"Well, they look like hemispheres. Odd formation, huh?"
Barnes looked again. "Too damned odd," he said slowly. "Mannie, let's have a 'punt."
"There's no print paper, is there?"
"You're right; my error."
Bowles joined them. "What's the curiosity? Moon maidens?"
Barnes showed him. "What do you make of those things?"
Bowles looked, and looked again. Finally he asked, "Mannie, how can we enlarge this?"
It took an hour to jury-rig a magic lantern, using a pilfered camera lens. They all gathered in the airlock and Traub switched on his improvised projector.
Bowles said, "Focus it, for cripes' sake." Traub did so. The images of his "hemispheres" were reasonably distinct. They were six in number, arranged in a semicircle -- and they were unnatural in appearance.
Barnes peered at them. "Red-you were a bit late when you claimed this planet."•
Bowles said, "Hmmm -- " Finally he emphatically added, "Constructions."
"Wait a minute," protested Corley. "They look artificial, but some very odd formations are natural."
"Look closer, Doe," Barnes advised. "There is no reasonable doubt. The question: were we a year or so late in claiming the Moon? Or millions of years?"
"Eh?"
"Those are pressure domes. Who built them? Moon people, long before history? Visiting Martians? Or Russians?"
Traub said, "Mr. Barnes-why not live Moon peo ple?"
"What? Take a walk outside."
"I don't see why not. As soon as I saw them I said, 'That's where those flying saucers came from a while back."
"Mannie, there were no flying saucers. Don't kid
yourself."
Traub said, doggedly, "I knew a man who -- "
" -- saw one with his own eyes," Barnes finished.
"Forget it. That's our worry-there. They're real. They show on l~tlm."
"Forget Martians, too," Bowles said gruffly, "and any long-dead Moon people."
"I take it you go for Russians?" Barnes commented. "I simply know that those films must be in the hands of military intelligence as soon as possible."
"Military intelligence? Ah, yes, on Earth-a lovely thought."
"Don~t he sarcastic. I mean it."
"So do I."
From willingness to die, his mission -- accomplished, Bowles became frantic to live,-- to get back. It made him bitter that he himself had insisted on landing-with all-important new evidence even then latent in the ship.
He sweated out a possible scheme to get the films back to Washington and seized a time when Traub was out of the ship to propose it to Barnes. "Jim-could you get this ship back by yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"You checked the figures. One man might make it-if the ship were lightened by the other three."
-- • Barnes looked angry. "Red, that's nonsense." "Ask the others."
"No!" Barnes added, "Four men came; four go back -- or nobody does."
"Well, I can lighten ship, at least. That's my privilege."
"Any more such talk and it'll be your privilege to be strapped down till takeoff!"
Bowles took Barnes' arm. "Those films have got to -- reach the Pentagon."
"Quit breathing in my face. We'll make it if we can. Have you anything left to jettison?"
"Jim, this ship gets back if I have to drag it."
"Drag it, then. Answer my question."
"I've got the clothes -- I stand in-I'll jettison them." Bowles looked around. "Jettison, he says. Jim Barnes, you call this ship stripped. By~ God, I'll show you! Where's that tool kit?"
"Traub just took it outside along with other stuff."
Bowles jumped to the microphone. "Mannie? Bring back the hacksaw; I need it!" He turned to Barnes. "I'll show you how to strip ship. What's that radio doing there? Useless as a third leg. Why do I need an autopilot display? Yours is enough. Doe-get up off that stool!"
Corley looked up from his closed world of figures. He had not even heard the row. "Eh? You called me?"
' -- 'Up off that stool-I'm going to unbolt it from the deck."
Corley looked puzzled. "Certainly, if you need it." He turned to Barnes. "Jim, these are the final figures."
Barnes was watching Bowles. "Hold the figures, Doe. We may make a few revisions."
Under the drive of Bowles' will they stripped ship again, fighting against their deadline. Rations-a/l rations -- men do not starve quickly. Radios. Duplicate instruments. Engineering instruments not utterly essential to blasting. The hot plate. Cupboards and doors, light fixtures and insulation; everything that' could be hacksawed away or ripped out bodily. The ladder from control room to airlock-that was kicked outlast, with three space suits and the rope ladder.
Bowles found no way to get rid of the fourth pressure suit; he had to wear it to stay alive while he pushed out the last items-but he found a way to minimize even that. He removed the instrument belt, the back pack, the air bottles, the insulating shoes, and stood there, gasping the air left in the suit, while the lock cycled from "vacuum" to "pressure" for the last time.
Three hands reached down and pulled him through the hatch. "Stations!" Barnes snapped. "Stand by to
blast!"
They were waiting for the count off, when Traub reached up and touched Barnes' arm. "Skipper?"
"Yes, Mannie?"
Traub looked to see if the other two were noticing; they were not. "Are we really going to make it?"
Barnes decided to be truthful. "Probably not." He glanced at~ Bowles; the Admiral's features were sunken; his false -- teeth had gone with the rest. Barnes grinned warmly. "But we're sure going to give it a try!"
The monument where the proud Luna once stood is pictured in every schoolroom. Many trips followed, some tragic, some not, before space -- transportation reached its present safe operation. The spaceways are paved with the bodies and glorious hopes of pioneers. With accomplishment of their dream some of the romance has gone out of space.
Farqüharson, Ibid., Hi: 423