Mission to the Moon

by Lester Del Rey

  He meant it for dismissal, but Jim couldn't leave until he was sure everything had been covered. His mind was reaching for anything that might offer some chance. Even if a scheme didn't work, it would sometimes suggest other possibilities.

  Halpern seemed to read his mind this time. "If you're thinking of the robot brain that was supposed to pilot the ship, I've been considering it. But it won't work."

  "Why not?" Jim asked. "It would save us the need of checking the ship—we could take a chance on trouble in a case like this when no life is involved. What have we got to lose?"

  "We don't have anything to gain. The computer isn't able to handle anything as tricky as a landing."

  Charkejian sighed. "It wouldn't be. Even with it controlled from here, it wouldn't work, Jim. There's about three seconds delay from the time it could send information back until our signals reached it again. And that is too slow for landing maneuvers."

  Jim had known that radar, traveling at the speed of light, still took a second and a half to reach the Moon, but he had forgotten it for the moment; men still weren't used to the distances involved. But it would make any remote-controlled landing impossible, he saw.

  Halpern picked up the papers in an automatic attempt to bury his feelings in the routine of his work. "You might spread the word that Freddy will reach the Moon; it should make some of our people feel better," he said.

  This time there was nothing to do but to leave. Jim let Charkejian go to spread the word about Freddy's course, while he turned toward Jonas' office. The supervisor wasn't there, since he'd been called down to Earth and wouldn't be back until the next rocket up. But the big charts on his wall were what Jim wanted to see. He studied them, but they contained no new information, as he'd hoped they might. Finally he swung away and went looking for Thorndyke.

  The announcement of Freddy's course was just being given over the loudspeakers when Jim found the foreman. For a moment, the man's face lost some of its look of gloom, but it came back as Jim summarized his conversation with Halpern. Thorndyke had probably been the hardest hit of any of them by Freddy's plight.

  "So it means nothing," Thorndyke said when Jim finished. "The boy can't hold out until the main trip!"

  "When will that be?" Jim asked. It was the information he had come to get.

  The engineer grimaced. "It's supposed to be about four weeks before we finish, and a couple more weeks before they take off. I suppose we can skip the waiting period for tests and things, but . , ."

  Three weeks! Then they would have to wait until the Moon was in the right position. That would make it a minimum of thirty-two days before takeoff, and five more days to get to the Moon.

  They couldn't wait that long. But apparently there was nothing else they could do!

  Chapter 13 Last Hope

  onas arrived that night on the rocket, but he went

  U

  to his sleeping quarters at once, and Jim had to wait until the next morning to see him. Properly speaking, of course, there was no night or morning on the station, but they kept the same time system as that on Johnston Island, and the old terms remained in use. In Jim's mind, it was the eighth day before Freddy would land on the Moon.

  He had to wait in the outer office while Jonas and Halpern conferred. But the time wasn't entirely wasted. To Jim's surprise, there had been a whole reel of microfilm correspondence for him—and that included only what the office at the Island had considered important. He skimmed most of it, amazed at some of the offers.

  Apparently he would collect royalties on his broadcast from near the Moon. The tape company could have used it without payment, but had signed him to

  a standard contract—needing only his signature; they frankly admitted such treatment of him was worth it for good publicity. There was an offer for his name on a ghostwritten book about the trip, and numerous other business. He stared at them, realizing he could be rich overnight.

  Halpern left then, and Jonas called Jim in. The supervisor glanced at the reel of tape and nodded. "Let our legal staff accept those offers for you, Jim. They can handle it all. We can use the publicity, and the money may be a good thing, even if you don't really need it. Okay?"

  It didn't mean much to Jim, at the moment. He shrugged, passed the correspondence over, and signed the power of attorney form Jonas had already prepared for him. Then he dismissed it as he turned to what was important. "Mr. Jonas, we can't let Freddy die on the Moon. We've got to do something and do it fast! He can't wait five weeks for the scheduled trip in the big ships, even if he lands and has all the supplies he can carry!"

  "Nobody's arguing about that," Jonas agreed. "What do you want?"

  "I want to see the ships finished in time for the takeoff seventeen days from now. It's the last chance we have. Maybe Freddy can't hold out for three weeks, but we have to try it. And we can do it! I know we can, sir!"

  "I've been thinking about it," Jonas said seriously, to Jim's surprise. "But I can't ask the men to drive themselves at that speed and force them to all the overtime we'd need. It has to be voluntary. Are you willing to take over full responsibility?"

  "You tried making me foreman. I failed," Jim reminded him.

  "You didn't fail when there was the pressure for finishing the station," Jonas said. "Besides, I don't mean as foreman—Terry, Dan and Thorndyke are doing all right for that. I mean someone who'll take over the whole thing and keep the men whipped up to a fever pitch. Get them to feel it can be done. A lot of them will remember what you did on the station and follow you in an emergency. Well?"

  "Call them together," Jim told him. He didn't care whether he was head of the men or merely an errand boy, as long as the work was done. It was an entirely different feeling from what he'd had as foreman; he was counting on the men, not on himself. And maybe that was the element that had been lacking before.

  Jonas turned the meeting of the crews over to him, and Jim put it to them simply and directly, outlining the work to be done. Then he stood back as they voted on it. It was no surprise to him when the decision to try it was unanimous.

  "Okay," he told them. "Let's go!"

  Some of the newer men looked surprised at his taking over, but the three foremen and the others who had worked on the station accepted it without bothering to think of it. They gathered around him, adding their suggestions and whipping themselves up to the assurance the work would somehow be finished in time. Then they moved out to the ships, while Jim went for the taxi and began moving up materials for them.

  He could see the progress made late that evening as he called off the first shift. The big ships were taking shape already.

  Down on Earth, the papers were making a big splash of the effort to rescue Freddy. The flimsies that came up with the rockets were filled with it. They had given him up for lost, but now they were publicizing the fact that there was still a chance. Surely, they argued, if Freddy had been able to figure out the course he took, he must have realized that it would be more than three weeks before he could be saved. He would have taken enough supplies to last.

  Jim could only hope it was true. From what they could check on, it seemed possible, but there was no certainty.

  He learned that the pilots had all independently volunteered to try an immediate trip, including Gantry. But Halpern had turned them all down. By now, Jim was forced to agree with the colonel. The chance of succeeding was too small for the risk, and all the effort would be needed in rushing through the main trick. There would be work enough for the pilots in bringing up the supplies.

  But Mark Emmett couldn't see it. He came looking for Jim and Nora while his ship was being unloaded.

  "I don't need any special ship," he suggested to them. "I can make it to the Moon in the regular third stage. Yank out all excess weight and take only what I'll need to help Freddy. Cut off the wings, controls, and a lot of the atmospheric streamlining. Dump out the automatic pilot. Then load her to the gills. As she is, with about thirty tons of freight and all that other stuf
f, she's good for sixty-two hundred miles an hour speed change; she'd only need thirty-four hundred more to land on the Moon. It can be done, Jim. Without Halpern knowing."

  "And I suppose you mean we're to help you? Maybe get some of the men here to pitch in on the sly?" Jim asked.

  Mark grinned back at him. "I wouldn't exactly ask anyone to break orders. But if I just sort of found the ship cut up a bit, and stocked with fuel and supplies, I couldn't waste the chance, could I?"

  "I could arrange it with Thorndyke," Nora said thoughtfully. "He hasn't taken Halpern's decision very well. And ..."

  Jim stared at her in surprise. "I thought I was supposed to be the rebel around here—the one who wouldn't co-operate! Nora, how many lectures did you give me about everyone working together, instead of trying to get things done alone? You and Jonas were good at that."

  "You don't want Freddy to die, do you?" she shot at him.

  He grimaced. "Of course I don't. But, darn it, Hal-pern's right. This isn't a one-man trip. The government isn't building those three ships out there at a cost of half a billion dollars because they enjoy spending the money. They're doing it because it's the only way to get to the Moon safely. It won't do us a bit of good to have someone else dead or dying on the satellite before we can get there—and that's almost certainly what it would mean."

  Nora grew more doubtful as he went on. Some of the words sounded strange in his mouth, and he knew they were ones he had borrowed from Jonas and even from Nora herself. But they made sense. This wasn't a case for a single hero. It had to be done with a full crew and ships designed for the job.

  "Besides," he finished, "we can't afford such stunts now. We don't have the fuel to waste. It's going to take all we can get up here to have the ships fueled in time. And we can't spare the rocket or pilot from supply work. It won't work, Mark!"

  Mark shrugged and then grinned in amusement. "I guess you've grown up, Jim," he said, but it was no compliment in his terms. "Congratulations! Very sound position. Your bosses would approve. And you'll make a fine master pilot when they get around to that position. Well, be seeing you."

  He went off. Jim stared after him, wondering. Maybe he'd made some impression on the pilot, or maybe not. He saw Mark stop beside a group of the men who were eating and sit down with them, to begin laughing at something one of them said. Then Jim shrugged and went back to his own work. Apparently Mark had given up the idea. At least the pilot left on his regular trip back to Earth.

  Nora sighed finally. "I guess I shouldn't have agreed with Mark," she decided. "But it's hard to turn down any chance."

  They were putting the meteor bumper on the Moon ships now. It was a thin metal shielding over the inner nylon and plastic globe for the passengers, designed to soak up the shock of any meteorite big enough to cause damage, and the finishing touch to the passenger quarters.

  There was a tremendous amount of wiring and connecting up the automatic machinery inside still, as well as general work. Stocking the ships would be a separate big job, though some of diat was going on already. But with the passenger shells completed, much of the work could be done faster, since men could work inside without their suits. '

  Jim was busy welding when Mark came up in the rocket again. Then he looked in surprise awhile later when Poorhouse's rocket also came up. Usually the trips were staggered more. He saw that Nora had finished the unloading of Mark's ship and was stacking parts at the dump. Jim looked for Thorndyke, but couldn't find him. He turned the work over to Bill and went out in the ferry ship, which could be used as a taxi when there was extra work. He had to begin unloading for Poorhouse so that the ship wouldn't be held up in its return.

  He was vaguely surprised that Mark's ship was still there, though it probably meant some official business to transact. There was no sign of the pilot. Jim stared at the ship thoughtfully. Then he shrugged. For a moment he'd been suspicious, but he could see no sign of damage to it. The wings were still attached, and the streamlining was still in place.

  He was kept busy on Poorhouse's ship then. He was glad to see that most of the cargo this time was fuel. The huge amounts needed for the trip were a major problem. Of the half billion the trip would cost, over fifty percent would go for fuel. It would take a fantastic quantity for the trip. If they had to, they might even be able to skimp on some of the other work and supplies, but the hydrazine and nitric acid were indispensable.

  Moving it was slower than Jim liked, too. He had to couple onto the big freight tank in the rocket and pump it out, then haul it across to one of the ship tanks and pump the fuel in. But at least it wasn't as bad as the hydrogen peroxide needed to drive the big ship pumps on the trip. That required special treatment to make sure it wasn't contaminated.

  He was nearly through when he saw the stir near Marks ship. Men were suddenly pouring out of it in their space suits, shooting themselves back toward the Moon ships. Jim gasped as he saw the number who were moving from the rocket. No normal work on it could require such a crew, and nobody had been assigned to any repair work there, as far as he knew.

  He let out a yell, completely useless in the confines of the ferry, as he realized he'd been tricked. He should have been more cautious. Today was the right time for the takeoff to the Moon—four days after Freddy had left—and the station was now in the right position. He should have been alert and used extra precautions. Now it was too late.

  There was a blast of hot gasses from the motors of the rocket and then it began to move. At the first touch of acceleration, the wings and fins snapped off, and the larger part of the outer sheathing fell away. Men must have been busy cutting them loose for hours. Only enough had remained uncut to hold them together until the first strain.

  The little radio in the ferry blinked a red light, and

  Jim threw the switch. Almost at once the laughing voice of Mark came from it. "So long, guys. See you on the Moon. Jim, you reading me?"

  "I can hear you," Jim told him angrily.

  "Okay, pal! Just don't blame Nora. We got her off the taxi on a rigged excuse. She didn't have a thing to do with supplying me."

  Jim flipped the switch off without answering. The fool, he thought. With the big ships being rushed to completion and every single supply rocket needed to bring up fuel, Mark had to do this!

  Then his anger cooled and he threw the switch back. "Mark?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Take it easy, at least. Don't try to land if you see Freddy is going to crack up. Go into an orbit as tight as you can around the Moon and we'll pick you up later."

  "I'll think about it," Mark's voice told him. "And give my best regards to the colonel. Tell him he'd have done the same once, maybe. So long, spaceman!"

  "Good luck, Mark!"

  The radio went dead, and Jim stood watching the stripped-down rocket taking off for the Moon. It was already beginning to vanish from sight, except for the fire of its exhaust that stood out against the dull black of space.

  He knew he had done the right thing by refusing to disobey orders and take such a chance. Yet somehow it hurt to realize that another man was doing it. Freddy had been Jim's responsibility, and he felt like a coward now as he watched Mark leave.

  He wondered if this kind of growing up into a cooperative person was really worth the trouble.

  Chapter 14 Stress and Strain

  ive days later there was a break in the work. Great as the rush was, everyone knew that there was no use in trying to get anything done while the question of whether Freddy could land was decided out by the Moon.

  The telescope in the doghouse had been focused carefully near Dewey Bay—the section which had originally been chosen as the best spot. It still looked like the best, after a careful study of the films Jim had brought back, but Freddy couldn't know that, of course. Still, he'd read enough to know it was the logical spot, and he had maps with him on the microfilms to enable him to find it.

  One of the younger astronomers was broadcasting an account through the speakers in the
station. Men were clustered around, sitting silently as they listened. Even Halpern had come out to join Nora and Jim,

  unable to stand the suspense in his office with no one to talk to. But now that he was out with them, he was sitting silently as the report came in.

  Minutes went by, with nothing new. Then there was a sudden cry from the speaker. "Something's showing! That's it. There's a rocket blast, right where he should be. And another one! Wait a minute, we're increasing the power on the light magnifier now. Two blasts showing, all right. Anybody know how to tell which is Emmett and which is the boy?"

  Jim found a phone and began jiggling it, until he had a connection to the doghouse. "Tell the man announcing that Mark's ship was stripped, but that Freddy's would look mostly white, if anything can be seen. The tanks were just given a coat of reflective paint."

  Word must have been passed along. A second later, the young announcer paused, and then picked up the account again. "We think we can make out the white on one of them. It must be Freddy Halpern. It looks as if he might make it. Hard to measure speed at this angle, but he's close to holding his course. The other one is going a little smoother, so it must be Mark Emmett."

  He groaned suddenly. "One blast failed—Emmett's! Or it was cut off. There's still some sign of the other. And now that is disappearing. It's gone!"

  The report didn't tell much. In a few minutes, pictures taken through the camera at the observatory doghouse were sent over, but they told even less. Up here with perfect seeing and the highest magnification, it was still a strain to see anything the size of a ship. Only trained eyes could do it at all.

  Still, they knew now that Freddy had plotted his course correctly. He'd reached the Moon—either safely or in a crackup. There was no way of telling. Apparently Mark had even less chance. It had sounded as if he'd run out of fuel. He might still have lived, of course. On the Moon, the gravity was only one-sixth that of Earth, and the emptied fuel tanks could have served as shock absorbers. But it didn't look good.