, and some sort of a scramble just before the radio went off," Charkejian said. He scowled at the silent phone. "It looks like trouble."

  Jim stared at his rear screen, where the station was barely visible, but he could see no evidence of whatever trouble it might be. An attack from the other station? A meteorite hitting and rupturing the hull? There was no sign, and it didn't make sense. Besides, if the carrier wave was still hissing out, the power must still be on down there.

  Pierotti began trying again, while Charkejian studied the rear screen and then forced himself up until his head was almost against the plastic observation bubble, where he could get a view of most of the Earth beneath the station.

  Then Jim gasped and pointed. The station was near enough to be visible now, and beyond it, heading away from it, there was the streak of a rocket moving outward! He stole a hasty glance toward the charts, but he already knew no ferry would be taking off from here for the relay station now, and the trail he saw wasn't heading toward Earth. It looked almost like the orbit he had taken to reach the Moon!

  He jerked his eyes toward the radar screen, but the three pips that showed the Moon ships indicated none of them had taken off.

  Then he was forced back to his navigating. But Charkejian must have had the same idea. He was figuring busily, and now looked up. "If I saw enough for calculations, it might be a shot for the Moon's orbit, on the opposite side from where we were. But this is the only ship that was ready. Besides, it's a foolish thought. The Moon won't be there at that part of its orbit until several days after they arrive!"

  The same thought had been bothering Jim. If that had been a rocket going out, it would arrive ten days after they had left the Moon—and it took the satellite two weeks to move halfway around the Earth, into a line with the station's direction of rotation.

  Someday, Jim thought, he was going to make a landing at the station with nothing but pleasant surprises waiting for him and nothing to worry about. But so far it hadn't happened to him.

  They were losing speed now, and beginning to drift toward the station.

  Abruptly Halpern's voice sounded in the phones, and Pierotti bent over so Jim could hear. "You still there?" the colonel asked dully.

  "We're waiting," Pierotti answered.

  "Okay. You're doing fine. Just come in as you are. And I'm sorry about the interruption. Nothing serious, I suppose. I'll explain when you get down." Then, softly but still audible, there was a faint groan and something that sounded like: "The darned fool. The poor darned fool kid!"

  "Freddy!" Jim guessed as the radio went dead.

  It could only be Freddy. Maybe the boy had decided to go out to meet them, expecting them to come in from the same side as they'd left—though he should

  114

  Mission fo ihe Moon

  have known better. Or maybe he was trying for greater things!

  With only half of his mind on the landing, Jim had somehow managed to keep things steady. They were apparently going to set down into a permanent orbit behind the station, in almost the same spot as their original berth.

  Pie waited, then cut the blast. For a moment, he sighted on the station and the Moon ships, before beginning to unbuckle himself. "We're here," he announced. It had been a good job of piloting, he realized, and he should have been happy about it. But now the worry about Freddy had ruined it.

  The other two reached for his hands, to shake them and to tell him how good everything had been, but he brushed them off. The taxi was on its way to pick them up.

  Jim began removing the locked magazines from the cameras. Until those and all the instrument readings were turned in, he hadn't finished his job. The other two men began helping him. By the time the taxi had touched their lock, they were ready.

  Nora was running the taxi, Jim saw. And even through the helmet, he could see tears in her eyes. This time he knew they weren't tears of relief at his return—there was no laughter mixed with them. She gripped his hand in welcome as he passed into the taxi.

  He jerked off his helmet as she began pulling hers off when the lock closed. "Freddy?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Freddy, of course. The fool I The stupid little fool! We were all waiting to get your first call, and paying no attention to him. So he grabbed the chance to take off. He's going to the Moon—in the relay ferry!"

  Then she buried her head in her hands and began to cry. It was obvious that somebody at the station had realized that Freddy was on no course to connect with his destination.

  Jim pushed her gently to the far side of the seat and took the controls, heading back toward the station. He had to turn in his log and the other data to Halpern. It wasn't something that he relished now, but it had to be done.

  "How much fuel did he take?" he asked her.

  If there had not been enough, it might work out all right. Freddy would then miss the speed needed to carry him too far, and would go into a long narrow ellipse that would simply bring him back to the neighborhood of the station, and then Jim could go out in one of the ships and pick him up; it would be difficult, but it might work. With more fuel, however, the elliptical orbit might be too long—and returning would be no good if the oxygen ran out first.

  Nora shook her head faintly. "We don't know

  exactly. At least two of the smaller tanks from the Moon ships. Terry spotted him taking off, and saw them fastened to the ferry. But it was too late to stop him."

  And too late to do anything, Jim realized. With that amount of fuel, Freddy might or might not have been able to land on the Moon, if he'd started right. But it would c
ertainly be sufficient to give him speed enough to get to the Moon's orbit and beyond. There wasn't any use planning a rescue now!

  Chapter 12 ™«»y

  J

  here was no celebration at the station of the return from the Moon. One had been planned, but nobody could have gone through with it. Even those who hadn't liked Freddy were shocked, and they could feel what Colonel Halpern was going through.

  Jim took the reports and films in to him. Halpern sat alone in his tiny office, with his dry grief held down under a hard will. He took the reports and films from Jim with no show of emotion, however, and signed the log of the voyage. "Thank you, Pilot," he said officially. "Well done! You are now relieved of your command!"

  Jim hesitated, and then went out without mentioning Freddy. Behind him, Halpern sat stiffly, working woodenly at the papers on his desk.

  Jim heard the few details that could be learned from the others. Freddy had kept mumbling about getting

  possession of the Moon before foreign spies claimed it, but nobody had paid much attention. The boy had seemed to be busy enough with his new duties as ferry pilot. And since he now had the job officially, nobody was surprised when he began requisitioning supplies for the ferry. He used forms signed by his father, apparently, and the forgeries on them were clever enough to have fooled any but a trained expert. He'd dropped hints that he had to make a trip up to the relay station for some emergency work to be done, and nobody had questioned it.

  He'd also pilfered the supply dumps for some of the things he had needed. Men checking the supplies were coming in now to report that there were tanks of oxygen and stores of food missing. Unfortunately, nobody could be sure of the exact amounts missing. In the hurry of building the Moon ships, it was easy to miss one or two tanks normally, or to have some supplies scattered about where only a complete inventory would turn them up.

  Just how Freddy had managed to get the two big tanks of hydrazine and acid was another mystery. He had used the taxi frequently, and must have lugged them over by using that, counting on the excitement of the survey return to cover up for him.

  "Could he have hooked them up to work?" Nora asked.

  Jim thought it over and nodded. The same valves could be used, since they were standard up here, and would screw into the fittings designed to permit refueling the ferry. He must have prepared his fastenings in advance and then done the actual coupling at the last minute. He'd been all ready, and it was only by an accident that Terry had seen him taking off. Halpern had found a note in his quarters, simply saying that Freddy had taken off for the Moon, and not to worry because he had it all figured out.

  Jim's microviewer and films were missing. Freddy must have taken them along for reference material.

  The astronomers were still tracking him, and word came from the doghouse that his ship had reached a slightly higher speed than Jim had used. Freddy's ship would pass the orbit of the Moon before it began drifting back. The latest figures on his speed and distance were posted on the bulletin board outside the commissary, and Jim copied them down before wandering inside. He was at loose ends, as most of the staff seemed to be. The dining hall was crowded with people who had apparently wandered in for coffee and news, and now just sat. It was unusually quiet.

  Charkejian motioned to a vacant seat, and Jim dropped down beside him, studying the figures. The astrophysicist leaned over to examine them, and began calculating the orbit. Jim had meant to do the same, but the scientist was faster at it.

  Abruptly, Charkejian grunted in sudden excite-

  ment. "You figure it, Jim, while I recheck this. Unless I'm crazy ..."

  At first the course meant nothing to Jim. Then he began to see what the other meant. A measure of excitement crept back as his pen scratched out the course. At Freddy's speed, he would cover the early part of the trip in less time. But there would be no Moon waiting as he neared what should be the place where the satellite's gravity would take over. Instead of speeding up in a rush toward the Moon, the ship would go on slowing under the feeble pull of Earth. It would pass the Moon's orbit and begin an equally slow fall back toward its starting point. But days would pass at its slowest speed.

  "Well?" Charkejian asked. He glanced at Jim's figures, compared them to his own, and nodded. Abruptly, he was on his feet, heading toward Hal-pern's office.

  "But the men in the observatory should have known this, if we're right!" Jim protested.

  "They've got too much work in the doghouse just keeping him tracked at that distance to have time to think yet," Charkejian answered. And knowing the job it must entail, Jim had to agree it was probably true.

  Yet for a second Jim stood there, torn between the excitement of the facts the course had revealed and the fear of arousing any hopes in Halpern before they could be sure. He stared again at the course he'd charted, and then was suddenly sure. Charkejian was already down the hall, but he slowed at Jim's shout, and waited until they were together again.

  Halpern should have retired to his private quarters, but there was still a light in his office. Jim knocked quickly, and then threw the door open before he could get an answer, to see the colonel lifting his head from his arms.

  "He can make it, sir!" Jim shouted at him. "Freddy can reach the Moon!"

  Halpern shook his head thickly, while the anguish on his face melted into the expressionless calm Jim had seen before. He stared at them until the words registered in his mind. Then he shook his head again, and there was no hope in his voice. "How? There's no skyhook up there for him to hang onto while he waits, Jim. Even I know more about space navigation than that. I don't need any false comfort!"

  Jim dragged out the paper with his figures and put it down in front of the colonel. "Look!" He pointed out the course with his finger as the older man stared at it. "Freddy's built up enough speed to carry him out here, as I figure it. He won't have any help from the Moon, but he will still pass beyond its orbit. Then Earth's gravity will lick him, bring him to a stop, and start him back—he hasn't hit escape velocity, so he has

  to fall back. The important thing is the time, though. This last little section of his orbit will be so slow that days will pass. Four days, to be exact!"

  Abruptly Halpern focused his eyes on the paper, frowning as he began to catch the idea. "All right. Go on," he prodded.

  "The point is that instead of five days just to reach the Moon's path, Freddy is going to take nine days to fall back to it! And by then the Moon will be there!" Jim hesitated, and then summed it up. "Your son didn't make a mistake as we thought. He knew he'd never have a chance to take off at the right time for the five-day trip, so he planned to use the only opportunity he had. He figured on a nine-day course. And he was right. It will work."

  Halpern lifted his eyes to Charkejian, who pulled out his own figures and passed them over. "It checks," the scientist said. "Any errors will be small enough for him to compensate for with a minimum blast on landing."

  The colonel nodded at last. His face had lost some of its coldness, but the hope that Jim had expected didn't appear. He smiled at them wearily, folded the papers and handed them back.

  "Thank you, gentlemen," he said. "I'm glad you came to me with this. It will help to know that Freddy wasn't the crazy fool we thought he was in all ways. At least he didn't forget everything you'd taught him.

  I guess he was better at mathematics than I thought. I can be proud of that/' He sighed, then shook his head slowly. "But it doesn't change things much. I suppose I'd rather have him reach the Moon before he dies-it seems better, somehow. But this won't save him."

  "We can try a rescue. I'm volunteering for the trip," Jim offered.

  "With what?"

  The question seemed to cut the rising optimism away from Jim, leaving him with no answer. The little survey ship had never been designed to land on the surface. It might be re-equipped, but that would take time and supplies they didn't have. It wouldn't even be safe for another survey course around the Moon without long tests for
strains from the acceleration it had taken. It had been designed for the one purpose, to be broken up after the trip, and even adding more fuel tanks and increasing the motor size for landing would be a nearly impossible job in the time they had.

  To do any good, the rescue ship would have to leave in four days. It wouldn't be a real rescue, even then; all they could do was to carry supplies to last until the main trip could be made. There was no sense in dreaming about landing and taking off from the Moon again, since it couldn't be done. All that they could hope for was to get oxygen and food to Freddy to keep him alive—if he landed safely—until the big ships could arrive. And they wouldn't be ready for quite a while yet, in spite of the excellent progress that had been made.

  The survey ship obviously couldn't be ready within the four-day deadline. Yet if they missed that, the Moon wouldn't be in a position they could reach until another two weeks had passed. That would mean a total of twenty-three days, counting time for the trip, before Freddy could be reached. It seemed improbable that he had taken enough supplies to last that long.

  Still, something had to be done.

  "There's the other ferry," Jim suggested finally. "We might try doing what Freddy did. With a more economical course, we could carry more supplies."

  Halpern thought it over briefly, and then shook his head.

  "I appreciate this, Jim," he said. "But I flatly forbid it. Don't think I wouldn't like to see it done. After all, he's my son. But I can't permit any hairbrained rescue that will only put another man's life in danger. All we can do is to hope that some miracle will come along to let him last until the regular trip—if he even manages to land. But thanks, anyhow."