“I see, sir. And where is that?”
“You’re in Mare Crisium.”
“Roger. Stand by, sir.” Forbes bent over the map studying it. He scratched his head, then, and picked up the microphone. “I can’t seem to locate that, sir.”
“Where are you looking, Forbes?”
“Well, quite a ways over to the West. I figure we crashed in darkness and...”
“How far over?”
“The area around Mare Serenitatis.”
“You’re not far enough over, Forbes. Keep going. You’re almost on the Western rim.”
“Stand by, sir.” Forbes consulted the map again, and then seemed to recoil from the microphone. “Did you say Mare Crisium, sir?”
“You’ve found it?”
“Yes, sir. But... but it’s... it’s quite a distance from...”
“You’re approximately one thousand miles from the supplies, Forbes. Mark your position in the center of Mare Crisium.”
Forbes’s hand moved to the map, and he scribbled something onto its surface.
“I’ve marked it, sir.”
“Have you got both positions marked?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It looks bad, doesn’t it?”
Forbes looked at the map, sighing heavily.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “It looks very bad.”
“I’m contacting Earth now, Forbes,” the general said. “I’m trying to see what we can do about getting more supplies to you. Stand by for radio contact in an hour. And keep your chin up.”
“Roger. Out.”
Forbes opened the knife switch, and the transmitter clicked off. Without the hum, it was suddenly very quiet in the cabin.
Forbes swung the swivel chair around and folded his hands in his lap. “Well,” he said, “you heard.”
“They’ll get supplies to us,” Dr. Gehardt said confidently.
“I’m not so sure.”
“It should be simple,” Dr. Phelps put in. “They wouldn’t need a crew. Just unmanned rockets like the ones that took the other supplies here.”
“Mm-m-m,” Forbes murmured. He held out the map. “Take a look at this.”
The men studied the map, and Forbes shook his head forlornly. “A thousand miles,” he said. “And he was probably giving it to us in round figures. It’s probably more than that.”
“Why worry about the distance?” Dr. Gehardt asked. “If they send up more supplies, we can forget about the others.”
“Sure. If.”
“Is there a chance they won’t?”
“I don’t know. There must be some doubt or the Old Man wouldn’t have had to call Earth.”
“That’s true,” Dr. Phelps said.
Ted stood by the viewport, listening. He was filled with a deep sadness, a sadness that permeated every bone in his body. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that his motives had been purely unselfish, he couldn’t shake the knowledge that it had been he who had crashed the ship and tossed them into their present position. He wanted to go to Forbes and say, “Sir, I’m sorry about everything that’s happened, more sorry than you can know. But I really tried my best, and I really did want to help and...”
No. No, he could never do that. In the first place, Forbes wouldn’t believe him for a moment. He couldn’t very well blame the lieutenant, although he felt Forbes’s judgment had been a trifle too hasty. It was something like condemning a man to be hanged before he’d been given a trial. Forbes had based his entire case on a batch of innocent questions Ted had asked.
He had started with the basic assumption that Ted willingly and wilfully considered taking Jack’s place on the Moon rocket. From there, his theory had snowballed with remarkable rapidity, until he further assumed that Ted had deliberately kayoed Jack and had come aboard in his place. After that, Forbes’s imagination had taken over completely, and there were no limits to the extent of his accusations. Why, Ted wouldn’t be surprised if Forbes secretly blamed him for Merola’s injury... as... as a ruse... a trick to give Ted a chance at landing the ship!
Well, he was here, and he’d have to make the best of it. Of one thing he was certain. He could not convince Forbes of his honest intentions by any amount of talking, Forbes had made up his mind, and Ted appeared in that mind as a double-dyed villain.
In a way, he was sorry about the ill feeling Forbes carried for him, sorrier in a way that went beyond his own personal discomfort. Forbes had seemed like a nice guy, a person Ted would have enjoyed knowing better. Him and Merola. On the brief trip to the Space Station, he had found himself admiring the way these two men seemed to complement each other. He somehow sensed that a friendship such as theirs was a rare combination, and he felt himself wishing he could somehow be included in the duet. It was almost as if Forbes and Merola thought with the same mind. Whenever Merola started the first line of a gag, Forbes would grin in anticipation, almost as if he knew the punch line from the start. They seemed to share a secret thing between them, a mutual bond that required neither words nor gestures to make meanings clear.
Ted would have liked to explore this bond more fully and eventually become a friend of both men.
It seemed that that was impossible now.
A number of things seemed impossible now. The general’s words. What had he meant, Ted wondered. Washout, expulsion from the Academy? Or worse? What could be worse? What could be worse than washout in your senior year?
Or should he be worrying about washout? Would he ever get back to the Station to face court-martial?
Survival.
Survival on the Moon. Yes, that was another problem, a definite...
“Baker!”
It was Forbes’s voice. Ted turned from the viewport, ready for whatever was coming next.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re going outside, Baker.”
“Very good, sir.”
“You’re coming with us,” Forbes said.
“Sir?”
“You heard me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you wondering why I’m allowing you to set foot on the Moon? Are you wondering why I’m allowing you that pleasure and honor?”
“Yes, sir,” Ted said. “I am a bit surprised.”
“It’s very simple, Baker. Very simple. George... Captain Merola... is a sick man. This ship is a valuable one with millions of dollars worth of equipment in it. Do you understand now?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid...”
“I don’t trust you, Baker. I wouldn’t trust you as far as I can throw the Moon. And I certainly won’t trust you in the same ship with my best friend and a dozen dials and gadgets you can fool with. In other words, Baker, I can’t leave the rat in his trap, so I’m taking him with me. Now do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Ted’s voice was small, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face. He stared down at the deck.
“Then get into a space suit, and make it fast. We’re going outside in about five minutes!”
Chapter 10
Claiming the Moon
They crawled down the side of the ship, hand over hand, reaching for the rungs with heavily gloved hands and thickly soled boots. They moved slowly, four men in a thin line that hung from the open air lock like a human thread. The ship poked into the sky behind them, tilting at a crazy angle, its blasting tubes a twisted jumble of metal.
The Moon sat like a stiff old man with a jagged, crooked mouth.
It was silent.
Dead silent.
There was no sound, no movement.
The stars glowed steadily behind it, a million eyes that watched Forbes drop to the ground like a dancer caught in a slow-motion shot. The pumice at his feet rose in a noiseless swirl and settled silently again. Dr. Phelps dropped down beside him. None of the men spoke, as if they had agreed beforehand to be as solemnly silent as the Moon itself. Dr. Gehardt clung to the bottom rung for a moment and then released it, dropping slowly to the ground. Ted dropped down beside him.