Without further preamble, he leaped into the air, rising high above the heads of the other men and coming down in a cloud of pumice some twenty feet away.
“Be careful,” Dr. Phelps warned. “This gravity can be tricky.”
“And the rocks are sharp,” Dr. Gehardt added.
“I’m all right,” Forbes assured them.
Ted thought back to the Academy classes again, remembering the many times Colonel York had gone over the gravity of Earth’s satellite.
He would stand in the front of the room, his beady eyes blinking.
“I can see by your blank expression,” he would say to the assembled class, “that you have no idea what this means. I will explain further, but only because I am a patient man. Gravity on the Moon’s surface is one-sixth that of Earth’s.” He would pause then and tap his riding crop as he studied his class. “Still no impression, eh?” Shouting, then: “That means that a man weighing 175 pounds on Earth would weigh 29 1/6 pounds on the Moon. That means that he could lift his center of gravity six times as high. That means he’d be able to jump long distances, lift heavy weights six times as easily. Does that penetrate, gentlemen?” A sigh, and a long pause. “Heaven protect us if any of you are the first men to land on the Moon!”
What would Colonel York say if he knew that Ted Baker was one of the first men on the Moon? Ted wondered about this, and he remembered what the colonel had said in one of his rare introspective moments.
“If we ever reach the Moon, gentlemen, during my lifetime, I shall kneel down and kiss Mother Earth — and then I’ll drink a glass of port and smoke a fifty-cent cigar in tribute to the ingenious scientists with whom we are blessed.”
Was the colonel enjoying his cigar now? Or was he wondering about the men who’d brought the ship to the Moon? Ted smiled, fondly recalling the irascible, lovable old man.
Forbes was standing again, brushing the pumice from his knees, as if he were flicking a speck of dirt from a tuxedo. Ted longed to test the gravity, too, trying to visualize himself floating through the air. It’s a bird, he thought wryly. No, it’s a plane! No, it’s Ted Baker! Faster than a flashing meteor, able to leap tall rocket ships: Ted Baker, who is in reality...
He cut his commercial short when he heard Forbes’s voice sound in his helmet receiver. “Snap it up, Baker. We haven’t got all day.”
No, Forbes wouldn’t like it at all if he were to try a leap. Not at all. Ted shrugged his shoulders within the suit and shuffled after the other men. They climbed up the side of the ship, and Ted found himself peering over his shoulder, looking down at the cold, lifeless waste of the Moon.
They climbed into the air lock, sealing the door behind them. Forbes set the pressurizing machinery in action, and they waited while the pressure in the lock equalized itself to that inside the rest of the ship. The light finally began blinking over the inner door of the lock.
Forbes opened the door and stepped into the compartment below the control deck. Quickly the men took off their helmets.
“My face plate is all frosted over,” Forbes said.
“I am not usually a man of extreme statements,” Dr. Gehardt said, wagging his bald head. “But I should say it is colder out there than we have ever known it to be cold — and I have known it to be exceedingly cold at times.”
Forbes nodded. “No wonder. Figure it this way. The highest and lowest temperatures ever recorded on Earth are 136° and -94° Fahrenheit. We can expect it to go higher than the temperature of boiling water here — 212 degrees — and as low as 250° below zero. That’s hot and cold for you!”
“I’m anxious to see how George is getting along,” Dr. Phelps said. He had removed his suit and was starting toward the ladder that led to the control deck.
Forbes remembered Merola suddenly, and the smile dropped from his face. He shot a quick glance at Ted and then turned away to follow Dr. Phelps up the ladder.
Ted and Dr. Gehardt were left alone in the compartment, and Ted sensed that the geologist was uncomfortable in his presence. The doctor struggled with the back of his suit, trying to unfasten his oxygen tank. He wrestled with it for several moments and then turned to Ted.
He hesitated, unsure whether or not he should speak. “I... would you be so kind...”
“Sure,” Ted said. He walked behind the doctor and unclipped the tank, gingerly unscrewing the air hose. “There.”
The doctor nodded politely. “Thank you.” He took off his suit then, carefully folding it and putting it in one of the lockers. He started for the ladder, and stopped, turning to face Ted. “Baker,” he said, “I’m not sure you are as black as you’re being...”
“Dr. Gehardt,” Forbes called down from above, his voice excited. “Come on up here! George is with us again. He’s come around!”
Chapter 11
The Plan
Merola looked pale. He sat up, a pair of pneumatic cushions behind him. Dr. Phelps hovered over him nervously, adjusting the bandage under his jaw and across his forehead. The bandage was only slightly whiter than the drawn skin over Merola’s cheekbones. His deep brown eyes burned like smoldering coals in his face. His hair was startling black against his blanched skin.
The first thing he said was, “How is it outside, Dan?”
Forbes grinned. “Bleak. You didn’t miss a thing.”
Ted stood behind the other men, peering over their shoulders at the captain.
Merola tried to smile, and his lips trembled. “I would miss the best part, wouldn’t I?” He shrugged forlornly. “Who brought the ship down?”
Forbes hesitated, then answered, “Baker.”
“And everything is all right?”
“I haven’t really checked yet,” Forbes said. “One of our stilts is shot, and I think our tubes are damaged pretty badly.”
“Oh!” Merola looked around. “Where’s Baker?”
“Here, sir.”
“Come here where I can see you,” Merola said.
Ted shouldered his way through the tight ring around the couch. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“Was it tough, Baker?”
“I miscalculated, sir.”
“So I understand.”
“I’m really sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to...”
“Were there any casualties?” Merola asked.
“No, sir.”
“Anyone injured?” He repeated.
“No, sir.”
“Considering everything then, I’d say you did a fairly good job.”
“Maybe you won’t feel that way when...” Forbes started.
“Dan!” Dr. Phelps cut in. “For the love of...” He clamped his mouth shut suddenly, as if he’d realized his outburst was as bad as Forbes’s. The cabin became silent, and Merola studied the faces grouped around the couch.
“All right,” he said at last, “what is it?”
“Nothing,” Dr. Phelps answered.
“What is it?” Merola repeated. He looked very tired.
“Maybe Baker should tell you,” Forbes said.
“Why don’t you tell me, Dan?”
“All right, George. We’re...”
“Dan!” Dr. Phelps snapped. “There’s no sense...”
“He’s got a right to know. He’s in command, and it’s his ship.”
There was silence again. Dr. Phelps shrugged in resignation. Forbes took a deep breath and said, “We’re about a thousand miles from the supplies. Baker took us down in the wrong spot.” He said it all in a rush, as if anxious to get it over with.
Merola considered the information for a moment, then scratched his head. “That’s not so good.”