Jack was in that lock now, getting into his space suit, making himself ready for the space taxi that would carry him to the Moon rocket.
Everything was set in Ted’s mind. He would ask Jack to do his own deciding. If Jack confessed his injury to the authorities, there would probably be no punishment. In fact, he would likely be commended for his honesty.
If, on the other hand, he insisted on jeopardizing Man’s first stab at the Moon, Ted would report him. There was no other way out. Friendship was one thing, but...
There was a faint shuffling sound at the end of the long passageway. Ted gulped hard and quickened his movements, reaching out ahead of him for space-eating grips on the heavy ropes.
He was at the end of the passageway before he realized it. He released his grip on the ropes and floated down into the lock, his face grim.
Jack was floating above the hatch leading to the landing berth below. He had already put on a space suit, and was lacking only a helmet to complete the costume. Behind him, firmly secured to the bulkheads with metal brackets, Ted saw the rows of neatly folded space suits. Above these, like so many empty heads, the corresponding helmets clung to their brackets.
Jack looked immense in the space suit. The heavy nylon added inches to his chest and arms, and his hands looked large and powerful in their bulky gloves. He looked up quickly as Ted floated into the lock.
“What are you doing here?” he said. His voice was harsh and strained. His red brows were pulled together tightly, angling upward from a deep line just above his nose.
“I want to talk to you,” Ted said. He shoved his hand against the bulkhead, floating over beside Jack.
Jack clenched his fists inside the thick gloves, and a scowl darkened his face. He stared at Ted for a long moment, and then said, “We’ve got nothing to talk about, Baker.”
“We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“I’m busy,” Jack said. He pushed his gloved hand against the supply tube jutting up from the deck. The shove sent him floating to the helmets bracketed on the bulkhead. He clamped his big hands on one and pulled it toward him.
“You’re not too busy to hear this.”
The helmet refused to budge, and Jack tugged at it again. It came free this time, and the sudden release sent Jack hurtling back across the compartment again. He turned on Ted bitterly, the helmet clenched in his hands. “You going to read me a section of the Manual?”
“No.”
“What then?” Jack gave a short laugh.
“I want you to tell the doctor about your injury.”
“You’re crazy!”
“No, I’m just thinking of the Moon rocket.”
“So am I,” Jack answered quickly.
“I’m thinking of what acceleration may do to that bone.”
“Don’t worry about me, Baker. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not worrying about you,” Ted shot back. “I’m worrying about the other men on the trip. And I’m worrying about the years of planning behind this, and the energy expended, and the money invested, and the hope of every man...”
“Cut it out, will you?” Jack said. “You’ll have me weeping.”
“Jack, if you don’t tell them about your injury, I will.”
Jack digested Ted’s ultimatum for a moment. He grinned then, floating on the air like a bloated specter.
“I’d break every bone in your body, Baker,” he said. The smile vanished from his face, and there was only a warning left; a warning in the slitted eyes and flaring nostrils, a warning in the razor-slit mouth.
“You don’t scare me, Jack,” Ted said. “If you think a beating will...”
They both looked up suddenly as the speaker on the bulkhead belched static. A man blew into the microphone somewhere on the Station, testing it, and then his voice sounded in the compartment.
“Moon rocket ready for firing. Jack Talbot report to Moon rocket on the double.”
“Hear that?” Jack asked.
“I heard it.”
“They’re waiting for me, Baker. I suggest you clear out.”
Ted shook his head. “You’re not going, Jack.”
“Look, hero,” Jack said, “don’t get me sore. I’ve listened to about enough of your half-baked ideas.”
Abruptly, Jack pushed his hand against the overhead and began drifting toward the hatch in the deck. Ted reached out quickly, his fingers closing around the toggle in the metal shoulder plate of the suit. Like two dancers in a seriocomic ballet, they floated down to the deck.
Ted quickly reached for the wheel in the hatch, wrapping his fingers tightly around it.
“Get away from that hatch,” Jack said. He dropped to the deck and wrapped one gloved hand around the wheel, clinging to the helmet with the other.
“You’re not getting into that taxi, Jack,” Ted said.
“Get out of my way!” Jack warned.
He relaxed his grip on the wheel for an instant and shoved at Ted with the open palm of his right hand. Ted tried to bring up his hands in time to ward off the blow. He realized with a sickening rush that he was too late. Jack’s palm collided against his chest and sent him careening back toward the bulkhead. He felt his back slam against the unyielding metal, knocking the breath out of him for an instant. Slowly he drifted up from the deck, a knife pain in his chest.
Jack was already twisting the hatch wheel.
Alarm raced along Ted’s spine. He gripped the supply tube with both hands, swinging around it like a circus performer, his legs out ahead of him. Jack ducked as he saw the legs coming toward him, releasing the wheel and immediately floating away from the hatch.
He held the helmet in his left hand, dangling there like a huge bell. His lips skinned back over his teeth, and his voice dropped to a low hiss. “I’m not kidding, Baker. I’m not kidding at all.”
“Neither am I, Jack.”
The sweat was standing out on Jack’s brow now, neat little globules that glistened in the light of the fluorescent tubes. His breath ripped into his chest, and his shoulders heaved beneath the heavy protection of the space suit.
“All right,” he said. “One more chance. I’m going through that hatch, Baker. I’m getting into that taxi down there, and it’s taking me to the Moon rocket. I don’t want any interference, understand? I don’t want any more of your clowning.”
“I’m not clowning, Ja...”
“Shut up! I’m doing the talking now. I’ve listened to enough of your juvenile garbage. If you take one step toward this hatch, I’ll...”
His voice trailed off as Ted pushed both legs against the supply tube, shoving his way across the lock.
“Why, you...” Jack shouted. He swung the helmet at the end of his left hand, bringing it up toward Ted’s head. Ted saw the glint of metal as the heavy helmet lunged for him. He stuck both hands out ahead of him, pushed his body away from the swinging metal.
Jack bounced on the deck, his legs bending. He sprang upright again, the helmet swinging back for another blow.
“I warned you, Baker. I told you...”
Ted saw the murderous glint of metal again as the helmet swung in its dizzy arc. He drew back his fist and pushed himself away from the bulkhead, uncorking the fist at the same time.
The forward momentum of Jack’s swing carried him right into Ted’s flashing fist, and it collided against his jaw with shattering force. His fingers opened wide, and the helmet drifted harmlessly across the compartment. His eyes went blank then as he flipped over on his back. He hung on the air like a swimmer floating without water.
“Jack!” Ted said, his voice shaking.
He pushed himself over to the floating figure, shook the shoulder inside the space suit. Together, they drifted down toward the hatch.