«No. One of the three successful flights the Russians made happened to land and take off there. They found the footing better than anywhere else either of us has landed. Almost no dust; you won’t have to slog through knee-deep pumice when you’re gathering the supply rockets. Probably a more recently formed crater than any of the others we’ve happened to land in or explore.»
«Fair enough. About the rocket I go in—what’s the payload besides myself?»
«Not a thing but the food, water and oxygen you’ll need en route, and your spacesuit. Not even fuel for your return, although you’ll return in the same rocket you go in. Everything else, including return fuel, will be there waiting for you; it’s on the way now. We fired ten supply rockets last night. Since you take off tomorrow night, they’ll get there forty-eight hours before you do. So—»
«Wait a minute,» Carmody said. «On my first trip I carried fifty pounds payload besides my return fuel. Is this a smaller type of rocket?»
«Yes, and a much better one. Not a step-rocket like you used before. Better fuel and more of it; you can accelerate longer and at fewer gravities, and you’ll get there quicker. Forty-four hours as against almost four days before. Last time you took four and half Gs for seven minutes. This time you’ll get by with three Gs and have twelve minutes’ acceleration before you reach Brennschluss—cut loose from Earth’s gravitation. Your first trip, you had to carry return fuel and a little payload because we didn’t have the accuracy to shoot a supply rocket after you—or before you—and be sure it’d land within twenty miles. All clear? After we’re through talking here I’ll take you to the supply depot, show you the type of supply rocket we’re using and how to open and unload it. I’ll give you an inventory of the contents of each of the twelve of them we sent.»
«And what if all of them don’t get there?»
«At least eleven of them will. And everything’s duplicated; if any one rocket goes astray, you’ll still have everything you need—for two people. And the Russians are firing an equal number of supply rockets, so you’ll have a double factor of safety.» He grinned. «If none of our rockets get there, you’ll have to eat borsht and drink vodka, maybe, but you won’t starve.»
«Are you kidding about the vodka?»
«Maybe not. We’re including a case of Scotch, transferred to lightweight containers, of course. We figure it might be just the icebreaker you’ll need for a happy honeymoon.»
Carmody grunted.
«So maybe,» Granham said, «the Russians’ll figure the same way and send along some vodka. And the rocket fuels for your return, by the way, are not identical, but they’re interchangeable. Each side is sending enough for the return of two rockets. If our fuel doesn’t get there, you divvy with her, and vice versa.»
«Fair enough. What else?»
«Your arrival will be just after dawn—Lunar time. There’ll be a few hours when the temperature is somewhere between horribly cold and broiling hot. You’d better take advantage of them to get the bulk of your work done. Gathering supplies from the rockets and putting up the prefab shelter that’s in them, in sections. We’ve got a duplicate of it in the supply depot and I want you to practice assembling it.»
«Good idea. It’s airtight and heatproof?»
«Airtight once you paint the seams with a special preparation that’s included. And, yes, the insulation is excellent. Has a very ingenious little airlock on it, too. You won’t have to waste oxygen getting in and out.»
Carmody nodded. «Length of stay?» he asked.
«Twelve days. Earth days, of course. That’ll give you plenty of time to get off before the Lunar night.»
Granham chuckled. «Want instructions to cover those twelve days? No? Well, come on around to the depot then. I’ll introduce you to your ship and show you the supply rockets and the shelter.»
It turned out to be a busy evening, all right. Carmody didn’t get to bed until nearly morning, his head so swimming with facts and figures that he’d forgotten it was his wedding day. Granham let him sleep until nine, then sent an orderly to wake him and to state that the ceremony had been set for ten o’clock and that he’d better hurry.
Carmody couldn’t remember what «the ceremony» was for a moment, then he shuddered and hurried.
A Justice of the Peace was waiting for him there and technicians were working on a screen and projector. Granham said, «The Russians agreed that the ceremony could be performed at this end, provided we made it a civil ceremony. That’s all right by you, isn’t it?»
«It’s lovely,» Carmody told him. «Let’s get on with it. Or don’t we have to? As far as I’m concerned—»
«You know what the reaction of a lot of people would be when they learn about it, if it wasn’t legal,» Granham said. «So quit crabbing. Stand right there.»
Carmody stood right there. A fuzzy picture on the beam-television screen was becoming clearer. And prettier. President Saunderson had not exaggerated when he’d said that Anna Borisovna was attractive and that she was definitely not an Amazon. She was small, dark, slender and very definitely attractive and not an Amazon.
Carmody felt glad that nobody had corned it up by putting her in a wedding costume. She wore the neat uniform of a technician, and she filled it admirably and curved it at the right places. Her eyes were big and dark and they were serious until she smiled at him. Only then did he realize that the connection was two-way and that she was seeing him.
Granham was standing beside him. He said, «Miss Borisovna, Captain Carmody.»
Carmody said, inanely, «Pleased to meet you,» and then redeemed it with a grin.
«Thank you, Captain.» Her voice was musical and only faintly accented. «It is a pleasure.»
Carmody began to think it would be, if they could just keep from arguing politics.
The Justice of the Peace stepped forward into range of the projector. «Are we ready?» he asked.
«A second,» Carmody said. «It seems to me we’ve skipped a customary preliminary. Miss Borisovna, will you marry me?»
«Yes. And you may call me Anna.»
She even has a sense of humor, Carmody thought, astonished. Somehow, he hadn’t thought it possible for a Commie to have a sense of humor. He’d pictured them as all being dead serious about their ridiculous ideology and about everything else.
He smiled at her and said, «All right, Anna. And you may call me Ray. Are you ready?»
When she nodded, he stepped to one side to allow the Justice of the Peace to share the screen with him. The ceremony was brief and businesslike.
He couldn’t, of course, kiss the bride or even shake hands with her. But just before they shut off the projector, he managed to grin at her and say, «See you in Hell, Anna.» And he’d begun to feel certain that it wouldn’t be that at all, really.
He had a busy afternoon going over every detail of operation of the new type rocket, until he knew it inside and out better than he did himself. He even found himself being briefed on details of the Russian rockets, both manned and supply types, and he was surprised (and inwardly a bit horrified) to discover to what extent the United States and Russia had been exchanging information and secrets. It couldn’t all have happened in a day or so.
«How long has this been going on?» he demanded of Granham.
«I learned of the projected trip a month ago.»
«Why did they tell me only yesterday? Or wasn’t I first choice, after all? Did somebody else back out at the last minute?»
«You’ve been chosen all along. You were the only one who fitted all of the requirements that cybernetics machine dished out. But don’t you remember how it was on your last trip? You weren’t notified you were taking off until about thirty hours before. That’s what’s figured to be the optimum time—long enough to get mentally prepared and not so long you’ve got time to get worried.»