So what? Ted asked himself. What am I supposed to do — run and tell on him? That would ruin him. Four years of study and hard work down the drain.
He sipped at his milk, put the glass down on the table again.
Supposing you’d seen Jack murder someone, a probing voice in his brain insisted, would you forget about it, or go to the authorities?
Ted passed his hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat. This was different, of course. Jack hadn’t murdered anyone, so the comparison couldn’t really be drawn.
But if the Moon trip is a failure because of Jack, the probing voice continued, we can say he caused the death of every man in the crew. We can say...
Ted pressed his fist against his forehead, trying to shut out the conflict in his mind.
“Got a problem?” a voice asked. “Or just a headache?”
Ted looked up suddenly, almost afraid his thoughts had been read. Lieutenant Forbes pulled up a chair beside him, depositing a cup of coffee on the table.
“Oh,” Ted said. “Hello, sir.”
Forbes picked up a teaspoon and began stirring the coffee. “Which one is it?” he asked. “We can take care of a headache in Sick Bay. A problem, well, that’s another thing again.”
Ted smiled weakly. “I’m afraid we can’t cure this one with an aspirin, sir.”
Forbes smiled back. “Maybe I can help.”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
Forbes shrugged. “Okay.” He lifted his cup, sipped at the coffee, putting it down quickly. “Hot.”
Ted stared into his glass for a long while, not saying anything. Forbes picked up his cup again and took another sip, blowing at the brown surface first.
“Suppose,” Ted started, “suppose...”
Forbes looked up. “Uhm?”
“Well, suppose you knew you should do something. I mean, suppose you really wanted to do something.”
Forbes put down his cup and turned to face Ted, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Yes?”
“I mean...” Ted scratched his jaw. “Look, let’s suppose I wanted to do a certain thing — a thing that really should be done. That is, things would be better all around if I did this thing.”
Forbes continued to look thoughtful. “Go on.”
“But let’s suppose that someone would be hurt badly if I did what I should do.” He stopped, feeling the inadequacy of his words. “Do you understand?”
“No, not exactly.”
“This thing I want to do, let’s say, would make someone else very unhappy. But it would still be for the best. Everyone would be a lot happier if...”
“How do you know?” Forbes interrupted.
“How do I know what?”
“That everyone would be a lot happier.”
“Well, I just know, that’s all.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Would you do it?”
“Would I do what?” Forbes asked.
“The thing you felt you had to do,” Ted replied.
Forbes lifted his cup again, swallowed some coffee, and replaced it on the saucer. “It would all depend.”
“On what?”
“On how important the thing was. If it were more important than the personal feelings of the someone you’d be hurting, I’d say ‘Yes, do it.’”
“It’s pretty important,” Ted said.
“How important?”
“Well, very important.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything. A dime is important to a beggar, but a millionaire wouldn’t think it was so important.”
Ted hesitated. He bit his lip and then said, “Let’s say it’s as important as... as the Moon trip.”
Forbes paused in the process of lifting his cup and gently replaced it on his saucer. He turned to face Ted fully, and his eyes tightened a trifle. “Now that’s pretty important,” he said.
Ted nodded. “If this thing were as important as the Moon trip, and if you felt you had to do it, would you?”
Forbes considered this, his eyes studying Ted’s face. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “It’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”
There was something strange in his voice, and Ted wondered if he’d made his meaning clear. He sighed heavily and said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Forbes reached out, and his fingers tightened on Ted’s arm. “If it means so much, though, if it’s as important as the Moon trip...” He paused, giving added stress to the words. “...I’d give it a lot of thought, Baker.” He finished his coffee and then stood up. When he spoke again, his voice was curiously like a warning. “I’d give it an awful lot of careful thought, Baker.”
He turned his back to Ted and walked out of the mess hall, his heels clicking on the metal deck.
Ted stared after him, a puzzled frown on his forehead. He shrugged, drank his milk, and left the mess hall, the problem still heavy on his mind.
Merola was jubilant when Ted met him outside the pump room.
“Hiya, Baker,” he said, “how goes the happy senior?”
“Fine, sir,” Ted answered, his voice lacking enthusiasm.
“Good, good,” Merola replied. He rubbed his hands together, dry washing them. “Don’t mind my excitement,” he apologized. “We’re going to blast off in about a half-hour, and I’m starting to get a little jumpy.”
Ted’s eyes clouded. “For the Moon, sir?”
“Yes, yes, the Moon.” Merola shook his head in awe. “How do you like that? We’ll be shooting for the Moon in half an hour, Baker. The Moon!” He shook his head again.
“And everything is all right, sir?”
“Huh? Why, sure. What could be wrong? The rocket’s in tiptop shape, and so’s the crew. Supplies and fuel were sent up a while ago by pilotless rocket.”
“Fuel? For the return trip, sir?”
“That’s right. And supplies to last us while we’re dawdling around up there. Well just be carrying enough fuel to get us there, and enough supplies for a few weeks. Less weight to carry, you understand.” He paused and clapped Ted on the shoulder. “Hey, what am I telling all this to you for? You Academy guys are as sharp as tacks.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve no idea how glad I am that Jack will be along on this little junket. He can be darned valuable if anything goes wrong.”
Ted winced. “Yes, sir.”
“Anything wrong, Baker?” Merola’s voice was concerned. “Don’t you feel well?”
“Yes, sir. I mean, I feel fine.”
“Mmm. Well, got to get set. There are still a few last minute things to...”
“Sir,” Ted said suddenly. “I...”
He watched Merola, wondering if he should tell him. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and a solid lump rose to his throat. He swallowed and kept staring at the captain, wondering where he should begin, wondering if he should begin.
“What is it, Baker?”
“About Talbot, sir. Jack, I mean.”
“What about him?”
“I... he...”
No. No, this wasn’t the way at all.
“Well, what about him?”
“N-n-nothing, sir. Nothing.” Ted lowered his eyes. “I just wanted to say I... I hope he... I hope he does the Academy proud.”
Merola grinned and put his arm around Ted’s shoulders as they started off down the corridor. “I’m sure he will, Baker,” he said. “I’m sure he will.”
Ted crawled hand over hand down the landing-net leading to the “hub” of the Station. The hub contained the air lock and the landing berths, and had virtually no gravity. The “wheel’s” movement around the hub was what provided the centrifugal force which served as synthetic gravity in the rest of the Station. Without the landing net, Ted would have floated helplessly in the air as he made his way toward the lock.