Dr. Gehardt made his way across the cabin, shaking his head. He stopped before Merola and smoothed the skin back on the top of his head. “It doesn’t look good, George,” he said.
“How much water?”
“A little more than four gallons.”
“No, that’s not good at all.” Merola paused. “But it’ll have to do.” He turned his head quickly as he heard footsteps. Dr. Phelps crossed the cabin, a sheet of paper in his hands.
“What’s the story, Doc?” Merola asked.
“Not too bad,” the physician replied. “Not too bad.”
“How bad?”
“Well, we won’t eat like kings, of course, but I don’t suppose any of us expected to.”
“What is it, Doc?”
“If we cut down to half-rations, our food’ll last two weeks. If we’re careful. That’ll give us just enough for the four-day wait and the ten days the men will be gone.”
“Good. If Dan reports affirmative on the oxygen, he and I will be leaving in four days.”
“What?”
“I said...”
“I heard you. I heard what you said.”
“Well, then...”
“That blow on your head must have really unbalanced you.”
“What do you mean, Doc?”
“I mean that you are in no condition to get out of that couch, no less travel a thousand miles in freezing temperatures.”
“Doc!”
“No ‘docs’ about it, George. You’re not leaving that couch. That’s an order.”
“I thought I was in command of this ship.”
“Not when it comes to physical welfare.” He paused, then added, “And if you get out of that couch, I can’t promise you you’ll be in command very long.”
“Look, Doc...”
“I’m not being foolish or stubborn, George. I’m being practical and maybe a little selfish. I can guarantee that you’re not strong enough to reach the supply dump. If you went, the effectiveness of the mission would be cut exactly in half.”
Merola considered this a moment. “You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. That blow was a nasty one.”
“Maybe...”
“No, George. Forget it.”
Merola shrugged and let out his breath. “Who’ll go then?”
“I’d volunteer myself,” Dr. Phelps said, “but that would defeat the purpose of keeping you here. That wound is going to need care during the next few weeks.”
“I’ll go,” Dr. Gehardt said simply.
Dr. Phelps avoided the geologist’s eyes. “I wouldn’t advise that, either, Fred.”
“Why not?”
“The trip should really have a more... a younger man along. It will be somewhat strenuous, Fred.”
Dr. Gehardt smiled. “I didn’t really think I should go, Peter. But I thought, perhaps...”
“That leaves you, Baker,” Merola said. “What do you say?”
“I don’t know, sir. Lieutenant Forbes might...”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
“Okay,” Forbes piped from the hatch. “There are enough cylinders to last close to three weeks.” He climbed up onto the deck and slammed the hatch shut behind him, turning to the men. “The batteries are doing fine. Should last about thirteen days under normal operating conditions.”
“Good,” Merola said, nodding. “You’ll be leaving in four days, Dan.”
“Fine.” Forbes paused. “Who’s going with me?”
Merola took a deep breath. “Baker.”
“What?”
“Baker’s going with you. He’s the only man who’s...”
“For crying out loud, George, how can you...”
“You’ll leave in four days,” Merola snapped. “You and Baker. That’s an order.”
Forbes stared at Merola for a long time. He turned away then, starting for his couch, a pained expression on his face.
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.
Chapter 12
Two Against the Night
The time passed rapidly. There was much to be done, and they wasted no time getting started. Forbes took Dr. Gehardt and Dr. Phelps outside to show them the extent of the damage and to explain the repairs needed. The doctors wanted to start the repair work at once, but Forbes told them there’d be plenty of time after the trip to the supply dump had been started.
Besides, a sled had to be built, a sled strong enough to carry fourteen cylinders of oxygen. These, together with the two tanks Ted and Forbes would be carrying on their backs when they left, would insure enough for the trip to the dump — providing there was no overexcessive delay.
The men got to work at once, building the sled outside the ship in the bitter cold. The temperature kept dropping steadily as night moved its way across the barren satellite.
On the first day they recorded the temperature at -219°. That was when they began building the sled.
On the second day the temperature dropped to -223°.
On the third day with the temperature at -230°, they finished the sled and began stacking the oxygen cylinders, passing them down the side of the ship with slender wire cables. They strapped the cylinders to the sled, using a buckle arrangement which could be loosened or tightened when wearing heavy gloves. The sled was a simple affair with four crossbars welded onto two runners. It would not be difficult to pull it across the face of the Moon, and the men were counting on the light gravity for help.
On the morning of the fourth day — morning only because the ship’s chrono said 0730, even though it was still “night” on the Moon — Ted and Forbes left the ship. The temperature outside was 238° below zero.
The insides of their helmets were lined with containers of hot chocolate and vitamin concentrates. The rubber tubes on the containers trailed around the inside of Ted’s helmet like a nest of garden snakes. He had only to move his head in order to reach any one of the tubes with his mouth.
Both he and Forbes wore several layers of woolen underwear beneath their coveralls. They had both put on three pairs of heavy woolen socks, tucking the legs of their coveralls into the tops of the socks. Their suit batteries sent electricity running to the coils that zigzagged through the inside lining of each suit. As long as their batteries lasted, they would be warm.
Their face plates had been sprayed with a frost-resisting chemical, and rubber ducts had been cemented in place just below the plates. These ducts were connected to small blowers which would force blasts of hot air against the face plates should these begin to freeze up.
The belts strapped around their waists carried hammers, screw drivers, pliers, rubber tape, wire.
That was the extent of their equipment — that, and the sled they would tow behind them, the sled carrying the oxygen to sustain them on their trip.
They paused outside the ship, and Ted looked up at the viewport. Dr. Gehardt waved down. Dr. Phelps stood beside him, his features blurred by the distance.
Silently, Ted and Forbes started for the sled.
Forbes stooped down and picked up the wire tow strap.
“Let’s get something straight right from the start, Baker,” he said over the suit radio. Ted listened, knowing in a way what was coming — and fervently wishing he was wrong. “If I had my way, I’d make this trip alone rather than with you. Have you got that?”
“I’ve got it,” Ted said, surprised at the tone of his own voice.
“Good. You’ll obey orders on this trip, and the less conversation the better. All I’m interested in is getting there and back.”
“That’s all I’m interested in,” Ted said.
“Do you know the route we’re taking?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll go over it again, just to make sure.”
Forbes reached into a pouch hanging from his waist strap and pulled out a map which he unfolded clumsily. He laid a heavily gloved hand, forefinger extended, on the paper.